Page 40 of Hellhounds Never Lie

My hands clenched on his hips, aching to explore him too, but I wasn’t going to have a repeat of earlier. I could keep my hands under control if it meant Ash felt happy and safe. The witch sat back, so his ass pressed against my cock. Eager to feel more of him, my hips rocked against him. He stared at me for a long moment, then he reached for the bottom of his shirt. I swallowed hard and gripped his hips even tighter.

“Are you sure, Ash?” My voice was thick with all the emotions I couldn’t contain. “Because I can wait, baby.”

He stared straight into my eyes as he pulled his shirt higher until it covered his face and left his chest bare. He stayed that way for a long moment, as if hiding behind the fabric was his one last defense. I thought about not looking, but he was sharing this part of himself with me. He was trusting me with this. The least I could do was honor that trust by looking.

I hadn’t seen many magical injuries, and most shifters, myself included, healed quickly and without scarring, so what I saw was shocking. I wasn’t sure if it was the nature of the attack Ash had suffered or if it was because he was a mage, but the scars were still vivid streaks over his chest, a stark contrast to the pale, smooth skin covering the rest of his body.

He’d said the attack had focused on his magical core, which apparently lived close to his chest based on the one-inch sized patch of angry pink skin over his sternum. That small bit of mottled scarred skin was at the epicenter of all the other scars on his chest. Rolls of white corded scar tissue radiated out in eight directions, stretching out over his entire torso. The scars were too evenly distributed to be coincidental. I would bet anything that they had aligned with the cardinal and ordinal directions during the attack.

Fuck.

If the bastard had drawn power from all points, what did it mean? Had the guy possessed so very little magic that he’d needed the boost? Or had he needed the extra power because wielding magic in such an unnatural way would have been a struggle? Either way, he had to have practiced some dark fucked up magic to sustain an attack like that long enough to cause this kind of damage.

I wanted to hunt down Ash’s ex in his prison cell and do what hellhounds did best—destroy him in the name of justice. Questions surged through me, but Ash had already told me his story; he didn’t need me badgering him about it. I bit down on my tongue before I could voice them, welcoming the taste of blood in my mouth. The pain grounded me, helping me focus on this moment again, but the questions didn’t stop. I bit down harder on my tongue, refusing to release them.

Ash didn’t need my questions. He would think I was questioning his strength as a mage, even if I wasn’t. He was strong, probably one of the strongest mages I’d ever encountered. I hated that he didn’t believe me when I’d told him that. At least not yet.

Then the shirt was off. Ash had closed his eyes, still hiding.

“Does it hurt?” I let the only important question slip free.

“Itches from time to time,” he whispered as he shook his head. “And… and… some nights I wake up screaming… I guess I should warn you about that if we sleep together again. Although it happens less frequently now than before. It’s just part of my recovery. Or something like that. I worked through most of that with a therapist. But the scars themselves don’t really hurt. Not anymore…”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I needed to hold him, kiss him, show him how thankful I was that he’d survived. When my lips brushed his, he gasped in surprise and reached out to grab me. He pulled back a bit, his eyes open now.

“Are you sure they don’t bother you?”

“Absolutely they bother me, but not in the way you are thinking. I want to rip your ex apart with my bare hands and soak the earth with his blood.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“But seeing your scars doesn’t make me want you any less.” In fact, my every instinct was screaming at me to never let him go. To protect him at all costs. To worship him until he believed he was worthy of being worshiped. And then to keep doing it over and over again for the rest of our lives.

He shivered as he leaned into my embrace. He inhaled and exhaled deeply as he settled against me. We stayed that way for a long, long time before he started wiggling against me again.

When he sat up, rubbing his ass against my cock, the furrows of worry and discomfort were gone. I doubted I’d chased away all his anxieties with one hug, but the fear in his eyes was slowly being replaced by mischief as his hands drifted down my chest. He seemed intent on finding all my ticklish spots and making me squirm.

“I think I like having you under me,” he said as he rotated his hips and rubbed against me in a way that was way too seductive for such a little movement. When he waggled his eyebrows and grinned at me salaciously, he surprised a laugh out of me. I knew he was trying to lighten the mood from our conversation about his scars, but I also knew I liked being under him too.

“Stay still,” he commanded, and I had no problem obeying.

At least I had no problem obeying until he proceeded to edge me like a fucking expert. His hands peeled off my clothes and cast them over the side of the bed, then he set about kissing and caressing every inch of me—from my pinkie to my toes—everything except my cock. He swatted my hand when I reached for myself. I groaned, closed my eyes, and prayed I had the strength to get through this sweet torture.

“I said stay still,” he corrected me and, fuck if that didn’t make my cock drool even more.

“Ash—”

Whatever I was about to do—beg, bargain, negotiate—was lost as he took me into his hot, wet mouth. My eyes shot open, and my hips bucked.

“Fuck…” I groaned as I grappled for control.

He hummed, as if pleased with my reaction. The vibration rolled right over my cock and down into my balls. Then he set out to destroy whatever control I still had.

“Ash…” I warned, seconds away from exploding.

His mouth and hands disappeared.

“No… Please…” I’d never begged anyone before, but I didn’t care if Ash knew the control he had over me.