The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and Ash 3)

Amber glowed from within hooded, sensual eyes. “We can go back—”

“No.” I didn’t want to wait. If I did, I would lose my nerve. “Is there not somewhere private here?”

The tips of his fangs became visible as he bit down on his lower lip and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “There is.”

Without another word, we rose. Under the moonlight, Casteel led me farther down the beach, to where I hadn’t seen the tree-heavy dunes in the darkness. He guided me around the first outcropping of trees and then stopped. It was so dark that I could barely make out his features as he looked down at me. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, grateful for the heavier shadows here as I took hold of the front of his shirt and stretched up, bringing his mouth to mine.

My heart thrummed as our tongues touched and danced, much as I had around the fire. We kissed and kissed, and even though he had to know this wasn’t why I’d sought privacy, he didn’t rush me. He just followed my lead, saying nothing as I pressed tiny kisses to the base of his throat. Sliding his palms up and down my arms, he remained quiet as I drew my hands down his chest. When I reached his stomach, I sank to my knees.

His hands fell away from me, hovering at my sides as I unhooked the flap of his breeches, feeling the rigid thickness there.

The taste of smoky spice consumed my senses as I reached in, wrapping my fingers around his warm, hard skin. He was breathing heavily now, and my heart raced as I eased him out. His skin felt like heated steel encased in silk as I tipped forward, halting when I felt him spasm in my hand.

“Poppy,” he ground out. I lifted my gaze, momentarily stunned by the churning flecks of bright gold in his eyes. A shudder worked its way through him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” I told him. “Do you want me to?”

“You can do anything to me, and I’ll want it.” Another tremor worked its way through him. “This? My cock in your mouth? I’d have to be dead and nothing but ash to not want that.”

My lips twitched. “That’s…kind of flattering.”

He choked out a rough laugh. “You are—” He groaned as I glided my fingers from his base to his tip.

“Am what?”

His fingertips touched my cheek. “Everything.”

Smiling, I lowered my head. The salty taste of his skin was a surprise, dancing over my tongue. Tentatively, I moved my hand down his length, exploring as I brought him deeper into my mouth like I had read about in Willa’s diary.

“Poppy,” Casteel groaned, his palm flattening against my cheek.

She’d written about other things, stuff that reminded me of what Casteel had done for me, and I wasn’t sure if he’d enjoy that or not. But I…I wanted to do those things. I drew my tongue over his taut skin, finding a little indentation under the ridge of his head and swirling my tongue over it.

“Fuck.” His body jerked. “I…I wasn’t expecting that.”

Fighting a smile, I did it again, and he swore. “Did you read about that in Miss Willa’s book?”

I hummed out an agreement, and the act seemed to vibrate through him. His entire body flexed, and I felt him throb.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “I love that godsdamn diary.”

A laugh escaped me then, and based on the way his hips jerked, he liked how it felt. There was nothing in Miss Willa’s diary about laughing while doing this, but as I curled my hand around his base, I stopped thinking about that damn journal and just let instinct take over. I flicked my tongue across the head of his cock, marveling at his reaction—at the lazy heat swamping my senses. I liked doing this. Liked knowing he enjoyed it.

His hand slid from my cheek as his fingers threaded through my hair. He cupped the back of my neck, but he didn’t put any pressure there. All he did was move his thumb, gently massaging the muscles. It was a…supportive presence as he continued letting me learn what made his body move in short, shallow thrusts, what caused his breath to catch, and what made the spicy flavor intensify. I realized something. Not only did I like this but I also enjoyed the control, the way I could slow his breathing or increase the way he throbbed against my tongue just by the pressure of my mouth, or how hard or soft I sucked on his skin.

“Poppy, I’m not…gods, I’m not going to last much longer.” His grip on my neck tightened as he rocked against my hand, in my mouth. “And I don’t know if that diary spoke of what happens.”

It had.