Page 92 of My Wicked Earl
He moved inside her, thrusting slow and deep as Miranda rolled her hips. He kissed her eyes, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Here?” he asked as he turned his body, catching hers.
“Yes,” Miranda whispered, surprised at how quickly the pleasure built again. She didn’t wish this to ever end. “I think perhaps I am dreaming from overindulging in Sutton’s whiskey. But, it’s such a beautiful dream. Go slowly, for I don’t wish it to end.”
Colin smiled and kissed her. “You are not dreaming, my love.”
“Say it again. Not the dreaming part.”
“My love,” he said in a ragged voice.
Flames cascaded over Miranda as her body moved with his. She wanted him deeper, harder. Miranda ran her hands down the sides of his torso, her fingertips dipping into the hollows of his muscles, until she reached his buttocks. “Harder.”
A growl sounded from him. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
Miranda squeezed the firm cheeks beneath her hands. “Bullocks.”
“Christ, you’ll be the death of me.”
The intensity increased until Miranda writhed beneath him, as if her body was on fire and Colin stoked the flame. When she arched against him, unable to wait any longer, he pinned her hands above her head, lacing his fingers through hers.
Miranda’s body tightened, the damn breaking apart within her. She cried out, feeling the clench of her muscles around the length of him. This time her release was deeper, more intense and the waves shifted and crested madly.
Colin thrust once more, burying his face in her sweat-damp hair, saying her name over and over.
They lay together, entwined on the bed, as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Colin was still buried inside her, his hips pressed against hers. Afraid to break the spell brought about by their lovemaking, Miranda remained silent. Instead, she listened to the beat of his heart, and took in the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.
“Puzzle pieces.” She mouthed the words but did not say them.
Her fingertips traced the outline of every supple muscle on his back, to the hollow at the base of his spine, to the curve of his hip.Gorgeous man.
Colin pressed a kiss to her nose and took his weight from her, ignoring the small squeak of protest she made.
“You’re no good to me if you can’t breathe, Miranda.” His fingers traced the line of her cheek as he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. “My Marcella.”
“You’re not so heavy. Though you seem to be bigger than I remember.”
Colin wiggled his eyebrows.
“Notthere.” Miranda giggled. “You just seem larger. More imposing.” She smiled against his chest. “If I am Marcella then you must be Lord Thurston,” she joked.
“In a manner of speaking.” He gave her a deep languid kiss that Miranda felt to the bottom of her feet and made her toes curl in pleasure.
“You taste of whiskey. And ravishment.” The big hands lazily moved over her body, possessively, caressing every curve and hollow. He worshipped her with his mouth and hands until she begged him for release.
Colin took nothing for himself, only murmuring beautiful wicked things to her as he coaxed her body to pleasure again until Miranda lay limp and boneless. Her body still throbbing from the aftermath of his attentions, Colin pulled her into the shelter of his arms and pressed a kiss to her brow.
“I wonder if we’ve missed dinner.”
Colin merely smiled at her. Picking up a curl that lay across her breast, he absently toyed with it, wrapping it and unwrapping it about his finger.
“Colin.” She was so sleepy. “Don’t leave again.”
Colin gathered her to him and pulled the bedcovers up around them. “Sleep.”
She snuggled closer to the large, warm male next to her, thinking she had never been so happy.
Always.
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