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Chapter One

The Fae Fuck God of Goliaths

Larkin

Okay, here was the thing.

Here it was.

Okay.

I let out a slow breath, trying not to squirm as I stared at Gabe and Biff across the room. As in the big, beautiful Nunhallowed Pound and Bedrock Biff Clawstin of the Goliaths of Wrestling, an underground professional wrestling league for supernatural beings. Gabe and Biff were an incubus and a gargoyle respectively, and a couple.

Who had made it, like, super clear that they’d be up for me joining them in a little ménage à trois.

I was just trying to figure out how to tell them something that may be… pertinent to any sexy situation that might occur. I’d been trying to figure out how to tell them for months now. Since I started flirting with them, basically.

Okay, here it is… Here’s the thing…

Okay, look.

Okay… The thing is, I’m actually…

I cringed to myself and looked away, unable to even finish the thought as my cheeks flamed. I inadvertently made eye contact with Vince—a ghoul whose wrestling persona was The Rolling Rimmer—and he shot me a sly grin with a wink. He had a mondo long tongue, and I’d, heh, kinda been flirting with him too…

And Carl—the vampire, Blood Suckapunch—who was eyeing my neck as he stood by the kitchen counters in the wrestlers’ big backstage area at the club and chugged a protein drink. I may have, at some point, possibly while drunk, told him the thought of being bitten by a vampire turned me on real bad. I mean, it wasn’t a lie. But the idea of it actually happening made me… really nervous.

Dullahan Dan, the headless horseman who dressed up as a cowboy to wrestle, was sitting beside me, casually tossing his head into the air like a football before he settled it on his lap to watch the TV. And then he draped a thick, muscled arm along the back of the couch. Behind me.

I gulped, my dick twitching with terrified horniness.

Look, it wasn’t my fault that almost every single wrestler who worked for Goliaths of Wrestling was a total hottie. And walked around in basically nothing most of the time.

I was young. And horny. And interested in experiencing everything at least once. And horny. This place was a freaking smorgasbord of spank bank material, and I got to work here. I got to hang out with all the wrestlers backstage, watch them perform, help them get into their costumes…

Okay, maybe none of those things were actually in my job description—I was supposed to just be the owner, Holt’s assistant—but what could I say? I was a hardworking, dedicated employee. I liked to go above and beyond and help out where I could by adjusting the wrestlers’ tiny outfits and smearing body glitter on them and being ready with a towel when they got out of the shower after a match.

Holt was super lucky to have me, honestly. I kept this place running as smoothly as a well-lubed dick.

The only problem was… I was kind of a flirt. I couldn’t help myself. It was a fae thing, I was pretty sure. We were, like, designed to be seductive or something. So the moment I’d begun working here about a year and a half ago, I’d started flirting. With everyone. A lot.

And now, a decent number of the wrestlers had made it clear that they’d be down to pound. With me, I mean. They’d be… down to fuck. Me.

Rolling Rimmer with his sexy long tongue. Blood Suckapunch with his hot little fangs. Gabe and Biff, the incubus and gargoyle who wanted to make me the filling in their hard-bodied, big-dicked sandwich. Dullahan Dan, with his severed head and ability to… do lots of interesting things with it. Heidi the faun, who went by The G.O.A.T. and had thighs thicker than my freaking torso. I wasn’t sure I’d survive sex with her, to be honest.

But I wanted to attempt it. I really wanted to. Like I’d said—I wanted to experience everything. Every flavour. Every gender. Every species. Except whatever the fuck Frank and Beans were.

But the thought of following through with any of them was, if I was being completely honest, pants-shittingly terrifying.

I’d definitely made a rod for my own butt. I was pretty sure that was the saying. I’d flirted relentlessly with all these big, sexy wrestlers, and now they were all down to get naked with me, and the idea of actually doing it made me want to piss my pants.

It was becoming a huge problem. Not because any of them were pressuring me or anything—they were all decent people who’d never do something like that. No, it was becoming a huge problem because I was so unbelievably freaking horny, all the fucking time, but still couldn’t work up the nerve to take the leap.

My concentration was never that great, but it had gotten so much worse recently. Luckily, my boss, Holt, was so moon-eyed and distracted by his hot new dadbod boyfriend, Taylor—a human—that he hadn’t noticed. And really, if he got pissy about my slight dip in output, I’d just remind him that the only reason he’d even met Taylor a couple of weeks ago was because of me.

Okay, yeah, it was because I’d mistaken Taylor for the “sad office worker” shapeshifting stripper Holt had hired for the evening, so I’d accidentally brought a human into the top-secret wrestling club hidden under a nondescript office building. But it seemed to be working out great, so Holt literally couldn’t get mad at me.

Just as Vince flopped down beside me, and I was suddenly wedged between two big, muscly, half-naked wrestlers, I felt my phone vibrate. Swallowing back a nervous squeak as Vince’s shoulder brushed mine and Dan’s arm shifted against the nape of my neck, I fumbled to take it out of my pocket and saw I had a text from Holt telling me he and Taylor were on their way to the office.