Finding His Mate

Hi everyone! Whether you're a returning, or new, visitor, welcome! I'm very excited to get back to writing this series, and I promise I am here to stick around!

I've decided to re-write the Finding His Mate series, as when I initially wrote these stories, I was incredibly young (just turned 18!) and had absolutely no life experience. Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy the remastered Chapter 1, and please be on the lookout for Chapter 2!

Cheers!

PP

********

His hands run over her chest, causing a silent moan to escape her lips as the rough callouses on the back of his fingers meet the soft flesh of her nipples. She bites her lips as his fingers squeeze them, causing a shock to run down her spine. His hot breath first reaches the back of her neck, his lips quickly following behind to add to the already intense. He does this each time they meet: toys with her. Obviously, he gets pleasure from this; however, she wonders why he refuses to go further.

She reaches up in an attempt to move his hands down her body and groans when he bites her neck as a form of discipline.

"Not yet." The vibrations from his voice raise her body temperature, which grows even higher when she feels the full length of his body press against her back. His soft lips place kisses down the beginning of her spine.

"When?..."

Madison groans as the blaring sound of her alarm clock going off fill her ears, alerting her of the start of the day. She begrudgingly rolls over onto her back.

"Fuck." She stares up at the ceiling and places her hand in her panties, which were soaked. She keeps having the same dream about some mysterious man seducing her. At first, she thought it was a one-off dream prompted by her lack of a sex life. However, the frequency of this dream intensified to the point she can bet money each night that she'll have it. At this point, it was starting to torment her more than it was providing her sexual release.

She closes her eyes and tries to gather her thoughts. It's Friday, the worst day of the week. Luckily today, she isn't working both of her jobs, which gives her some relief and a slight glimmer of optimism. As she stretches her body, in an attempt to relieve the pressure from the day and night before, she lets out a groan once her eyes catch the time. One thing about Madison, she is not a morning person by any means. A grinch in every sense of the word. What she hates most about the mornings is the fact time decides to move so quickly. It's like one minute it's seven o'clock and the next it's damn near nine.

The sound of her alarm brings her back to reality, reminding her of the impending doom-day ahead of her. Reaching over to the end table, she slaps her phone in an attempt to stop the alarm, practically knocking it off the surface. She takes in the comfort of her bed one last time before sucking in a deep breath and rocking herself off the edge, wincing as her feet touch her cold hardwood floors. This is another reason she hates the mornings: the constant reminder that she needs to buy a rug. Walking into her bathroom, she stops at the mirror.

"I look like shit." Working two jobs is starting to catch up to her. While her circles weren't the darkest she sees daily, they're definitely getting there. This gig life isn't for her.

"Just a few more months, and you'll be good." Remembering the time, she quickly takes off her pajamas and hops in the shower.

"Oh my..." she moans. The tension in her body that her bed, and mystery man, didn't relieve is definitely being addressed by the scorching hot water that's hitting her body. As she soaks in the mini massage the showerhead is giving her, her mind drifts back to her mystery man. Truth be told, while he is a tease, Madison looks forward to him. It's unnerving the amount of pleasure he provides her, almost as if he knows her each pleasure point on her body. The orgasms he gives her are by far the best she's ever had if she's honest, which says so much about her sex life. However much she loves the mystery of her fantasy man, she still has this little thought that perhaps he's real and somehow visiting her in her dreams? Madison laughs out loud at this.

"What the fuck? You need some dick, girl." She reaches down to turn off the shower and steps out. As she's brushing her teeth, she hears the echo of her phone's ringer coming from her bedroom. Running over to the table, she answers the phone.

"What Tiff?" Her friend's laughter fills an otherwise silent room.

"You know... I would think by now you would be a morning person, seeing that you continue to choose jobs that start early as shit."

Madison closes her eyes in an attempt to hold back the slew of cuss words she wants to string together. "Tiff. Why do you insist on calling me every single morning to remind me?"

Tiffany scuffs, then giggles. "Because it's fun, Maddy. You should know this about me by now. But that's not why I called. Get dressed so we can go get breakfast before your shift."

