Page 31 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
He grumbles, “Did you really come here to ask me about work?”
I laugh when he grins. “You’ve got me. I came to tell you the Hectors agreed to watch Annabelle next weekend, so I can go home with you. It might not be the best timing, though, if we want to get a grassroots support system going for the exhibition game.”
The corners of his mouth turn up into a wicked smirk. “Nah, we’ll only be gone two nights. It’s the running of the steers, and there’s a huge barn dance, and I promise you don’t want to miss that.” His eyes drift down my body and back up. “I definitely need to take you to that. It’ll be fun.”
Without even meaning to, I tweak my pheromones, sending him signals about what I need. He’s right, I didn’t come up here to talk about work, but I don’t think Ifullyrealized that untilright this second. But looking at that gold ring in his nose and the appreciative look on his face, what I came for has changed.
Across from me, he stiffens, then grabs the entire table and shoves it aside. The yawning space between us seems too big, so I cross to him.
“Your need is obvious, Catherine,” he growls. “Let’s do something about that.”
Reaching down, he pulls me into his arms and turns, depositing me on top of the table. He grabs the belt of my dress and yanks, the fabric falling down on either side of me. With an expectant smile, he grabs the halves of the dress and fully opens them, revealing a scarlet matching number that’s my favorite.
Crimson eyes flick to mine. “Your taste in lace has gotten decidedly more expensive, woman.”
I grin and shift onto my elbows. “Belleza makes the absolute best lingerie.”
He nods as he brings both hands to my belly and strokes the dips and creases admiringly. When he brings both hands down over my pussy, rubbing at my clit with the pads of his thumbs, I let one thigh fall open.
He leans down, burying his snout between my thighs to suck in great, greedy-sounding breaths. He’s slow in his perusal, dragging his muzzle down my inner thigh to my knee, the tiny whiskers on his snout tickling me. Working his way back up, he nuzzles at my pussy before moving higher, nipping at the soft rolls of my belly. His attention feels like worship, the way his nostrils flare and his eyes never leave my body.
“I’m going to enjoy this.” Sliding two fingers between the silk and my pussy, he pulls the fabric to the side.
I’m still not ready for the first swipe of his enormous, hot tongue. Scrambling, I grip onto one of his horns to hold him where I need him as I gasp and watch. His tongue is even softer than I remember, and I arch as he licks a broad, flat path up myslit. Crimson eyes narrow on his work as he shifts the tip of his muzzle over my clit, then licks again.
I clap my hand over my mouth as a groan tumbles from me. Falling onto my back, I lose myself to sensations I haven’t felt in so long.
So long.
Manorin’s fingers dig into my hips as he holds me in place, despite my squirming. I need more. I need that tongue deeper. I’m equally desperate to come and to start this whole thing all over again.
Crying out, I pull at his horn, trying to get more of him, harder, hotter.
Manorin chuckles, a low, satisfied sound that has me clenching on nothing. But that nothing shatters as he slides two thick fingers into my pussy and curls them, rubbing at my G-spot. Blissful heat overtakes me, back arching as my nipples pebble. Everything blurs except for my focus on that tongue, those fingers and the masterful way he remembers what I like.
The steady thrust and curl of his fingers has me rocking my hips to meet him. But I need more of that tongue too. Mewling, I try to shift lower, to get closer, to open my legs wide enough to take everything he’s giving me. Instead, he throws one of my legs over his left horn, opening me wide.
His scent strengthens, wrapping me up in a wash of pheromones so masculine and strong, I clench around his fingers. He grunts and laves harder along my slit, the long path teasing because it’s not enough to get me off, not without focusing fully on my clit.
“Nor,” I gasp. “I’m begging, please…” But words fail me as he surges forward and pulls my clit between those big, flat lips. The sudden roughness sends a jolt of pleasure that snaps up my core and radiates outward.
It seems just moments later, orgasm overtakes me, and I snatch at both his horns as I grind against his face, riding outmind-bending waves of bliss. I can’t scream in this room and risk everyone hearing, but my mouth is open all the same as I force myself not to make a sound. My eyes roll and lips curl back as Manorin keeps up that damned licking, his fingers never stopping their movement.
He licks until I’m over-sensitized, and then he flips me over on the table. After parting my ass cheeks and lifting my hips, he licks my pussy from behind, cleaning me of all that sweet honey he brought forth.
“So fucking good,” he groans.
Another lick.
A nuzzle at my pucker.
I claw at the table, desperate to get more of him, to get him deeper, to be filled the way only someone of Manorin’s immense size can fill me. I’m a succubus; I can partner with anyone and be physically capable of enjoying it. But there is absolutely no replacement for minotaur cock.
Manorin uses his grip on my hips to rock me along his tongue as heat swirls again.
But I need more. Iwantmore.
Growling, I shove backward and spin. I reach up and pull at the buttons along his shoulders, ripping his shirt from his torso. The sight of all those thick, fur-covered muscles makes my mouth water.
