Page 62 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

It’s been a very long time since I let myself do anything like that. I’ve had the occasional hookup, sure. Or paid a sex worker. But it’s been a very long time since I let myself be so in the moment. So out of control.

“Wow!” She’s staring at her belly.

I chuckle. “Minotaur. Wait here, and I’ll get something to clean you up.” I’m suddenly in a remarkably good mood. I trot to the bathroom and fetch a towel, dampening it and returning to mop my mess from her. I clean the mess from the bed as best I can, but there’s still a damp patch.

She takes it well.

Just like she’s taken everything. Maybe this week will be alright. Justine won’t hassle me. She won’t be awkward. At night, I’ll finally get some tension relief. And when it’s all over she’ll take that well, too.

She’s a sensible girl.

I pull my sweats back on and tuck the covers back over Justine. She snuggles back into my chest and I wrap my arms around her and pull her away from the damp patch. I’m just about to ask her if she’s done or if she needs a little more attention, when the deep sigh and gentle breathing alerts me she’s fallen asleep in my arms.

Smiling, I brush a lock of hair back from her face.

Good to know I’m not the only one feeling drained. She might have milked half my soul out through my cock for all I know. Fuck!

My eyes are drifting closed. Her rich heady scent is in my nostrils and coats my body still.

I should probably shower, but I’m far too tired.

I should probably find a time to have the conversation with her about what we’ll do once the show finishes. But the best time for that will be tomorrow after a full day of pampering. I have the perfect day lined up.

Tomorrow after work, I can worry about how to break the news to her. Not now. Now I allow myself a rare moment of complete and utter relaxation. Let tomorrow’s problems look after themselves. I’ve had enough for one day.

TWENTY SIX

Justine

I wake to warm yellow sunshine and a rich, distinctive scent it takes me a moment to recognize.

Sex.

I smell like sex.

Specifically, I smell like sex with Ronan Kernos. I pull the covers up over my face so he can’t see the huge grin that spreads across my face against my will. Which only makes the smell stronger.

Luckily, when I peep out, I find I’m alone.

“Ronan?”

No answer.

I push back the covers and get out of bed, looking around. There’s no sign of him or the film crew. Even so, I dart into the walk in closet and find a sweater to throw over my singlet and pajama shorts. I have vague memories of Ronan cleaning me up and dressing me after he came all over me last night. Just that memory has my pussy fluttering and a surge of excitement runs through me. The look on his face as he unloaded over me will quite possibly stay with me for the rest of my life.

I head out of the bedroom and down the hall. To be honest, I kind of float down the hall in a trance.

The smell of pancakes hits me as I get near the kitchen. I round the corner and see a tall blonde woman in an apron and a neat black and white uniform. This must be Anna, Ronan’s personal chef.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kernos.”

I stumble and catch myself on a stool at the counter. Mrs. Kernos? Oh, I like that way too much. “Uh... good morning. Where’s Ronan?”

She lifts a hand to point at the large balcony off the dining area. Ronan is braced on his forearms, leaning over the balustrade and talking on the phone. His tail flicks the air and my gaze is caught by his thick, muscular thighs. His legs have knees that point the opposite direction to a human’s legs. But despite the differences to what I’m used to, his shape appealing. There is nothing awkward or unpleasant about the way his thighs tower up into a taut ass and narrow hips.

I turn back to the lady flipping pancakes to find her smiling at me far too knowingly. I honestly don’t know why Ronan calls me Traffic Lights. I’m finding it hard to think of a moment I wasn’t blushing around him.

“Should I do anything to help?” I gesture at the stove, but in reality, I’d be better off at the sink. I’m less likely to burn myself there.

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