Dana Bell: Cynful

He was adhering to the rules she’d set down, and she’d never been more sorry in her life.

Julian broke the kiss and smiled down at her. His eyes were pure silver. “Let me walk you to your door tonight.”

Oh hell to the no. If Julian got to her door she’d invite him in, and she wasn’t ready for that. She swallowed hard. “Not yet.”

Is that my voice? It was husky and low and, God help her, chock full of a need she wasn’t quite ready to fulfill.

Julian grimaced and shifted in his seat. He smiled, and she was once again reminded of why she wanted to take things slow when his fangs poked his bottom lip. “I’ll watch for your signal.”

She shook her head. Really, the man took overprotective too far sometimes. No one was after Cyn, and the fucker who’d been after Tabby was in shifter jail, hopefully getting his ass reamed by Tony the Tiger. “You’re the one who told Alex and Ryan to constantly stop by the shop, weren’t you?”

Those silver eyes darkened back to brown. “Why would I do that?” He pulled back until he was back in his own seat. “Alex is the overprotective one, not me. Ryan, on the other hand, just wants his mate.” The look he shot her should have melted the dashboard. “I understand how he feels.”

She remembered some of the things Alex had told her, about how shifters yearned for their mates until it became almost painful. “Have I told you you’re doing a good job with the whole dating thing?”

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

She could practically feel the laugh trying to break free. She huffed and tapped her foot. “Way to ruin a mood, Share Bear.”

He froze. “Oh no you didn’t.”

She opened the car door and dashed for her front door. There was a Bear on her tail, and she had no intention of getting caught too easily. She giggled and dug out her keys, but didn’t get any farther than jangling them in the direction of the lock before she found herself pressed against the door. One hundred and eighty-five pounds of laughing hunk caged her in, one impressive package brushing against her lower back.

Wait. She giggled ? Since when? Cyn laughed, smirked, sometimes even guffawed, but she never giggled. Pretty soon she’d be in a Martha Stewart apron, learning one hundred ways to cook with honey. “Get off me, you big dork.”

“Don’t you want to rub my tummy symbol?”

God damn it. How did he do that? She was giggling like a loon again! “Go away!” She wiggled, elbowing him right in his symbol.

“But I want to share with you!” He was laughing right along with her, and that made all the stupid giggles worth it. He could have easily gotten pissed, but instead he’d run with it, taking the insult and turning it around on her. She had fun with him, even when they were both wearing the lamest costumes on the planet.

Okay, the guy who’d shown up as SpongeBob SquarePants might have the mighty lumberjack beat, but barely.

“I think we’re done sharing for the evening.” She turned in his arms and stared at him. It amazed her how someone as good looking as him could want someone like her, but according to Tabby, once Julian had gotten a whiff of Cyn’s scent no one else would ever do.

“But I’m really good at cuddling.” He was doing his damndest to look innocent, but the devilish gleam and silver eyes gave him away. “Especially in bed.” He patted her butt. “Just call me Teddy.”

“Uh-huh.” She pushed against his chest and he took a step back. Damn . The boy had some muscle on him, muscle she was dying to see. Why couldn’t he have tried to mate me in summer? She opened the door and waved good-bye with a cheery grin. “Night-night!”

He sighed and stared at his stomach. “You failed me.”

“Are you talking to your tummy symbol or your—”

The look he shot her from under his lashes dared her to finish that question.

She laughed, part of her desperate to invite him inside. Sense won out, but her libido was threatening to never speak to her again. “Sweet dreams, Super Bear.”

One dark brow quirked upward and he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “Trust me. They will be.”

She shut the door behind him after one last, lingering kiss. Cyn watched as his headlights disappeared down the road and kicked off the high-heeled torture devices with a sigh.

He’d sounded so strange just before he left, almost sad. Why would he react that way to a simple wish for sweet dreams?

“Shifters are so weird.” Cyn yawned and headed for bed, wishing for a few sweet dreams of her own.

That gorgeous, multicolored hair looked incredible across the skin of his thighs. It was a sight he never got tired of.

Cyn hummed an off-key tune as she fished his cock out of his underwear. Thank fuck he’d worn boxers to bed instead of pajama pants. It was so much easier for her to release him into her hot, waiting mouth.

He hissed in a breath as she licked the underside of his cock with her tongue. He stroked the length of her back, not quite reaching her ass. It was so tempting too, covered in that short-as-fuck skirt she’d worn to the masquerade that night. “C’mon, sweetheart. Suck me.”

Cyn hummed and he shuddered. She was good at this, almost too good. He watched, entranced, as her head began to bob up and down, sucking him in. His eyes nearly crossed when she stopped at the crown, the suction intensifying as she tried to get him to come.

He wouldn’t climax that easily. He palmed her breasts, thumbing the nipples to aching hardness. Her rhythm faltered as she began to stroke her clit, just as eager to orgasm as he was.

“Come up here.” If she was going to come, it was going to be on his cock.

She smirked up at him, her lips still wrapped around his dick, and sucked harder. This time, his eyes did cross. He was close, so damn close.

“Cyn.” He wrapped his hands in her hair and held on for dear life. “Gonna.”

She nodded, and that was it. Permission given, he gave his mate what she wanted. Pure bliss exploded from the tip of his cock, blinding him.

He blinked, and stared at the dark ceiling above him. Something wet and cool was dripping off his stomach.

“Shit. Fucking mate dreams.” Julian peeled the wet sheets from his body with a sigh. The mate dreams were getting more and more intense. If he didn’t find a way to get Cyn into his bed soon he’d go insane. He was tired of coming alone, tired of sleeping alone.

And he was damn tired of washing the sheets every night. He stripped the bed, tossing his dirty shorts in the pile. He used the edge of the sheet to clean himself off, grimacing at the sticky mess. His water bill was going to be through the roof at this rate. He put the dirty laundry in the washer and started it. He leaned against it for a moment and wished with all his heart that his mate were waiting for him in the other room.

Soon, Julian. Soon.

“You want a what now?” Cyn hid her grin. Damn, the girl had found some balls.

“I want a tattoo.” Heather Allen handed her a folded slip of paper. “This is what I want.”

Cyn unfolded the paper and stared at the gorgeous, yet sad, drawing. “Are you sure about this?”

Heather scowled, an expression Cyn was delighted to see. “I’m eighteen. I can do this if I want.”

Cyn shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She shook the paper. “Are you sure about this ? A tattoo is forever.”

Heather looked scared and relieved at the same time. She gulped, her green gaze bright and resolute. “I’m positive.”

Cyn sighed. “Black and white or color?”

“Yes!” Heather danced a little jig and Cyn laughed. If Eric could only see her now. She stopped and shot Cyn a happy little smile that lit her whole face. “Color, I think.”