Her efforts are clumsy and unpracticed, but since I’m clearly deranged, that only makes the blood pound hotter through my veins. She’s mine, for this moment if not for any longer, and she’s never done this before. She’s exploring this side of herself, and she’s doing it with me.

Has a man ever been luckier? A lightning bolt could strike me and I’d go down with a grin. “Ah, Christ. Gwen. Suck it down, sweetheart. See how deep you can go.”

She’s a natural. I don’t say that out loud, because there’s a million ways it could sound wrong, but she’s good at this. Eager and sexy and so focused on her task. Gwen’s sucking on my cock like it’s the only thing that exists in the world, humming at the taste, pumping her fist, the nails of her spare hand digging into my thigh.

The heat of her. The slip and slide of her tongue, the suction pulling all the way down to my balls, the shy glance she shoots me from beneath her lashes—it’s too much. I clench my jaw, tension twisting low in my belly until it hurts.

My hips rock forward faster. Losing my battle with myself, I plunge my hands into her hair. Her messy bun flops to one side, uprooted by my thick fingers, and I’m getting soot on her again, but I don’t fucking care.

I want my hand prints on her. I want to sign my goddamn name on her ass. After all, she as good as owns mine, and she’s moaning in approval, only getting louder when I tug on her hair.

“Fuck. Yeah, that’s it. Such a good girl. Ah, fuck.” I barely have time to pull her hair in warning, but Gwen shakes her head, holding my gaze as she sucks me deeper. Holds me inside. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be, no fight left in me, so I twitch in her mouth, pulsing on and on, sparks zipping up and down my spine as I empty myself between her plump, perfect lips. Coming in with a tortured groan.

“Gwen.” I sound winded, still fucking into her mouth. “Cariad. Gwen.”

I come back to myself slowly, ears ringing. Somehow I stumbled forward half a step, bracing one hand on my anvil, and Gwen’s smirking up at me like the Cheshire cat. I tuck myself away with shaking fingers then reach down and pluck her off the floor, setting her down on the workbench with a surprised squeak.

“You’ve dirtied your knees.”

“Mhm.” Gwen kicks her heels, unrepentant as I scrub at her sooty kneecaps with the tails of my shirt. There are two pink circles from being on the hard floor, and I fight the urge to bend down and kiss them. “Did you like that, Rhys Evans?”

All the air empties out of me. How can she ask me that? Doesn’t she know that she ruined me a long time ago? That I’d already die for her to touch me again?