Page 26 of Screwed by the Minotaur in Hallow’s Cove (Hallow’s Cove #6)
Lea
I woke up to the strange sensation of moving through the world without my own permission.
The room was dark, the air cool, and I was floating—no, carried—cradled against a chest that thudded steady as a drum.
My arms dangled at odd angles, my cheek pressed to something warm and flannel.
I squinted, disoriented, at the blur of ceiling and doorframes gliding past, then finally zeroed in on Rick’s voice, soft and low as a radio turned down for the night.
“You good?” he murmured, shifting me higher in his arms as he shouldered open the bedroom door with his back. I realized then that I was being princess-carried, like a swoony heroine in a romance novel, except I was drooling a little and my legs were a deadweight tangle.
He eased me onto the bed, and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or object, so I did both at once. “What are you doing?”
Rick propped his fists on his hips, grinning like a kid who’d just planted the flag on the moon. “Relocating you to the official residence. Didn’t want to risk you getting lost in the hallways.”
“The official residence?” I tried to sit up, but flopped back, weak with sleep and laughter. “You mean, your room?”
He smirked. “Our room. If you’re still willing.”
I didn’t bother to answer. I just hooked my arm around his neck and dragged him down with me, flattening my body against his, the delicious, impossible weight of him knocking the last of my sleep away.
His mouth was warm, insistent, and in seconds I was awake in every cell, hands already snaking under his shirt, greedy for skin.
He made a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan, and I gasped into his mouth, the heat of him lighting up every nerve ending in my body.
He peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, then skimmed my dress up over my hips and yanked it free, leaving me in nothing but panties and the bralette I’d thrown on that morning.
He paused, eyes hungry, then ran his hands over my ribs like he was mapping new territory, every inch worshipful.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, voice thick. “You know that, right? I’m never getting over you.”
I grinned, high on his want. “You better not,” I said, grinding up against the hard length of him through his jeans. “Because I’ve got plans for you, Patrick Daniels. Nasty, unspeakable plans.”
He laughed, a raw, feral sound, and bit at my neck, gently, just enough to mark. “Yeah?” he rumbled. “You gonna show me how glad you are to be my roommate?”
“Try and stop me,” I breathed, and rolled us, using the element of surprise and the fact that he never expected a woman half his size to move him.
He landed with a delicious oomph , and for a second I just straddled him, enjoying the view: his arms up, biceps flexed, chest dusted with gold, and that untamed, starving look in his eyes that made me feel dangerous.
I leaned over him, hair curtaining around our faces, and bit his lower lip just shy of hard.
“What do you want?” I whispered, all mock-innocence.
“You want to fuck me, Rick?” I rocked my hips over him, grinding through the thin cotton of my underwear and his jeans until I felt the zipper dig, maddening and perfect.
“You want to put that monster cock inside me and fill me up until I can’t even remember my own name? ”
He groaned, the sound somewhere between grateful and desperate, and I felt his cock jolt under me, straining the denim. “Yeah,” he said, voice raw. “I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over this bed and make you scream my name until the whole goddamn block knows who you belong to.”
The words went straight through me, turning every muscle to water. “You think you can handle me?” I shot back, but my voice had already gone ragged, every breath a staccato pulse of want.
He raked his hands up my thighs, thumbs grazing the crease where hips met pelvis, and yanked me forward until my knees boxed his ribs. “Try me,” he dared, and I did—I ground down hard, the friction sharp and just this side of brutal, and his head went back, a shiver running through his whole body.
I arched over him, letting my bra slip down off my shoulder, and his hand slipped up to cup my breast, palm rough and hot.
He thumbed the nipple through the mesh, then bent to suck it through the lace, tongue circling slow, then biting down just enough to make me gasp.My hips were already rocking, need throbbing between my legs.
“Take off your pants,” I demanded, and Rick obeyed, one-handed, shoving them down over his ass while never letting my nipple leave his mouth. I wriggled out of my panties, tossing them aside, and reached for his cock, thick and leaking, the head already flushed almost purple.
I stroked him, slow at first, then tighter, loving the way his whole body bucked, needy and eager. “God, you’re so fucking hard for me,” I murmured, stroking him root to tip.
He groaned, hands flexing on my hips. “I want to fuck you so hard you see stars. I want you to come on my cock while I’m still buried so deep you can’t get away.” He gripped my thighs, fingers digging in, and I ground down, pumping him until the base of him slicked with me, slippery and insane.
