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Kenzi had spent the day avoiding Dyson. She didn't call it that—she was on a case with Bo, a stolen necklace belonging to a witch doctor of some kind so she was busy. But when Bo had suggested they take a load off at the Dahl, she had balked and instead went home. Dyson was going to be at the Dahl, and then they'd have to talk, and she needed another night to think on it.
If she was completely honest, it freaked her out that she could feel Dyson. She had a suspicion it had something to do with the claiming. She could sense his unease and a slight hint of longing, but it was an inarticulate jumble on the edge of her consciousness. It was a presence lurking in the peripheral of her subconscious.
She might've not had the most conventional education, but Kenzi knew that there was something going on, and at the very least that Dyson and Trick hadn't filled her in on all the details of the claiming process.
She missed Dyson with a raw hunger she'd never experienced before, and just the thought of him had made her so hot she thought she would burst. She had avoided the mark on her neck all day, but lying back on her bed she could take advantage of its effects.
Though she told Bo that she was exhausted, she hadn't managed to fall asleep, even while wearing her most comfortable pajamas and after finishing a glass of vodka.
She let her head rest deeply in the pillows and let her mind wander back to the previous night. She pulled up her tank top, and rested her hand beneath her breasts, her fingers cold on the flushed skin, and brought her other hand to the mark on her neck.
She didn't touch it, not immediately, but instead thought back to the way Dyson had touched her, the way his hands had moved across her skin. It was so easy to imagine him in the room with her, to imagine that her hands were his own. Tentatively, her fingers sought the uneven skin along her neck, stroking the edges of the bite mark. She pushed her face into the pillow to bite back the moan that broke from her.
His hands would not be so hesitant. She wondered if his wolfish nature led him to be so dominate, if he would always touch her with such surety. She stroked her fingers down along her rib cage and under the confines of her pants, the elastic yielding easily to her greedy touch. Kenzi moved her hands quickly, with an assurance borne of practiced ease. Her other hand continued its assault along her neck, the white hot feeling of Dyson's touch from the previous night coming back full force.
Dyson had had to excuse himself from the pool table the moment he felt the pull of her touch, the way she sought his mark to find her own release. It was erotic, her emotional and physical reaction shivering along his skin.
He leaned against the sink in the Dahls' bathroom, his hands holding the basin tightly as she teased herself. He wondered then how she touched herself, what he would be doing if he was there with her. Dyson had felt her discomfort all day, and had wanted to talk to her, but hadn't been able to get ahold of her. He was sure she would come with Bo to the Dahl—this was her place after all. But Bo had arrived alone, and told him that Kenzi was exhausted.
Another jolt of emotion from Kenzi proved that his little human was doing a little more than resting. He doubted that she realized he could feel every moment of mounting pleasure. He considered, briefly, relieving himself of his own tension. It would not be difficult, not with the barrage of sensations coming his way.
Kenzi could feel herself on the edge of coming, her fingers frantic against her flesh. She imagined Dyson between her legs, his bulk spreading her open, and his mouth on her. She arched against the bed hard as she came.
Dyson's eyes flashed golden before he dug his fingers into the ceramic of the basin, cracking the sink. The sensation of her orgasm shivered up his spine and he fell boneless against the mirror. He was going to have to go to her soon. His control was tenuous at best, and feeling her pleasure coursing through him was not helping matters.
Dyson wiped the dust from his fingers before heading back out to the busy bar. Hale gave him a knowing look.
"Man, you have got to talk to lil momma bout this." Hale started racking together the pool balls.
"I know. I'm giving her some time." Dyson grabbed his jacket. "Hey, can I get a raincheck on that game? I'm not feeling up for it today."
"Yeah, cause I'm sure you're going home to rest." Hale tipped his hat. "See you tomorrow."
Dyson welcomed the cool air on his skin. Hale was right. He would have to talk to Kenzi soon. He wasn't some angst ridden teenager, and this wasn't his first go around with a claiming. But he was worried that Kenzi didn't understand the implications and he didn't want to scare her away. He cleared his head with a shake and started his way back to his apartment.
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