Madison unplugs her phone from its charger and starts putting on her uniform. "We gotta make it quick. My shift starts at ten... I think..." she goofily looks around for her phone before realizing it's in her hand, "... Yes. Let's go with ten. If it's not ten, then it's gonna have to be ten. Let's meet at Marty's, yes?

"See you there, bitch."

She looks at the time after the call disconnects. It's already a quarter to nine. Today may be the day she finally gets fired, which Madison doesn't entirely oppose if she's honest with herself. It's about time she stops breaking her back for a measly paycheck. Running to the bathroom, she quickly puts on a small amount of makeup to hide the fact she's a few weeks from turning into a zombie and runs her hair through her thick trestles.

"Easy wash my ass." After many meager attempts to get her curls just right, Madison gives up and returns to her bedroom to finish getting ready.

"Keys.... check. Phone.... got it. Wallet, watch... sanity... all slightly in check." Stuffing everything into her bag, she swings open her front door, slamming it shut behind her. The door has definitely seen better days and is on its last leg, becoming even more evident each day she attempts to lock it. Jiggling her key around, the key slips out, causing her hand to catapult back.

"Fuck, Maddy." She watches as Ryan rubs the beginning of a sore nub on his forehead.

"Oh shit. Ryan, are you okay?" His forest green eyes flash dark emerald for a brief second before turning back to their natural color, an enticing contrast to his skin. Since meeting him, she never gets over when his eyes do their strange flashing colors act. He continues to insist that it's purely genetics. Madison never bought it but plays along since it's obviously a topic he's avoiding discussing with her.

"It's all good. You definitely almost took me out, though. In a rush... again?" Ryan soothes the spot where her hand hit him as he leans back against his door. Madison was always running late. He always jokes with her that she's going to be late to her own funeral.

"You know it, Ryan. Always. When am I ever not in a rush? What are you doing up so early, though? You're usually vamping, not exiting your lair until sundown." His eyes flash again.

While Ryan knows Madison is saying something to him, but he isn't listening. He watches as her deep brown eyes gleam mischievously and figure whatever she's saying, it's either sarcastic or sly. He's more interested in the way her lips are moving than the words coming out of them. There's something about this woman that gets him going. Ever since the first day she moved in, he's wanted her. Badly. The sun enters the hallway window, bouncing off her smooth caramel skin and glistening hair. Oh, her hair. He loves how big and thick it is. He can only imagine what it must feel like pressed against him. Probably like silk. Her body chemistry and lavender lotion begin to mix together and stimulate his senses.

"Ah. I've made it part of my routine now to see you off and ensure you're well."

Madison smiles a bit at this. While she doesn't see Ryan beyond a friend, it feels good to know a man is looking out for her. "Oh, stop it, Ry. You're gonna make me blush."

Ryan feels the heat emanating from her body and internally smiles. He knows he's starting to tear down what little walls she has up for him. He's tried multiple times to get her attention, but she never seems interested. At first, he thought she's taken but was upset when she told him she wasn't. If he's honest, he wouldn't have cared if she had a boyfriend because he had to taste her at least once. He has a feeling that after one taste, his addiction to her will only increase.

"Well, that is my goal. What are your plans for tonight?" Madison starts to answer his question when her phone rings. She doesn't have to look at the screen to know who is calling.

"Ah. I have to meet Tiff in a few minutes, and she would kill me if I'm late. I'll let you know later!" Madison quickly walks past him, running to the elevator. She pushes the button a few times before realizing it's broken.

"Gotta take the stairs." She looks back at Ryan, who's still leaning against his door, and smiles.

"How long were you gonna watch me struggle?" He presses his fingers to his chin as if he is thinking of an adequate answer.

"Eh. Probably until you started cursing and kicking the door." An un-ladylike sound erupts from her throat.

"Fuck you, asshole." The sound of rubber meeting wood fills the hallway as Madison races down the stairs. She storms out the front door and looks down at her phone to check the time for the one hundredth time today.

