Escaping the Friendzone (Monsters of Moonvale, #3)

by Emily Antoinette

Fuck, I love her ass. I could write a poem about how pretty it looked all tender and red from my hand.

I let out a hoarse chuckle

ha. horse.

I tend to charge headfirst into things when I want them. My determination and fast action are the source of my greatest successes, but also my worst failures. The stakes are too high to be bull-headed.

Yeah bro, I banged your little sister and now I feel like a god.

Wesley: I’d rather know now before I get too far into planning our wedding.

Ari : Doug would be my maid of honor, just so we’re clear. I know he’s your best friend, but he’s my brother.

Wesley: Of course we will. Never doubt my ability to multitask. Now, what do you want to eat? Other than my dick, that is. Ari : I’m a vegan. Wesley: Since when? I thought you liked eating hot meat? Ari : Since just now, when you called your dick “hot meat”.

I’ve collected little facts about Ari over the time I’ve known her, hoarding them like precious treasures every time she revealed something new. I hope she doesn’t think that’s creepy. I can’t help it. She’s my favorite subject.

The pangs of panic in my stomach morph into amusement. He’s ridiculous. More importantly, he’s still Wes. Yes, he’s gorgeous and a sex god that’s way out of my league, but he’s a goof at his core.

Wes: Hmm, you’re right. I’ll see if I can grab some other stuff while I’m out. See you in a bit! Oh, wait. Do you need me to be late? Ariana: What? Wes: Do you need extra time to hide the bodies? I know today was busy for you, so I can come later if you need me to.

Ariana: I’m good, if you don’t mind my place being a little messy. Wes: I’ve been to your place before, and it’s never as bad as you say it is. Unless you’ve recently become a hoarder. In which case, we’ll meet at my place next time. Ariana: No, not a hoarder. Just haven’t had much time to keep up with things.

Wes: I know, baby girl. I promise, none of my attention will be on whatever mess there is when your fine ass is in the room.

“What do you—” I look down at my chest. Oh god, I didn’t put my top back on.

HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN

When he pulls away, I take in a shaky breath as I look up into his dark eyes and recognize yearning in their depths.

His question draws my focus away from stray thoughts of how magic and clothes interact.

“Nope. I actually have an excellent sense of direction and memory for that kind of thing. I think it’s from my minotaur blood.”

“Helping and taking care of you is my pleasure. And once we’re done with dinner and work, we’ll explore your pleasure.”

“All this food and that’s all you’re having?” “I didn’t tell you to get so much!” she snaps, frowning back at me. “I know I’m fat, but I don’t eat my weight in food every meal.”

“Good. I want to take care of you, Ari. I won’t bring up what you eat again. But I hope you learn that you’re safe with me,”

Fucking hell, the world is so cruel to women. That this goddess worries that even I’ll judge her food choices makes me see red.

it's funny because he's a literal bull

“Me being your daddy means me taking care of you, both in and out of the bedroom. Spoiling you like a princess. Rewarding you when you’re good and disciplining you when you’re naughty. That’s what I want. Now, what do you want?”

“I think you want that, too. I think you want someone to take care of you. Someone to set rules and enforce them so you can give up always being in control. Someone who uses your sexy body because it belongs to them—making you theirs to discipline, fuck, and cherish.”

“Say the word and I’ll drop this. I want a relationship with you, whether or not there’s kink involved. I don’t need to be your daddy to make my dick hard for you or to want to spend time together.” “Really?” She looks a little taken aback. “Fuck yeah. I’d give my left nut for you to be my girlfriend.” Ariana laughs, her face softening in a way that makes my heart clench. She’s so damn perfect. “Wow, your left nut? How could a girl say no to an offer like that?” “I know. It’s a great deal!”

“I’d give you anything your heart desires, if it meant I could call you mine.”

“I see your stuff in my feed all the time—it’s hard not to with how many people are sharing it. You’re killing it, Ari. It makes me so fucking proud every time I see one of your designs.”

“Sorry, I don’t have much of a minotaur client base so I didn’t order any in your size. I mean, you could probably squeeze into one, but it would fit more like a crop top.” “Sold!” he exclaims, snatching a shirt from a box nearby. “All the bros at the gym are going to be so jealous.”

I barely resist the urge to suck my belly in as he runs his hands across my stomach with a pleased hum. He clearly likes my body, and he’s already seen me mostly naked, but the impulse to pretend it’s smaller is a holdover from past relationships. With Wesley, maybe I’ll finally be safe enough to accept my body without fear of being torn down by the person who’s supposed to love me.

