Page 113 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

CASTEEL

I woke with a start, my eyes snapping open.

Poppy wasn’t beside me.

My gaze immediately lifted to the gap between the curtains, and every muscle in my body locked up. Not again.

Poppy stood at the glass wall.

Sitting up, I tossed off the blanket. “Poppy?”

No response.

My chest clenched as I stepped down from the bed.

Two nights in a row?

I didn’t think this had anything to do with Stonehill.

The stone floor was cold under my feet as I crossed it. I gently touched her arm. “Poppy?”

Still nothing.

She remained silent and stared out the window at the same area she had been looking at last night. The Cliffs.

“My Queen?” Heart thumping, I brushed some long strands of hair back from her face.

She didn’t budge, and I figured I’d probably have to carry her again. Stepping in closer, I dropped my hand to her waist.

She turned suddenly, her lips brushing my chest as she said something I didn’t pick up.

“What?”

Her chin grazed my skin as she tilted her head back. “Take me.”

I blinked. “Come again.”

Poppy repeated what I’d thought she said, sending a bolt of surprise through me.

“I would love to, but…” She wasn’t even awake, and this wasn’t the same as me waking her with my dick. “We need to sl—”

“Take me,” she repeated.

I flattened my hand against Poppy’s back as I peered down at her.

Her stare was still unfocused, her voice distant even as she said, “Make love to me.”

My entire body stiffened, and I forced myself to ignore the part of me that was always on board with what she was asking for.

“Poppy, we’re going back to bed—” The warm hand wrapping around my dick shut me up real quick.

Fuck. I reached down to grab her, but she slid her hand down, drawing a groan from me. “Poppy.”

Her grip tightened in a way that had me questioning whether she was asleep.

Poppy let go of my aching cock, and I suddenly felt like I was the one sleepwalking because she turned away and pressed her palms flat against the window. Her head turned as my gaze dropped. Her curtain of hair slid across her back, falling to the side as she lifted her ass.

“Fuck me.”

Two words.

And that ass? Offered up to me?

They didn’t just silence all the second guesses. They were like a siren’s song, calling to the part of me that acted on instinct—a primitive, raw instinct that seemed to find its source in the sudden pulse of essence flaring from my chest.

I dragged my gaze back up, my eyes locking with hers. The flecks of color were nearly nonexistent—just a green as pure as dew-kissed grass. The breath I took was full of her heightened scent.

I wasn’t thinking as I stepped forward, and watched the head of my cock brush her ass, leaving a trail of pre-cum.

My thoughts filled with shadows as it slid down the center of her ass.

I couldn’t even recall my name as I grasped her hips.

The only sounds I heard as I lined her up were the squeak of her palms against the glass, and her gasp as I lifted her several inches off the floor.

There was no foreplay. No checking to see if she was ready. The moment the head of my dick found her damp heat, I thrust into her. All the way into her. Her soft cry was like lightning to my blood, burning me alive from the inside.

And there was no better way to go out.

My gaze shifted to the window as I rocked my hips, soaking in the feel of her tight, wet heat.

The silver glow of eather in our eyes cast enough light that I could see our reflection in the window—her feet curled in the air, her pale, creamy thighs pressed together.

She braced herself with her hands on the window and arched her back, and the glass perfectly captured the curves of her body and the thrust of her breasts.

In the window, I saw her rosy lips part as she fixed her gaze on the Cliffs, the glow of eather pulsing behind her pupils.

I watched her in the reflection as I gave her what she needed and took what I wanted.

I fucked her, using my hold on her hips to pull her against me, meeting me each time I rammed into her.

The sound of her palms against the window mixed with that of our bodies coming together as I plunged in and out of her with mindless drive.

The needy little purrs coming from the back of her throat were making me insane, causing my balls to tighten.

I slid an arm across her waist as I slammed her onto my dick.

I barely heard her cry out as I pressed forward.

A light flashed outside, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

She bent her arms, and then I had her fully against the window, fucking her like some sort of beast as I watched us in the reflection—watched as she kept her eyes on the Cliffs.

A release started to curl its way down my spine.

Storm clouds slipped over the moon, and lightning splintered the darkness as I cut my gaze to the Cliffs.

