Page 46 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
She laughs lightly, rubbing my thigh with one red-nailed hand. “I do seem to remember something like that. The barn dance is tonight…is that right?”
“Mhm.” I tighten my fingers over her soft belly, wanting to dig in and do inappropriate things. There’s something about having her with me in my home haven that dredges up memories of all the plans I made when she and I first dated. Plans I didn’t tell her about because I wanted to surprise her. Things that didn’t work out when we parted ways.
“How long is the ride again?”
“An hour to town.” I stroke her gray waves, breathing her in as I envision her swinging around the wood-plank dance floor I grew up dancing on.
“For today, I think I’d like to just relax here with you. But perhaps on our way back to Ever, we can check out the library car? I’ve got to tell the Hector girls. I think Wren, in particular, would be enthralled by such a thing.”
“Done.” I slide my hand lower, playing at the edge of her skirt. I slip it to the inside of her thigh and move up, up, up. Surprise rushes through me. “No underthings, Cath? My naughty girl.”
She smiles up over her shoulder. “Thought you might appreciate that.”
“Oh yeah.” I snuffle against her shoulder as gentle tan and green hills roll by. “I’m going tothoroughlyappreciate it until you’re soaking this bench, Sunshine. Stay quiet, though. I’d hate for the attendant to come over to see what you need.”
She wriggles against me as I cover her with my larger body, sliding the tips of two fingers along her outer pussy lips. She’s as sensitive as ever, soft little moans tumbling from her mouth.
“Quiet, woman,” I remind her, dropping my tone lower. She loves it when I get bossy. Reaching around, I clap one hand lightly over her mouth, the other stroking her softly as she lets one leg fall to the side.
She brings both hands to my forearm and pushes me, trying to get me where she wants me. Footsteps and a throat clearing indicate the arriving attendant, who carefully places our drinks on the table. Thankfully, she can’t see what I’m doing to Catherine around my broad back.
“Will there be anything else, Mister Longhorn?”
I smile over my shoulder at the pixie as I slip a finger into Catherine’s pussy. “That’s all for now, thank you.”
The pixie smiles and flits off to the next purple-flagged table.
“Oh gods,” Catherine manages around my fingers. “More, Manorin. Now.”
“Or what?” I add a second finger and stroke, curling the digits inside her to rub at her G-spot. I want her on the edgebefore I let her fall over. If I’m lucky, she’ll squirt all over my hand, and I’ll have a mess to clean up before we arrive at our destination.
Maybe I’ll make her come until we get there. Once she’s over the edge, it’s possible to turn her into a blubbering mess of nonstop orgasms. I want it, I decide.
Chuckling at the idea of her soaking my fingers, I bend down and lick a path softly along her exposed neck, nuzzling her skin as I thrust slowly in and out of her. I use the pad of my thumb to rub her clit gently from side to side, pressing enough to activate that most sensitive of nerve bundles.
She rocks against me, legs falling open wider as she claws at my forearm. “Nor, oh gods, anybody could see us!” She’s practically hissing, even as the sound falls off into a moan.
“No one can see you through the booth and my big, hard body, Cath,” I whisper into her ear. “Enjoy yourself, my pretty little succubus. Enjoy watching the Gulch fly by outside as I finger you.”
She groans, the sound cutting off when she remembers where we are.
Her hips rock faster, more desperately as she mewls against me.
I chuckle, delighted by the way she responds to me.
“Fucking you is my favorite thing,” I growl under my breath. “Come for me, pretty girl.”
On cue, she detonates, back arching as she claws at the seat and my arm and anything she can reach. Her nails leave great raised welts under my fur, and all it does is turn me on. I can’t wait to get her into a bed and do more of this.
Stroking her through the orgasm, I wait until she’s a heaving, soaked mess of honey. Murmuring softly, I praise her, telling her what a good, sweet girl she is, how pretty she looked coming on a public train, how much I want to see another orgasm from her.
And then I start it all over, because I’m an asshole who wants more. I need all of her. I want it. It’s mine, and I’m taking it again, and again, and again. I shouldn’t let this obsession continue. I shouldn’t let it build and blossom the way it is. But if I’m honest with myself, it’s too fucking late.
Far too fucking late.
I am. Obsessed. With. Her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
