It had been so very long since she’d been called by that name, the name she considered her truest, the one writ upon her heart. That this man spoke the name Amelie felt right.
She found herself leaning forward, and him matching the movement, both driven by mutual instinct until only a hairsbreadth of distance separated her mouth from his. She inhaled a sip of air, breathing him in. This air, it was precious to her, for she understood it was the last time.
He reached out and cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling through her hair, drawing her forward. Her entire being felt concentrated in the places where his skin met hers, the light pressure of his fingertips, the brush of his lips. It was a moment that longed to be more than a simple, sweet touch.
A surge of carnality pulsed through her, and she was unknotting his cravat, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Next his shirt went over his head, and his chest was bare. Such a gorgeous specimen of man.
He unfastened the fall of his trousers and soon was tossing them aside. She pulled her chemise over her head, and again they faced one another, naked not simply in body, but their souls bared to one another.
Even as he leaned into her space, he held her secure as he lay her down. He stretched naked along the length of her body, the firelight casting him in its warm, flickering glow, his fingertips tracing her skin with slow intention that lit a flame inside her. His dark gaze drank her in, and the urgency of the last few days was replaced with a feeling deeper, and more meaningful. What they were about to do was about more than physical pleasure and release. It would be an expression of all they felt and could not say with words, but with a language their bodies spoke intuitively.
He angled his head and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that blossomed with intention with every rapid beat of her heart. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer, her tongue a tangle with his, wanting—needing—to deepen the contact with him. Sheneededthe solid mass of his body, the delicious weight of him pressing her into the carpet, grounding her to the earth, to this moment.
Forearms planted to either side of her head, he hovered over her. Her legs spread, answering the question in his eyes. In a long, slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, his head arching back, his eyes drifting shut with pleasure. With each of his measured, relentless strokes came a sense of completion, as if she was only whole when she was at one with him, her body sticky against his.
Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he drove into her, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust. Her hands roved across him—his face, broad shoulders, muscular arms, ridged stomach, taut arse—feeling him, savoring him, memorizing him. “Oh, Jamie,” she sighed, her mind beginning to fragment with the bliss he was delivering.
Intense silver eyes met hers. “Can I do something”—a thrust, a hesitation—“different?”
A frisson of anticipation slid through her. “You can do anything to me.”
He angled back, withdrawing from her—eliciting a groan of protest—grabbed her hips and flipped her over, to her stomach. She went utterly and completely still.
“Are you agreeable?” he asked, heedfulness in his tone.
“I—” Now she was here, face down in the carpet, she wasn’t sure. Then again, this was Jamie, and she’d meant her words.You can do anything to me.“I am.”
The sensation of having made herself entirely vulnerable to him skittered through her. She sank into the feeling that should have unsettled her. It didn’t evoke fear, but rather relief. The release of a burden she’d been carrying without realizing it. To be completely vulnerable to this man was freedom.
Supported by one elbow to the side of her head, and the other at her hip, she felt his long length hover above her, the air between their bodies pulsing with desire. Then, inch by inch, he sank into her, his long, hard cock stretching her, her back arching so her sex could receive more of him. Without the distracting sight of him, she was able to become naught but a bundle of sensation. This surrender… It was true intimacy.
Breath hot and humid, his mouth found her neck, sending goose bumps racing across her skin. With every thrust, her short gasps met his rasped grunts in the age-old symphony of lust and pleasure. She shifted to pull her knees under her and lifted to her forearms, her bottom raised, his strong hands now clutching her hips, his cock impaling her with a rhythm that gained ferocity with each thrust.
Along with tenderness and intimacy, she needed this, too, this animal drive, this pleasure that skated the edge of pain, sometimes tipping over into it, as her sex began to coil with a tension that had become—oh—so deliciously familiar. “I’m so,” she cried out and gasped with his next stroke, “so—” She couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.
A knowing chuckle sounded behind her. “Close?”
She released a long moan in response. So close, yet so far out of reach.
One hand firm on the small of her back, he reached beneath her, finding her slit, sliding along its wet opening, driving her into a wild frenzy as her bottom slammed into his cock. His thumb found a spot—the same spot his tongue had found earlier tonight—using her wetness to glide over it, over and over, making her gasp in short bursts. “Are you toying with me?” she asked, frustrated, the question a demand.
Another dark, knowing chuckle. “Oh, yes, my love,” he whispered in her ear, his voice a velvet rumble that tightened her nipples, curled her toes. “But now”—he applied more pressure, his thumb moving in tight, deliberate circles, driving her past the point of sanity—“you are going to come for me.”
And…and…and there it was. Her body tensed and held in limbo—slave to the swirl of his thumb, to the relentless drive of his cock—release crashing down upon them, drowning them in quick spasms of pleasure, their bodies at once nothing more than physical sensation and somehow existing outside it.
In this infinite moment, they were one. That it could stretch forever.
She collapsed on her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her. She matched the rise and fall of his chest. Every breath he drew, a gift.
Too soon, he slid off her, and she nearly groaned at the loss. But she didn’t. It was but the first loss of the night, a small one to prepare her for the larger one. She rolled to a curl on her side, facing him, her eyes following every line and angle of his beautifully formed face.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?” she asked, slightly taken aback by his tone.
“Memorize me.” His gaze refused to release hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She flinched.
