“I’m not hungry.” A pink, pointed tongue wets her bottom lip. “Not like that, anyway.”

And the next part… it’s like I’m in a dream. In one of my daydreams, except even in the depths of my head, I’d never have the audacity to imagine Gwen Roberts stepping in front of my chest and flicking open my shirt buttons one by one. She frowns at the bare skin she reveals, covered with dark hair and slick with sweat, and once she reaches the bottom of my shirt, she holds the two sides open.

“Gwen,” I plead, a broken man. Does she like what she sees? Has she changed her mind already? What is going on?

She’s so still, staring at my bare chest in the firelight. Then, so quick I don’t even have time to tense, she leans forward and licks a stripe beside one nipple.

Fuck.

“Salty,” Gwen murmurs, shooting me a mischievous smile. God, if I have a heart attack out here, no one will come to help. “You’re just like I thought you’d be.”

“Sweaty?”

“Hairy. Big. Delicious.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I watch in silence as Gwen runs her palms up and down my body. Tracing over the swell of thick muscle around my middle; the brown discs of my nipples; the place where my heart slams against my rib cage. She lingers there, her vivid blue eyes flashing up to mine. “You’ve been working hard.”

Yes, but that’s not it. That’s not why my heart is racing.

“Gwen,” I repeat, still helpless under her scorching touch.

It should shame me, watching her sink to her knees. Those poor bare knees against the hard floor, so dirty and cold when she deserves so much more. But lord help me, I don’t stop her. Not even when she tugs at my belt. Not even when she draws my cock out into the heated air, so hard since she sat in my lap this morning, rubbing the bead of moisture over the head with her thumb.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gwen tells me. Her face is so serious. “But I want to make it good for you. So tell me if I’m going wrong, okay?”

Impossible. Such a thing is impossible, but I nod, because I’m beyond words now and I’m enough of a monster not to stop her.

Fuck. She’s half my age.

I should be so ashamed. I am so ashamed. But I still groan in pure bliss as her tongue swirls around the head of my cock.

“You don’t need to do this.” Finally, I dredge up the words from somewhere. It needs to be said, even if I punctuate it with a hiss through my teeth. Already I’m rocking toward her, nudging toward her lips, her grip so light on my shaft. “You don’t owe me anything, Gwen.”

“I know. But I want this. Don’t you want this?”

“Yes.” More than I want my next breath. “Fuck. Squeeze me harder, cariad. Yes. Like that.”