“That’s it,” he says roughly, working me harder, kissing me, biting my lip and gently dragging it between his teeth. “Let go.”

“Jamie,” I gasp, moving desperately against him. And when he says my name against the shell of my ear, I shatter, wave after wracking wave making me pulse against his hand, around his fingers, which stretch my release until I can’t take another second of it.

I beg for no more, and yet as soon as his touch leaves me, as I watch him hold my eyes, sliding one long, knuckled finger into his mouth at a time, tasting me, breathing harshly, I can’t wait a second longer for him.

“I want you.” I stroke his cock, which presses insistently into my hip.

He stills my hand and kisses me again. “And I want you to wait a little longer.”

“Why?” I moan.

He kisses his way down my body. “For another petite mort, of course.”

I laugh breathlessly. “You do still owe me eleven—”

My words are cut off with a gasp as Jamie wrenches me by the hips and drags me close.

Pleasure ripples through me like a pebble that’s struck water as he lowers his mouth to where I’m exquisitely tender and wet. I gasp as he faintly tongues my clit, my hands slipping into his hair, knotting and tugging. “That’s perfect,” I whisper. “Gentle like that.”

He hums in response, and his kisses, which were already soft, turn softer. His tongue swirls lightly around but never directly on the place I can barely stand to be touched, that place that’s so terribly sensitive I have a love-hate relationship with it.

His reach is so long that Jamie’s hands easily drift up my ribs and cup my breasts, kneading them tenderly.

I dissolve into the mattress, into the gold glow of the firelight turning his hair burnished bronze, into the quiet sounds of satisfaction that hum in Jamie’s throat. He lets me guide his rhythm as his tongue learns the sweeps and swirls that make my thighs tighten around his shoulders, make my breath catch in my throat.

I try not to panic at how good this feels, how quickly it’s building, because I think I might cry again. Because I’ve never been touched this carefully, never been listened to like this, never been . . . loved like this.

My orgasm knocks the air out of me, wracking my body as Jamie pins my hips to the mattress and makes me feel it all.

“Jamie,” I plead, clasping his hand, tugging him my way. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” he says quietly, kissing me, letting me taste myself and him and sighing with pleasure as my hands wander his body.