Page 48 of Bred By the Minotaur
I try to remember when that was.
“At DreamTogether?”
He laughs. “No. When I found you in your bathroom. When I saw your face for the first time. I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid eyes on.”
“Huh?” I’m mystified. “But I was covered in ash, and my hair was all messed up, and I was naked?—”
He uses my hand to pull me toward him, stopping my voice in my throat. He circles me with his arm, and here, I can smell him, and that musky, masculine, animal scent... I breathe Hank in, bringing up a hand to stroke the soft fur sticking out of his shirt.
“I know,” he murmurs into my hair. “And you were still gorgeous.”
Hank rubs his nose against me, then encircles me with both arms. Now our hips are flush against one another, and there’s a prominent bulge in his pants rubbing against my belly.
He doesn’t say anything else, and I think the time for talking is over. I lean back and tilt my head up so I can get a good look at him, and he runs a hand softly down my back. His nose lowers to mine, so I can feel his hot breath against my face. But he’s afraid of being too bold, I can tell, so I push myself up onto my toes and press my lips to his muzzle.
I’m met with a sharp inhalation of breath, then Hank fists his hand in my shirt to pull me closer. His much bigger lips crash into mine, and it takes a moment for us to figure out how our mouths fit together. But once we do, the sheer wanting in that kiss almost overwhelms me.
Hank’s lips are deft and sensual, timid but warm with need. As he cups my ass with his other hand, I sag against him—so he lifts me up off the floor with one arm hooked under me.
Now his mouth is dominating me as he nibbles my lower lip, then runs his tongue along it as if tasting me like a fresh fruit. I don’t need to wonder how much hunger he’s had saved up for me because it’s all coming out now in the way he’s holding me up in the air, devouring me and insisting I open for him.
So I do, and then our tongues meet in the middle. They writhe together between us until he pushes his tongue in deeper, and suddenly I’m very aware of the fact that we have, indeed, fucked before. That Hank has put his cock in me the same way his tongue is currently conquering my mouth, and holy hell, did it feel incredible.
A buzzing sensation begins at the base of my neck and it’s quickly working its way downward. With his hands already holding me up off the floor by my ass, I lift my thighs to wrap my legs around his hips. Hank grunts as my jeans rub over his, right on top of his erection.
“I’m taking you up to my room,” he says in a rumbling voice, like an animal’s growl. I nod in agreement, and he keeps me wrapped around his hips as he practically jogs up the stairs. At the top, he carries me down the hall to his room, where he uses his free hand—I can’t believe this guy can carry me with one hand—to open the door.
It’s pitch black in here thanks to the heavy curtains, but Hank has no problem bringing me to the bed in the dark. He leans forward, cradling my back as he slides me down onto it. Then he stands up again and turns on the bedside lamp.
“You’re pretty handsome, too,” I say, struck by how utterly sexy he looks bathed in the faint yellow glow of the light, from his curled horns to his bulky chest, which strains the fabric of his shirt, down to his flicking tail.
Hank surveys me on the bed, and reaches out without speaking to brush his hand over my collarbone. The palm is bare skin, but he’s furry beyond that, and I want to touch it—but I also want to see what he’s going to do first.
He traces my sternum down between my breasts, over my shirt to my belly button.
“I’m glad we can look at each other this time,” he murmurs, splaying his hand over my stomach. “So this is where our calf is growing.”
Our calf. Our baby. Just that one word sends a shiver all the way down my body, electrifying me. We already made Milo, who’s the most wonderful little boy to exist. Who is growing inside me? What will they become?
I think of how he put it there, how Hank stuffed me full of his cum over and over, and I sense myself getting wetter. All he would have to do is touch me and?—
His hand travels southward, from my stomach to the mound at the crux of my legs. His eyes never leave mine as he winds one finger between my thighs, and applies firm pressure to my clit through my jeans.
I squirm under him, my hips rolling into his hand. He slides that finger down, then up again, glancing over my sex.
“You’re good at that,” I manage, gasping at the friction.
“Ever since that first time,” Hank says, still watching me as he rubs me harder, “I’ve dreamt about this pussy.”
Whoa. I didn’t expect such dirty talk from him, but there’s a gleam in his eye as he languidly taunts me through the fabric of my jeans.
“You did?” I ask breathlessly.
“Every night. For months afterward.” He leans down closer to me, his big nostrils flaring. “For years.”
He thought about me for that long? Just like I thought about him?
Hank breaks our eye contact to fiddle with the button of my jeans, and once it’s free, he peels them down my ass, bringing my underwear with them. My pants aren’t even all the way off my legs before his hand is between my thighs again, his fingers trailing along just the edges of my swollen lower lips. He uses his hoof to kick the jeans the rest of the way off my ankles.
