Page 70 of The Minotaur's Valentine

I give Georgia the “Rock on!” salute, my pinky and index finger up, my thumb holding down my other fingers.

That’s right. I’m being a rebel.

A rebel who is going to go feed her cats and send a sexy selfie to a guy who cooks, cleans, and uses his massive tongue as my personal loofah.

Am I laughing as I headbang back to the vet’s office? Damn straight I am.

I’m also calling Milo.

“Hey, honey!” Milo’s sleepy voice is warm and comforting in my ear.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

“Ooh. I like the sound of that.”

“I was just thinking about how perfect you are—and how imperfect the world would think we are for being together.”

“Oh.” Milo’s voice crashes into bleakness. “Well, yeah. I guess that’s a big thing we need to consider.”

“I considered it for all of five seconds. How fucking heavy metal is it that we’re together? Rebels forever.”

“Forever?” That deep bass rumble that melts my insides is a joyful little squeal right now.

“That’s what I said. Want to know what else is cool? The rock ‘n’ roll symbol you make with your hands? You know what my mom used to call that? Hand horns.”

“Hand horns? Oh, yeah. A lot of people call it that, Libby.”

“Yeah... but how cool is it that my boyfriend actually has horns that I can wrap my hands around?”

There’s silence. Heavy breathing.

Milo finally grunts, “That’s pretty cool.”

I’m almost back at work. I pause in the little six-car lot that Doc has next to the office. No one is around —I hope. “Are you thinking of me, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Me, wrapping my hands around your horns while I sit on your lap?”

There’s rustling. It’s mid-morning for me, but Milo is just waking up after working the night shift. I can imagine him, all sprawled out in his huge bed. “Ohh, Libby.”

“Or am I sitting on your face?” I ask in a whisper, resisting the urge to push my hand between my legs while I’m standing ten feet away from my desk.

“I don’t care. I love when you hang onto me.”

“I love when you hold onto me. I wish I was with you right now. I want you to push your cock inside of me, grab me around the waist, and just fuck yourself with my tight little pussy like you’re jerking off.”

There’s a strangled bellow and a clatter. “Oh, fuck.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I have to do laundry now.”

I bite my lip and giggle. “Don’t tell me you wasted all that yummy Milo-cum on sheets instead of pumping it inside of me?”

Milo huffs in mock annoyance. “You are a very, very naughty girl, and when I get to your apartment tonight...I’m going to show you how much I love it.” He growls out the last words and all of me tingles. I have to calm down. It’s thirty-five degrees out here and I’m sweating with lust.

“I love you, Libby. That was the best ‘wake-up call’ I’ve ever had,” the deep rumble fades into a gentle whisper, a wistful, happy voice that I love.

---