Were's the Love?

Chapter 1 - Slobbery Kisses and Idiots

What should I have for breakfast in the morning? I wonder, staring up at the ceiling overhead. I can feel the bed lurch and shake beneath me.

Do I need to pick up eggs? No. I should still have them. Maybe I'll make bacon and French toast. Shit. I used the last of the bread for lunch. Eggs and bacon then? I sigh. No, who eats eggs without toast?

"Oh god, baby girl, do you feel that?"

My attention is brought back to Jason as he moans in my ear. His hot breath falls against my cheek as his weight shifts on top of me. His thrusts become more forceful and I smile.

"Oh yeah. I feel it." I know that my voice sounds emotionless, but I doubt he notices. He never notices anything. If he did, maybe I wouldn't be laying here, thinking about food.

"You're so tight. Fuck," I can tell he's about to cum and I'm relieved. His thrusts and breathing become more erratic. I see that familiar expression form on his face and he sighs before he collapses on top of me.

"Damn," he chuckles, "That was fucking amazing, Allison. How many times did you cum?"

"I lost count," I lied. I always lie. It's so much easier than telling him the truth. Who wants to be told that they have never once given their lover an orgasm? It's not his fault. I know he tried. He always tries his best. It's just never quite enough.

Jason crawls off of me, removing the condom and tossing it in the small trashcan by the bed. I take a moment to look at him, admiring his physique. Even if he's not a god in bed, he is one to look at. He's more well-toned than anyone else I've ever dated. His six-pack abs lead down to the perfectly manicured trail leading to a decently sized package. I wouldn't say it's hulk-like, but still above average. His face is usually what gets him noticed though. He's got that tall, dark and handsome thing going for him. Mid-length deep brown hair with eyes to match. His lips look like they belong on a statue of an ancient Greek god. And that smile. God! That boyish smile made me want to melt when I first saw him.

Unfortunately, that smile doesn't make up for the fact that I can't stand sleeping with the idiot.

I know that it's all me. He's a great guy. Everyone says so. He's sweet, kind, and affectionate. But I can't stand any of it. When he calls me "baby girl," I want to scream. Seriously! Who wants to be called "baby girl?" Are you a pedophile? It's as creepy me calling him "daddy." I'm not into that kind of shit. When I smell the scent of his sweat or the cologne, it makes me sick to my stomach. It's like wet dog meets human body odor masked in an overwhelming scent of "manly" perfume. When I see his name flash up on the screen of my cellphone, I have to force myself not to hit decline.

You might want to know why I stay with him if I hate everything about him so much.

The answer is simple. He's my mate.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Oh no, not another story of a werewolf who runs away from her fate." Yeah. This is not that kind of story. I don't go for that fated bullshit. There was no moon goddess choosing my perfect match. Jason is not my "soulmate," if you want to call it that.

No. He's just my mate. My tribe, as we prefer to call it, doesn't deal with that silly nonsense. Instead, the elders have decided just pair us off randomly. It's like a fucking lottery drawing. All the names of eligible people of a certain age get thrown into a hat and the chief picks two names out at random. If you're lucky, you might like the person. Hell, they might even be the correct gender to suit your tastes. If you're not, then you get forced into a loveless relationship with someone whom you have no connection with at all.