This update is a bit late because I got major smut-writer's block. I was trying to write this glamourous sex scene, and the characterisation and dialogue suffered for it.

Then as soon as I wrote Viv like Viv and Jamie like Jamie, the filthiest thing I have ever written just poured out. Ever. Like. I don't even think I want to claim this.

(enjoy/good luck/i'll be screaming into my pillow)

be the death of me.

He wasted no time peeling off my lingerie, discarding them over his shoulder like they were merely insignificant scraps of lace. His eyes glinted hungrily when he perused my body, wandering from my face to my breasts, over my navel...

Tracking the movements of Jamie's hazy green irises, I realised he'd refrained from glancing any lower when he was once more making eye contact with me. His face was taut with desire, jaw slack and eyelids heavy. It sent proud shivers all over my body, inspiring that expression.

I wondered if I looked the same, if I'd written my desire across my face in the same visual scrawl as Jamie. Or did I look less awed and more feral?

One solitary finger reached out and journeyed the same path Jamie's stare had blazed, skimming downwards from my temple. A contented sigh left me. When he traced over my lips, I tipped my head back against the pillow—craning for harder pressure, more friction, but his touch was feather-light. Fleeting. Reverent.

I bit my lip at the playful flicker in his eyes, shoving away my impatience and enjoying the show.

I'd always preferred sex with the lights off until Jamie. Even if the men I slept with didn't even know my last name, even if I knew I'd never speak to them again, even if the sex was as impersonal as sex could be—I still felt too exposed, too criticised. But Jamie was my biggest supporter instead of a critic. There was no part of me he hadn't already seen, physical or spiritual.

In the dim light of my desk lamp, I watched Jamie kneeling on the bed, both of my legs splayed on either side of his knees. By the time his forefinger slid down my throat, lingering over my thundering heartbeat, and circled my nipple, it was a combination of internal thoughts and external sensation that sparked a deep tremble in each of my nerves; I love him and I love this in equal proportion.

I grabbed Jamie's wrist and pulled, flattening his palm over my chest. His gentle touches were driving me crazy. "Are you scared I'm going to break or something?"

"No," Jamie murmured amusedly.

"So touch me harder."

Jamie blinked. Then lips stretched into a sly smile.

He braced his weight over me with a muscled forearm planted by my ribs. The scent of his shampoo, of clementines, wafted into my head and crowded out all other thoughts.

With his free hand, he cupped one breast and sucked my nipple into his mouth, his tongue hot against my sensitive skin. The yelp caught at the back of my throat when his hand shifted to the right, squeezing my other nipple with equal intensity. Hard. Electricity shot from my breasts to my pussy.

"God," I wheezed. I pressed my thighs together, achy throbs emanating from my heat.

Jamie only chuckled into my skin, his attention divided. Wonderfully divided in two. I raked my fingers through his silky hair, eyes fluttering shut. With wet kisses trailing down my torso, Jamie made his way further down the mattress. At this moment, I stole a look and my heart spluttered.

I knew he'd be the death of me. Just for the record. I wanted it known that I foresaw my untimely demise, in case campus police launched an investigation into why my once-impressive brain had been rendered completely dysfunctional.

The cause? Seeing Jamie between my legs.

His eyes were positively predatory, lips mischievously quirked, as he settled onto his elbows. Jamie wrapped his hands under my knees and dragged them up, simultaneously encouraging me to lift and bend my knees. He even gave one leg a lush kiss, his tongue sweeping along my skin. My breath faltered as my core spasmed needily.

His hands curved around my thighs further, encircling them, torturously settling on the smooth, untouched flesh right before the situation started getting very, very wet. And it still wasn't close enough. Jamie's breath ghosted across my slit, which tingled like crazy in the AC-regulated air of my bedroom; a sensation matched by the buzzing in my head.

More.

Nothing happened. I looked down the plane of my body with the help of my own hands, cradling the suddenly superhuman weight of my head, double chin be damned.

"You know what you are?" I croaked. "A tease. No-one likes a tease."

Amusement danced through Jamie's features as he watched me, watching him. He said, "I'm offended, Viv," even though he still looked like the cat who got the cream.

Then he lowered his chin and pressed a deep, open-mouthed kiss on my core.

And I couldn't keep my head up anymore. My back arched clean off the mattress, an instant chill hitting my sweaty skin. A needy whine slipped out of me before I could even try to quieten myself. I shoved my fist into my mouth while my lower body spasmed.

Jamie's grip around my thighs tightened, keeping me still enough, and worked himself closer to my slit. All the air left my lungs in an audible wheeze when his tongue thrust into my channel, lapping greedily at my juices.

Using one hand, Jamie braced his index and middle finger on either side of my pussy and spread them, creating easy access to my clit. Then with the other hand, he stroked my clit in time with his tongue, rubbing in diagonal strokes across the hood. Blood rushed through my ears, my throat, my skull, heating my entire body from within.

I had a nanosecond of clarity to piece together a semblance of arrogance: I taught him that trick, I taught this man-

Jamie hooked his tongue upwards and started searching, and I realised I merely taught tricks. But he'd mastered them. His tongue strummed my body like a harp. However, for all his wicked oral skills, I needed harder, more consistent pressure on my G-spot to orgasm. I called Jamie's attention with a tug on his hair.

"I need your fingers in me."

Jamie glanced up and cocked a smug eyebrow.

"And, can we shuffle back? I want to lean against the headboard and watch you."

I hoisted myself backwards, bunching my pillow up against the rigid wooden headboard and lying back down. Jamie shuffled forward to close the newfound distance.

