Married to my Grumpy Minotaur Boss (Grumpy Monster Bosses #1)

by Ami Wright

Her perfect PR smile masks the hatred I’m convinced she feels for me.

Ronan Kernos, CEO of Bullseye Media, is handsome, worldly and a minotaur. Also, the billionaire who was last year’s Heartstone Times’ most eligible bachelor.

I might have spent the last month obsessing over and stalking him on social media. Solely for research purposes, of course.

At the top of Asha’s list of programs to cut is Married for a Day! That cow!

“Aren’t you sick of the same thing day in day out?” I blink. Yes, stern minotaur daddy, I am. How did you know?

I’m supposed to go and have dinner with my mother. I can’t face it tonight. It’s not that I don’t want to see her. I do. If I could see her from the other side of a soundproof glass wall.

Sure. Everything’s fine. I might keel over at any time without warning, just like my father.

Sometimes I don’t know why I’m so worried about dying early. Not like I do much with my life anyway.

I wish I didn’t need to breathe. That will probably annoy him, too.

Ronan sighs. “What about you? You’re a woman. You’ll do.”

I should be more offended. But a perverse part of me squirms with pleasure at the mere fact he sees me as a woman. God, could I get any more pathetic?

I’ve never had a perfectly flat belly like the models and actresses I admire. Even the ones with curves somehow make them look good. Not like me. I just look flabby.

It’s a bed. A freakin’ bed! No, it’s more than that. It’s only one bed. Like in all my favorite romance novels. What the hell am I doing here and how is this my life?

The crazy number of beats per minute of my thundering heart. I’m not nervous. That must mean it’s a cardiovascular problem.

What the fuck did they do with my junior assistant? This woman isn’t her. This woman is fucking girl-of-my-dreams material.

She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and her lips painted the perfect shade of red to compliment her hair. The perfect shade to draw my eyes and my attention. You know what they say about red to a bull...

I’ve always thought the host of Married for a Day was annoying on camera. That’s nothing to how he is in person.

Making a quick calculation, I lean in, intending to brush my lips against her cheek. Surely, this is within the realms of acceptable under the circumstances. All the way down I’m thinking about the hernia Chester in HR will be having when he gets wind of this.

“Well, I guess I’ve always wanted to do it in front of friends and family and have everyone I love with me.” I nod. Makes sense. At least, it does if having family around doesn’t remind you of the great big fucking hole in your life left by the person who’s not there.

I practically spit out the whole mouthful of champagne I was drinking. We have to share a bed? I’m damn sure that wasn’t in the briefing!

I try to read my book, but even though things are steaming up between Rosaline and the Duke of Carlisle,

what in the twilight incest

Oh, my god, his body is so firm, it’s like stone. So firm and softly furry. I’m really badly tempted to let my fingers stray.

he: is having a horrible nightmare her: "wow he's hot"

I spend the next three minutes thinking about ice baths, and kittens and rainbows, and anything that will soften my cock.

The last thing I need is a mate bond I can’t fulfill. Not happening. I’ll never mate. I’m not risking a child who loses their father the way I lost mine.

Oh, God. It’s not even my swimsuit. It’s whatever hair and makeup packed for Natasha, the fitness instructor with completely flat, toned abs. I really, really hope it’s not a bikini. It’s a bikini.

“Stop that,” he hisses under his breath. “Stop what?” I’m not doing anything. I’m not the one who decided to get handsy. “Moaning. I can’t think when you do that.”

Now, I have to worry about my mom watching me kiss my minotaur boss on national television when this airs. If I still have a job by then, that is.

I’d somehow managed to turn off that part of me for years. Suppressing the need until it didn’t even bother me anymore. Well, it’s fucking bothering me now.

My dreams are full of warm, wet, inviting places, and the moans she made as I massaged her shoulders.

In my dreams, my mind conjures up images of how I’d like to work her into a messy puddle on the bed. How I’d thrust my fingers deep into her pussy and work her tiny human body like my plaything until she came over and over for me.

I pull the strap of my bag until I’m facing the portable cam the crew strapped there. “When we get back from this trip, Amy, remind me to have a word with you about your pay. I’m sure I’m paying you too much to be making up poetry and stupid riddles.”

“Not to worry. I’m clumsy.” I turn back to the path. She’s not kidding. If there’s something to fall over, Justine will trip on it. If there’s a cup or glass on a table, she’ll invariably knock it.

intense eye roll

She’s clearly not fine, but she didn’t say anything about it. Why? The answer is obvious: because she’s too scared of me.

“Aww, how lovely.” Ronan scoffs. “Defacing property? Sure. Lovely.”

“What are you doing, Traffic Lights?” I stop and stare up at him, having to twist my head to do so. “What did you call me?” He snorts. “Traffic Lights. Since you’re always lighting up red.”

ew

I should have listened, of course, but it’s useless trying to talk a bull out of anything once we’ve decided.

Bull headed. Stubborn. I’m all the cliches. Every bad quality you ever heard about minotaurs—I’ve got it.

Human feet are long and smooth and supple in ways a hoof isn’t. Almost like a hand. Justine has these long slender toes that are so delicate. I find myself touching her foot more than I need to.

love a Minotaur with a foot fetish

“Moved for a guy?” She squirms. “How did you know?” “You seem the type.”

ouch???

“He just used to do the same thing every time. Kissing, a bit of fingering, then in and out, in and out, and he always came too quickly.” She blurts this out, voice shaky. “He said only people in porn did other stuff.” I shake my head. “The guy sounds like a loser.”

period

“Yeah. Tell me, did he ever make you come?” She shrugs. “I mean, maybe?” “Maybe? What sort of answer is that?” I hold up my hand. “I’ll tell you what sort of answer that is. A terrible one. If you’re not sure, then he damn well didn’t do a good enough job. Fuck!”

“You better believe they fucking do. Do you want me to prove it?” She swallows. She licks a pretty tongue over those small, soft human lips. “Would that be bad?” “That’s not an answer, Justine. Do you want me to prove it?” “Y-yes. Please?”

Without another word, Justine climbs into my lap and I throw away all my good intentions, except one: I won’t actually fuck her. Yeah, I know that’s a fucking arbitrary line to draw, but I need one and dammit, I can’t stand not doing anything.

No wonder he’s so grumpy. If he’s hiding this side of himself that’s got to take a lot of effort.

“That won’t do. I forgot about your ankle.” He yanks the pants and my underwear off in one swift gesture. Then he pushes my knees up to my ears, exposing me completely. “Must remember to keep it elevated.”

“It’s too wet.” Ronan chuckles, releasing my legs. “It’s delicious.”

“Good girl. Now let’s see if we can get you squirting again.”

I’m shattered by two realizations: Cameron never made me come at all. And second, nothing—not even when I touch myself—feels like this; Wow, OK, three. Because I guess I’m a squirter.

She sniffs. To top it all off she’s crying. I made her cry. God, I’m an ass.

yeah. bc no fuckin aftercare???

“What do you mean I grabbed you?” God, maybe I did sexually assault an employee.