Текст книги "Dangerously Broken"

Автор книги: Eden Bradley

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER

Eleven

IT HAD BEEN seventeen days—not that Summer had been counting or anything—since Jamie told her he loved her, and she was still flying. Things had been more amazing than ever between them. The sex, the kink, and every simple and complicated moment in between. They’d been to the zoo and it had been one of the most romantic days they’d had together. And tonight they were having dinner with Mick, Allie and Duff before everyone headed to The Bastille for a special burlesque performance, followed by a night of play.

Before she’d met Jamie’s hulking cousin, she might have thought it would be uncomfortable being at the club with him there, but despite his gruff exterior and his unarguably Dominant ways, she felt incredibly comfortable with Duff. She’d been bringing the guys lunch on her days off, and sometimes dinner at the end of the day while they worked on getting the new half of the shop pulled together, and she and Duff had had the opportunity to get to know each other. It seemed important, and he was coming to feel like a big brother to her.

Jamie was working harder than ever, but they still found ways to make every moment count. He was at her cozy little house almost every night, and she loved waking up in his arms in the morning. It was those quiet moments she loved most—when the sun was rising and the whole world was just coming alive. But tonight was going to be fun—their first big social night in a while.

They’d decided to meet at Muriel’s, despite the fact that it was just off Jackson Square in the heart of the busy tourist district. But the food was some of the best Creole fare to be found in the city, and Allie and Summer were both in love with the décor: the exposed brick walls, the sheer curtains hanging from the high ceilings that divided the tables, even—or most especially—the Voodoo symbols all over the bathroom stall doors. It had such a New Orleans feel to it, and they’d all decided to brave the tourists packing the sidewalks in favor of a great meal in an environment that held such gritty charm.

The cab pulled up in front of the restaurant and she and Jamie got out. He held her hand as they crossed the narrow cobblestone street.

“You looking forward to this, sweetheart?”

“Yes, to everything—dinner with our friends, the food, then getting to The Bastille later.”

“It’s been too long,” he said, smiling down at her, his green eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

“It has. I’m sure you’ll manage to make that my fault.”

“Of course I will. All the better to punish you with,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss. She loved the quiet threat in his voice—it always made her shiver.

“Ach, that’s enough, you lovebirds,” Duff said. He was waiting for them at the door to the restaurant.

“You’re just jealous,” Jamie said.

“I am at that,” his cousin agreed before taking Summer in one of his usual bear hugs. He let her go and stepped back. “But maybe tonight my luck will change.” He wiggled his dark brows, making Summer laugh.

“You haven’t had time to try your luck,” she protested.

“True enough. And about time I took a night off to see if your dungeon girls are to my liking.”

“I’m absolutely certain they will be,” Summer told him. “And Allie and Mick will be able to introduce you around. Oh—and I’m pretty sure Finn and Rosie will be at the club, too.”

“All right, all right, enough cuddling with my girl,” Jamie said in mock irritation, pulling her gently away from Duff.

“What? I don’t cuddle,” Duff protested.

“Of course you don’t, cousin. Come on—let’s go see if Mick and Allie are here yet,” Jamie suggested.

They went inside and found their friends at a long table half-hidden behind one of the sweeping chiffon drapes. It took a minute or two for everyone to say hello—Duff had already met Mick on a few of his previous trips to New Orleans, and Allie’s curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she’d dropped by the shop the week before. It was a comfortable group, and they lingered over their meal. As the men’s discussion of vintage motorcycles hit the second hour of the night, it left Allie to nudge Summer about her relationship with Jamie.

“So, how are things with you two?”

Summer knew she was beaming. “Amazing.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Have you two talked about the future? Moving in together or anything?”

“I don’t know. He’s with me almost every night anyway. And he and Duff have the new business to think about. Anyway, we’ve only been seeing each other for a month and a half.”

“You’ve known each other forever. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. But the dating part, the being a couple part, is still relatively new.”

Allie lowered her voice. “But there’s a commitment, right? Since I’ve been traveling with Mick off and on the last few weeks we haven’t really had a chance to talk, and I have to know.” She grinned. “I’m sorry, hon, but Rosie and I have been dying. You’ve been so busy with him we haven’t heard anything, and of course Mick isn’t saying a damn thing, if he even knows. That ‘bromance’ pact of silence.”

