Page 42 of Rejected Plus-Size Mate

We fall asleep together, and I have another perfectly restful, refreshing sleep. We both wake up fairly early, and that’s when Leslie hits me with a surprise.

“How would you like to run up to Montrose?” she asks as we sit down at the table for coffee. “I wouldn’t mind a little adventure.”

“Sounds good,” I agree. “I’m a little short on money, though. Bae hasn’t paid me for last week.”

“All my treat,” she says, smiling. “We can hit one of the nice restaurants up there, maybe see one of the lookouts.”

“I’d love to,” I answer, grinning. I’m thinking about spending a blissful day with Leslie, and I don’t really care what we do.

After we get ready, we jump in Leslie’s small car and head off. We stop at the first gas station for snacks, spending the drive bickering about which music to listen to and eating candy. It’s no exaggeration to say I’m having the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.

The drive to Montrose is a little shorter than the drive to Silverton, and it makes me remember all those late nights I drove through the cold to get to Leslie’s place. She did the same for me as well. Sometimes, we would shift and run through the woods to meet halfway, howling to let each other know where we were and tracking each other’s scent.

My heart aches with deep regret that I kept our relationship secret. After Jack was banned from seeing Lena, I didn’t want anyone interfering with us. It would have killed me to be separated from Leslie, and there was no way I could go against my alpha. Especially when I’d worked so hard to prove my worth.

Along with the secrecy, hanging out with Darla was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Darla would be the first to admit that the relationship between us was anything but romantic, but instead of being open about what I was doing, I just let everyone assume what they wanted.

And it destroyed Leslie.

I can’t take my eyes off her as she steers the car through the wide streets, eagerly looking around at the buildings and attractions. Montrose is a hell of a lot bigger than Silver Meadows, and its surrounding towns seem to be teeming with people in comparison.

“What would you like to do first?” she asks. “It’s your day. You pick.”

“Ah.” She’s caught me off-guard, because I have no fucking clue. “I’m hungry, so maybe we should start there.”

“Sure thing,” she answers. “I could use a bite myself.”

We pull into one of the many parking lots and don’t have to walk far before we find a great little burger joint. Leslie demolishes a giant cheeseburger and a large order of fries before she starts stealing my onion rings.

“Quit it,” I say, batting away her fingers. “Get your own.”

“You’re right,” she agrees solemnly. “You’re wasting away. I should be stuffing them into your face.”

“Oh, please,” I answer, grinning. “No, for the love of God, don’t force-feed me onion rings!”

“I agree,” Leslie says, nodding emphatically. “Not nearly enough fat to really make a difference. Donuts it is, and cookies on the side.”

“I cannot!” I dramatically put one hand to my forehead, taking on a clipped tone. “I will not allow such torture.”

“Well, then, that’s unfortunate,” Leslie says with an evil grin. “I guess I’ll just have to tie you up and make you take your medicine.”

The idea of being tightly wrapped in rope, my arms held by my sides, while Leslie sits on my chest feeding me donuts blasts every other thought from my head. I move a little in my seat, feeling my cock get harder than it ever has in my life.

The sensations come along with the thoughts, intoxicating my senses. I can feel her weight pressing me down, the helplessness as my hands struggle against the ropes. I can smell the sweet, cakey, buttery aroma of the donuts and taste the gritty sugar on her fingers as she slips crispy, soft morsels between my lips.

Leslie grins, raising an eyebrow. “Are you okay, my sweet one? You look like you’ve taken a hit to the balls. Are you thinking about my dastardly punishment, and how awful it’s going to be?”

I nod, my throat so tight, I can barely breathe.

You can meddle with my balls all you like.

“I’m paralyzed by… fear,” I mutter. “I cannot abide the thought of this torture. Spare me some mercy, woman!”

“Never,” she whispers, leaning across the table to kiss me quickly on the lips. For a brief second, we share the taste of salt and buttery, crisp onion.

We end up ordering another serving, and I manage to get through the rest of lunch without succumbing to my constantly increasing arousal. By the time we leave the restaurant, I’m presentable, but just barely.

I can’t wear tight jeans around her ever again. I’ll have to start wearing baggy sweats to hide my constant hard-on.

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