Page 24 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
I took two more steps even as the hooves beat against the ground, but I couldn't help myself. I turned, and no matter what advice was good, reasonable, and clearly spoken, there was no possible way anyone could've walked slowly and calmly away from the sight of a minotaur charging them, head bent and horns gleaming.
So I ran.
I ran in soggy socks and too big work boots, straight for a few rows of tulips and then veering a hard left, hoping maybe Beck's momentum would buy me a few seconds.
There was growling and pounding and I wanted to look backso badbut I'd seen women do that in horror movies and I knew it was the first step to tripping over a tree root and getting sawed in half. Or gored by a horny minotaur, all pun intended.
I made it about halfway to that hokey windmill, spinning gently in the breeze with no care for my well being, before I was hauled up off my feet by a pair of massive, spotted arms. And then I was carried the rest of the way to the windmill, no horns inserted into my person.
We were off to a good start in that case.
Beck had me cradled to his chest, mouth a little foamy from the effort, or the rut, I wasn't sure. Over his shoulder the other two were running for us, but either the rut made Beck faster than normal or…
Hmm. No, I wasn't convinced they were putting a lot of effort into it.
Maybe they could just tell I was a lost cause.
Beck through his shoulder into the door of the windmill—and my rather unfortunate feet—and I caught a brief glimpse of dusty sheets and crates of bulbs, before the door was kicked shut again and I was swallowed in dark.
"Beck, sir, umm," I tried, setting my hands on the skin I could find. Minotaur was more velvety and suedey than I expected and my thought went quiet for a moment as he panted and twitched and flexed under my touch.
Wood screeched against the floor behind us, something shoved in place in front of the door and I remembered I was supposed to be getting myself out of this situation, not stroking nice warm muscle.
"Put me down," I said, a little too squeaky.
And to be fair, he did put me down, except that he came down on top of me. A plume of dust was kicked up as I gasped, and I fell into brief coughing and sneezing fit, my body putting a weak effort into shoving the minotaur off of me.
Not that I stood a chance. He was head and shoulders bigger than me—and I was not a tiny woman—and plenty heavier. His body wasn't rough on mine, but it was simply stronger, and he placed himself between my legs. My heart was hammering from the attempted run, from the obvious danger of a minotaur in rut and the obviousconclusionof where this might go.
"Who made you cry?"
I stilled on the sheet, panic pausing at the question. Fists pounded against the mill door, and Beck's fingers were hooked into the waistband of my shorts, nails short and smooth against my belly.
"What?"
"Who made you cry?"
I squared my shoulders as much as I could while lying on a dusty sheet, under a nearly rabid minotaur, in a quiet and kitschy windmill. "Monsters."
Beck snorted, and the pounding on the door continued, picking up a pace that matched my heartbeat. "Not minotaurs."
"No, but?—"
And then those still hands on my shorts yanked and I shouted as fabric was torn and then tugged down. I started to kick, to throw myself aside again, but Beck was efficient, taking my bent leg ready to shove him away and pulling it through the ruined shorts. His large warm hand cupped the inside of my knee and pushed it open, down to the floor. I shouted at the burn of the stretch on the inside of my thigh, and then shouted again as the burn was soothed with a hot tongue, pressed from my clit to my ass all at once.
My eyes widened as I sucked in air, thankfully clean this time, and my hands hovered and fluttered ahead of me as the tongue undulated and pressed hard against me, laving and covering all at once.
My hands landed on horns, and then tightened firmly. My mouth was open, my stare was drifting wildly over the cracks of light webbing around the mill's ceiling, and the tongue pressed to my cunt was doing something evenbetterthan licking.
I groaned and tugged Beck's face closer, body bucking into that tongue. He groaned and hot breath puffed over my stomach.
"Holy fucking shit," I murmured, considering my position.
I couldn't say that I wanted this minotaur eating me out at the moment. I was still in a very bad mood and to be honest, this wasn't helping. But for fuck's sake it felt incredible and if I just told myself there was really nothing I could do about it then?—
"Oh fuck, yessss," I hissed as the tongue curled and then slid forward, burrowing inside of me, working that wave of magic inside of my core.
Beck's nose was now free to nuzzle and nudge at my clit and I helped him in the work, pulling on his horns, arching my back and pushing my shoulders against the floor as I humped his tongue.
