Page 46 of The Alpha's Forced Pregnant Mate

“I want to bite you,” she gasped, her fingers finding the place where my neck met my shoulder. “I want it, Julian.”

I growled, thrusting into her harder. “You sure?” I asked, my voice rough. I wanted Whitney to mark me as hers, I wanted everyone to know she had claimed me.

“Yes, yes. Just promise you won’t make me change who I am or what I do, Julian. Please.”

I could have sworn my heart stopped at those words. “Never,” I promised. “Never.”

Whitney let out a shaking breath, pressing her face into the side of my neck. “Good.”

She kissed my shoulder, tasting my flesh, and then bit down hard.

I cursed as her teeth broke through my skin, her mouth hot on me. It hurt, but it also felt incredible. I swore I could feel the world shift around us as the bond locked into place, going from a thin wire to something strong and golden. Her pleasure rushed down the bond, meeting mine and making us both cry out.

Mate. Whitney was my mate.

When she pulled away from my neck, she licked her lips. Her blue eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks flushed, and she looked beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I held her tighter, thrusting up into her pussy in strong, steady strokes.

She kissed me like she was drowning and I was air. “I’m gonna come, Julian. Please don’t stop.”

I growled, thrusting harder into her. “Come for me, Baby,” I said, nipping at her earlobe.

She did, her whole body shuddering as her pussy clenched around my cock, my name falling from her lips. It was enough to throw me over the edge and I exploded inside of her, filling her with my seed in three hard thrusts, stars exploding behind my eyes. We stood like that for a minute, our chests heaving and hearts racing. I pressed my forehead against hers, breathing in deeply through my nose. I couldn’t get enough of her scent, the way it made me feel like I was home.

I pulled out of her slowly, making us both exhale at the loss as I put her back on her feet.

“I suppose we should actually shower now,” Whitney sighed, just before her stomach growled. She looked mortified, but I just laughed, kissing the top of her wet head under the falling water.

“Let’s make it quick, and I’ll feed you afterward.”

***

My promise to feed my mate wasn’t as easy to complete as I first anticipated, but after scrounging through all the expired things in my old kitchen, I found a giant can of tomato sauce and some spaghetti. Deep in the back of the fridge was an unopened bottle of wine, and while we didn’t have any parmesan or garlic bread, it was better than nothing. I was actually excited about cooking for her, but I would never admit that to anyone else.

While I cooked the pasta, Whitney dressed in the borrowed clothes I pulled out of my dresser.

I had just plated our food when she came out dressed in a gray t-shirt of mine and oversized sweatpants. Her hair was damp and pulled back in a messy bun, and she looked so damn sexy that I could barely keep myself from going over to her and bending her over the counter.

I didn’t know what things would be like between us tomorrow, but for tonight, I was soaking in being able to touch her and care for her. If we went back to being enemies in the following days, I’d always have the memories of this and the mate bite on my neck.

Maybe I was going soft, but only for Whitney. And I’d never say it out loud.

“It smells amazing,” Whitney said, taking a seat at the counter. I slid the plate toward her, then grabbed the wine and two glasses from the cabinet.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to grin. “It’s not gourmet, but it does the job.“

Whitney twirled some pasta on her fork and took a bite, sighing happily. “It’s delicious,” she said, licking sauce off of her bottom lip.

“Glad you like it.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I poured the cheap wine. It tasted…not great. Overly sweet. But it was better than nothing.

Whitney looked at her glass and frowned, a strange look coming over her face before she continued eating. She didn’t touch the wine, but I figured she was just skeptical.

It was all…nice. Romantic, even, besides the fact I barely knew what that meant. My plan was to make her fall for me, and that was going in the right direction, but whatever was happening inside of me wasn’t on the agenda.

When we finished eating, Whitney insisted on doing the dishes, and I let her. She’d made it through half the dishes before she stopped, dropping the pan in the soapy water and running toward the bathroom. I followed, worried, and heard her retching through the door.

“Hey,” I said, knocking on the door. “You okay?”

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