My ass wiggles an invitation.

The blacksmith groans, long and low.

“Are you sure?” he grates out, already flipping up my skirt. There’s the telltale clink of a belt, and I melt all the way forward, resting my forehead on the cool wood.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

When he tugs my panties down my legs, I bite my lip hard. And when his thumb strokes along my seam, spreading my eager wetness, I could weep with relief.

“Forget the foreplay,” I order, cheek smushed into the table. “Just—just fuck me. Okay? Really go to town on me.”

His snort makes me grin. “That’s big talk for a girl on her first time.”

“I can handle it.”

A heavy hand strokes up my spine. “I bet you can.”

Despite my very clear orders, Rhys still takes a moment to rub at my clit. He drives me up onto my tiptoes with his slow, smooth circles, each maddening swoop of his calloused thumb making my breath catch, and only once I’m whining do I feel his cock prod my entrance.

He’s big. Thick and broad. I remember, because I gripped him in my hands; I weighed him on my tongue.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” I urge. “I can take it.”

“I’m not shy.” Rhys presses the head inside me, amusement rich in his tone. “I’m being careful with you.”

“Well don’t.”

I’m being a brat and we both know it, already scrabbling for purchase on the table after a couple of inches despite my big words, but the blacksmith is not dismayed by my behavior. He laughs, rumbly and delighted, and starts to fuck me with shallow strokes. Not forcing me open but easing the way, and I’m pinned, and this is perfect. Perfect.

“Spank me,” I wheeze.

A heavy palm cracks against my bare ass. Oh, lord, I can barely think as hot sparks rain through my private parts.

“Pull my hair,” I order next.

Rhys huffs a laugh. “Gwen. We’ll get to it all. Be good.”

Be good. I bite my lip, pushing my hips back against his thrusts, and his cock sinks deeper inside me. Stretches me open and steals my breath, and Rhys grips my hips then starts up a rhythm.

Creak.

Rattle.

Creak.

This is a solid table, but it’s taking a battering in our honor. Practically skidding across the flagstones. And Rhys’s cock must be making me dizzy, because I all I can think is we should give it a Viking burial. Burn it ceremonially on the river before we leave.

Thick fingers delve into my hair, gripping a fistful, and I’m back in the moment. Oh shit, this feels good. Every punch of his cock inside me sets all my nerve endings alight.

“Oh.” My teeth clack together with his hard thrusts. “Oh.”

He gathers my wrists with his spare hand. Pins them at the base of my spine, and lord, I can’t breathe. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything except take his fucking and thank my lucky stars for it.