The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4) - Page 217

My entire body jerked as her fingers grazed the tip of my already hardening cock and she rose halfway.

She didn’t give me a chance to say another word. Not that I was complaining. Her lips found mine, and her kiss was a sweet sweep. My arm around her tightened as she parted my lips with her tongue. The kiss went on until I throbbed for her.

Gods, I always ached for her.

“Cas,” she whispered, closing her fingers around my dick. “I need you.”

I shuddered at her words—at the truth. It was I who needed her, and she knew that—knew that her touch, her closeness, was grounding. A reminder that I was here.

“Now,” she demanded.

Her bold order brought forth a chuckle as I cupped her cheek. “What is it you want?”

“You know,” she whispered against my lips.

“Maybe.” I slid my hand down her throat, past those sensitive, healing bite marks, and over her breast where her nipple pebbled beneath the cotton of the robe. I kept going, over the soft swell of her belly and then between her legs. “But you should tell me.” I brushed the backs of my fingers over her damp heat, smiling when she moaned. “Just in case.”

Her grip on my dick tightened. “I want you to touch me.” She rested her forehead against mine. “Please.”

“You never have to say please.” I drew my finger along the very center of her. “But it does sound so pretty on your lips.”

Poppy’s breath caught as I slipped a finger inside her. She nipped at my chin, causing my entire body to jerk once more. I thrust my finger deeper. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

I kissed her, easing my finger in and out. “And like this?” My voice was rough, heavy.

Her back arched as her hand began moving in time with my shallow thrusts. Her hips began to move. “Mm-hmm.”

Smoothing my thumb over her clit, I marveled at the way her entire body tensed—how her hand stopped moving. I grinned. “And what about that?”

She moaned, and it was a sound I could listen to for an eternity. “I really like that,” she said, but her hand left my cock and folded around my wrist, pulling my touch from her. “But I want more.”

Poppy moved then, letting go of my hand and easing onto her elbows. The robe, half-untied, slipped down her arms. Never in my life had I been more grateful for the enhanced eyesight she was so envious of.

Rosy breasts thrust up, their tips puckered. Her cheeks were flushed, legs spread wide, open and inviting. My godsdamn mouth watered at the sight of her. I rose halfway. “You’re beautiful.” I took in every inch of exposed flesh. “You know what I don’t understand?”

“What?”

“How you don’t spend all day with those pretty fingers between those pretty thighs.” I slid a hand under the robe, gripping her hip. “That’s what I would do if I were you.”

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.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Blood and Ash Fantasy
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