Summer couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, there’s commitment. We don’t see anyone else, even play with anyone else, while we figure this thing out.”

“It seems to me there isn’t much to figure out. And I’m rarely wrong about these things.”

“Jesus. What is it with everyone being right lately?”

Allie shrugged and tucked a small piece of bread in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “It is what it is, hon. And in this city, you’d do best not to ignore the signs.”

Summer bit her lip. “Maybe. It can be a little scary if I think about it too much, though. Like I’ll . . . jinx it or something.”

Allie rubbed her hand over Summer’s back. “Aw, I’m sorry, honey. I’ll shut up now. Let’s just enjoy our night out. I’m looking forward to the burlesque troupe they’re having at the club tonight.”

“Me, too,” she agreed.

But her own words were sticking in her mind, making her roll and unroll the napkin in her hands beneath the table. She’d been ignoring the small fear in the back of her mind that she really could jinx the wonderful thing happening between her and Jamie. It was stupid, she knew, but she couldn’t quite shake the thought. And the closer they got, the more there was to lose. Anytime she wasn’t with him or staying too busy to think, the fear came creeping over her. Her only comfort in those times was going out to her garden and digging in the earth—and oddly, the aloof Madame had recently taken to curling up next to her on the sofa or the bed and letting Summer pet her. Stroking the old cat’s fur was soothing, whether she was stressing or not. Not that she really needed to be soothed. Did she?

She gave herself a mental shake as she reached for Jamie’s hand. He paused in his conversation to glance at her, to bring her hand to his lips and brush a kiss across her fingers.

Tonight was not the time to worry over silliness. Allie was right. They had a wonderful evening ahead, and she planned to enjoy every moment of it.

Just in case . . .

*   *   *

THE BASTILLE WAS busy when they arrived—everyone had come out for the burlesque show that was about to begin. Summer stood between Jamie and Duff, which always felt as if she had a pair of bodyguards with her. She had to admit she sort of loved it.

The lighting in the dungeon tonight was more red than amber, with a spotlight on the stage at the back of the main room. The music started, and from offstage came a saucy, rich alto voice singing “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” The headliner strutted out in her gorgeous finery, followed by eight backup girls, and the performance began. There were cheers and whistles from the crowd, and Summer lost herself in the show as they sang and danced and peeled their way through four more sultry songs. When it was over Jamie grabbed her hand and their group found an empty social area with three couches. A few moments later they were joined by Finn—a towering blond Aussie who was as tall as Duff and even more packed with muscle—and Summer and Allie’s friend Rosie, a dark-haired, heavily tattooed beauty. The guys set down their play bags—all of them black duffels—and she, Rosie and Allie sat down, followed by the men. She was discussing the burlesque performer’s gorgeous costumes with the other girls when Duff let out a low whistle.

“That stunning bit is exactly my type,” he said, nodding his chin.

They all followed the direction of his gaze to a lovely woman whose smooth caramel shoulders were bared above the black satin corset and tight black pencil skirt that showed off her curves. Her dark, curling hair was piled high on her head, and with her back to them, Summer could see the vertical line of heavy Tibetan script tattooed down the back of her neck and disappearing beneath the edge of her corset.

“I don’t think so, cousin,” Jamie said.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“No way, Duff. That’s Layla,” Rosie said. “She’s a Domme.”

“So she thinks,” he said.

“You’d be in trouble with her,” Finn told him cheerfully. “Pure Top, and a wicked sadist, too. Never seen her bottom.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Duff responded, narrowing his gaze in Layla’s direction.

Summer watched as Layla turned around and her gaze met Duff’s. She stopped what she was doing and stood there for several moments, blinking. Then her features went hard as she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, her green eyes blazing from across the room, and Duff grinned.

“Challenge accepted,” he murmured.

Mick shook his head. “That won’t be a challenge—it’ll be a fucking battle.”

“What is she, some raving bitch? I don’t see that in her at all. Oh, she’s hard enough on the outside, and I like it. But bitch? No.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Allie put in. “But being a female Dominant, some of the male Doms give her a pretty hard time. She’s got her defenses up. Anyway, more than one good Dom has tried to get her to bottom for them, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

Summer nodded her agreement. “I like Layla—I’ve talked to her in the women’s changing room a few times, but as sweet as she can be she has plenty of salt, too. I don’t think I’d try it if I were you, Duff.”

