Page 68 of Bred By the Minotaur
Twenty-Four
Phoebe
Everything starts off sexy on our wedding night. Hank’s on top of me, his face buried between my legs, licking and sucking and sliding his fingers inside me, stroking and teasing until I’m a whining mess. And I don’t have to keep my noises down. He doesn’t have to gag me.
I can scream until I’m hoarse in a hotel room.
“I’ve wanted to do this for months,” Hank says, groaning as he palms his dick. He’s crouched on the bed with his tail flicking in the air behind him, hooves splayed. He returns to his work on my clit, ransacking it for my pleasure.
“Please,” I moan, grabbing his ears, his horns. “Fuck me!”
“But you haven’t come yet?—”
“I know!” I’m so horny I can barely take it. “Put your cock in me, please.”
He grins as he rises to his haunches. Hank’s unsteady at first, still working on that new leg strength, but finds his place with his hips wedged between my thighs. He drags his cock up and down, and I groan with irritation.
“You want it that bad, huh?” Hank leans down as that blunt head navigates inside me. “All right then. Wife.”
I moan as he pushes in, his velvety cock slipping through easily to where it belongs. Hank’s eyes practically roll back in his head.
“I like when you’re on top,” he says, withdrawing just enough that he can thrust back in. “But I missed this.”
I circle my arms around his neck. “I did, too.”
Hank lifts one of my thighs as he maintains a slow pace, his incredibly ripped abdomen flexing with every jerk of his hips. Sometimes I forget just how beautiful he is, how lucky I am to have him. And he’s mine now.
“Phoebe.” His hands encircle my belly as he fucks me in his own glorious, perfect rhythm. “I’m ready to have a family with you. To love you forever.”
I’m surprised when tears come to my eyes. I’ve never cried during sex before.
“I can’t wait,” I answer, and Hank leans down to kiss me.
That is, of course, when my first contraction hits.
Damn it. I didn’t get off, and now we’re speeding to the hospital. I called DreamTogether with my phone, explaining that I was in labor. Now Hank is driving me there, with Imelda and Milo coming later, and I hope we don’t totally fumble the ball.
We broke anonymity. What is DreamTogether going to do?
I’m led to a room and seen by the same doctor I’ve been visiting every few weeks, and he gives us an odd look as we sit down together.
“Boyfriend?” the doctor asks, eyeing Hank.
“The father,” I say. Then I hold out my hand, which now has a single small diamond in a gold setting. “And husband.”
“Hm.” The doctor stares at each of us in turn, then shakes his head. “I swear, this place.”
I don’t know what that means, but I’m quickly distracted by another contraction.
It goes on like that for hours, the pain growing intermittently worse as time wears on. Eventually, Milo shows up, and I’m relieved to see him. I need his happy, wild energy right now.
He sits on the hospital bed with me and shows me his latest artwork of Darla as an angel. I don’t know why he started drawing this, because Darla is fine and not anywhere near death, but he loves giving her wings and a halo.
Then the contractions get worse and more frequent, and much to his displeasure, Milo is led out of the room. Hank sits beside me and takes my hand, a mask stretched across his big muzzle.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Of course not. I never am.”
