Page 13 of The Minotaur's Milkmaid
The words send a sharp zing through me, directly to my core. My head falls back against his shoulder, my body pliant in his grasp as he works my nipples. Each firm stroke pulls another pulse of milk from me, the relief so intense it borders onpleasure.
“Fuck,”he rasps, watching the streams trickle down my skin, disappearing into the water below.“You're so perfect.”
A moan slips free before I can stop it. My thighs press together, but it does nothing to ease the throbbing between them. Heknows. I feel the way his breath stutters, the way his hips shift subtly behind me.
I wish he would just reach between my legs and touch me, but he doesn’t. No, he’s ruthlessly focused on my nipples, his hands never straying from their task even as my back arches, and my nails dig into his thighs.
“Almost done,”he murmurs, squeezing the last drops free before swiping his thumb over my dripping nipple and bringing it to my lips.“Taste.”
When I lift my gaze, his amber eyes sear into mine. The heat in them licks over my skin like a flame. I lean in, my eyes locked on his, tongue darting out to lick the sweetness from his finger.
His nostrils flare, and his free hand grips my waist, pulling me closer, erasing the last inch of space between us, and I feel his cock pressing against my backside.
“Good girl,” he purrs.
“Get away from her!”
The voice shouts from the bank. I gasp, instinctively pulling away from Dakar and covering myself, even though I’m still submerged. Three men burst through the brush, mud-streaked, red-faced, wide-eyed. And leading them, somehow impossibly, is—
“Jacob?” I whisper. It’s definitely him. The boy who used to carve me whistles from river reeds. Saved me all the best fruit from his parents' farmstand, who used to stare at me for too long during Elder Thompson's sermons when he thought I wouldn’t notice.
Now, he’s pointing a gun.
At Dakar.
“Maeve,” he barks. “Get out of the water. Now. We’re going home.”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I look between him and Dakar.
Dakar doesn’t even try to move or even blink. He just raises a brow as if Jacob’s holding a broomstick instead of a weapon.
“She’s not going anywhere with you, boy,” he retorts cooly. “Put that down before you shoot yourself in the foot.”
Jacob’s hands tighten on the gun.
“She doesn’t belong to you!” he snaps.
Dakar snorts, glancing down at me with an almost lazy smile. “She does now.”
My heart is thudding so hard, I feel as if it’s going to burst from my chest. Jacob looks torn between fear and fury, and the two men flanking him exchange nervous glances. I recognize them both as well. Aaron, who used to shoe horses with his uncle near the stables, and Eli, the tanner’s son, who always smelled like smoke and hide. I never knew them well, just names and faces from the village. In Havenmoore, the smallest thing you did became the business of the entire town in no time. But now, standing here like this, they almost feel like strangers.
Dakar rolls his shoulders, his wet muscles glistening in the sunlight. He’s massive in comparison. “I’ll give you this one chance to walk away. You’ve seen she’s unharmed. You’ve delivered your little speech. Now run along and go play hero somewhere else.”
Jacob’s eyes flicker to me. “Maeve, you don’t have to stay with him. He’s a beast! You know what he’s done!”
I do, but I can't seem to speak.
Dakar sighs like he’s already bored.
“We’re not just here for you, Maeve. We’re going to rescue the other Hucows too.”
Shame floods me. The other girls. Beatrice and Annie. I hadn't thought of them, not even once. My throat tightens with guilt. I’m a terrible friend. What type of person does that make me?
Dakar scoffs. “Rescue? From what, exactly? They’ve already been saved. Fromyou.”
Jacob's lip curls in a sneer, but Dakar ignores him, lifting my chin to look into my eyes. “Tell me, little cow, who is your mother?”
I blink, confused by the question. “I…I don’t know. I don't have parents.”
