Page 6 of Taken By Taurus

It takes a moment for my mind to catch up. Kent Edwards is kissing me. And it’s not good. He’s breathing hard, moaning into me, lost in his own desire, but he’s totally misread mine.

I push against him, trying to get free, but my dress is binding, and he holds me fast. I’m breathless with shock when he lowers his hand from my face and gropes at my breast.

Panic rises in my chest as I squirm. He’s surprisingly strong. Who would believe me if I told them Kent Edwards assaulted me and I didn’t want him to? It’s like a fantasy turned sour.

A loud bull’s roar cuts through the air.

Suddenly Kent is gone, ripped sideways away from me, and I’m thrown back. He’s pinned to the ground by a naked minotaur, then punched hard in the face. His guitar is thrown to the side. “Not the face!” Kent splutters around a bloody nose.

“I said to make her feel special, not to take liberties,” the minotaur says, and punches him again, knocking him out completely.

The bull looks at me, chest heaving, and stands before me. I want to faint, or scream, or cry. But instead, I stand silently in shock until he swings me up into his arms and runs.

Chapter six

The Deal

The run out of the maze and up through the house is a blur. He’s moving so fast, I have to cling to him, my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

It’s a big, white house - palatial. More like a hotel, really, with a lobby and multiple lifts. We enter one.

In the quiet of the lift, with no elevator music, my head clears. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart, and the steady thump of his. It feels nice to be held. I feel small in his arms, and he’s emanating heat. My head is resting near his neck. He smells incredible, that smoky scent muskier up close.

I shouldn’t feel safe with him, but I do. It’s not just because he saved me from an assault, either. It’s how gently he holds me.

“I didn’t get your name,” I say, lifting my head.

His bull’s head is still shocking when he turns his gaze towards me. “Taurus,” he says.

I reach a hand up to his face, and he lets me this time. His cheek is warm, and the fur on his face is soft. His gaze is fixed on mine. I run my hands along his neck, where the fur blends into a man’s skin. Goosebumps form where my fingers trace, both along the animal and human flesh.

It’s not a mask. My head feels light. I might be in shock. I don’t know what’s going on, but everything feels hyper-real.

The elevator doors open, distracting me from inspecting his face. We’re not going to the top floor. We’re only a few floors up, in a large, open-plan apartment.

The room is mostly white, modern and new.

A big picture window looks out over the maze. He walks me over to it, still in his arms, and I can see every part of the maze, and the people in it.

Some of them have reached the center, where a string quartet plays. Food is laid out on long tables, and there are dining tables, a dancefloor, and some couches. Some of them have gotten distracted on the way and never made it. Almost all of them are locked in an embrace. Some are outright fucking.

My breath catches, and my nipples pebble. My gaze swings to the genie girl I met earlier. Her neck is being kissed, and a man has his hands down her pants. Her eyes are rolled back in pleasure. What would it be like to enjoy a pleasure like that?

I swallow and can’t look at my host. But that leaves me looking out the window. “I thought the party would get you in the mood,” he says. “But perhaps I was wrong. You may leave, if you wish.”

He puts me down, and I’m grateful that my shaky legs hold me up. He walks away from me, into the kitchen, and I’m hypnotized by his muscular buttocks until he walks behind the kitchen counter.

My eyes return to the bacchanal in the maze. What else am I going to do, inspect the furniture?

As a medical professional, I’ve seen a lot of bodies. And I’ve watched porn before. But this is new. Not even my most daring girlfriends have been to an orgy.

It’s surreal to think I was down there moments ago. It’s hard not to have visions of being taken by the minotaur. Would I make faces like that woman? Would I be experiencing that much pleasure?

I hunt for Kent Andrews, and see a couple of women have found him. He’s still on the floor, and they’re tending to his bloody nose. He has his hand on one of their asses. Anger rises in me. “I can’t believe Kent Andrews is such an asshole,” I say. It helps ground me.

When Taurus is back beside me, he has two steaming cups of cocoa in his hands, and he has pants on. They sit as low on his hips as the last pair. I rip my eyes away from his body politely.

The cocoa smells delicious. I take it gratefully and drink. Holy crap. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s exquisitely creamy, and I groan. Real melted chocolate is melting on my tongue, with whipped cream mixed into it. “Wow,” I say.