"Shit!" She's definitely going to be late. As she weaves through the crowded street, she tries to send a text to Tiffany while simultaneously not hitting one, but quickly fails once her ass hits the wet pavement. Slightly disoriented, she looks up and watches as a tall figure in a tailored suit slowly turns around, glaring at her.

"What the fuck?"

People side-step around her as she searches for her phone. Great. It's cracked. First, she's late, and now her phone is broken. Pushing herself off the ground, she wipes the dirt off her ass and angrily turns to the walking statue. Her anger quickly dissipates. This man is gorgeous. There's an overcast over the city, yet somehow the sun is shining directly onto him. His tailored navy suit envelopes his body sensually. She sees his mouth moving to tell her something; however, how can she pay attention to his words when his jaw-line is so.... strong and chiseled. Her admiration comes to a halt as he snaps his fingers in front of her face.

"Hello? Are you even paying attention?" Azeil watches as the tiny woman continues to stare at him as if in a daze. He had just exited his car when he felt something, or more like someone, run into his back. And not only did she run into him, but she now has the nerve to be angry with him for running into him. How does this even make sense?

He waves his hand in her face again and sees the glaze over her eyes disappear. "What the fuck? Have you not been listening to what I'm saying?"

Madison's shock quickly wears off as her brain registers what he's saying to her and the fact he dares to snap his fingers in front of her face as if she's somehow under him.

"The least you can say is excuse me or sorry. You broke my fucking phone." She says curtly. "Why are you standing in the middle of the street, anyway? Who stands in the middle of a street when they know there are who knows how many people in this city?!"

Azeil watches as her tiny frame puffs with anger and would laugh if she didn't just talk to him crazy. Closing the distance between them, he bends down as close to her ear as he can get.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you will not talk to me like that. I'm going to tell you once and only once: don't fuck with me." He rises back up and straightens his suit. "And watch your fucking step next time."

Madison's breath hitches in her throat. Again, she didn't hear a word he said because she was so focused on his voice. There's something familiar about it that she can't pinpoint at the moment.

"Well, look here. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I'm not the one to be talked to like that. I don't give two shits about your little idle threat. You can try me if you want." They stare at each other until Azeil hears someone call his name behind him.

"Azeil. Kano is arriving at the office soon."

Azeil turns around to his partner Gino and nods his head. Looking back down at the woman, he watches as she looks down at the now broken screen and groans. He can tell she's late somewhere and can't help the urge to take up more of her time. 'Serves you right.' Rising to his full height, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and smiles.

"Can you move out my way? I have somewhere to be."

"Yeah... I can."

Madison waits for him to move. "Dude. What the fuck? Move out of my fucking way!"

Azeil tilts his head to the side and can't help the laugh that escapes his lips. This woman is a hothead. Bending down once again, he hears her breath labor as it gets closer to her ear.

"You better watch your mouth when you're talking to me. I'm not gonna remind you again." He moves to the side to clear her path, watching her closely as she continues to her destination. He knows it's wrong but can't help his urge to look at the sway of her hips and the way her firm ass moved. Licking his lips, he turns his attention to Gino, who is grinning at him. Azeil knows what he's thinking and shakes his head.

"Let's go." He looks back down the street and watches as the woman is still looking down at her phone. She'll never learn.

**

"What!" Madison sighs. By the time she arrives at Marty's, she's fuming from her little encounter with yet another mystery man. She immediately tells Tiffany what happened as soon as she sat down in their booth, half expecting some type of support. Yet, Tiffany is more worried she didn't get the mystery man's number than she is about the fact that said mystery man cussed her out in the middle of the street.

"Ugh, Tiff. Please don't make me relay the story again. The guy was a bastard and caused me to break my damn phone. I mean, look at it."

Tiffany takes the phone from Madison's hand and examines the shattered screen. "Hmm... it's honestly not bad. I know someone who can fix it for you for like fifty bucks if that. Especially if I show him a little titty." They both wince as shards of glass fall off-screen as Tiffany places it on the table. "Actually, I take that back."

