I’m Just Here for the Mashed Potatoes–Rhonda (Probably)
Raven
I let out a pained groan as I opened my eyes. The blinking alone feels tiresome. My face is wet as I lift my head, realizing I am laying on something hard and whatever caused the wetness of my face is still stuck there.
I barely lift myself up and reach for my face. “What the f..”
“Oh good, your heat broke. Now I can cry in the corner as I reattach my dick.” I hear from my mate somewhere.
My hand comes back covered. “Am I covered in potatoes?” I ask, my throat hurts like a bitch. I vaguely remember screaming.
“Covered in potatoes and knotted across the damn island.” Cyrus sounds exhausted as I pushed myself up more, my body covered in food and the food remnants smashed under where I was laying on the counter.
A quick wiggle verifies that I am knotted. “You knotted me on the damn counter?” I growl out, unable to get away from him as I start wiping food and meat off my tits and stomach.
“Knotted you…knotted you on the counter! I had no choice! You wouldn’t eat unless you were getting dicked down. What was I supposed to do? Let you starve for four days?” Cyrus yells from behind me, clearly at his wits end. I can feel how exhausted he is through the bond. Four days also seems like a lot, but my curls are caked with food. This hair is a bitch to
tame as it is.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the professional at this out of the two of us?” A low blow but I’m cranky and still hormonal apparently.
“Oh, here we go….”
“At least pry me off this damn counter. My stomach hurts.” I snap, not sure what I’m madder about.
My hair. It’s my hair.
“My dick hurts.” Cyrus growls from behind me.
“You sound like a whiney pup. The little Alpha pup couldn’t handle a small heat?”
growl back.
“Take a look around Fireball. Does it look like a small heat?” I do what he says, and the place looks like a tornado went through. Theres a giant hole in the wall, a cupboard pulled off the wall beside me, most of the door is just gone, and the futon lays in a heap. Don’t even get me started about the bed.
I don’t care about the futon though.
Now that I inspect the place, I start to remember bits and pieces of the heat, but not enough to understand the magnitude of it.
“What was that?” Cyrus asks as he pulls out of me, and I suddenly feel the magnitude of the heat between my legs. Or more like the size of my mate and the pain left in his wake.

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