Blossom dropped the last bombshell of my curse on me just a few minutes ago, telling me it won’t be broken until I have the seed of my mate.
That’s fucking impossible. I can’t talk to him to tell him to fuck my folds until he comes. Is that what Blossom even means? I know nothing.
Oh well, at least I’m out of Blossom’s garage and can provide rest and comfort to my mate for the rest of his life without being relegated to a corner with dust and cobwebs and shit. Blossom’s house was nice, but it was all I could do to keep the spiders away.Luckily, my scent was too strong for them to stay and make a home under my foot rest.
The high winds buffet me and I vibrate with excitement. A new location, with my mate. Gods, I’m so glad I didn’t give up, though it was a near thing.
I had felt my mind slipping, my mental health on the verge of collapse if I were stuck there any longer. I replayed my life over and over in my head, wondering why I did what I did, why I let my friends talk me into crossing someone like Blossom.
I was young and stupid and I paid the price. But that price almost had me slipping away from myself. If I had, I never would have met my mate.
When I heard his voice, I felt a tingle over my leather, like I knew him. When he looked at me after I expelled just a small amount of my pheromones, his cock hard as a rock, even from as far away as I was, I knew he was mine. Maybe I overdid it, overwhelming his system with my fragrance, but it’s been so long since someone has reacted to me like that, I didn’t realize until he was practically thrusting into my upholstery.
Blossom had to put the kibosh on that, and I reeled it in, not wanting to ruin my chance to go home with him. If he really thought about it, he would have found it weird that I’m the only thing that carries that scent and it was extinguished with a command from Blossom.
Thankfully, he still wanted me and I’m headed…hopefully to his home.
A little while later, the vehicle stops and two doors slam. My mate and his…companion? Is thishismate?
No, I don’t think so. They don’t move around each other as if they’re lovers. They’re familiar, yes, but with an ease that speaks to knowing each other for a number of years. Friends?
“Come on, Mav,” the man-who-is-not-my-mate says. “It’s too damn hot and I want to get back home to shower.”
Mav.My mate has a beautiful name. Unusual, but beautiful.
Mav smiles at me when he hops on the back of the truck. I push out some more of my pheromones, watching his eyes go heavy lidded with lust. Gods, I want to break this curse and shift so I can see him with that very expression when he’s under me, my dick so deep inside him that he’ll remember me for days.
“Yeah, okay.” A tent forms in the front of his shorts, so I stop sending out my scent so he can get me down from here.
That thick imprint of his cock is on my mind the entire time they’re removing the straps that held me down. He looks as if he’s more than a mouthful. If ever I shift back into my human form, I’ll see for myself. Then I’ll?—
“Son of a bitch,” my mate shouts just as I tumble off the truck and crash to the ground. I’m glad I’m a shifter and can take a little more abuse than a normal recliner, but fuck, that hurt. Rocks embed themselves into my arm rest and if I could curse, I would.
“Holy fuck,” the other man says, tipping me upright, brushing the debris from the cracks in my leather. “This damn thing was light as fuck when we loaded it.”
Blossom used her magic to help them lift me and now that she’s not here, they can feel how sturdy I really am. The fifties, when I was born, was a rough and tumble time. Like the furniture, the shifters were made of stern stuff.
Are they still like that? Or do furniture shifters take the form of cheap, particle board shit I saw in Blossom’s garage sometimes?
Either way, I’m a little hefty, so it takes a lot of grunting and bitching before they get a good handle on me and guide me inside.
The apartment is nice and spacious, with enough room for me and the other couches. It also smells unbelievable in here. It smells like my mate. He permeates every corner and I pull indeep breaths, holding his scent in my non-existent lungs. I’ve never smelled anything so fucking amazing.
“Geez,” the friend says, resting a hand on my back rest when they set me down next to a bookshelf. “If you ever get rid of this thing, don’t ask me to help you cart it out. It’s heavy as fuck.”
Get rid of me? What? Will my mate think of ridding himself of me so easily? He just claimed me. Do I have another mate out there somewhere or?—
“I don’t think I’ll toss it,” my mate says, calming my racing thoughts. “It smells too good to throw away.”
The friend looks confused. He leans down to breathe me in, then shakes his head. “Smells like old leather to me. If you’re into that, I guess it smells fine.”
“You don’t smell the books? And the coffee? Come on, the recliner smells like it was sitting in a coffee shop for decades, the scent soaked into its very fibers.”
Barking a laugh, the friend says, “You only say that because you love books and coffee. I just smell leather.”
“That too,” Mav says as they leave the house. “But leather combined with books and coffee smells so good. Have you ever…”
His voice drifts away, no longer audible, no matter how much I strain to hear his melodic tone.
