He placed one knee next to her bare thigh on the bed and even the touch of denim on her skin was enough to send a new surge of lust through her.

“Jamie, please . . .”

“Please what, sugar?”

“Do . . . something . . .”

He grinned, the dimples flashing again. “Oh, I plan to. I’m just taking my time to soak you in, girl. And to calm the hell down so I do right by you.” He reached out and traced his fingertip slowly over her throat, then down her side, over her ribs. “I love the ink on you, by the way. Beautiful. And so damn hot.” His finger feathered over her skin, leaving tiny firelights of pleasure in its wake, a small trail of sensation.

Between her thighs was an insistent pulse-beat of wanting. She waited, doing everything she could to hold still and take it, knowing that was what he wanted. Fucking torture for a control freak like her, but especially because it was him touching her. She couldn’t find it within herself to speak.

He used two fingers on her breastbone to push her back onto the bed. With the other hand, he spread her legs wide, so wide she knew she was completely open to him. But she wanted him to see—wanted him to see her, to see what he’d missed out on all these years. To see how wet he’d made her.

He bent over her, one palm flattening between her breasts, the other pressing hard—deliciously—on her thigh.

“I’m going to taste you, Summer Grace. I am going to bury my face between your lovely thighs and lick you and suck you and fuck you with my tongue until you come. And then I’m going to really fuck you. But that’ll have to wait.”

With his hands on her waist, he scooted her up on the bed, then he slid his hands down to her knees and roughly forced her thighs farther apart. She loved it—the manhandling. Loved his soft voice and his rough touch. So much it was making her dizzy.

In moments he was kneeling over her on the bed, his mouth between her thighs. And oh God, she thought she might actually die.

Soft lips and wet, seeking tongue—it was everything at once as he used one hand to hold her hip down, hard enough to hurt, while with the other he spread her open until her clit peeked out from under its hood. He began to flick his tongue at the delicate nub of sensitive flesh. Pleasure was like heat lightning, striking over and over, deep into her body. He moved down, lapping at her swollen lips, her clitoris, her waiting hole with his soft tongue.

She grasped his head, his buzz cut like velvet under her hands, and hung on, moaning. Panting. When he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, scraping the tip with his teeth as he thrust two fingers inside her, she came up off the bed, the first edge of climax shivering through her. He must have felt it—he added a third finger, and maybe a fourth—she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the sensation of being filled up. And at the same time he sucked so hard that the line between pain and pleasure was a blur. But she loved it. She screamed as she came, her body convulsing, drowning in sensation.

Before the last shivers of her climax had subsided, he began again, this time pinching the lips of her sex between his fingers and licking her clit, then pushing his tongue inside her. It was so soft and wet, the sensation nearly indescribable—that and the contrast of the pain from his pinching fingers. And his scent all around her, seeming to surround her, envelop her, as the heat of their bodies grew together. Soon she was coming again, shaking with it, crying his name.

“Jamie! Ah, God, Jamie . . . Yes!”

He lifted his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning, all dimples again, and even that was hot to her—the pleased look on his face. The damn dimples that had always made her swoon.

“You want to come for me again, sugar girl?”

“Yeah . . . I do. I need to.”

“Mmm, those might be the sexiest damn words I’ve ever heard.”

He stood, stroked the solid ridge of his erection through his jeans and she held her breath, waiting for him to reveal the flesh she’d dreamed of for years.

“I need to see you,” she told him. “To touch you. Come on, Jamie.”

“You want to touch me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Come on then. You take it out. Take my cock out and suck me.”

She shivered at the way he was talking to her. Oh, she had never in a million years imagined what a filthy mouth he had. Somehow she’d always thought of him as more straight-laced than she was. But he had a hell of an edge in the bedroom. She hadn’t thought anything could make her more irresistibly drawn to Jamie Stewart-Greer, but oh my . . . that beautiful, masculine face and that dirty, dirty mouth. The man made her shaky, she needed him so badly.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and placed her hands on his hips. Looking up at him, catching his gaze with hers, she smoothed her palms over the front of his jeans until she felt that hard shaft. She drew her fingertips over it, drawing a groan from him. The desire blazing in his green eyes went through her like a surge of heat up her spine, and she suddenly—blindingly—became aware of her own power. The power of being utterly female. Of having this incredible man at her mercy. At the mercy of his desire for her. And the mercy of her sexual confidence, which was blossoming with every moment.

She ran her fingernails up the thick shaft, swallowing hard at the size of him, then back down, tearing her gaze from his face long enough to see his abs clench with need.

She brought her gaze back to his. “I can’t wait to have your cock in my hands,” she murmured. “To stroke you. To take you in my mouth. To suck you.”

“Fuck, Summer Grace.”

“No, don’t call me that now, Jamie. Call me anything else.”

He grabbed the back of her head and yanked her in until her face was an inch from his open fly.

“I will call you anything I want, sugar girl. We may not have negotiated full-on play yet, but never forget that when you’re with me, I am in charge. Completely.” The command in his voice scared her a little. She loved it. “And”—his tone and the grip on her hair softened—“you are always Summer Grace to me, even though you hate it when I call you that. You are always that sweet and sexy girl I’ve known forever. Wanted forever.”

“Oh . . .”

Had he? All those years that he’d turned her away? But she couldn’t think about it now. She could barely think of anything but doing exactly what she’d said. She licked her lips.

“You call me anything then, Jamie. As long as I can touch you.”

“Yeah, touch me, sweetheart. Do it.”

*   *   *

HE WATCHED HER as she pulled on his jeans, one small hand snaking in and wrapping around his cock.

He groaned. And thought he’d explode when she freed it from his jeans. The look on her face was pure sex: her blue, feline eyes narrowing, a sultry smile on her lips. Lush pink lips that opened to take the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Ah, yes, sugar.”

Pleasure was some strange combination—the liquid heat of her mouth and something that sliced into him like a knife. That sharp. That keenly edged. Because it was her.

Control.

He pulled in a gasping breath, then another, deeper this time.

He exhaled as she slid her tongue over the tip, into the hole for a moment, and some vague part of his lust-addled mind wondered where she’d learned that trick. Then his brain went empty as she swallowed him whole.

“Jesus!”

But she didn’t stop, didn’t even pause. With her hand still wrapped firmly around the base of his erection, she slid her mouth up and down the shaft, pausing to lick at the head, to nibble, to scrape her teeth lightly over the swollen flesh before sliding her lovely pink lips down again. He’d never in his life seen anything so damn hot as Summer Grace’s mouth on him, her lips wrapped around his hard cock—harder than he’d ever been in his life. He had to close his eyes or he was going to come in her mouth like some sixteen-year-old. Like he had into his fisted hand thinking about her as a teenager, over and over.