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It works the way it did when we were together.

I melt into his touch.

Everything else fades away.

I don’t care about protecting my heart.

Or my freedom.

Or my life.

I reach for him, but he presses my arms into the bed. He does it softly. So it’s just enough I know he’s in control.

He holds my gaze. Beg me if you want it so badly.

I don’t.

So he makes me wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He stays there, patient, even though he’s hard against me.

“Please,” I say, without any surrender in my voice.

“Please what?”

I buck my hips in response.

“You can do better than that, diavolessa,” he says, as he presses his palm against my panties.

“Please, touch me. Now.”

Instantly, he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric.

He stokes me softly.

Then it’s two finger inside me.

Fuck, that feels good.

I need all of him.

“Fuck, Jamie,” he purrs as he stretches me. “I need to taste you.”

“So taste me.”

He doesn’t move. He slows. Stares into my eyes. Lets his voice drop to a softer tone. “I’m only doing this if I stay in control.”

I don’t protest or ask why. I understand.

I lied to him. I left him. I broke his heart.

He’s not in control of his feelings. So he needs to be in control of this.

“You can use your tie,” I say.