On Sunday—the morning after--Monica and Deacon woke to the rays of the sun bathing their naked bodies. Her limbs were so sore that it felt like she'd spent hours doing intensive labor. They'd gone at it for several rounds, only stopping when they realized sunrise was only hours away. The man was a sex machine. He even had a hard-on upon rising. After seeing that she was both sore and tired, he told her that he would get cleaned up and make breakfast.

Something had changed between them. Something had changed about her. She felt it deep down in her soul. Sure, she'd just had the best night of her life, but something else was happening. She couldn't figure out what it was.

As Monica stood under the hot shower, the heated jet sprays massaged and soothed her aching muscles. She used some of Deacon's shampoo to wash and finger-comb the knots and tangles from her hair. She must have looked a complete and hot mess to Deacon after waking up with matted bed head. Then again, he didn't seem to mind since he had snuggled with her before leaving her to make breakfast.

Once her thoughts strayed to Deacon and what they did, she couldn't rid her mind of him. And no matter how many times she lathered her body up with soap, after rinsing, she still smelled of Deacon. Of maple and spice. She thought of his lips on her. She thought of his cock in her. She thought of him fucking her. She stood in the shower so long that the water got cold. She hadn't even realized that she'd brought her hands up to caress her nipples.

What was wrong with her? She'd just had sex about half a dozen times, yet she still wished that Deacon would fuck her again. And again. She needed him worst than she needed that first morning cup of coffee.

She moved her hand downward until her fingers slipped between the folds of her sex. They were already plump and overworked from last night's round, but still she stroked herself hoping that she could at least satisfy herself to where she wasn't staring at Deacon over the breakfast table like a sex addict.

"Monica?"

She jumped when she heard her name.

"Monica…you okay in there?"

"Yes," she breathed.

Deacon's shadow came into view behind the shower curtains. "You sure?"

"I'm sure." She licked her lips. Even the sound of his voice sent pangs of desire rippling through her.

"Okay. You left the towel and the other stuff I brought for you on the bed. I was just bringing them inside for you," he exclaimed.

"Thanks."

She expected to hear the bathroom door close as he made his exit, but he didn't leave the tiny bathroom. She could feel him and scent him still standing there.

"Monica…I can take care of that if you need me to."

"Um…what do you mean?"

"I'm a wolf. I can smell your need. Not only that, I'm your mate and I've just imprinted on you. I know what you need."

She swallowed.

"I need you too, Monica. It's how I know you need me," he said.

She shivered under the cold water. She reached over, turned off the faucet, and then pulled back the curtains to reveal herself wet and naked in the stall.

He was in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting polyester shorts. His chest was bare. The hair on his head and on his body were still damp from his shower.

"I don't know what's going on with me," she said, almost in a whisper. "I'm usually not like this."

"It's normal. Come here." He offered his hand and when she took it, he gently pulled her out of the shower and into his arms.

"How is this normal?" she asked.

"We imprint when we have sex with a person. The imprinting makes them crave us even more. It ensures that we reproduce."

"Does this have anything to do with the mating thing?" she asked.

"Imprinting would've happened anyway. But because you're my mate, the imprinting will be permanent. Stronger. Like a bond. It's how I knew you needed me."

"You mean I'll always be horny for you."

He chuckled. "And I'll always be horny for you. Works both ways. Can't you tell?"

His cock was already hard as a rock and pressing against her belly. "Of course I can tell."

"The imprinting is instant, but most of the time, it takes a little longer for the mate mark to appear."

"You mean the mark that tells me that we're true mates?"

He nodded. "But I don't need to see the mate mark to know you're mine. There's no way you could've had those dreams and knew the things you did if you weren't mine."

Monica held up her left arm. "No mark yet, but I can certainly feel something."

"It will appear when it's time and wherever it wants to appear. The matching mark might even be hiding in plain sight," he said. "But first, let me take care of you."

He led her over to the bathroom sink and lifted her up so that she sat on the counter.

"Deacon, you don't have t--"

He swallowed her protest by taking her mouth and kissing her deeply. She wound her fingers about his neck and kissed him back. He took his time making love to her with his mouth, kissing her throat, along her shoulders, and then paying the utmost attention to her nipples which were now as hard as thimbles. She had her thighs wrapped around his waist, fully expecting him to fill her pussy and fuck her again. But when he knelt on the bathroom floor and lifted her legs over his shoulders, she discovered that wasn't the case.

"Open for me." He breathed on the inside of both of her thighs. "Let me eat your sweet pussy and give you the release you crave."

Monica's sex clenched under his order, but she immediately did what was requested, opening herself to allow him access. She bit back a cry that turned into a strangled plea for pleasure as she felt his long, hot tongue start from the bottom of her pussy and then drag upward until his lips fully covered her clit.

She twined her fingers with his damp hair, tugging his mouth to her center like an addict needing a fix. He buried his mouth between her nether lips, grabbed her thighs possessively, and lapped at her clit hungrily. The rousing combination had her cream dripping from her and coating his tongue long before she was ready to come. He dipped lower and thrust deep into her, lapping up her nectar as it spilled from her. He seemed to be just as aroused as she was. He moaned, groaned, and hummed his pleasure right into her. She came, waves of ecstasy flooding over her. The climax lasted nearly a minute with Deacon sucking up every last drop of her juices.

"You taste fucking good, Monica," he said, rising and then shoving his shorts down to the floor.

"Do I?" She slid down off of the counter and kissed his mouth. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft as their tongues danced.

"Mmmm," he moaned.

She knelt in front of him with her hand still on his cock and took him into her greedy mouth. The sound that erupted from him was a mix of pure shock and pleasure. Her lips stretched around his thick cock, sucking him in until he was nearly halfway in her mouth. She released him long enough to snake her tongue up and down the length of him until his shaft was slick and could be easily stroked.

"Christ, Monica, what are you doing to me?"

She couldn't speak. She didn't want to because he felt and tasted so good in her mouth. Instead, she looked up and locked gazes with him. She must have been doing something right because his eyes were bright with arousal. She moved her mouth over and over him again until his cockhead was deep in the back of her throat, nearly choking her.

When his fingers gripped the back of her head, pushing inside of her as far as she could stand, she almost passed out from the gamut of emotions running through her. He pulled back until his cock released from her mouth with a pop. Eager for more of his taste, she continued to lick him with firm strokes of her tongue, grabbing and pumping him from base to tip. His veins pulsed ferociously against her tongue. His balls tightened with each stroke. She lapped up the sweet pre-cum that leaked from him.

"Ah fuck," he exclaimed. "You're going to fucking make me come."

She slurped at his cockhead and took most of him into her mouth again. He must have gotten impatient with her, because the next thing she knew he had dragged her upward, turned her around, and bent her forward over the sink. This time, he wasn't gentle. He spread her legs and entered her with a blinding force that took her straight into climax. She grabbed at the counter and threw her hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust, sliding her juicy pussy back and forth over his big solid cock.

"Harder," she screamed.

He obliged her request, fucking her like a wild animal.

She loved every second of it. Each stroke felt like Heaven on Earth. The way he leaned down to lick and nibble at the back of her neck drove her to the edge, over it, and back up again. This was sweet torture—the type of torture she never wanted to end.

When she looked up into the mirror over the sink, she was stunned by the sheer handsomeness of the half man-half beast who looked back at her. The world spun and careened on its axel. Time stopped. The fire of their union spread to her heart. She was both overjoyed and fulfilled.

His gaze held hers in the mirror. Mine, they screamed.

"Yours," she declared.

This time when they came together, the force of it was not only blinding, but deafening. And she thought certain she heard over a dozen hummingbirds buzzing in her ear.