She laughed. “You’d get very little else done then.”
“It would be worth it.” My gaze landed on where her hand rested on her lower belly, mere inches from that wonderful heat of hers. “I just realized something.” My throat dried. “Have you ever touched yourself?”
A blush swept across her cheeks, and after a moment, she nodded. And damn if that didn’t send an almost painful bolt of lust through me. “I would love nothing more”—picking up her hand, I lifted it to my mouth. I closed my lips around the finger bearing our ring—“than for you to show me exactly how you touch yourself.”
Her inhale was an audible one as I lowered her hand to the shadowy space between her thighs. I let go, and for a moment, I didn’t think she would do it.
But I never should’ve doubted her.
My Queen backed down from nothing.
The delicate tendons along the top of her hand moved like piano keys as she slipped that finger inside herself, moving it in tiny plunges.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Don’t stop.”
Her breaths came in short little pants as she continued playing with herself, and the scent of her arousal filled every single one of my senses. I was obsessed, watching her. Didn’t even blink. Not once as her breathing continued picking up speed, as her hips moved to meet the thrusts of her finger.
“Cas,” she moaned.
I could come just watching this. There was a good chance I would. “I want to worship you.”
Poppy shuddered.
And then I did, starting with her toes and working my way up her calves to her thighs. Her finger moved faster as I neared, and I stopped long enough to flick my tongue through the wetness there. She cried out, her back arching as I began paying homage to her once more, trailing a path across her stomach and the curves of her hips. I took my time as if we wouldn’t be on the road once more in a few hours. I paid extra attention to those breasts, licking and sucking until she trembled—until every part of me was hard, heavy, and swollen. Only then did I reach between us, pulling her hand away to my mouth, where I sipped at her taste.
“I think I will need to see you do that daily.”
“Gods,” she rasped. “You are so bad.”
“Yeah, I am.” Closing my hand around hers, I pressed it into the mattress beside her head as I eased a leg between those soft, plump thighs. I gave her my weight, sinking into all that warm softness, and she took it all with a soft smile. “But I can be good. I can even be more bad. I can be whatever you want.”
“I just want you.” She pressed her palm to my cheek. “As you are.”
Hell.
I shook like a fragile sapling in a windstorm at the touch of her heat against the head of my dick. I sank into her slick heat, lashed by shards of pleasure. “I love you. I’m so very much in love with you.”
Her arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly as she lifted her legs, curling them around my hips and urging me forward. “I love you always and forever.”
I ignored the throbbing in my fangs. I wouldn’t feed. I wouldn’t take anything from her tonight. I would just give.
My heart hammered as I began moving, intending to go slow and steady, to make this last. But the soft sounds she made, the startling friction of our bodies, and all that came before this made it impossible. Nothing felt like her. Absolutely nothing compared to how she made me feel and how her very presence invaded every cell of my body. There was no me. There was no her. There was only us, our mouths clinging to each other’s, our hands and hips sealing together. We were so close, so tight as I ground against her, that I felt it when Poppy broke. The spasms obliterated my control. My release blew through me, coming and coming in tight waves that left my body jerking for several moments.
Poppy’s mouth sought mine, and she kissed me softly. She was, gods, she was everything. I loathed separating us, but I knew I was seconds away from collapsing on her. Letting out a ragged groan, I eased out of her and onto my side. Gathering her in my arms, I held her close, and she held me tighter. When my eyes closed this time, I knew that no bad dreams would find me.
My Queen simply would not allow it.
Chapter 41
Poppy
The Craven stumbled through the thick mist, its coal-red eyes mindless with hunger, and its sallow, patchy, gray skin clung to its skull for dear life.
“That…” Casteel twisted sharply, his movements as graceful as any dancer’s at the balls once held in Masadonia. His bloodstone sword sliced through the air with a hiss, cutting through a Craven’s neck. “Is an old one.”