He planted his elbows down once more, and I spread my legs farther when he positioned them wider than they had been before. His deltoids rippled deliciously at the movement. A view fit for memoriam.

With considerable hesitation—or intention to tease, more likely—Jamie easily slipped one finger into my channel. My walls pulsed around it, begging him to stay there forever. After several experimental thrusts, Jamie eased a second finger in.

"Oh, yes," I breathed, hardly able to keep my vision from falling out of focus. "Keep that up."

Jamie crooked his fingers, stroking my G-spot firmly, consistently, with the same maddening rhythm that made a trickle of my arousal slowly wind down my inner thigh towards the bedsheets. I moaned low and long, grabbing a clump of his air and urging him down.

His mouth closed over my clit. He kissed it playfully before sucking on it and sweeping his tongue across it in repetitive swipes.

My other hand fisted the bedsheets, the only outlet for the deep, overwhelming tension Jamie stoked in me. Every single muscle in my body contracted, seeming to prepare for an inevitable impact, like I was hurtling in a vehicle towards a life-changing collision.

The French called orgasms the little death. Yeah—this was why.

My orgasm swept over me like a swell tide, crashing through all coherent thoughts and controlled movements. I was pretty sure my thighs tried to crush Jamie's skull, but he placed his arm on one of them and leaned his weight into it.

He kept stroking his fingers in and out, kept sucking on my clit, even as my pleasure soared to new heights. I didn't think it was possible, just like I wouldn't think a tide would crash upon the shore, and then crash even higher on the shore, and leap higher, and higher.

There was surely some universal law of physics broken there, but Jamie kept pushing me higher, until my eyes were open, yet my vision was decimated. I saw literal white spots, fringed by a dark grey tingling mass. Soon green dots came into focus, which separated into two green orbs, and materialised into Jamie's passionate eyes.

He smiled up at me while his thumb stroked a languid circle on my hipbone. "How was that?" he asked.

"Oh..." I hummed nonchalantly, my sweat-coated chest heaving up and down. I fought to catch my breath, then mustered an answer. "Good."

"Just good?" he pouted.

I shook my head. "I..." I panted, "—am..." I lifted my hand and pinched my index and middle fingers, "—this close to passing out from pleasure."

Unbridled confidence burst onto Jamie's face. He crawled up the bed until both our heads rested on the pillow. "So good means great, then?"

"Phenomenal," I sighed, eyes drooping.

Lying on our sides, we pressed our foreheads together while I tried to catch my breath. Jamie's hand smoothed up and down the curve of my waist, sending warmth flurrying from each point of contact. I slung a leaden arm over his neck and played with the ends of his hair, while his soft eyes held mine.

We rested in comfortable silence, our hands mindlessly searching the other out, until Jamie's lips suddenly twitched upward.

"What's funny?" I wondered, wrapped up in his body heat.

"I was just thinking it should be illegal to be this happy," he murmured. "Then I thought of you in a police uniform. And it was hot."

I snorted, poking his cheek. "Since when were you into roleplay?"

"I'm into whatever you're into."

My eyebrows raised.

The proximity to Jamie, with the smell of sex in the room, and the prospect of endless sexual fantasies ahead of us, caused a muted flicker of pleasure. It abruptly leapt into a flame when Jamie's hand tightened on my hip. He tugged me a few inches closer to him, just enough to press my front against every plane of his firm torso and stiff—

"Fuck," I squeaked, his erection hot against my pelvis.

His hand flattened on the small of my back, increasing the pressure between our bodies while he ground against me...

"You're insatiable, aren't you?" Jamie teased, his voice low and raspy.

And, upon further reflection, it wasn't him grinding at all. My bad. It was my hips rolling gently against him, seeming to have a mind of their own while my intoxicated brain caught up.

Eventually, my train of thought took an expected lustful turn, centering on the tantalising prospect of having a second orgasm with him buried inside me.

I tilted my head and softly bit Jamie's earlobe. His cock twitched against my stomach.

"Get a condom," I commanded, whispering into his ear. "You remember where they are?"

Months and months it had been since we last had sex, but I was nothing if not a creature of habit. There was still a box in the lowest drawer of my desk, which Jamie had explored many times.

Jamie nodded his head, then shook it. "I don't need anything from you." He pressed a kiss to my temple, very understanding and gentlemanly. "If you're tired now, we can just sleep—"

But I didn't want a gentleman right now. I wanted him to rail me.

A hunger like I'd never known bubbled in my gut, not only for his body. I wanted to watch his eyes roll back when I gave him pleasure, then I wanted the cuddling and the pillow talk and the lazy morning sleep-ins.

Then I wanted the days when we were too tired to fuck and instead high-fived and took a nap. I wanted the afternoons when we were too busy to see each other and settled for exchanging bad text jokes—except mine would be good, because I never made bad jokes.

I wanted a life with him.

"Jamie," I said, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I've missed you for too long. I want you buried in me."

Swinging my leg over Jamie's sculpted hip, I shunted even closer to what I wanted, until he felt exactly how much I wanted it. My core was already weeping from my first orgasm and now the fresh desire gusting through my lungs. A broken groan hit the air when I rubbed my slit against Jamie's cock, but I couldn't track who made it.

Both his hands closed around my ass, holding me firmly in position while he rubbed his cock back and forth over my sopping pussy, eyes steadily losing their gentlemanly softness to a dark, swirling haze.

I removed my leg and pushed Jamie away with a smirk. "Get the fucking condom."

And this time, he readily obeyed.

Did I just write that..?