His grin spread, and from the corner of her eye Summer swore she saw Layla flinch. “Luckily you’re not me, sweet Summer Grace. And lucky for Layla, too.”

Jamie groaned. “Okay. But it’s your funeral, cousin. Just don’t come crying to me when she hands you your toys and tells you to go home.”

“Ha! Not likely.”

Mick shook his head once more. “All right, kids, I’ve had enough of your charming company. Now I need to take my girl and test out my new jute rope on her.” He slipped an arm around Allie’s waist and they got up.

Allie bent to give Rosie and Summer a quick hug, a happy smile on her lips. “I’ll see you two later?”

“Of course,” Rosie said. “Anyway, you have a tattoo appointment with me at Midnight Ink on Sunday.”

Allie beamed. “I wouldn’t forget—I’m so excited!”

“Tattoos later—right now my rope is calling,” Mick said, and Allie took his offered hand.

“We’re out, too,” Finn said, pulling the tiny Rosie to her feet then throwing her over his shoulder. Rosie yelped and pounded on his back.

“Like a flea, my beautiful girl,” Finn said, smacking her ass. “Apparently my girl here needs a little lesson in humility. ’Night, all.”

As he carried her off Summer could hear her muttering, “Goddamn it, Finn. You and your fucking caveman act.”

“Which you love,” he said, smacking her ass again.

Rosie giggled as he carried her away.

“You’ll be fine on your own?” Jamie asked his cousin.

“Sure I will be,” Duff answered, his eye still on the beautiful Creole woman across the room, who was ignoring his glances, bent over her own toy bag.

“I’ll order the coffin, just to make sure I’m prepared,” Jamie said.

Duff chuckled. “You do that, cousin.”

Jamie offered his hand to Summer, helping her to her feet, and immediately her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

They hadn’t gone far when he yanked her into his side and whispered in her ear, “Time to see how much heat you can take, sweetheart.”

“Wh . . . what?” she stammered.

“Hot wax, sugar. And it will be very hot. Extra hot for my extra-hot girl.”

He kept his arm around her and his hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging in, making her feel owned. Making her head sink into subspace even as they maneuvered their way through the crowded club. And as her mind sank, her limbs going warm and loose, the people faded away and the world narrowed into a pinpoint bubble where only she and Jamie existed—them and the throbbing beat of the music, which was some dark, edgy metal with a hard drum line that reverberated in her belly, in the blood pounding through her veins. It was perfect for the mood Jamie had already set with those few frightening words—frightening in the best way possible.

He guided her into one of the hallways off the main play space, where she knew some of the club’s theme rooms were. He paused in front of the open doorway to the medical room, and Summer shuddered as she looked in on the old dentist’s chair, the padded table with the shining chrome stirrups, the white walls that seemed more intimidating than the sleek black and red walls found elsewhere at The Bastille.

“Hmm, fascinating, isn’t it?” Jamie murmured. When she instinctively started to pull out of his grasp, to back away, he only held on tighter. Leaning in, he whispered, “Scary as hell, this room, huh, sweetheart?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I’m not taking you in there. But . . . never mind that first part—you still have plenty to worry about.”

“Fuck, Jamie.”

He only chuckled in answer as he led her past the dreaded medical room to the one next door, and they stepped inside. The walls were painted a deep red, which seemed oddly comforting and threatening all at the same time. There was a long table padded in red vinyl in the center of the room, and a heavily carved wooden table—probably an old Spanish piece—against one wall. A few red leather chairs and a double-wide lounge chair piled with pillows filled the space, and dim lamps glowed with a golden light from sconces on the walls.

Jamie left her in the middle of the room to set his toy bag on the wooden table. When he came back to her, he took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. As he’d had her do before, she focused on aligning her breath with his and he smiled in approval. And as that sense of utter connection kicked in, he moved in closer, until his forehead met hers. She breathed him in, exhaled, and felt her limbs go even weaker with exhilaration, anticipation. Love.

“Hey, baby,” he said quietly, “you ready?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“You love me?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes.”

“Love you, too, my sugar girl.”

