Cynful

him.

He began massaging her ass once more, spreading the cheeks apart. “Julian.”

Shit. His name came out more a moan than a warning. She was so screwed. Literally.

“That’s my name.” He patted her ass. “Roll over.”

She lifted her brow at him. He expected her to move? After turning her muscles to Jell-O?

She managed to get onto her back, flopping ungracefully back down. “Make with the oil.”

“Yes, ma’am. Your command is my wish.” He massaged the top of her shoulders, his fingers deliberately stroking the mating mark over and over again before sliding down to her breasts. He spent an eternity just oiling and playing with them. Her nipples were so hard they hurt worse than her muscles had.

“Jules.” She squirmed, aching for him.

“I have you.” He took hold of her arms and lifted them over her head. His bright silver eyes were heated as he placed her hands on the slats of the headboard. “Hold these for me.”

She grabbed hold, not that she’d be able to move anyway. She was one limp, aroused woman, accepting anything he wanted to give her.

And give to her he did, sinking his fingers into her in one smooth stroke, the oil warming inside her body. Her pussy tingled as he fucked her gently, bending over her to take one oily nipple into his mouth. He suckled her hard, the combination of the easy finger inside her and the hard tongue on her nipple sending her over the edge.

Gods above, she was amazing. Just looking at her as she came nearly had him following her, spending his seed on her stomach. But he had other plans for his mate, ones that involved riding her until she fell asleep, warm and sated and no longer hurting.

He could feel it, the pain still hiding under the pleasure, her muscles still not completely cured. He’d broken his promise in little bursts, removing as much of the pain as he dared, but he doubted she’d noticed. She’d been too busy writhing under his hands, coming on his fingers.

He especially liked that last part.

So he slid down her body, taking that pretty little clit into his mouth, his fingers still inside her. He wanted her mindless, dancing under his tongue. He watched as she clenched her hands around the spindles of the headboard. Her hips lifted against him, forcing him to lick where she wanted him. Even half melted, she still tried to rule their passion.

He almost laughed. If she told him to jump, he’d probably ask how high and in what direction. Then she’d probably yell at him for not jumping fast enough.

He sucked and licked and fucked her till she trembled, ready for him. When he pulled away she whimpered in protest, a sound she’d deny to her dying breath. She wanted him, and that was enough for him.

He slid his cock into her, shuddering when her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deep. “Cyn, hold still.”

Gods, he was such a liar. The last thing he wanted was his beautiful mate to hold still. He wanted her to fuck him into the damn mattress. But he was determined to be gentle. She hurt, and he didn’t want to add to her pain. She’d feel it after the high of two orgasms wore off.

Her eyes opened, and she snarled at him. “If you don’t fuck me right this instant I will get even. You won’t like it if I get even.”

“I don’t want your muscles to get tight again.”

She grinned up at him. “You could always massage me again.”

This time he was the one who whimpered. Her legs tightened around his waist, demanding he do as she demanded. He did what any man would do in that situation. He began fucking her hard, loving the moans that poured from her lips. He could see her toes curling out of the corner of his eye. Her pussy began to tighten around him. She grabbed handfuls of his hair and dragged his head down, stealing a kiss before sinking her fangs into his neck.

Oh. Oh fuck. She’d marked him. The urge to feel her come on his cock overwhelmed him as the mating hormones raced through his system. He extended his fangs and leaned down, biting her as she’d bitten him.

She screamed, her pussy tightening around him so hard he couldn’t move. Her whole body bowed off the bed. When she collapsed back onto the mattress, spent, he began fucking her again, gentler this time. She was going to come at least one more time before he was done.

“Jules.” She tugged on his hips, encouraging him to go faster. “Need it.”

“Want to come again?”

Her nails raked down his back, scoring him. He hissed, the pain driving him deeper into her. She’d drawn blood, and he refused to heal it. Let it scar. If his mate wanted her claw marks in his flesh, so be it.

He lifted her legs, automatically healing the muscles she’d overworked that day hunting for a lunatic. Julian saw the way her eyes narrowed but didn’t care. She wanted to be fucked hard, then she had to be able to take it. He rested her calves on his shoulders and began to pound her so hard the bed shook. This time, he was going to come with her.

Her skin glistened from the oil in the light of the candle. She clenched the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Her head tossed from side to side, and the sweetest little moans were pouring from her mouth. “Come on, Cyn. Come for me.”

She brushed her fingers across the mark on her neck over and over, driving her closer to orgasm. He held on to her legs, waiting for her to fall.

Cyn shuddered. “Oh fuck. Fuck.” She gave off one choked off cry and came, so tightly wrapped around him that he followed her over that glorious edge. His vision went black as pleasure roared through him, white-hot and molten, pouring from him in waves. It took everything in him not to collapse on top of her, but it was close. They were nose to nose when he regained his senses.

“Wow.”

He smiled wearily. “Like your massage?”

Her expression was full of lazy satisfaction, like a cat that had gotten not only the cream, but the bowl too. “Enough to offer you one the next time your muscles are sore.”

“Ah, so this was a sixty-eight.”

She giggled. “You do me and I owe you one?”

“Damn straight.”

She pulled him close and cuddled him, stroking his hair. “Let me know when you want to collect.”

Chapter Nineteen

It was killing him. It was fucking killing him that she was out there, risking her life, and he was stuck in the house, healing. He should be out there with her, protecting her. What if that son of a bitch got a shot off? Julian didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if anything happened to her and he wasn’t there to prevent it.

Julian ran his hands wearily through his hair. Who the hell was he kidding? She’d already been damaged and he hadn’t been there to take care of her. He tugged on his hair, frustrated beyond belief. Sometimes it seemed like since he’d moved to Halle there had been nothing but one huge fuck up after another. He hadn’t been able to protect Tabby when Gary had gone after her in the woods. He hadn’t been there to save Glory when she’d been shot. He sure as fuck hadn’t been able to save Marie, and Jamie… No one knew if Jamie would ever be the same again. Jamie still hadn’t woken up and it’d been three weeks since Marie’s death. Her father had flown in, heartbroken over the loss of his only daughter, and made the funeral arrangements. Jamie’s parents and brother had attended in her mate’s place.

Jamie’s brother, Grayson, had come to see him and had quietly thanked him for saving Jamie. Gray had been the complete opposite of Jamie, quiet and reserved. It wasn’t just because of the tragedy. Gray was like a deep, still pond, where Jamie had been more like playful ocean waves. Gray had stayed, making Julian lunch, commiserating with him over Cyn’s role in finding the killer.

He’d offered to be one of her shadows, protecting her where Julian couldn’t. Julian thanked him, but declined. He couldn’t allow Gray to risk himself. Jamie’s family had been through enough. Gray had accepted with quiet