Page 27 of The Minotaur's Valentine

Those two. I haul hoof out of bed. Thinking about separating them removes the temptation to think of Libby and relieves some tension. I should see if she wants them both. They belong together. I can get another cat, but these are the ones she searched for.

Once I’m out of the shower, I call the number I’ve been staring at.

She doesn’t answer.

Be normal, dude. She can’t see you over the phone.

But she will see you if you go over there.

Argh.

“— And I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”

Do or die time. Praying my voice stays smooth and deep (and maybe sexy), I say, “This is Milo. I know you’re at work, but I’m just confirming I got your call. Freddy and Felix, the kittens, are so cute together. They’re little buddies. They’re bros.” Wrap it up, Milo! The point, man! “I love ‘em, and I know you deserve one. Do you want both? Because it’s breaking my heart to think about separating them.” I sound like a sap. And my throat just clogged up with unshed tears. “If you want both so they can stay together, I’ll let you have them. I don’t know if you’ve bought a lot of cat supplies, but I can bring over their food and the kitten formula they’re using.” How do I get off this call? “Thanks. Bye.”

Well. That was abrupt.

I’m going to go take a long, cold shower, and pound the anvil.

That isn’t a euphemism.

Usually.

I CAN’T HELP IT. THINKING about Libby waiting for me to visit is innocent and sweet. It’s PG-13 at best.

But it is my shower, dammit, and I don’t want to be a horny raging bull (for lack of a better word) when I go meet her, full of unrequited lust.

In the shower, I leave the water on hot, letting it drench my silky coating of hair, gushing across my chest and shoulders. In the mirror, with the glass fogged up, I could be someone’s beefcake hunk. (Bad pun, yes, I know.) But seriously, when you can’t see it clearly, this is a hot, ripped body with muscle on muscle. And there are lots of hairy men in the world. Simple matter of genetics.

But then you look down, and no one would confuse me with a hairy hunk. There are hooves. There’s a tail. There’s about sixteen inches of erect minotaur cock, which is about average, a cross between a human’s length and a bovine’s. I’m the best of both worlds... except that it’ll never fit comfortably in a human partner.

My hands scrub, ignoring the pulsing, throbbing erection that’s not budging.

My mind relaxes. I’m not going to win the fight, so why the hell am I fighting?

I don’t have to fit all the way inside Libby, the girl of my dreams. I’m built to be compatible with minotaur females, who need all the length. But do I need to be totally smothered in soft, sweet, pinkness to be happy?

I wrap just one fist around my crown and shove down, only coating about eight inches with a blend of natural lubrication in the form of pre-cum and my favorite shower gel.

“Ohhh, God. That feels amazing,” I moan out loud, leaning back in the extra large shower, just letting my hand glide, wrapped around as tightly as it can go without pain.

I pretend it’s Libby. She’s with me in this shower, legs over my elbows as I hold her up and let her control the pace. Nice and steady. Maybe we can’t fit it in at first. I move my hands just over the crown of my engorged cock and my tail swings so hard it takes down the shower caddy. “Fuck!”

Okay. Even just the tip is going to send me over the edge.

I bump and swirl, circling it the way I imagine Libby might do. In seconds, a thick stream of cum sprays across the shower wall and down the drain.

I’m shaking. It’s been a very long time since I let go and pleasure ran away with me like that.

As I towel off, I shake my head at my folly. It’s ludicrous to have these feelings, isn’t it? To be so caught up over a girl who might scream or faint when she sees me.

“Duh, Milo. That’s why it’s a fantasy, not a reality.”

Chapter Twenty-Five: Libby

Dr. Peterson and I spend a quiet morning looking at vet schools.

Yes. It’s official. I have the greatest boss in the universe. Over a cup of cinnamon streusel coffee (his treat), he tells me that if I’m interested, he’d like to enroll me in the veterinary medicine program at Pine Ridge’s NYU campus next fall. He’s quick to explain that it would be part time, a couple of classes a week, and that my work hours could be scheduled around them. And since I’ll be there anyway, any internships or practicums will be able to be done through his office.

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