Page 15 of Minding the Minotaur (Monsters of the Labyrinth #1)

A RLO

She’s splayed out beneath me like a feast, her luscious thighs spread wide and the damp blonde curls of her pussy barely covering the glittering little prize of her clit. My shadow looms over her and she reaches up to me as I lower myself onto her.

Grasping my shaft in my fist, I rotate the head around the lips of her pussy, stretching her just a little with my tip, but already the clutch of her sweet wet cunt is almost too much, tempting me to plunge deeper, as she bites her lip and begs and whines.

I’m barely inside her entrance, but my balls tighten and…

Fuck! I wake up panting. The throb in my cock is unbearable. I feel down below and yes, the head is slippery, but at least I haven’t shot my load.

I breathe a sigh of relief. There are two sets of school fees coming for Clarisse’s brood, and I don’t fancy my chances of getting paid today if I only manage a teaspoonful of cum .

I can’t help smiling as I lie here and remember last night, the way she burst into my room, so needy and desperate.

How much pleasure it gave me to have her fall apart so spectacularly in my arms, even with the ache in my balls I’ve had to nurse all night.

I nuzzle her panties now to my snout, inhaling a deep breath of her delectable scent.

I grin, thinking about how she offered—no, insisted —that she come to my appointment today.

Makes perfect sense. I can’t do anything without my minder, can I?

I’m sure I can persuade Peg, the nurse, to let her into the private room with me.

If it means more sperm production, it’s a win-win.

Besides, I am so bored of the stick books.

Vanilla shots of monster species I know plenty about.

I’ve fucked most of them in the past, and all of them leave me indifferent now I’ve met my human.

I bounce off the bed, take an ice-cold shower, until I feel like I’ve got my dick under control enough to squeeze the fucker into my pants. Then I dress in my best designer jeans and a crisp white tee and wait for Sammy to unlock my bedroom door.

She must have been watching me dress, little witch, because she’s there almost as soon as I’ve hauled on my jeans.

Her face is flushed, her eyes feverish. I wonder if she’s been masturbating.

Wouldn’t surprise me. She is literally the most receptive female I’ve ever encountered. She looks so beautiful with just a wisp of golden hair falling out of her ponytail and her lips swollen and ready for my kisses.

Gods, I really wish I didn’t have to jack off at an impersonal medical clinic. I want it to be so much more than that with Sammy.

I scuff a hoof, my heart rapping wildly against my ribs as we gaze at each other.

Yep, I’ve got Sammy fever, real bad .

But before I can even kiss her, Tippy calls down the passage that breakfast is ready.

We make our way to the dining room to find a special spread laid out.

My mouth waters. The smell of coffee and bacon and pancakes, as well as buttery croissants, is a welcome distraction from my libido.

The morning of clinic day I’m allowed to dose up on carbs and fats.

Medical orders. And boy do I love these breakfasts.

So, it seems, does Sammy. Her eyes pop and she thanks Tippy profusely. Tippy gives a slightly disapproving sniff. She hates buying in pastries from Tasty Ted’s, the troll baker down the road. “Don’t forget, there’s fresh squeezed orange juice there too,” she says pointedly as she walks out.

I sip my coffee and keep flicking glances at Sammy. Her breasts taunt me, and I stave off an image of my cock rubbing between them.

“Mmmm, this is delicious.” She bites into the buttery croissant and rolls her eyes ecstatically, which does nothing to calm things down in my nether regions.

“How long have you had Tippy cooking for you?”

“Four years now. I didn’t used to eat well, but once I started doing this job, I kind of realized I needed to look after myself better. Lots of protein, but I’m allowed bacon and croissants on my production days. Fat and carbs together seem to, er, improve my output.”

She licks a crumb suggestively from her lips with the wickedest little eyebrow waggle.

I reach over impetuously and cover her small white hand with my great big one. I want to tell her how happy last night made me, but the words get stuck in my throat, along with a piece of croissant. Finally, through a splutter I manage, “Last night was amazing…”

She curls her fingers around mine, opens her mouth as if to answer… and then fucking Otis walks in.

I whip my hand away and Sammy quickly picks up her cup of coffee .

If Otis saw us touching, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Just came to check in,” he says casually, ambling over. “I’ve organized for Len to take you to the clinic at 10.30, Arlo.”

“Sammy’s coming with me,” I say.

“Of course,” Otis intones drily. “She’s on duty.”

