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I fiddle with the sheet that’s covering my naked body. “I’m not used to that. I never had a dad. My mother refused to date. My only consistent male role model showed up when I was like twelve, and that was my Aunt Karen’s sugar daddy. It was clear that he spoiled her because she was his trophy.”
Milo’s face looks confused. “But... you are a prize. To have a woman like you, a woman who is so intelligent, beautiful, kind, determined, and sensual would be an honor that any other man would covet.”
I blink. “Do all minotaurs sound like they stepped out of Shakespeare?”
Milo puts his hands behind his back like a guilty school kid.“No. Um. I like mythology, and I read a lot of fantasy novels. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, mainly.”
Fuck, if he gets any more adorable when he’s embarrassed, I’m going to pull him back into this bed. “Doc Peterson’s the first man I’ve met that I genuinely liked and respected for a period of more than three months.”
“Maybe I could be your second? I know I’m not a man, but—”
“One pile of soaking wet sheets says otherwise,” I smirk. “Speaking of which, I do need to clean up and get the laundry running.”
“Let me do the laundry this time. It’s my fault they’re wet.” Milo hastens to be helpful.
I like that vibe.
My pussy twinges and the ache in my belly turns into a low, lusty longing. “You could say that. You certainly made me wet.”
There's a moment of silence. It’s tense. I look at Milo, really paying attention to him, and no longer focusing on my own insecurities about how I look.
He’s shirtless and in his jeans.
Holy abdominals, Batman. Pecs. Biceps.
He’s like a sexy anatomy textbook come to life. “Milo. Did you get a shower?”
“Not yet.”
“You can go first.”
“No, I insist. You shower and I’ll start the bedding.”
“We could... share. Share and then cuddle up on the couch with Felix and Freddy. I feel like a terrible cat parent. I barely got to spend any time with them.”
“They’re fine.” Milo looks shifty for a second. “Hey. Wanna hear about Bog Cats?”
MILO BARELY FITS IN my shower. He puts a towel down on the ceramic tub because I don’t have shower grippies and his hooves could skid. I picture a horn through my pipes and swear I will get a non-skid shower mat as soon as this blizzard is over.
“We have to squeeze in,” I say as Milo finishes up his tale of the mysterious Bog Cats and their influence on the fates. He’s convinced that these little fellas have been working to bring us together. I like the idea. My skeptical brain tries to protest and then looks at the ripped, rugged minotaur with a mouth-watering erection who is smiling at me.
Reality be damned.
WE CAN’T DO WHAT I want to do in the shower, but the warm, steamy room is perfect. After we scrub each other down (while exchanging intense kisses that do nothing to sate my growing desire) Milo kneels behind me as I rest my cheek on a clean, fluffy towel he’s spread out under me. My bottom is high in the air and my sore, puffy pussy is getting another intense tongue-fucking from my horny stud.
I hear Milo fisting his cock, the swish-thump of his fist on his member slow and steady, different from the greedy sucking and lapping happening to my swollen clit.
I moan and wince a little, but I would beg him to start again if he stopped.
“Maybe it’s too soon to—”
“I’m so horny, baby. You can’t have a cock like that and refuse to share,” I whimper.
“I think you should come a few times first.”
Like I’m going to argue with that.
“OH, FUCK. FUCK, FUCK, fuck.” That's all I can say. Milo has three fingers in my pussy and they’re pounding away, steady and hard.
