Page 18 of The Wolf Prince's Mate

“I don’t need you to feed me, Savage.”

“We’re saving the arguments for later, remember?” He carried me into the kitchen and set me on the countertop.

“I never agreed to that.”

“The way you nearly passed out with your face on a toilet overrides your free will right now, Nova.”

I scowled, but he didn’t bat an eye at me.

Instead, he opened the freezer and scanned the contents.

My gaze followed his bare back down to the tight bubbles of his ass.

Yeah, it was a nice ass. My work spread over his entire right arm, and I couldn’t help but picture it continuing down his side and over those sexy muscles.

That was what we needed to do next. Forget the leg sleeve.

I pictured a few different kinds of designs trailing down to the side of that sexy ass while he threw something in the microwave. I’d started to sweat again, but I was too exhausted to care. Or even really notice.

When the pain started again, Clay would handle it. That was all that mattered.

My stomach was clenched and my breathing picking up when Clay brought me a burrito.

I stared at the plate he handed me for a solid minute.

“You have to like burritos,” he said, gesturing to the plate. “Everyone likes burritos.”

“That’s a broad generalization. Especially when you consider the body part that’s most often compared to a burrito.” I didn’t pick it up.

I was horny, not hungry. Even if I did need food desperately.

Clay snorted. “Just eat it.” His hand landed on my thigh, and my legs parted for him automatically. His cum was dripping out of me, but that was a problem for later.

For after I’d eaten his burrito—the one not jutting out of his body—and finally survived another round of heat.

His hand slid higher as I finally took a bite. It was a little old, and a little soggy, but still decent.

His thumb brushed my clit, and I bucked my hips.

His eyes were starting to glaze again. He’d be gone to the rut soon.

I managed a few bites of my food before he pulled me to the edge of the countertop and fucked me.

The pleasure was completely and utterly consuming.

When heatfinally ended a few hours later, we were sprawled over Clay’s bed, catching our breath.

“Should we talk about this?” Clay asked. His hand was on my back, and my body was sprawled over his.

“What is there to talk about? We screwed. Hunter’s probably going to kill me. Nothing we can do to change it,” I mumbled.

“He’s not going to kill you.”

I made a noise of disagreement.

“He’s not,” Clay said firmly. He was still tracing my spine. I knew I should tell him to stop, but it felt too good. “Thanks for not asking me to keep it from him.”

“You guys are too loyal to each other. You’d never lie about this to him. Even if you tried, he knows you well enough that he’d probably figure it out. He might punch you or something, but he’s going to blame me. He already hates me, and I’m the one who should’ve realized heat was coming. I’m the one he’s going to be pissed at.”

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