Once is not enough!

Twice!

Was this guy planning to test everything he’d learned from that indescribable book on her once again?

Jane Sampson now regretted saying that James Black had poor technique.

She would rather have him as he was before, predictable and steady, than cope with the now varied and unpredictable James Black!

It served her right for running her mouth! Served her right!

"Tired?" Compared to Jane Sampson who couldn’t even be bothered to lift her eyelids, James Black seemed as lively as ever. Hearing Jane suddenly sighing beside him, he didn’t know why she had sighed but the moment he saw her annoyed expression, he couldn’t help but curve his lips into a chuckling smile.

"Rest," he said, "Beef shreds, we can get up and deal with it tomorrow morning." He pulled the quilt up to cover her body, which was littered with hickeys, her skin so tender, the marks from before had yet to fade completely.

Every time he saw those hickeys, he thought he should be gentler, but when the time came, it seemed utterly out of his control.

And James Black couldn’t deny that he was somewhat enchanted by the sight of her bearing his marks.

He liked to see the hickeys he left on her.

"Lie down for a while; I need to go back." Jane shifted slightly, but she wasn’t moving away. Instead, she snuggled closer into James Black’s arms and then wrapped her hand around his waist.

Their skin touched, and Jane, unusually, didn’t complain about James’ warmth—it was like she was a koala, just holding onto him.

Feeling the person in his arms shift slightly and unprecedently hold onto him, James Black’s expression momentarily revealed astonishment.

But it was just a fleeting moment. Such emotion was quickly masked by him.

James Black patted the arm around his waist, "If you can walk back, then go."

"Don’t underestimate me, I’ll have energy after resting a while," Jane retorted, huffing, then gently bit down on James Black’s arm without leaving even a teeth mark—it was just a nibbling gesture.

Then, with a "ptoo," she pushed his hand away, muttering, "Salty."

"You smell sweet," James Black complimented Jane.

Jane didn’t make a sound, just yawned sleepily, her eyes misty, half-closed, not fully closed, obviously tired but resisting sleep.

Just like a little kitten wanting to nap, she rubbed her face on his chest, then suddenly called out to him, "James~"

"Speak," James responded.

"With all this meat-eating, won’t you get tired of it one day?" She spoke without looking up at James, her eyes were closed, as though it was just a casual question asked before sleep.

However, the arm around his waist trembled slightly, betraying the fact that her heart was not as calm as it seemed.

James, too, realized from that minute action, which he almost overlooked, that her question, which sounded like a joke, was not, in fact, a joke.

"What are you afraid of?" James lifted the face of the person in his arms, forcing Jane to look at him.

Jane shook off his hand and buried her face back against him, not saying a word, just holding him a bit tighter.

After a while, she finally spoke in a muffled voice, "I was just asking, I’m not afraid of anything."

Perhaps it was that single sentence that emboldened her, for she then lifted her head and snorted.