Page 71 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

“Please,” I beg.

That finally seems to get through to him. There’s no way I could use that word. Not after the way Cameron made me feel for being so needy.

He releases my arms. A tender touch caresses my face. “We don’t have to use that word. You tell me what you feel comfortable with. But I want you to know how much I like it when you’re like this.”

My core pulses with warmth and only about fifty percent of it is his fingers inside me. The rest is his sweet words and the care with which he is treating me.

“Really? You like that?”

“Fuck, yes.” He takes my hand and places it over the huge bulge in the front of his trousers. His cock pulses beneath my fingers. “See what you do to me? That’s you, Justine. That’s how I get every time I get a glimpse of this side of you.”

A warmth blooms inside my chest; I gather my courage. “I like being dirty for you. I like it when you make me need you so badly.”

“Better,” he coos. He moves the fingers still inside me ever so slightly.

I moan.

“Tell me what you want.”

He curls those fingers and presses against a place inside I’m desperate to have stroked.

I buckle. “Ronan! I want your cock. I want to feel it right there. All the way inside me. And I want you to look at me when you come and make me feel beautiful.”

He freezes.

I think for an awful moment I’ve gone too far. Said something too shocking. He doesn’t want emotion. He wants pure sex. That’s all this is. But the truth is when he touches me like this—when he looks at me that way—he does make me feel beautiful. More than anyone I’ve ever known.

That feeling he gives me has so much power over me. When he asked me to tell him what I want, I couldn’t help but obey.

Ronan sucks in a sharp breath.

I sob when he withdraws his fingers, but the next second he pulls the dress from me in one swift motion. “You want to feel beautiful, Justine. You should. Come with me.”

Without giving me a choice, he bends and scoops me off the floor, carrying me down a dim corridor into the largest bedroom I think I’ve ever seen in my life. In front of an enormous walk-in wardrobe is a series of mirrored panels on sliding doors. Hesets me down in front of one and turns me to face my reflection. Standing behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look. To take it in.

As his possessive hand slides down to cup my breast and lift it, my gaze travels down with it, all the way to my belly and the light patch of red hair at my pussy.

I blink and take how the pale blue gray of his skin looks against my pink. How his broad, muscular frame surrounds my reflection, making me feel small and dainty. His huge horns sweep out on either side of his bovine head. It’s monstrously beautiful and captivates me.

For a moment, my eyes meet his in the reflection and I gasp at his heated, hungry look. Something hot and hard presses at my back and reminds me, despite his temper and his walls, this sophisticated monster wants me.

Me!

When he could have anyone.

Maybe it’s only because we’ve been forced together under these circumstances. Maybe it’s because I’m convenient. But a small part of me whispers it’s more than that. That part of him needs part of me. And I’m only too happy to give.

“Put your hand between your legs and touch yourself,” he tells me in a raspy voice.

Unquestioningly, I obey.

My own fingers don’t feel anywhere near as good as his, but I circle my clit while my mind swims with memories of his touch even as he toys with my breasts.

“Spread your legs, Justine. Let’s see all those juices coat your fingers.”

I do it. My body hums with awareness as he watches.

“Now look how beautiful you are being so needy for me.”

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