“Harder,” I whispered.

Jamie obliged.

“Faster,” I breathed.

Jamie drilled into me.

God, I’d feel fucked for the next week with how brutal he was taking me.

I adored it.

To communicate that, I raked my nails up his back until I could fist my hand in his hair while I clamped the other to the tight curve of his clenching and releasing ass.

“Again,” he growled his order.

He wanted me to climax again?

“I—”

He cut off what I was going to say by dipping in and nipping my lower lip sharply.

I tasted him and me in the enchanting, vicious bite, so I tightened around him everywhere.

He grunted at the feel and released my lip.

“Again, Nora,” he demanded.

“Baby,” I rasped.

Even though I wouldn’t have imagined it was humanly possible, he drove in harder, faster, deeper, grunting, “Again.”

The orgasm rising and cresting in a second, clamping onto him with all four limbs (and other places as well), I did as told and came again.

“Yes,” he bit out then shoved his face in my neck, and I heard his deep groan while he hammered inside me, filling me with his seed.

Languidly, his thrusts slowed until he slid in to the root, and I felt his lips trail up my neck to below my ear, where he teased, “You don’t sound like an uptight society maven when you come.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and fought smiling.

But my lips huffed, “I’m far from uptight.”

He lifted his head, looked down at me, and honest to God, it took everything in my power not to burst into tears at what I saw.

It wasn’t simply his usual handsomeness made more so (much, much more) from sex and satisfaction.

It wasn’t the natural magnetism and constant hum of energy that always exuded from him either.

It was the happiness he showed without hiding it in the slightest, which overlaid a deeper contentment that seemed so settled, anyone who didn’t know him would think it had always been there.

When it absolutely had not.

I’d given him that.

Me.

So yes, it took everything I had not to cry.

Instead, I rested my hand on his cheek.