“Fated Mate,” A.D. quietly repeats this time a bit more forceful. “Look at me.”
One eye pops open to meet his gaze. Where there should be anger or disappointment are gold sparkles delicately falling like the first snowflakes of the winter season. There’s no stopping myself from mindlessly commenting on it, “Your eyes are just so fucking beautiful.”
He lets the corner of his lips lift to the roof. “They only do this for you.”
Warmth spreads like wildfire throughout my chest.
“Now, For Dragons Sake, can you let me make it fucking home before we go again?”
Bafflement catches me in two different ways; however, it’s our stationary position that gets to me first. “Wait, we’re not home yet?”
“No.” He slowly removes his hand from where it’s nestled, and I can’t mute the whimper that escapes over the loss. “We’re in the emergency lane on the fucking highway.”
“What!?” Shooting completely upward, I glance out the windshield at the other nighttime drivers speeding by us. “You said we were close to home!”
“And you basically fucking came immediately!” A.D. slips the digit into his mouth, whirls his tongue around it, and groans in delight. Afterward, he smirks. “Mother of Dragons, I can’t wait for you to do the shit you did to my finger to my tongue.” His grin grows wider despite the redness building in my cheeks. “I’d rather do it in our bed or on the stairs or at the very least on the kitchen table, but if you cannot wait for me to finish the drive home – all ten minutes of it – then I’ll lean my seat back right fucking now and let you sit on my face.”
Temptation tramples itself across my expression forcing me to bite down on my bottom lip to prevent from providing the wrong answer.
“I wanna see you pleased as much as I wanna fucking be the one to do it.”
Desire to go again instantly begins to stir over the sentiment.
“Tell me what you want, Tiny Toes. Whatever it is, and it’s yours.”
“Get me home, mate,” I pruriently purr. “Quickly.”
A.D. releases an animalistic growl and promptly tosses the vehicle into drive.
Excitement unexpectedly mixes with an unfamiliar emotion, and the combination catches me completely off guard.
One good O doesn’t mean I’m in love.
I am so not one of those women.
But two?
Well, two just might make a bitch at least think about it.
Kidding!
Kind of.
One great O can be a fluke.
Two is a skill.
Maybe love operates on the same principle?
One random flutter in the stomach is a fluke.
Two is love?
Does that mean since A.D. constantly has butterflies performing Cirque du Soleil tricks in my tummy that he really is the one I’m meant to be with?
Being together certainly has changed my luck lately.
Perhaps being bonded together will pleasantly change my future, too.
I’m good at my job.
I’m really fucking good at my job.
I didn’t get to the top of running the entire marketing and advertising division of the most famous jewelry company in the entire world by being shitty at it.
And yeah, I’ve had a few more years than most to get this good, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good. Or that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Or that my older brother should take a giant dragon-sized shit on the new campaign I’m trying to roll out.
Hungry.
What else is fucking new?
Feed.
Needing a moment away from the pitch I have to present – again – to the man in charge, I happily cave to my dragon’s command. I abandon my desk for the eating area directly across the room. Near the dark wood, rectangular table is a mini bar stocked with both Sleeper preferences as well as the ones they could never dream up. While I don’t make a habit of drinking in the office, it’s not my job to dictate how others behave. It’s my job to ensure that they are pleased in my presence.
More willing to buy what I’m selling.
Sign where I’m pointing.
Underneath the bar area is the mini fridge that Heather, my assistant, does an impeccable job at keeping stocked.
With the way I go through the shit in here, sometimes I wonder if she ever feels like an over-glorified grocery attendant?
I reach for the closest item on the top shelf yet am immediately given an internal grunt of disapproval. My hand glides to the left, which makes the noises grow louder; however, when it swings to the right, tiny billows of glittery, gold smoke pour from my nose indicating a much higher level of disdain.
Not loving the lack of control I’m having over my shift lately leads to more tension in my shoulders and an internal exasperated sigh towards Gold.
What the fuck is your problem?
Hungry.
Yeah, trying to fucking fix that now or is that bullshit not apparent?
Mate.
You wanna eat our mate or eat our mate out? I’m only on board with one of those.
Hungry.
For food or sex?
Consummate.
My eyes momentarily fall shut due to the increasing irritation.
Like he’s the only one who hates not being balls deep in our Fated Mate.
I want that shit too.
Fuck. Me. I want her under me and over me and unable to be separated from me while screaming my name like she’s auditioning for a reenactment part in one of the serial killer documentaries she watches before bed.
In fact, I have never wanted anything more than I want to fuck Ana.
Lie.
Fine.
I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to bond with Ana but fucking her is a close second, and by close second, I mean right underneath the first. Like nose in the ass of the first type of shit.
Bonding is actually a really fucking terrifying thing that could kill her.
Fucking?
Little less harmful, still a shit ton of fun.
And something we will be doing just as soon as I feel my attempt won’t land me as an unsolved case on a Sleeper true crime documentary she wouldn’t be around to watch.
It’s not that I don’t believe she wants me or don’t think she wants me as bad as I want her, it’s just that I want to be a thousand percent certain, she wants me because she wants me, not because she feels obligated to. I want whatever happens between us – in or out of the sheets – to happen because it’s what she really wants. Me? No way I can fight against it. The Goddess of Fate made my choice for me when I was born – not complaining because Ana is fucking perfect and more than I probably could’ve ever gotten on my own – but she can choose. And I refuse to take that shit away from her.