Page 48 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
The dress pools around her feet, revealing simple cotton underwear that somehow manages to be more arousing than the finest lingerie. She’s not wearing a bra, and the sight of her bare breasts in the dappled afternoon light makes my mouth water.
I shed my clothes quickly, eager to feel her skin against mine, and when I turn back to her, she’s watching with undisguised hunger. Her gaze travels from my face down my furred chest to my already hard cock, and I watch her lips part slightly, her breathing becoming shallow.
“You’re staring,” I observe, though there’s no complaint in my voice.
“I like looking at you,” she says simply. “All of you. The way your muscles move under your fur, how your cock gets even bigger when you’re looking at me like that.”
Her frank appreciation sends a bolt of lust straight through me. I reach for her, pulling her against my chest, and the feeling of her soft skin against my fur makes us both groan.
“I need you,” she whispers against my neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear. “I need to feel you inside me.”
I lift her easily, carrying her to the patch of soft grass beneath the spreading oak where wildflowers create a natural carpet. She lies back among the scattered petals, her hair fanning out like a dark halo.
The sight of her naked body against the earth, surrounded by nature’s abundance, awakens something primal in my chest. This is how it should be—my woman spread beneath me inthe open air, ready to be claimed where the whole world could witness my possession of her.
“So beautiful,” I growl, settling between her spread thighs. “Like some ancient goddess waiting for her bull.”
She’s already wet, her pussy glistening with arousal, and the sight makes my cock throb almost painfully. I run my fingers through her slickness, gathering her moisture, and she gasps at the contact.
“So ready for me,” I murmur, working one thick finger into her tight channel. “Always so ready.”
She rocks against my hand, seeking more friction, and I add a second finger, stretching her carefully. Even after weeks, she’s still incredibly tight, her body gripping my fingers like it never wants to let go.
“Please,” she whimpers when I add a third finger, her walls clenching around the intrusion. “I need your cock, not your fingers.”
The desperate need in her voice breaks what’s left of my control. I withdraw my fingers and position the head of my cock at her entrance, then push forward slowly, watching her face as her body stretches to accommodate my size.
“Fuck,” I groan as her walls grip me, hot and slick and impossibly tight. The feeling of being completely surrounded by her heat, of her pussy molding itself around every ridge and vein of my cock, never gets old. No matter how many times I’ve claimed her—every night, every morning, and sometimes instolen afternoon moments like this—she always grips me like it’s the first time.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to slam forward and take her with the force my bull nature demands.
“Move,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”
I start with slow, deep strokes, nearly pulling out before sliding home again, but it’s not enough for either of us. Soon I’m pounding into her with increasing force, each thrust making her breasts bounce freely in the afternoon light.
The sounds of our coupling echo through the meadow: the wet slap of flesh against flesh, her breathless moans, my own growls of gratification. Any hiker who happened to wander close enough would know exactly what we’re doing, and the thought sends a thrill of possessive satisfaction through me.
“Look at you,” I growl, watching her face contort with pleasure as I drive into her. “Taking my cock so perfectly, letting me fuck you where anyone could see.”
“I don’t care who sees,” she pants, her pussy clenching around me with each word. “Let them see how good you make me feel.”
The knowledge that she’s mine, that she’s willing to be claimed so publicly, drives me toward the edge. I can feel my heavy balls drawing up tight against my body, swollen with the load I’ve been building since this morning.
“I’m going to fill you up again,” I promise, my thrusts becoming more erratic as my climax builds. “Going to pump you so full that you’ll be dripping for hours.”
“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as her own orgasm approaches. “Please. Please…”
The thought of marking her, of pumping her full of my seed until it’s running down her thighs for anyone with a sensitive nose to detect, sends me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt with a roar that sends birds scattering from the nearby trees, my cock swelling as my balls contract and empty themselves inside her.
The first pulse of cum is so intense I see stars, followed by wave after wave of thick seed that fills her beyond capacity. She comes with a scream that echoes across the meadow, her walls clenching and milking my cock as her climax crashes over her. I can feel every flutter and pulse as her tight pussy grips me, trying to keep every drop inside her, and the sensation prolongs my own orgasm until I’m shaking from the intensity.
When it’s finally over, I collapse beside her on the grass, pulling her against my chest as we both struggle to catch our breath. My cum is already leaking out of her, coating her thighs and dripping onto the earth beneath us, but I’m still half-hard inside her, reluctant to withdraw from the perfect grip of her body.
“We should probably get dressed,” she says eventually, though she makes no move to leave my arms.
“In a minute,” I whisper, my arms tightening around her. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”
She shivers at the possessive note in my voice, and we rest for a while, the breeze cooling us off as our pulses finally calm.
