Page 23 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Twenty

Hank

I have a plan, and I think it’s working.

I couldn’t outline exactly what the steps are, but my intention is clear: sway Phoebe into marrying me.

I want to ditch DreamTogether. I know we could survive without it if we worked as a team.

She already fits so perfectly into our lives.

Seeing her belly get rounder, watching her read to Milo at night or playing with him in the bath—and getting herself all wet in the process—makes me long for it.

I saw how she pulled away when I touched her hand. She’s afraid of real intimacy, of getting any deeper than the amazing sex we’ve already had. As if that hasn’t been life-altering. I know she feels it, too.

But I will change her mind, whatever it takes, however many romantic dates. I know what I want, what I need , and it’s Phoebe.

I kiss her head as we clean up lunch, and trot away with the backpack before she can say anything. After packing up the car, we hurry through the rest of our errands so it’s not quite as obvious we took a detour.

That night, I stand in the doorway while Phoebe reads to Milo, her voice softening the closer he gets to falling asleep. Eventually, she trails off mid-sentence, then sets the book aside and tucks him into bed.

When she steps out into the hall, I run a hand down her back, over her ass. She twitches, and I know I do to her what she does to me. With a gentle push, I start down the hallway and she follows, my arm still around her. I’m excited about what I have planned tonight.

Finally, I have Phoebe naked on my bed, and I reach into the closet for the soft rope we bought at the store today. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Is that what that’s for?” she asks, aghast. “When you bought it I thought it was for the tree out front!”

I shake my head very seriously. “It’s for you.” I unwind some of the rope, then without me even asking, Phoebe puts her hands together and holds them out. She still looks shocked, but there’s a glitter of excitement in her eyes.

I thought she’d like this. She enjoys when I push her down or toss her around.

First I wind the rope around her wrists, tying it like I saw in a video I watched. Then I tie it to the post on the headboard so she can’t get away.

“If you need me to let you down,” I instruct, “tap the bedpost.”

Phoebe nods. “Got it.”

Finally, I hold up the ribbon from the other night. “So you can scream.”

“Please,” is all she says in answer. So I ball up the ribbon and stuff it into her mouth again, tying it around her head.

Once she’s gagged, I take off my own clothes, simply admiring her as I do it.

Standing in front of the bed, right where she can see me, I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke.

Then my other hand snakes out, between her legs, and she lets out a muffled sound as I pet her there.

She’s already wet for me. I prop one leg up on the bed as I pump my cock from root to tip.

Her eyes are fixed on it, her hips lifting off the bed as I run my finger over her sex, up to her clit, circling and teasing.

Then, without warning, I drop down onto the bed and yank her legs apart.

Phoebe squeaks as I descend on her with my mouth.

I easily squeeze a finger inside her, then another, going right for her weak point.

All I have to do is lick hard in short bursts, curling my fingers to rub her, and she’s already on the edge.

“ Hnnk! ” she moans into the gag as I go faster, harder, unleashing one of her orgasms and then continuing despite her protestations as I lead her into another. She writhes against her bonds, and I’m so glad I tied her up.

Once her pussy is good and warm for me, the pink folds swollen and a droplet of her release dripping down, I sit back on my haunches and grab her around the hips, pulling her toward me. Gripping my cock, I carefully guide myself inside her.

Fuck, she’s tight from coming, and it takes everything in my power not to simply ejaculate now.

I lean down and suck on her breasts while I fuck her languidly. When I stop and take my breath, luxuriating in her, Phoebe tries to object through the gag. She pushes her hips toward me to take me deeper, but I shake my head.

“Just milk my cock for a little while,” I whisper to her, reaching down to pet her clit. Instantly, she tightens around me, and I grunt at the sensation. I continue that until she’s almost on the edge of her climax, and then I slam my cock deep, burying it in her pussy all while I rub her.

She bursts immediately, and I can’t help but answer her, that beautiful clenching of hers undoing me completely.

Afterward, when I’ve untied her and cleaned us both up, Phoebe has a blissed-out look on her face.

“It’s... nice,” she says as I climb into bed with her, sorting the sheet and blankets. “Being tied up. I never thought I’d like it, but with you, I do.” She leans back so her head is resting in the crook of my neck. “I trust you.”

That’s the loveliest thing she could have said to me.

“Thank you,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head and pulling her in closer. I don’t say the rest of what I’m thinking—just how deeply I’ve fallen in love with her—but maybe someday soon, I won’t be able to keep it bottled up anymore.

Phoebe

“Phoebe?”

Milo’s voice startles me out of my focus zone. We’ve been drawing together at the table for more than an hour now, but it went by in a flash.

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?”

He cocks his head and sniffs the air. “I finally figured it out.”

“You figured what out?” I assume he means his drawing.

