Page 46 of Made for Cyn

Ratner staggers back and clenches his fists before charging. Cyn grabs him by the waist and slams him against the lockers. They tumble and hit the floor before Cyn gets in another punch.

I wince when Ratner shoves Cyn off, and he tumbles to his back, but then the bell rings, and students fill the halls, interrupting the melee.

A ring forms around them as the students stop and gather around. Ratner stands before backing away with a smug smile, raising a brow as he says something I can’t hear.

Cyn merely stares until he’s gone before turning my way. Collapsing against the lockers, I watch as he stalks by, with Bastion right behind.

There are dozens of students between us as I hide against the lockers, but he must sense my stare because he looks up and meets my gaze unerringly.

His mouth curves at the corner, and I can’t help my own smile because I’m still jittery from the adrenaline high. I’m ridiculously turned on by what I saw, which would probably horrify my pacifistic parents.

More importantly, I should be appalled by the violence, and intellectually I am, but even so, I’m breathless when Cyn cuts through the crowd until he’s standing before me.

“Beauty,” he says, pressing his hand against the wall by my head.

“Cyn,” I whisper, never more convinced than now that his name fits him.

The way he’s looking at me, like he’d eat me up right here, sends goosebumps down my arms, and I shift uncomfortably under the pulse in my panties.

With his eyes lit by an inner fire, he traces his thumb over my lower lip. Transfixed, I stare as he says, “You have amazing lips.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

“Mm, they’d look good wrapped around my dick.”

My eyes go wide, and I roll them to cover my reaction, but his lip curls anyway before he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest.

With a gasp, I press my palms against his pecs, the hard muscle warm under my fingers as he leans into me and hovers above my mouth.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he growls before licking my bottom lip.

I suppress a moan, which comes out as a gasp, and he takes advantage, pressing inside. With a groan that makes me shudder, he licks me heatedly, and I grab his shoulders to stay upright.

My knees are weak, my head dizzy, and it’s all I can do just to stand there and feel. His warm tongue laves me brutally until I’m about to climb him like a tree, and we’re both breathless when he pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs.

Dumbly I stare, as the world around us intrudes, and I feel dozens of eyes on me, on us.

His mouth curls into the familiar smug smile I’ve come to loathe, or so I convince myself as the fire fades from his eyes, and he says roughly, “I’m waiting.”

“For?” I ask, bracing myself. I know what’s coming, something crude and ridiculous, and still, my stomach drops when he says, “You want this, beg.”

My mouth twists in a bitter smile, and I avert my gaze, meeting the wide-eyed stare of some chick over his shoulder. She sneers at me, and I sigh before saying softly, “Maybe it’s you who should be begging.”

“What?” he chuffs, dropping his arm.

Looking into his eyes, I say firmly, “That’s right. If you want me, beg, you dickweasel.”

His brows fly over his eyes before a bubble of laughter escapes. With a frown, I step away as he says, “Where the fuck do you come up with that shit?”

“What shit?”

“Dickweasel? Ass monkey?”

Shrugging, I ignore the blush suffusing my face. “Whatever.”

He eyes me weirdly before brushing a hair back from my face. “Hmm, well, beauty, we’ll see who begs first.”

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