Page 39 of Free Beast Mate

After dinner,I showered her and made her come on my fingers five times. I forced her to orgasm that many times so that she’d sleep sated and happy. I had it all under control.

First thing this morning, I inhaled Emma’s virgin pussy in heat. The scent of it blossomed overnight, wrenching me out of my sleep and calling me louder than a siren of the Tineyan seas. My dick was the size of my forearm. Big, red, and fucking angry that I’d denied it its purpose. And because we spooned, it also rested on Emma’s fine ass.

I ran a hand over her pale ass, not red anymore. Emma didn’t bruise easily, though I wouldn’t mind seeing a few handprints on her ass this morning. I wanted to touch her pussy, to run my finger between her small folds and draw up the moisture I knew accumulated there for me. But I didn’t. Apparently, my brain served me well in the mornings, not so much in the evenings. So I left the bed and made a note in my journal. I wrote down the date—no, not the actual date, because I didn’t know the exact date, but I counted the days I’d spent here. Then I wrote a note to self: Emma is in heat. Thou shall exercise self-restraint 24/7, asshole, 24/7. I shoved my journal and a pen I’d stolen from the late Adam under the mattress and got dressed. I checked the clock. Noon. Somehow I doubted Emma had ever slept until noon. So I let her.

A cart waited for me in the main living space. A new table too. Sure enough, they delivered a day’s worth of food for two and an old black chest. Nothing good ever came from an old black chest, so I got the chest, put it on the table, and opened it. Someone here knew exactly what I wanted and delivered it to me. I picked up a flogger. The thing about the flogger? It was good for warm-up, hurt much less than my palm. I swung it over my thigh. If I could handle the tiny sting, Emma wouldn’t even feel it. My mate wanted pain. It made sense since I wanted to give pain, and she was made for me. Yup, all that much harder to resist her.

Hm, a riding crop. Nice. I picked it up, swung it. It whooshed in the air and made me even harder. I put away the tools and set the chest on the floor. Not gonna need them. Nope.

I flipped open the plates and found our breakfast at the same time as her soft steps sounded. I sat at the table and waited for her. Emma came around the corner wearing nothing but her smile. She sniffed. Her stomach growled. She looked around, and that was when I noticed the table had one fucking chair. Assholes. All of them.

Emma rounded said table and sat on my lap. “Yummy.”

She pressed her hands together and bent her head, mumbling a quiet prayer before she snatched a fork and dug in. I leaned to the side to watch her vacuum up the food. Too hungry to care what I thought about her savage manners, she didn’t pay me or my erection any mind, so I leaned an elbow on the table, waiting to see if she’d polish off both our plates.

Once finished with my plate, she tilted her head, eyeing the other portion.

“Don’t even think about it,” I told her. “You’ll get sick.”

She giggled, threw her hand over my shoulder, and leaned into me. She kissed my nose. “It’s good to be the lord’s chosen. What’s for lunch?”

“Meat and potatoes. Got some veggies too.”

“Like a roast?”

“Mm-hm.”

She clapped her hands. “Good indeed.”

“Out there, how often are you hungry?”

She pinched her lips, her hand moving to play with my hair. Emma liked petting me. Emma did everything she wanted to do. She acted on instinct, didn’t question herself. I found her self-confidence sexy as hell. She twisted a strand of my hair around her finger. A nervous gesture? “Sometimes.”

She’d stolen the bread I’d discarded. It made sense. “I’m always well fed,” I said.

“You are. And now I will be well fed too.”

“Right.” I scrubbed my face.

“Shall I feed you, my lord?”

Oh fuck me. “No, thank you.”

She smiled, mischief in her eyes. “Are you hungry for something else?”

I hooked a hand under her knees, stood, and brought her back to bed, where I bundled her up in a blanket and kissed her mouth. Then I forced my legs to move away and back to the table. I sat down, forked a piece of egg, and shoved it into my mouth. Fresh fucking eggs. “Emma!” I barked.

“Asshole!” she barked back.

Oh. Oh. Oh, how she made me crazy. “Don’t curse, Emma. You all got chicken out there?”

“Not since last year.”

Mm-hm. They got supplies, probably livestock too. They sent us fresh-baked bread. One chair so I could feed my mate right on my lap. One chest with everything I wanted to make her cry. They wanted us to mate. And they wanted it now. So, I wouldn’t mate her. Period.

Shuffling came from the room, and Emma emerged wearing my black T-shirt. It came to her knees. My gaze locked on her shoes. They were at least one size too small for her feet, and her toe peeked out. I hadn’t noticed this before. “How bad is it out there?”

“It was bad. It isn’t anymore. John!”

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