Page 59 of Runaway Hucow

“The outhouse is over there,” Roscoe said, pointing. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by his nakedness, and he was doing nothing to hide it. Tess was trying not to look, but she could still see it swinging in her peripheral vision.

“I got up to use the outhouse first,” Tess explained, desperately trying to remember the lie she had concocted earlier. “Then I… I went for a little stroll around the farm. It’s such a beautiful night.”

Roscoe grunted and moved toward her.

Tess wanted to back away from him, but she forced herself to stand her ground. The enormous alpha towered over her, his massive body filling her entire field of vision. She kept her eyes locked on his, not because she particularly wanted to, but because she knew she mustn’t allow herself to look down at that huge thing hanging down between his legs.

“You’re lying,” Roscoe said.

“I’m not!” Tess protested. “It’s a beautiful night, and—”

“No,” Roscoe cut her off. “You’re lying about the first part. I just came from the outhouse. If you’d been in there, I would have smelled it.”

Tess scrunched her face in disgust. “That’s a nasty thing to say. Anyway, if you must know, I didn’t do that in the outhouse. I only had to make water.”

“That’s not the smell I was referring to, hucow. I’m talking about the odor of your body. Your scent. Everywhere you go, a trace of you lingers. If you’d been in the outhouse within the past hour, I’d have smelled it. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing up?”

A moment ago, the great bisonman had seemed to be half asleep—voice slurred, eyes bleary—but now he was wide awake, and all his attention was focused on Tess. The only part of him that was still sleeping was that big thing dangling between his legs. If that had been awake, Tess would have felt it, that’s how close they were standing.

“I told you,” she whispered. “I got up to use the outhouse, then I decided to take a short walk.”

“Fine,” Roscoe said. “Have it your way.”

The next thing Tess knew, the minotaur had swept her off her feet, and he was carrying her back toward the house like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. Tess was wearing a cotton camisole and knee-length drawers, but nothing else, and she could feel the immense heat of the bisonman’s hard body bleeding into her through the thin layer of fabric separating her skin from his.

“Roscoe,” she whispered. “Where are you taking me?”

It was a silly question. She already knew where he was taking her. He was carrying her to his bed. The same bed where Spike and Peyton had first shared her. He was going to mate her, the way his brothers had mated her, and God help her, but she wanted it. She’d wanted it from the very first moment she’d seen him standing in the doorway of the cottage, his eyes blazing with fury, his muscles rippling with rage. And she’d known that sooner or later this moment would come. The moment when the oldest, biggest minotaur carried her off to his bed to claim her.

She just hoped he would not be too rough with her.

But then, just as the big bisonman reached the small set of stairs leading up to the front porch, he turned abruptly and sat down on the top step. In one smooth motion, he rolled Tess over so she was lying face down across the tops of his meaty thighs.

“Listen up, little hucow,” he growled. “And listen good. I’m in charge around here, and as long as you’re living under my roof, you’re going to play by my rules. I will not tolerate disobedience. I will not tolerate sass. And most of all, I will not tolerate lying. You’ve brought this on yourself, little hucow, and now you have to pay the price…”

The minotaur hooked one huge thumb under the waistband of Tess’s drawers and jerked them down, exposing her bare backside to the cool night air.

“Roscoe!” She gasped. “What are you—”

Before Tess could finish her question, the minotaur answered it with his hand. There was a sharp smack as his broad palm met the softer flesh of her buttocks, and she gasped in disbelief. A moment later, her skin blazed with heat where Roscoe had struck her, and tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t pain that put them there. It was the humiliation of what the alpha was doing to her.

“You’re spanking me!” she cried.

“That’s right, little hucow. I’m going to spank some damned obedience into your stubborn little rump. Now hush up and take your punishment like a good girl.”

A second blow stung Tess’s backside, and she realized, with a touch of dismay, that the arousal she’d been experiencing a moment ago had not gone away. On the contrary, it was getting more intense. Her nipples felt as hard as ice now, and her sex was hot and weeping with need.

The third blow knocked something loose inside her, and the cry that broke from her lips was not a cry of pain.

Suddenly, the other bisonmen were there. Peyton came running out onto the porch to see what all the commotion was about, and Spike, who had been sleeping down by the pond, came charging up into the dooryard. He skidded to a stop in front of the steps.

“Roscoe! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” the alpha answered. “I’m disciplining the hucow.”

“You’re hurting her!” Peyton shouted from the porch.

“I’m not hurting her,” Roscoe said calmly. “I’m spanking her bottom, the same way I used to spank yours when you were young and always making mischief.”