Chapter 23
It was freeing, completely losing one’s fucking mind.
Because clearly that’s what he’d done, and Wells was not sure he’d ever been happier.
Or maybe that’s because he had Gwyn in his lap, her body warm and pliant against his, her face a mixture of want and need and a delicious kind of surprise that had him wanting to tell her every filthy thought he’d ever had about her, every delicious, debauched thing he desired.
It would take a while because Wells was pretty sure that where this woman was concerned, he wanted everything, but that was all right. Up here in this hidden space, far above the town below, far away from everything but her, Wells felt like they had all the time in the world.
Time seemed frozen now anyway as he waited for her to make up her mind, to tell him what it was she wanted. He knew the smartest thing was for them to go back to Graves Glen, to find some other reason to explain this moment of madness away, but Christ, he was tired of being smart.
And she must’ve felt the same because she leaned forward, kissing him again, sucking at his lower lip in a way that had him thinking he might come just from this, her mouth on his, her legs straddling his lap, her breasts a soft weight against his chest.
Then she pulled back, a dangerous smile playing on that lovely mouth.
Her hands slid down her body, crossing at the hem of her T-shirt, and as she slowly drew it up her body, Wells’s eyes hungrily took in every inch of skin revealed to him. She was pale in the moonlight, her skin like marble, and Wells couldn’t help but rest his hand there on her stomach, the tips of his fingers just brushing the edge of her bra as she tossed her shirt over the side of the truck with that awful sweater.
Wells leaned back, wanting to look at her, wishing there were more light, then reminding himself that he was a witch.
“May I?” he asked, taking his hand off her stomach, a faint spark already appearing between his fingers, and when she nodded, that spark grew to a soft glow, barely brighter than a candle, but enough to let him see her.
Her bra was sheer black, nearly transparent except over the nipples, where two black cats’ faces grinned back at him, and Wells laughed even as his hand itched to cup the side of her breast, to skate his thumb over one of those stupid cat’s embroidered whiskers.
“God, I should not be as turned on as I am right now,” he said, and Gwyn grinned down at him.
“Does it make it better or worse to know that I’m going to start selling these at Something Wicked?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I honestly cannot say.”
Still smiling, Gwyn reached behind her, unclasping her bra. That, Wells noted, didn’t get flung over the side, but placed next to his hip, and then he couldn’t think of much of anything else at all because Gwyn was half naked in his lap, fingers combing through his hair, her nails scratching.
“Just so you know,” she said in a husky voice, guiding his hand to her breast, “you can both look and touch.”
Breathing hard, Wells brushed his knuckles over her nipple, then his thumb began making slow circles as she sighed, her hips rocking again.
“And if I wanted to do this?” he asked, ducking his head and letting his breath ghost along that puckered flesh, and with a sound suspiciously close to a whimper, Gwyn nodded, pressing herself closer as his lips closed around her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder.
Wells had always thought she smelled amazing, carrying the scents of tea and herbs and candles with her, as much a part of her as her red hair and green eyes. But that was nothing compared to the taste of her skin, the slight salt of her sweat, and as he moved to her other breast, he wanted to chase that taste everywhere, wanted it imprinted on his tongue for the rest of his life.
He could tell himself all he wanted that she only did this to him because it had been so long since he’d been with any woman, but he was done with lying. This was her, and it was him, and it was whatever magic their bodies somehow kindled together, and there had never been anything like it for him before, and he knew down to his bones that there would never be anything like it for him again.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Gwyn said, her voice shaky even as she tried to laugh, and Wells reluctantly released her nipple, shifting so that he could take off his suit jacket. Gwyn helped, then her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, and Wells shucked that off as fast as he could, shivering as her nails made a slow track through the hair on his chest, lower, grazing his stomach and tapping against his belt buckle.
She was shivering, too, he realized, and maybe not just from his touch. The night had grown cooler around them, almost cold now, and without thinking, Wells raised his hand again. He quickly mumbled a few words, and the air around them warmed by a few degrees, chasing back the chill. It had been a useful spell in Wales, and not one he’d ever expected to have much need for in Georgia, but then, he hadn’t thought he’d be getting naked in the back of a truck in the middle of the woods.
Gwyn smiled against his mouth as she kissed him again, and then she slid off his lap, coming to her feet in a surprisingly elegant motion.
The truck rocked slightly as she reached down, taking off one boot and then the other, and Wells lay sprawled there at her feet, propped up on his elbows as he watched her slide her leggings down until she was standing naked over him, looking like some sort of ancient goddess, framed against the night sky, long red hair blowing in the breeze.
Oh, I am so fucked.
Wells hadn’t realized he’d said the words out loud until she laughed, going back down on her knees on the quilt, a woman again, but still the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.
“You will be eventually,” she promised. “But I seem to remember something about lady’s choice when it came to how I come tonight.”
Surprised he could still form words, much less quip, Wells managed to say, “That was the agreement, yes. Witch’s oath.”
“Still not a thing,” she said, and then her hand slid along his jaw, eyes on his mouth.
“Never had someone with a beard go down on me before,” she said, and every drop of blood that had been anywhere else in Wells’s body was now clearly in his cock because he had never been this hard in his life.
“Always happy to provide new experiences,” he managed to croak out, and one corner of Gwyn’s mouth lifted.
“Upscale experiences, even.”
“That’s the Penhallow brand.”
They both seemed to reach for each other at the same time, meeting in the middle, and Wells carried her down with him until he was lying on his back, the top of his head nearly brushing the end of the truck bed, Gwyn on top of him, his hands moving over her back, her thighs, her arse, any part of her he could touch as he kissed her, until she sat up, legs on either side of him.
Her eyes moved to the space on the quilt beside them, and her body had already started turning that way when Wells clutched her hips tighter, holding her in place.
Gwyn looked down at him, eyebrows raised, skin flushed in the soft light from his spell.
“You said it yourself,” he reminded her as he slid down in the truck bed, raising his knees even as he urged her to slide up his chest. “Upscale experiences, Jones.”
Gwyn’s mouth dropped open just the slightest bit even as she obeyed the tugging of his hands. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” she murmured, and Wells allowed himself the smuggest of grins.
“You have no fucking idea,” he replied, and then he pulled hard, and her knees were there at his shoulders, her thighs open before him, and his mouth was on her.
Wells heard a dull thud as Gwyn gasped and leaned forward, her hands hitting the back window of the truck, arms braced as her hips moved against his mouth, and she was wet and hot and perfect, heady, and he felt drunk off her as she cried out, as she panted his name, as she chased her pleasure with the same kind of ruthlessness that had made him want her in the first place.
And when she finally shook and fell apart above him, when he looked up her body and saw her eyes close, her lips part, her red hair bright against the dark sky, he knew that he was nowhere close to having had enough of her.