When he kissed her, she sighed against his mouth as he opened hers with his soft, sleek tongue. He tasted of man and desire, and her body melted into his. He held her face more firmly, controlling the direction of the kiss, his fingers squeezing just hard enough to hurt. She loved it—every tiny signal of his authority over her. She loved that he could make her concerns and all the minutiae of the day disappear. And she loved the sensation of his lips on hers—so soft and sweet yet utterly commanding at the same time. How did he even manage that? But it had been that way with him from the very start.

Jamie.

Love you so much.

He let her go and stepped back. “Perfect that you’re wearing what I told you to. Such a pretty dress. But let’s not ruin it. Strip.”

“Oh. I . . .”

He took one step toward her and pressed his fingers into the tender space below her collarbone, into the pressure point there. “Do it now, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed, realizing in some distant way that being a little afraid of him was a huge turn-on. Not knowing exactly what to expect, how much the hot wax would hurt, was a huge turn-on. The fact that all of this was happening with the man she loved was maybe the biggest turn-on of all.

Oh, yes . . .

Pulling the straps of her little black lace dress down, she shimmied her way out of it. Jamie gave a nod of his chin and she handed the dress to him before slipping out of her lacy bra, then undoing the garters on her black garter belt and sliding the sheer black seamed stockings down her legs. She had to step out of her high black stilettos to get the stockings off. Picking up the shoes, she silently handed them along with her bra and stockings to Jamie, who watched her with a sharp gleam in his green eyes. The barbell piercing his eyebrow glittered wickedly in the low lighting. Why did his piercings, his tattoos, make him seem all the more devilishly sexy when these things never had the same effect on her with any other man? But his demeanor and knowing what was coming were making her wet.

She was brought back into the moment by Jamie reaching out and pinching her nipple, hard.

“Oh!”

“Where were you, baby?”

“Right here, Jamie. I promise.”

“See that you are,” he warned.

She nodded, then got out of her garter belt and black lace thong. It felt so good to be naked—the vulnerability of it always took her down to another level of subspace when they were in-scene.

“Don’t move, my girl,” he said before turning to carefully fold each article of her scant clothing and setting the small pile on the long wooden table, leaving her to shiver as an exquisite anticipation spiraled in her.

With his back still to her, he began to pull chains from his bag, and the primal clink of metal on metal made her nipples go hard, made her skin itch to feel them on her body. He worked slowly, making it pure torture to watch him. To wait. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing pulse as she reminded herself that everything he did was part of the beautiful mind-fuck they both loved.

Finally he turned back to her and moved in closer. He smoothed his palm over the small of her back, and even that simple touch made her tremble with need.

“This is how it’s going to come down, sugar. I’m going to lay you out on this vinyl table and cuff your wrists and ankles to the chains, which will be attached to the table by the steel bars on the sides. They’re incredibly strong, so no matter how you squirm you can’t get away. No matter how bad the pain gets, the only thing that gets you out is using one of your safewords. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Jamie.”

“Tell me your safewords. I want them foremost in your mind before we get started.”

Oh God. How bad was this going to hurt? But she wanted it to. Wanted to do this for him. Wanted the pain, to test her limits. Her mind was buzzing.

“Yellow if I need to pause or to change toys, which I have a feeling is not an option tonight—”

“It’s not.”

She nodded. “Red if I need to stop the scene completely.”

“Good girl. Hands clasped behind your back.”

Good girl.

Her legs went weak as she did as he asked.

Jamie kissed her cheek, her temple, his hands going to her shoulders, sliding down to cup her breasts, then gripping until she groaned. He moved his hands lower, over her buttocks, squeezing and kneading, harder and harder, finding the pressure points. When she came up on her toes to get away from the pain, he smiled.

“Your skin is so hot under my hands,” he said. “This is going to be so good. Come here.”

Lifting her, he set her on the edge of the vinyl table. She had one moment to realize how cool the red vinyl was against her naked thighs, her burning naked sex, then he kicked her legs apart, stepped between them and thrust his fingers inside her.

“Ah!”

She reached for his broad shoulders to steady herself.

“That’s it, sugar. You love it when I fuck you, whether it’s with my cock or my hand, don’t you?” His voice was rough with desire. “You are so damn wet. Fucking beautiful. Makes me so hard.” He pumped his fingers into her, deeper, faster.

“Ah, God . . .”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.”