“Perfect.” He sinks to his knees in front of me, and coasts his hands up my sides to cup my breasts, his huge palms engulfing them and reminding me just how much bigger he is than me. That unfamiliar sensation of being small is emphasized by the fact that I still need to look up to meet his eyes, even when he’s kneeling.

“You can use me how you want, daddy. I want to make you feel good.”

Minotaurs don’t have fated mates or mate bonds like some other monsters, but we’re still possessive and covetous. We know when we’ve found something worth keeping for our own. And Ariana tastes like she’s mine.

“Ari, I’m a fucking minotaur with fur on most of my body. You think I give a shit about the cute patch of hair between your legs? Unless you enjoy being bare, leave it.”

“I don’t mind pain. Anyone who gets their dick pierced has got to be at least a little masochistic. Do you want to hurt me, angel?”

“Whatever I need?” I’ll give her the world if she’ll let me. She already has my heart, even if I can’t tell her that yet. “Yeah, Ari.” My voice sounds hoarse as I answer her. “Anything you need—sincerely need and aren’t just doing because you’re anxious or you think you ‘should’.”

When she finally gets her words out, all my fears crumble to dust. “What if… what if I just need you?”

“What about you? I can suck you off, daddy.” I groan into her neck, my cock weeping pre-cum at the thought. “No need. I love your perfect mouth, but I’m going to bust as soon as I get a taste of you again. Just lie back and let me give you what you need.”

“Your body belongs to me, baby girl. It’s mine to do what I want with. If I want to grab your cute belly, then I’m going to. No arguing.”

“Use your safeword if you need to. Otherwise, you complain again and I’ll leave you on the edge and come all over that sweet softness you’re so adamant about keeping me from touching.”

All my life, I’ve been taught to hate my fupa. When I was a pre-teen, the boy I had a crush on asked me if I was pregnant. My mom only bought me swimsuits that had an attached skirt or wrap so the cut of the leg wouldn’t reveal the roll where my stomach meets my thighs. Magazines provided infinite exercises and diets to target a stubborn low belly. It’s a part of me that’s supposed to be pointedly ignored, not appreciated.

A feeble laugh escapes me. “You must have a fat fetish.” His eyes dart back to meet mine, and he shakes his head. “Not really. Yes, I find fat women attractive, but it’s not an exclusive preference. I love your softness because it’s yours. Touching your stomach turns me on because it’s a part of you.”

This right here, this easy banter, is my new favorite thing. I want to spend every morning with her, joking and flirting. Oh, and fucking. I make a mental note to wake her up earlier next time.

“You’re in love.” My heart flutters at the mention of love. “I’m not…” Max quirks a brow at my denial. Of course the damn succubus empath can tell that’s a lie.

Of course there’s magic lube. Witches come up with shit for everything.

I realize now how foolish it was that the implicit motivation behind my goals was that if I met them, I’d be happy. That if I proved I could make something of my shop and my art, that would prove that I was something. Instead, I’m still me—flawed, stubborn, self-deprecating me. Only now I’m fucking exhausted on top of all that.

Dammit, I’m just making this whole thing worse. I don’t deserve to cry when I’m the one that’s ruining things.

With extreme care, he cleans my scrapes, the sting of the alcohol making me hiss softly. He rumbles in displeasure, like my pain hurts him too.

One thing becomes crystal clear as he lifts me again and then gently lowers me into the warm bathwater. I’d have to be an absolute idiot to let a man like this go without even trying to make it work. I don’t want to let him go. He’s my favorite person—the best person. I have to find a way to carve out space in my life for him, because losing him would destroy me.

“I spent a week thinking about it and came up with nothing.” I’m glad she’s facing away and missing my exasperated expression. I release a frustrated huff. “That’s because you were trying to do it alone. And I would bet anything that you weren’t thinking about finding actual solutions. You were freaking out and telling yourself you aren’t enough. You’re the smartest woman I know, but you need someone to help ground you when you freak out.” I nuzzle her shoulder, lowering my voice to a mock whisper. “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m that someone.”

“I haven’t let anyone take care of me. It’s easier to not ask for anything than to be let down when someone decides I’m not worth the effort.”

“You’re worth it. Fuck anyone who told you otherwise. Including that mean voice in your head.”

She laughs, the sound breathy and intoxicating. I wish I could bottle it up and keep that effervescent magic that is pure Ariana with me at all times.