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“I found you beautiful before,” he says, cupping my chin, “but you are fucking devastating with my cock in your mouth.”

He plunges himself back inside me, and I gag on him. He snaps his hips, fingers knotting in my hair. My hands find his thighs, and my nails dig into his flesh as he thrusts. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, and I’m floating out of my body as he brings his fantasy to life.

My face heats from the effort, and tears slip from the corners of my eyes. He swipes one away with a finger and brings it to his mouth. My underthings are so sticky, so wet with need, that they’ll need to be peeled off. By him. Or myself. It doesn’t matter so long as they go.

“Look at you,” he grunts. “Exquisite.”

I’m confident that with a few more minutes, I could come from this, from the knowledge that he’s fantasized about this exact exchange, fantasized about me, and I’m giving him exactly what he wants.

I am a vessel for pleasure, his pleasure.

A mouth for him to fuck.

A body for him to control.

I’m his to use.

His witch.

“So. Fucking. Close.” His eyes on me are rapt as he pumps, as tears slide down my cheeks. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to⁠—”

He holds my gaze throughout, warmth spurting into my mouth.

“Swallow,” he commands, holding my head still. “Every last drop.”

I try to obey, but there’s too much. Droplets drip from the corners of my lips when he pulls out. His eyes are glassy, his face flushed, as he pushes his come back into my mouth with his thumb.

“Perfection,” he pants once I’ve sucked his thumb clean. “Both of us. Perfectly ruined.”

My body is liquid as he pulls me up and into his arms. He’s still hard against my stomach, and I’m aching to be touched, to be filled by him.

“You did so good.” His mouth trails from my jaw to my lips, placing tender kisses. “So, so good.”

“We don’t know how long the potion will last,” I say, voice husky. “So hurry up and fuck me already.”

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you, Gwyn, but it won’t be hurried, and it won’t be now.” He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “I’m going to take my time, edging you closer and closer until you’re begging me to let you come all over my cock. Until you’re praying to me instead of Dagny.”

With a final kiss—cruel in its softness—he leaves me longing and burning, stranded in ruin.

The door clicks shut behind him.

I stare after him, flushed and aching, already plotting my revenge.

I’ll make him beg. With his filthy mouth, with those sinful hands.

With every delicious inch of him.

Chapter 21

RIVEN

If Mother were alive, she’d be livid.

For more reasons than one.

The gardens she tended to with her bare hands, never allowing a single staff member or landscaper to help, teem with non-fae females who can’t stop themselves from admiring the quiet beauty.

Though their admiration isn’t what would send her into a fit of rage.