He thrust hard into her pussy, over and over. She grew wetter and wetter as pleasure poured into her system, until she was soaking his hand and the table beneath her. Until she was moaning and panting, ready to come.

“Ah-ah. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers from her swollen and needy sex and pressed her down onto the table on her back.

She started to fold her thighs together, unable to help herself, but he forced her legs apart with strong hands. Leaning over her he ordered, “Eyes on me, Summer Grace.”

As she looked up at him, the only thoughts in her head were how beautiful he was and how badly she needed to come. How much more she needed to please him. Needed to.

“You know I see your desire, that everything I do is to make it good for you. And I think this is going to be so good for you. The wax is going to be hot. It’s going to feel like it’s burning your skin, but I will not let you walk away with blisters. The point is always to hurt, but not harm. You know I believe in that. Do you trust me?”

The answer came easily. “Of course I do. I trust you.”

He kept his gaze on hers, his eyes brilliant, letting her know how deeply immersed he was in Topspace. He bent and brushed a kiss across her lips, then over her cheek, whispering, “Love you, my sugar girl. You are infinitely precious to me. I would never harm you. Never. But I’m going to hurt you now because we both love it so much. Because it’ll make you fly so high. It’ll make me fly, in my own way. The pain always brings us closer, and I can’t seem to get close enough to you.” He paused, stroking her hair. “Stay here now, love. Stay still and wait.”

She smiled as he straightened up and reached behind him, coming back with a length of chain with one of the leather cuffs already clipped to one end. He attached the chain to the table, then he took one of her ankles in his hands and buckled the cuff around it.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, Jamie.”

“Not cutting off your circulation?”

“No, Jamie.”

He did the same to the other ankle, leaving her legs spread wide. She loved how it made her feel. Wanton. His.

Standing at the foot of the table, he watched her. “You’ll find that I’ve left a little slack in the chains. I love the sound they make when you pull against them.” He paused, his gaze roving over her face, her body. “So, so pretty. All of you. And your pussy is beautiful right now, so pink and wet I can’t stand it.”

To her surprise he bent over her and placed a kiss there, right on her aching clit, making heat pound like a hammer of pure desire, bringing her pleasure even as it tortured her. He stood up and licked his lips.

“Like honey. Like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Tracing the lines of her body with his fingertips, keeping contact as he moved around the table attaching the chains, he placed her wrists in the cuffs and secured them, then checked in with her again.

“Still good? Circulation okay?”

“Yes. Still good.”

He stepped back to survey his handiwork, and as she watched him through the glaze of subspace, he unbuttoned his dark shirt and took it off. A frisson of heat trembled through her system, between her thighs, at his stark male beauty. She pulled a little against her bonds, writhing on the table, hearing the metallic clink of the chains. And she loved the sound, maybe because he did.

Need him to touch me.

But he turned away from her to pull a few items from his bag—two tall pillar candles in glass containers, a long fireplace lighter, his first-aid kit, the big hunting knife he’d carried since he was a teenager. He laid it all out on the table, lit the candles, and she breathed in the scent of warming wax, the earthy scent of the burning wick. She felt her muscles tensing a little—there was no denying she was nervous. She knew some people used less potent candles in sensual play and massage, but this was Jamie, and although he was always sensual, he was also always a sadist.

He played with the candles for several minutes, letting the wax melt and pool. When he turned back to her with one of the candles in his hand, she had some idea of what was coming. Her pulse tripped, revved up a few notches.

He laid the palm of one hand flat on her stomach. “Hold very still,” he warned her before he poured.

The wax landed on one thigh, and at first the shock of the heat made her yelp. Then for a second or two she thought it wasn’t as hot as she expected. But when he poured again in the same spot, the second pour sealing in the heat of the first, the pain was like a simmering buildup that took a few seconds to hit her brain.

“Ah, fucking Christ!”

“Breathe,” he commanded, and she pulled in a gasping breath.

He gave her a minute, then he poured again, this time on the other thigh. The wax had obviously had time to build in temperature, because the burn came right away, and she cried out.

“God, Jamie!” The chains clinked and crashed as she yanked on them, her body convulsing in pain.

He stroked a hand over her skin, his touch soothing, helping her to convert the pain to pleasure. “Shh, you’ll be okay. You can take it, Summer Grace.”

