Jinn tilted his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Then I suppose I had best make it count." Which was why he didn't let his hand fall again in the next breath, or the one after that, why he stroked and watched Audrey's lips features slacken with pleasure. And why he chose his moment so perfectly: right on the cusp of her next exhale, right when she might have canted her hips back into his strokes.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed around the room. Jinn let it, more aroused by her response to his touch than the act itself. She wasn't defiant, when she smirked or tensed. She wasn't the sort of lover who needed this violence to drive her to her knees. She went willingly. And when Jinn settled himself behind her, she went willingly there, too, her ass red beneath his hands, her thighs quivering as he slicked himself up with her arousal.
He used his fingers, first, his palm cupping her as he felt her tense and shudder around him, her clit pulsing against the heel. She was tight; he would go slowly. One finger became two, stretching her as he mercilessly ground his hand against her that tiny nub of pleasure at the apex of her folds, her slickness drenching them both. It was a different kind of torture, this, and no less gentle for the orgasm it demanded from her.