I eye him sharply, but his face has its usual frowny set to it. And yet… there’s something in his tone that makes me wonder if maybe he isn’t completely oblivious to the chemistry between us, and that maybe it doesn’t worry him so very much.

“How are you this morning, Samantha?” Otis asks casually.

“Good, thank you Sheriff,” Sammy says, cup hovering close to her face. Behind it, her cheeks have turned rosy.

“Did you sleep well?” the bloody orc persists.

“Mmm, yes, thank you.”

“Tracking this guy’s movements didn’t keep you awake then?”

Sammy splutters on a mouthful of coffee. I hand her a napkin to wipe her mouth, making sure my fingers don’t graze hers, and say calmly, “I gave her my word that I wouldn’t pull any dirty tricks.”

Otis grunts, and I smother a grin. If our good sheriff had seen just how dirty me and my minder got last night, his big green head would probably explode.

It’s been literally years since Otis dated.

He had a girlfriend when he was at college, a dryad, but she left him for a gargoyle.

He doesn’t ever mention her, but I sense he was badly hurt.

Now all he does is work. And invent weird crap in his spare time, like that device he fitted the portal cape with, and the surveillance screens he’s set up in all the rooms of my home.

Otis grabs a croissant from the basket in the center of the table and strides toward the door .

“I’ll leave you both to enjoy breakfast,” he says. “Have a productive day.”

When he’s gone, Sammy and I both fall about laughing.

We finish our breakfast in a leisurely way, and Sammy asks me about life here in the Labyrinth.

I love that she’s so interested, but I feed her small bites of information, mostly about my escapades at school.

Nothing too heavy. There’s centuries of conflict and bloodshed in our past, and all she’s ever known up until a few days ago is Sparkle City.

I don’t want to say anything that might scare her.

Even so, when Tippy comes to take our plates, I realize we’ve whiled away a good hour. I’ve got almost as much of a buzz from Sammy leaning her pretty chin on her hands, big blue eyes trained on my face as she listens to me, as I did from our passionate make-out session last night.

Almost.

“Guess I’ll see you at the car in ten minutes,” she says as we finally vacate the table. “Anything specific you’d like me to wear—under my uniform?”

My tail twitches as I consider this.

“That sexy bra you had on yesterday. Be prepared for me to rip it off you,” I growl.

She waggles her brows, eyes dancing. “Your wish is my command,” she says as she skips out of the room, her ponytail bouncing.

Len is waiting in the jeep when we walk out. He gives his usual sharp-toothed grin, scaly lids sliding sideways over yellow eyes.

In the back seat, Sammy and I furtively touch fingers, and I feel the excitement in my groin rising as each tunnel passes.

The clinic is relatively close to my house, so there’s not much to see on the drive—just residential homes like mine built into the rock walls, most without any garden at all, just a pot plant or two kept alive under a solar lamp near the front door.

Sammy’s nose is glued to the window, nevertheless .

“Don’t you get claustrophobic in these tunnels?” she asks.

“I guess we’re used to it.”

“What happens if there’s a fire?”

“How d’you mean?”

“From the flames in the sconces.”

“The gas is actually cool,” I explain. “You could hold your hand in the flame with no ill effects at all.”

“Wow! Really? What is it?”

“It’s called looma. We dig it out from level nine. Sparkle uses most of it, but you wouldn’t have been told that.”

She pulls a face. “Like everything else we’ve not been told.”

When we draw up outside the clinic, Sammy gazes upward, clearly impressed by the glass facade that fronts the building.

The clinic is set into a higher part of the Labyrinth, so the ultra-modern building stretches up several stories, made of iridescent reflective glass panels.

Each panel is subtly lit up from behind with blue light.

Above the revolving doors (the only set we have here in the Labyrinth) is the insignia of the human company that runs it: a double helix topped with a serpent’s head.

We’ve never been told the company’s name, but we monsters are all familiar with what we call “the Human’s Serpent” logo.

It’s on all our medical forms and medicine bottles.

“This building does remind me of Sparkle,” Sammy muses.

“It’s owned by humans, so yeah, I guess it would,” I answer.

“So what else happens here?”

I shrug. “They give us regular health check-ups, and there’s a vaccine program for different species. I guess the rationale is that we need to be in good health to do the work.”

She twists her fingers together, frowning. “I’m so sorry, Arlo.”

“For what. ”

“For the way you get treated, like our… slaves.”