She bit her lip, then made herself pull in and blow out a few breaths.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I want to take it. For you, Jamie.”

“Good girl.”

This time he moved his hand between her breasts and poured onto her stomach and she yelled again.

“Fuck!”

“Breathe,” he told her, his hand smoothing over her breasts, caressing them, pausing to feather his fingertips over her nipples, bringing some pleasure to help her ride out the pain. She sighed.

“Summer Grace.”

Blinking, she looked up at him, and he held her gaze while he played with her nipple, teasing it into a hard point. Still holding her gaze, he drew his hand back to pour the melted wax over her breasts.

“Ah! Jamie . . . Goddamn it, that hurts!”

With a small smile he bent to kiss her lips. “Yes it does, sweetheart.”

It did—it hurt like hell. But at the same time her body was being flooded with endorphins and dopamine—the lovely brain chemicals that made her fly. That and the fact that he called her those sweet pet names while he hurt her really did something to her head.

He did it again and again and she lost track of time, of their surroundings. All that she was had to do with Jamie’s touch, the burning pain, the sound of her own cries in her ears. And all of it while he stayed close enough that she could smell his skin, his desire. All of it while her body burned with a need so intense she thought she might come as he poured the wax onto her skin.

Impossible.

But nothing was impossible with Jamie.

She flew, safe in his command, under his hands, in his love. And it was everything.

*   *   *

JAMIE PRESSED DOWN on Summer Grace’s skin, the heat beneath his palm melting into his skin. For some reason he couldn’t quite understand, he welcomed the pain. Welcomed that moment of connecting with what she was feeling.

He glanced up at her face, so lovely and soft. So lost in subspace. So entirely his.

She was squirming on the table, pulling a little on the chains as her body undulated He was certain she had no idea what she was doing. No idea how unbelievably beautiful she was. How hot it was for him to watch her moan and squirm, to hear the metallic clink of the heavy chains, to see her bound in them.

He licked his lips as he slipped a hand between her spread thighs. She was soaked, swollen. When he stroked her hard clit, she gasped. His cock twitched. He pushed his fingers inside her, and she was so hot and wet it nearly sent him over the edge. He stripped his jeans off, kicked his way out of them and his boots, grabbing a condom from the table before climbing onto the table on top of her.

She looked up at him with that sensual, gleaming blue gaze as he knelt up between her spread legs to slide the condom over his hard cock.

“Have to be inside you, baby,” he murmured, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

“Yes. Please, Jamie. Yes.”

As he slid his hands under her buttocks, lifting her, opening her up, she bit her lip, her fingers wrapping around the chains that still held her to the table. He shifted, pulled her hips a little higher, and surged slowly into her.

“Ah, Jesus.”

She was so wet and tight and clenching his cock already. Pleasure went through him in a rush that made him dizzy. Keeping one hand under her, he stroked her body with the other, finding her skin in between the patches of wax hardening on her stomach and ribs. He began to move inside her, and raised his hand to her face, which was torn with pleasure. Touching her lips he ordered, “Suck,” and slipped two fingers into her mouth.

Wrapping her lips around his fingers, her tongue slid over the tips, in between them. She worked them as she would his cock, and he had to force himself to calm, to not explode inside her. He began to fuck her in rhythm with her warm, sucking mouth, losing himself in the cadence, in her body, in her utter submission to him.

Summer Grace.

“You are mine, my sugar girl. My girl. My heart,” he muttered, gasping in between the words that didn’t do enough to convey what he felt.

She moaned around his fingers to tell him, “I’m going to come. Please, Jamie. I need to . . . Please.”

“Yes. Come for me. I’m gonna come, too. Now . . . Right now. Ah!”

He fell on top of her as his climax came down on him like a wave of heat and need that drowned him in sensation. He grasped the chains above her head, felt her fingers searching for his and twined their hands together as she shuddered, as she came with him.

“Baby, baby, baby . . .”

“Jamie. Love you, Jamie.”

He drew in a long breath, breathing it all in—the scents of desire and candle wax, their intermingled sweat and come. The scent of her hair and what was left of her sugary lip gloss. And he had to kiss her, to drink her in. To drink in this moment. He pressed his lips to hers, heard her small sigh, felt her body give in to his once more. And it was perfect. They were perfect.