Page 44 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
“Strip for me,” he commands. “I want to watch.”
My hands shake slightly as I reach for the hem of my shirt, but I obey, lifting the fabric over my head slowly. His eyes track every movement, every inch of skin I reveal, and the hunger in his gaze makes me bold. I take my time with my bra, letting the straps slide down my shoulders before letting it fall entirely.
He makes a sound deep in his chest that’s purely animal when my breasts are finally bare, my nipples already hard from his attention.
“Keep going,” he growls, and I can see the bulge growing in his pants.
I shimmy out of my jeans and panties, standing naked before him in the golden light streaming through the bedroom windows. He circles me slowly, like a predator studying his prey, and I can feel his gaze burning into every inch of my exposed skin.
“Turn around,” he orders. “Hands on the bed.”
I do as he says, bending forward slightly, and I hear his sharp intake of breath behind me.
“Fuck, Frankie. Look at you.” His hands settle on my hips, spanning my waist easily. “So small. So perfect.”
Then it’s his turn to undress, and I watch over my shoulder as he strips with efficient movements. When his shirt falls away, revealing the expanse of his furred chest, I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. But when he drops his pants, I can’t hold back the gasp that escapes me.
I’ll never get used to how enormous he is, his cock thick and heavy between his thighs, already hard and leaking. Below it hangs his balls, heavier than I’ve ever seen, full and ready. The sight should terrify me—will terrify me if I think about it too much—but instead it sends a bolt of pure want straight through me.
“See what you do to me?” he says, wrapping one massive hand around his shaft. “This is what I’ve been holding back.”
He moves behind me, his hands sliding up my sides, then around to cup my breasts. I can feel the heat of his cock pressing against my ass, leaving a trail of wetness on my skin.
“On the bed,” he says, and I climb onto the mattress and lay on my back, swallowing hard.
He follows me down, settling between my thighs, and his mouth finds me without preamble. That textured tongue works against my clit with devastating precision, making me cry out and arch against him.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against my flesh. “I can eat you out all day.”
He takes his time, building me up slowly, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on my clit. The rough texture drags across my sensitive flesh in ways that make me writhe beneath him, my hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure builds steadily.
When I start to climb toward climax, he pulls back, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“Please,” I whimper, my hips seeking his mouth.
“Not yet,” he says, his breath hot against my inner thigh. “I’m going to make you come on my tongue first. Then my fingers. Then, when you’re dripping and desperate, that’s when you’ll take my cock.”
The promise makes me clench around nothing, and he lets out a pleased growl against my skin before diving back in, hooking my thighs over each horn. This time he doesn’t stop, working me relentlessly with that incredible tongue, the texture driving me wild as he focuses on my clit with single-minded determination. My thighs shake around his head as the pleasure builds and builds until I’m sobbing with need.
When I finally reach my peak on his tongue, shaking against him from the intensity, he doesn’t give me time to recover.
His thick fingers replace his mouth, one sliding into my slick pussy easily while I’m still pulsing from my climax.
“So tight,” he groans, working the digit in and out slowly. “Can barely fit one finger. How are you going to take my cock?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp honestly, and he adds a second finger, stretching me wider.
The burn is intense but not unpleasant, my body stretching to accommodate him as he scissors his fingers to prepare me. He takes his time, pumping them slowly in and out, letting me adjust to the intrusion as I get wetter to ease the way.
“More,” I beg after several minutes of this slow torture, and he obliges, working a third finger into my tight channel.
This time the stretch burns more intensely, my pussy clenching around the intrusion as he forces me to take all three thick digits. I can feel every ridge on his fingers as my walls grip him tightly, my body protesting the stretch even as it accommodates him.
“That’s it,” he praises, pumping his fingers steadily while his thumb finds my clit.
He works me patiently, building me toward another peak while stretching me wider, preparing me for what’s coming. When I start to rock against his hand desperately, he knows I’m ready.
“Think you can take my cock now?” he asks, and I nod frantically, beyond words.