"Fuck me, man. When am I gonna catch a break?" Ever since her move from Los Angelos, Madison hasn't had any luck with, well, anything. First, she moves from her small town to Los Angelos to make it 'big' with her art. Then she moves from Los Angelos to New York to, again, make it 'big.' And now she's stuck with no real plan for anything. She can barely get any of her pieces to catch people's eyes and feels defeated. That little voice in her head telling her she isn't going to make it keeps popping back up in her head.

"Oh, Maddy. Don't beat yourself up. Remember, my friend Dom? It took her damn near ten years for her art pieces to get some fire under them and look at her now. The girl makes like ten grand from each piece. And between you and me, those shits aren't even that great." Madison watches as Tiffany pours syrup on her pancakes.

"Girl... is that not enough syrup? Damn." Tiffany throws a pointed look at Madison before continuing.

"As I was saying, don't give up. Your pieces are exquisite. You just have to dedicate more time to the marketing aspect and put yourself out there. Gotta stop creating and keeping it locked up in that small ass one bedroom you have."

Madison turns and looks out the foggy glass window. Tiffany is right. She does need to do better at promoting her work, but she always gets stuck. Hell, she barely has names set in place for her pieces.

"I know, I know. It's just... difficult, I guess." She grabs her phone and looks at the time. "Look, I have to go. My shift is starting soon. Do you have the bill?"

"You're a struggling artist." Tiffany reaches for her hand. "You know I got you."

"Aren't you a doll?" Madison slaps Tiffany's hand and scoots out of the booth. She waves goodbye as she exits the diner, tightening her jacket around her as the brisk fall air makes contact with her skin. She loves when Tiffany agrees to have breakfast at Marty's because her job isn't a far walk from the diner. While she's making her way to work, she can't help but think of the guy from earlier. Hopefully, he visits her in her dreams because she doesn't mind getting a one-off orgasm from him. 'Maybe he's the guy?' She laughs frighteningly loud at this thought, causing passersby to look at her warily. Perhaps it's a coincidence he sounds exactly like her nightly lover?

As she rounds the corner, the neon lights of Moe's appears in the distance. The sign alone gives her a headache. Moe's is the most touristy of tourist spots in the city. You would think the dingy seventies decor or questionable sanitary procedures would be a deterrent for visitors. However, according to Yelp reviews, that's what makes it 'so New York.' Truthfully, Madison didn't have faith most of these customers knew the difference between their ass and the next persons.

She walks to the back of the diner, dodging the muddied streets, and sneaks in, hoping her boss doesn't notice her arrival. As she walks into the back-room, she overhears a few of her co-workers complaining about the morning rush that's spilling over into the brunch/lunch hour. This is honestly the last thing she's looking forward to dealing with today. Tying on her apron, she turns around to exit and practically runs into her boss.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't Ms. L.A. You know this is the fifth time you've been late this month?" Moe always makes it his point to remind her that she's a transplant not cut out for what considers the 'city of all cities'. It's either that or his futile attempts at getting in between her legs.

"No. It's not the fifth time I have been late. I have only been late once, and the other times it was all your fault. You keep holding me up for no reason." She says through clenched teeth. He runs his stubby fingers through his thinning hair and smirks. Moe is the generic Italian man featured in low-budget movies. He's a short man with thinning, smelly, oily hair and wears the same oversized suit of different variations every day. He insists that customers respect him more when he dons something 'professional' than when he doesn't. Truly a delusional man.

"So, again, you've been late five times, and you have one of two options. You can either quit or, I can deduct it out your pay." He takes a step closer to her and looks her up and down. "Or... you can just take me up on my previous offer, and all of this will do away."

It takes everything inside of Madison not to punch him in his face and knock a few more teeth out. But she needs this job. At least until her art pieces start selling, whenever that will be.

"Can you please just move out of my way?" He takes one last look at her before moving to the side and letting her through.

"I'm not done with you... Ms. L.A."

A chill runs up her spine as he says this. Moe is the slimiest man she's ever encountered, and one she never wants to be left alone in a room with for an extended period, time. She hears too many stories of the things he tries to do to the women he employs. Surprisingly, someone hasn't beaten his ass yet, which leads her to question who he knows that's protecting him? There's no way a man like him continues to be a predator otherwise.