Page 41 of Mochas and Minotaurs

Marcus

I watched in theglow of the candles as my cock parted her folds and disappeared into her slick entrance. It looked fucking good. Gigi held her robe to her face, and all I heard was a muffled gasp.

With every thrust, I stretched her, filled her, each movement punctuated with her reaction, barely contained by her robe. I loved every moment of it. She was so reactive, so vocal, and it made me feel invincible.

I savored the moment, fucking her slowly, pinning her body in place with a hand over her collarbone. Her nipples hardened in the winter air, and her hair was a sexy, messy halo around her head.

“So fucking hot, Kitten.” She was beautiful like this, and I’d never tire of it.

Her channel started to flicker around me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep control.

There was something she still didn’t know about me yet, a secret I’d kept from her that night we were together. She’d find out today because I could keep nothing from her. I only hoped she would not react with disgust because that would destroy me.

As her cunt tightened around me, I rolled my hips at the end of each thrust, grinding my pelvis against her clit. The extra friction had her whimpering and moaning, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. She screamed, her robe barely stopping the sound, as her pussy squeezed and milked me.

Instead of pulling out and taking myself in hand like I did the other times, I buried myself in her to the hilt. I wasn’t a bull shifter; I was a minotaur. And we were different, like some wolf shifters.

“Wha—” Her eyes went wide. “What’s happening? Oh god!”

I panted as the base of my cock swelled even more, locking us together. She started to struggle, shoving at my chest, and I held her hips in place.

“It’s okay, Kitten,” I gritted out.

“It’s too much,” she panted. Then, understanding lit in her eyes. “Oh! We’re stuck.”

“Yes. Don’t move. The knotting only lasts a few minutes. Just let me hold you. Please.” I didn’t mean for the last word to sound so desperate. What would I do if she rejected me now?

I closed my eyes, afraid to open them, until I felt her hands on my cheek pulling me down toward her. Then she was wrapping her arms and legs around me and burying her face into my neck.

We stayed this way until an errant gust of cruel winter wind blew into our cocoon of warmth, putting out the candles, and reminding me that we were still on the roof. I wanted to continue this somewhere a little more comfortable, but remembering the size of her bed and Triscuit, I decided my place was the best choice. I got up, taking her with me.

“Hey!” she gasped, her arms tightening around me.

“I’ve got you, Kitten.” I stopped in front of the heaters, and she reached out to turn them off.

“The dishes,” she said, looking down at them.

“Forget the dishes. We’ll come back for them tomorrow. I want to finish my dessert.”

She giggled, and nipped at my ear. “I thought you already had it.”

“Nah.” I squeezed her ass. “I’m not done with you yet tonight. Not by a long shot.”

I placed the tinysticky note on the wall I’d just knocked on, marking it as searched, before moving on to the next square foot. I knocked on it with my knuckles and listened carefully. Nothing. I moved to the mallet. It still sounded the same. I peeled off another pink sticky note and stuck it on.

Gigi had shown up at the front door of my gym at 6:05 p.m. on the nose, ready to try again in the basement. Elise hadn’t stopped by the Witch’s Brew all day, which had been disappointing.

The good news was that with our Faux Hobo gone from the front, business was back to usual, and she was getting a lot more walk-ins from the street. Apparently, she’d come up with the idea of using something bright and colorful to mark all the places in the basement we’d checked while searching for the oat milk in the fridge. The Witch’s Brew employees usually stuck a pink sticky note on the oat milk to make it easier to find.

I stepped back and gazed at my wall of bright pink, blues, and yellows. The sticky notes did their job. It was extremely clear where I’d searched and where I hadn’t. I’d checked every square foot of wall and floor on my side of the basement.

“I’m out of wall space,” I said, turning to Gigi, who had her hair in the cutest little messy bun on the top of her head.

“And I’m out of sticky notes.” She held up her last yellow note.

“You missed a spot.” I took it from her, gently tapped on her head with two fingers, then stuck it on her forehead. “Now we’re done.”

“Are you saying there’s nothing there?” She didn’t remove the sticky note. “Because I did lend my last brain cell to Triscuit today.”

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