“Well, you smelled strange today. It’s because you smell like my dad.”

Oh shit. He can smell that? I should’ve taken a shower first thing this morning, but after that thorough fucking last night, I slept in too late when I got back to my own room.

I guess I’ll have to do it from now on.

“I don’t know why,” I say innocently.

That’s when Imelda walks into the room. “What don’t you know?”

“Phoebe smells like Dad,” Milo repeats, eyeballing me. Imelda’s eyebrow quirks.

“Well, she does live here,” the older minotaur says, kneeling next to her grandson. “You probably smell a lot like your dad, too.”

“Yeah, but not like that ,” he says rather mysteriously.

“All right, go get cleaned up for dinner.” Imelda starts tidying up his crayons and pens as Milo grumbles and climbs out of his chair. When he’s gone, though, Imelda gives me a knowing look.

“Hm,” is all she says, and it’s all she needs to say, because we both know what it means.

Fuck. So much for keeping what I’m doing with Hank a secret. If her sense of smell is as precise as Milo’s, she probably knows all about it—and probably has for a while.

I wish Hank would’ve warned me.

When we’re finished preparing dinner, I pack up some of the food and head down the block to Sandra’s house. With fall settling in, it’s dark out, but the lights are all off inside save for the shine of the television screen.

I push the door open slowly so I don’t surprise my sister. She glances up from the television and nods.

“Hey,” I say quietly, closing the door behind me. I approach the table and set down the half-full casserole dish. “Brought some chicken mac ’n’ cheese that Imelda and I made.”

She sighs as I go to grab her a plate. “Leftovers again, huh?”

I wince. I know I haven’t been around as much as before, what with Milo needing so much of my attention. This is what I feared when I got mixed up with Hank—that I would slack in my duties to my sister.

This is why having what I have with him is impossible.

“I’m sorry,” I amend quickly. “I’ll come over tomorrow after work, and we can?—”

“Stop, Feebs.” She pauses dishing out the food to hold up a hand to me.

“You don’t need to apologize for living your life.

I’m glad you moved in with Hank, and I’m happy you have a relationship with Milo.

” Then, Sandra waggles her brows. “And whatever is going on with the baby daddy... I’m excited for you. ”

I stare at her. “What?”

“It’s obvious. You’re suddenly all smiles lately. It must be because you’re getting laid.”

I blanch. Shit, was I that obvious? We’re really not good at this “hiding our relationship” thing if we’ve gotten found out twice in one day.

“Yeah, thought so,” Sandra says, tasting her food.

“It’s not like that, though. We’re just...”

“What, just having sex? Again?” She lets out an irritated sigh. “You did this already. You know you like him. You more than like him. So just admit it already.”

“I can’t!”

The volume of my voice surprises both of us.

“Why not?” Sandra truly looks like she doesn’t understand. “Everything has been lined up right in front of you, Phoebe. You love Hank. You love Milo. He’s your son. You even get along with the mother-in-law. Isn’t that the best you could ask for?”

“I’m not Milo’s mother. You said it once, and you were right. I carried him, he has my DNA in him, but he’s not my son. And I don’t know if I could ever be that for him.”

Saying it aloud hurts more than I expected.

“It wouldn’t be fair of me,” I go on, my voice cracking. “I would disappoint him. I wouldn’t make a good mom. And... I’m going to leave.”

“Why would you leave?” Sandra asks.

“When my house is finished!”

She gives a sad shake of her head. “I’m just going to ask the same question: why? Sell the house. Move in with Hank. Have a baby together. What’s so wrong with all that?”

I hiss through my teeth. “I don’t know how to be a parent, Sandra! I watch Hank do it, and I’m just in awe of him.” I choke back tears, thinking of how much he loves Milo, how good he is at caring for him.

She doesn’t get it. None of them get it.

“Do you know why I kept those letters?” I ask quietly.

My sister furrows her brow. “What’s that matter? They’re gone now.”

“I kept them as a reminder. As a lesson . Not to be like them.”

She looks even more confused now. “Is that what you’re worried about? Our parents?”

“I don’t have it in my blood, Sandra. To be a good mother to Milo, to this new baby. I come from bad stock.”

She gasps. “Don’t say that!” Her fork rings as she sets it down hard on her plate. “You are nothing like our parents, Phoebe.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then learn from Hank,” she says. “Read all the parenting magazines. I don’t know why you refuse to see the happiness standing right in front of you.”

I swallow hard, avoiding her eyes. It’s just too much to commit to them, to both of them and the baby inside me, in the way Hank wants.

“Don’t hurt him.” Sandra narrows her gaze at me. “Don’t lead on Hank if you really intend to move out later.”

I bite my lip. Now that I’ve had a taste of him, I couldn’t possibly give up what we have.

But she might be right. If I don’t plan on staying, I should cut it off now.