“Do it,” I taunted, lining him up and letting the tip just barely press at my entrance, teasing myself as much as him. “Show me what happens when you fuck me so hard all I remember is you.”
His patience snapped—he thrust up in one savage motion, making me cry out.
The stretch of him was perfect, obscene, every inch taking me apart and slamming me back together.
I clenched down, riding him, using the leverage of his chest and my own hunger to piston up and down, taking all of him, letting him rut up inside until I felt it in my teeth.
He grabbed my ass in both hands, squeezing and spreading me until I opened for him, then fucked up into me with savage rhythm, all restraint gone.
I rode him, bracing my hands on his chest, letting my head fall back and my hair whip around my shoulders.
He started thrusting so hard I nearly lost my balance, gasping as he bottomed out again and again, the angle hitting some impossible place that made me see white.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gritted, eyes wild, sweat sheening his brow. “You were made for this, made for me. You feel that, Lea?” He slammed up again, making me yelp, then laugh, then yelp again, the pleasure so sharp it almost hurt.
“I feel everything,” I groaned, clawing red lines down his chest. “You’re too much, Rick, I—”
He cut me off with a palm across the back of my head, dragging me down to kiss him, his lips brutal and perfect, tongue plunging in time with the snap of his hips.
I shuddered, every muscle seizing as the heat built, faster and meaner than before.
I wanted to see him lose it, wanted to break him open with how desperate I was.
I pressed my mouth to his ear and spat the words: “Come inside me. Get me so full I leak for a week. You wanna see me beg, Rick? Make me beg.”
He lost it. He fucked me harder than I thought possible, the wet slap of skin obscene in the quiet, the headboard thumping a counterpoint to his ragged gasp.
My orgasm hit with a violence that startled me—I screamed, no words, just raw want, and I spasmed around him so hard it forced a desperate, animal groan from his throat.
He came in me, hot and huge, hips jerking as he emptied out, the pleasure so blinding it nearly blacked out his eyes for a second.
I stayed on him, milking every last pulse, locked together by the heat and the sweat and the mess.
When I finally slumped forward, limp and throbbing, he wrapped me up in his arms, rolled us to our sides, and held me so tight I thought he’d never let go.
I could feel his cock still twitching inside me, the rest of him trembling with effort.
I kissed him, slow and lazy, then nuzzled into his neck and let the aftershocks roll through us both.
“Jesus Christ,” he panted, voice hoarse and reverent.
I grinned, smug and satisfied. “Admit it. I broke you.”
He laughed, low and full, chest rumbling under my cheek. “You did. Congratulations. I am a shell of a minotaur.”
“Good.”
I curled around him, calf hooked over his thigh, our bodies glued together by sweat and all kinds of other fluids.
For a long time, neither of us said anything.
The quiet wasn’t heavy. It was more like the air after a thunderstorm—clean, a little shocked, but full of that ozone glow that makes you think maybe the world can start over, even if only for an hour.
We stayed tangled, the rhythm of our breaths stretching out until the adrenaline faded and something sweet and drowsy took its place.
The room was a shambles—sheets on the floor, a bra slung across the lamp, the air thick with the smell of skin and sex and the lingering afterglow of every wild thing we’d just said and done to each other.
Rick’s hand moved slow over my back, tracing lazy circles like he was drawing a map of every freckle, every scar. “So about that giant open space,” he said, voice low and teasing. “You know the wall between the shops is load bearing?”
I laughed into his chest, the rumble of it moving through both of us. “That’s the first thing you thought of?”
He kissed my temple. “It’s the first thing I always think of.
That I’m not just building my life around you—I’m building walls and floors and infrastructure, making sure nobody’s ever going to take it away.
” He tipped my chin up and smiled, the curve of it soft and feral at the same time.
“I want to build the whole world around you, Azalea. That’s the point. ”
I nipped his collarbone, greedy for his taste. “Then let’s do it. Tomorrow. Let’s cobble this insanity together before either of us loses our nerve.”
He seemed to understand, nodding with a gravity that made my chest tight and sweet. “I’ll talk to Randy first thing in the morning.” Then, quieter, with a note of awe: “We’re really doing this.”
“We’re really doing this.” I sealed it with a kiss, slow and deep, and when we finally drifted into sleep, it was the first time I’d ever fallen asleep with someone and knew for certain I wouldn’t wake up alone.