“Had I known it was you, I would’ve flipped the sky off right then,” she teases, her voice a little teary. “But I suppose I do like the banter between us. Keeps it interesting.”
Fingers stroke through my hair, caressing my scalp. A rumble escapes me as I bask in the lovely sensation.
“Wake up for me, Av,” Zoe pleads. “You need to eat more meat before it goes bad. You’ve been out for hours.”
I don’t want to eat any more of that meat. My stomach clenches at the reminder.
“I just want to eat my mate,” I murmur. “Mmm.”
“Typical male,” she grumbles, but I hear the relief in her voice. “You’re going to eat more meat and then we’ll negotiate the rest.”
Her finger begins drawing shapes over my bare chest. My cock awakens, eager for my mate’s touch. A small laugh escapes her. I realize she’s climbed into the bed with me, her body curled around my own. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake from it. Her finger trails lower and lower, teasing me.
“Climb on, mate,” I murmur.
“No, crazy ass. You’ll die.”
“Happily.” I smile, wishing I could open my eyes. “Maybe even impregnate you on my way to The Eternals. Take good care of our son.”
She smacks me on the chest. “No, you idiot. You’re going to live. I’m not taking care of our kid all by myself.”
“So you admit you’re my mate.” My dick twitches. “Mine, stormy one.”
“I admit nothing,” she sasses. “All I know is I’m not doing the single mom gig for our hypothetical child. You’re going to stay alive and annoy me until the end of time. That’s the deal. I won’t negotiate.”
“When I’m well, I’m going to pin you down and lick you until you go mad with pleasure.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Indeed.”
“Arrogant ass.”
“Beautiful, mean mate.”
Warm lips brush against mine. I open my mouth, greedy for more. She surprises me by kissing me with her sweet tongue. A groan of need rumbles from my chest. It’s difficult, but I manage to pry my eyes open to look at her. Her dark hair curtains around us and her eyes are closed as she kisses me sweetly.
“I don’t want to die without knowing your touch,” I murmur.
She pulls back, frowning at me. I expect her to argue like usual, but instead, she nods. Her lips fuse against mine once more as her hand slides down my torso. I stop breathing when her small hand wraps around my cock.
“Like this?” she whispers, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Mmm,” I rumble. “Just like that.”
My breathing grows ragged as she strokes me up and down. It feels far better than any time I’ve done it myself. I’m once again enamored by my mate, growing more addicted to her with each passing moment.
“Are you going to eat more raw meat after this?” she purrs.
“Anything you want, mate.”
“You have to call me the head doctor.” She laughs against my lips. “From now on, you’ll refer to me as the queen, too.”
“I’ll call you whatever the rekk you want, love, as long as you don’t stop.”
Her tongue lashes against mine, doing most of the work. I’m too weak to do anything but accept the pleasure of my mate. I could definitely die happily this way.
“You have to come back from this,” she says, her voice soft and vulnerable unlike anything I’ve ever heard leave her lips. “For me.”
“I will,” I vow and mean it with every still-flickering fiber of my being.
“Our future son needs you. I need you.”
Her words are powerful and erotic and I crave more of them—more of her. A growl rattles out of me as my sac tightens.
“Mate,” I choke out, releasing my seed in a hot stream all over her hand and my stomach.
I must fall asleep because at some point, she smacks me on the cheek, jerking me awake.
“Don’t die on me now, motherfucker,” she snaps, fire in her words. “I give you a hand job and you pass out on me for hours? Never again. Eat this damn meat before I shove it down your stupid throat.”
My eyes open and everything spins. Despite her fury-filled words, she’s gentle as she feeds me. Her fingers stroke through my hair. Something splashes my cheek and I realize my sweet mate silently cries for me.
“What will we name him?” I ask after I swallow down the repugnant morsel.
She rolls her eyes, but her mouth twitches with a smile. “How about Asshole Junior? AJ for short.”
“Avrell Junior does have a ring to it.”
“Asshole, not Avrell.”
“Close enough.”
“You’re telling me,” she grumbles.
I imagine what a mortling would look like sitting on her hip. Probably dark hair and stormy gray eyes. Maybe fangs and pale skin. Most definitely, it would be the smartest little one ever to be born.
“I need my tablet,” I murmur.