I still didn’t see shit, but even if someone were there and could see us, I didn’t care.

I fucked her harder. Her screams of pleasure were muted, but I felt each spasm of her pussy as she came.

I didn’t stop as I pulled her back against me, moving her away from the windows.

She grasped my arm as I ground against her, my stare locked on us—on her sated smile as she stared at the Cliffs.

Pinpricks of light filled the corners of my eyes as I came with a hoarse shout, pumping into her.

The release felt endless as we stood before the window, her thighs quivering and breasts rising and falling with each quick breath as my scent filled her and cloaked the chamber.

I didn’t even remember getting us back into bed.

There was a chance I’d carried her like I had fucked her because I found myself moving above her as she lay on her belly, her cheek pressed to the mattress.

I couldn’t get enough of her—the way she clamped down on me when she came, her cries becoming mewls.

The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade by the time I collapsed, half-sprawled atop her.

Still buried inside her, my eyes didn’t close until hers did.

Until she finally stopped staring at the Cliffs.

POPPY

“If you can stand still…just for a moment longer.”

Frowning at the top of Naill’s head, I bit my lower lip instead of pointing out that he’d been saying that for the last ten minutes—maybe even twenty.

I stood on a stool, doing my best to keep from fidgeting while he made what he’d described as quick adjustments to the smock tunic.

I didn’t think I was fidgeting that much. I shifted—

“Poppy.” Naill sighed, his amber eyes flicking up as he held a needle between two long fingers.

A deep, smoky chuckle came from the general vicinity of the couch.

“If you keep moving,” Naill said, carefully piercing the fabric with steady hands, “you’ll have one hem longer than the other.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. His frustration was better than the sadness radiating from him when he first arrived. It had only just started to ease up. I knew what he’d seen in Stonehill was getting to him.

As he bowed his head, his lips quirked. “It’s okay. We’re almost done.”

Figuring that distracting myself would keep me from moving, I asked, “How long have you been doing this?”

“Sewing?”

“From what I can see, you do more than just sew.” I almost gestured at the elaborate embroidery across the tunic’s bodice and along the shoulders.

“At the end of the day, it’s just sewing.” His brows furrowed as he leaned to the side, tucking the hem. “But my mother taught me when I was young.”

I tried to imagine Naill as a young boy, staying seated long enough to learn the art of sewing. And to me, it was an art—one I was admittedly terrible at.

“I found it sort of relaxing.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I was a bit of a…nervous child.”

“Really?” I had an even harder time picturing that since the Naill I knew was as calm and collected as a cat napping in the sun.

He nodded. “I don’t think I do well with idleness.” He rocked back and then rose. “All right. I just need you to get down so I can see what it looks like.”

Thank the gods.

Hopping down, I winced at the twinge I felt between my thighs.

Naill’s head jerked up. “I didn’t prick you, did I?”

My cheeks heated as I shook my head. “I…just stepped down wrong.”

His brows furrowed as he knelt again, revealing Casteel.

My husband was seated in an arrogant sprawl on the couch—a smug, pleased sprawl.

He smirked. He hadn’t needed any adjustments to his clothing when Naill arrived with an armful of garments.

The sleeved and sleeveless, charcoal-gray tunics that now hung in the walk-in closet—Casteel had reminded me earlier that it wasn’t a walk-in wardrobe—had fit him so well they appeared to practically mold to him.

“Stepped down wrong?” he questioned.

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

That smirk of his deepened until his stupid dimple appeared.

Rolling my eyes, I looked away, my mind wandering to the source of the tenderness between my thighs as Naill made a few more adjustments. Last night was…

I didn’t even know what it was.

I had flashes of memory, like Casteel and I in front of the windows.

I remembered waking, though I didn’t remember how or why I’d walked to the windows.

I did recall…fondling Casteel and that he’d resisted at first. But that had changed quickly—the vague memory of me asking him to fuck me had changed his mind.

And he most certainly had fucked me.

Everything was a bit of a blur, but I remembered the feeling of him as he held me against the window and took me from behind. And then in the bed, his body caging mine, pushing me over the edge again and again until exhaustion claimed us both.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw between the gap in the curtains was the Cliffs. I remembered staring at them last night. I remembered—