Camille’s hand becomes more insistent. She slides down a little, brings my breast to her mouth, and takes my nipple between her lips. She uses her teeth and the sudden jolt of pain is so exquisite, a moan escapes my throat. With her, everything feels like it is being done to me thousandfold. The intensity dialed up to maximum strength. It doesn’t seem possible to feel any more than I do when I’m with her.

She pushes me onto my back and focuses her attention on my other breast and nipple. She gives them the same treatment: hand squeezing, teeth sinking in.

Camille doesn’t say anything in French anymore. We’ve gone beyond words. The way she looks at me says enough—more than words ever could. Her gaze sweeps over my naked body while her fingers glide along my skin. Is this really a woman who just a week ago had never slept with another female? Did the lust between us elevate her lovemaking skills to expert level? Or, perhaps, it’s not about skill and experience at all. It’s about emotions. How we are together in these moments. Connected. Our truest selves. Bound by this mysterious spell that was cast upon us when we met.

Her gaze finds mine. She looks at me and her lips draw into a sly smile. “I’ve been fantasizing about something,” she says.

“Have you?”

She just nods, doesn’t say anything else for a while, just looks at me.

Then she speaks again. “It kind of feels like now or… well, not never, but at least not for a good long while.”

A smile breaks out on my face. I grab her by the wrist and bring her hand to my mouth. “Tell me.”

“Can I show you instead?”

I nod and wait. Every cell in my body is filled with anticipation. Will she ask me to turn around and spank my ass? Ask me to spank hers? Does she want me to tie her up? I may have a decade-old pair of handcuffs in a drawer somewhere.

Camille keeps her eyes on me, pushes herself onto her knees, then swings one leg over my body to straddle me. She pauses, scans my face again.

I nod to encourage her. This could still go in many directions, although I gather no spanking will be involved.

My eyes are drawn to her spread legs. How I want to feast on her there, extract every last drop from her. Her knees start shuffling toward my face. Oh. I think I know where this is going.

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” she says, a little tremor in her voice. The shakiness of her tone surprises me, because, from the very beginning Camille has been so assured in the bedroom.

“I promise.” I can’t keep a grin off my face. “But I think I’ll like it.”