Monster Sex Stories (8 page)

They
were both panting when he shoved her onto the ground and flipped her
over onto her belly. He dragged her plump ass high up in the air, his
hands holding her hips hostage to his desires. His cock pressed
against her opening and she winced as her already abused pussy was
opened once more.

His
cock slid smoothly against her walls. He dove deeply, enjoying the
silky oils that lubricated his passage into her. He withdrew and
Lania gasped for more, her ass jerking back at him, her fists beating
into the cold ground.

That
same friction and tension she had felt while Pan was fucking her
bloomed again, sending her over the edge as Mars’ seed
splattered her walls and buried itself inside her depths. They both
collapsed onto the earth, breathing hard for a few minutes.

Mars
stood up and Lania rolled over, her eyes flashing. “You
promised me a weapon.”

“
And
you will have it. In about nine months you will have a babe and that
babe will be the best weapon you could ever hold. After all, he will
be the son of the god of war.”

“
Are
you kidding?” Anger flashed through her. “Now I have to
take care of myself and a kid too?”

“
You
won’t be alone.”

With
that he was gone. Lania got up and went back to the tree, searching
for her clothes. She managed to tie her robes into some semblance of
order before heading back toward what she hoped was the village.

She
had not gone far when the sound of horse’s hooves topped her in
her tracks. A young man with golden hair and tanned skin stared at
her from the back of a large white steed, “Are you in
distress?”

She
gawked at him, not quite believing what she was seeing. It was
obvious he was a warrior and well-seasoned one, his armor had knicks
and his right arm bore a brutal scar. His face was lean and chiseled
and she felt instantly safe.

“
I
can take care of myself.”

She
turned to walk away and he caught her easily by the waist and tossed
her across his saddle.

“
Nobody
as beautiful as you should be in this forest alone.” He said.
“You have no idea of what lurks here.”

“
Oh
I think I have a pretty good idea,” Lania said. Turning her
head to look back at the forest she saw pan standing forlornly near
the edge of the woods and caught a glimpse of shining armor. She
waved at them and they waved back then disappeared into the forest.

Lania
turned her face forward, resting her cheek on the broad back of the
man carrying her into her future.

The
sound of the surf on the shore woke Layla from a deep slumber. She
rolled over, pressing her nose into the lilac-scented pillowcase and
inhaled deeply. That smell was one she had grown up with, it was the
smell of summer: lilacs in her bed and the tang of salt creeping
through the open windows.

She
sat up, her slim body shucking off the faded old covers and stretched
with all her might. The air coming in was a bit too cool, typical
weather for an early June morning on the Maine seashore. She shivered
and forced herself to get up, walking carefully, on tiptoe, across
the old pine floor to the bentwood rocker where she had tossed her
sunny yellow terrycloth robe the night before. Belting it tightly
around her waist in order to conceal her boy short panties and
camisole she headed into the kitchen and started up the ancient
coffeemaker, smiling when she discovered a loaf of bread and a jar of
honey in the cabinets.

Twenty
minutes later as she was crunching the last of her toast and sipping
her second cup of coffee the sound of a car pulling into the driveway
caught her attention. She frowned and stood up, her hands going to
the disheveled mass of blonde curls rioting around her face and
across her shoulders.

The
bell rang and she stood there, undecided. A quick peek out the
windows showed her it was exactly who she had hoped and feared it
would be: Lucas Black, the incredibly sexy Sheriff that she had grown
up with and chased like mad as a kid and then as a love-struck
teenager. She had wanted to kill him when she had been eleven, he was
the jerk that always put frogs in her lunch box at Bible study camp
and cut half of one of her braids off when she fell asleep during the
wedding of her best friend’s brother.

By
the time she had been fifteen she had waited impatiently for summer
to roll around so she could see his handsome face again. She spent
nine months of every year at home in Boston plotting how to get him
to pay attention to her.

He
had, finally. For one summer, four years ago when Layla had been
eighteen, he had been entirely hers, but then he had broken it off
abruptly and without warning. It had broken her heart, and now,
standing in the kitchen of her grandmother’s homey little
cottage she found herself torn between opening the door and asking
him in and leaving him to wait on the front porch, shivering in the
salty air.

Lucas
rang again and through the windows she could see the frown pulling
creases into his high forehead. He was as handsome as ever, of
course. She had kind of hoped he would have gained weight, went bald
or had an eye gouged out by now. She’d even settle for a
snaggle-tooth. At the very least he could have looked a bit unhappy
or glum as he stood on her doorstep waiting for her to greet him.

Layla
started to turn toward the bedroom to get dressed, but with a second
thought her hand went to her waist and she deliberately loosened the
belt. Hell, she looked pretty good these days; maybe she should show
him exactly what he was missing. She pulled her cami-top a bit lower
so that the top of one rosy pink nipple was exposed by the ivory lace
along the low-cut top and pasted a huge grin on her face, ready to
greet her ex lover.

She
went to the door and swung it open, feigning surprise at the sight of
him. “Oh, Lucas,” she drawled, yawning widely as she
offered him her hand. “You’re up early.”

“
It’s
noon.”

His
curt tone was cutting, but Layla ignored it. She was too busy trying
to glue her eyes to his. They wanted to wander though: his body was
still trim and firmly muscled. His narrow waist and flat abs had
always been enough to make her swoon, tucked into his custom fitted
uniform. He was sexier than ever, and she felt a betraying trickle
between her slender thighs.

“
Is
it?” Layla didn’t have to fake being startled. His green
eyes saw the way her blue darted to the old grandfather clock that
had stood in the living room for generations. “So it is. Sorry,
it was a very long flight. Service from LA to Maine is not what it
used to be.”

He
gave her a withering once over and she wilted. “I’m here
because your grandmother asked me to look in on you.

“
My
grandmother’s dead. The funeral is tomorrow.” The words
were sharper than she intended. The ache was back in her heart; her
beloved Grandmother Jean had died just a few days before. Layla
hadn’t made it home in time to say goodbye and she wasn’t
sure how to forgive herself for that.

“
I
know when the funeral is. I’m sorry for your loss, Layla. I
know how much you loved her.”

“
Thank
you, Lucas.” And she meant it. She knew his condolences to be
genuine and despite how much he had hurt her she knew that he cared
for her grandmother as he did the rest of her family. They had grown
up together and small town folks looked out for one another, just
like kin.

Lucas’s
eyes seemed greener than ever, she had to look at the ground to stop
herself from seeing the grim expression written within them. It made
him seem far too human and she didn’t want him to be. He was an
asshole who had broken her heart, a monster that had hurt her. “Well,
I just thought I’d drop by but I best leave you to get started
with your day. I’ll see you later, Layla.”

Layla
looked up but his gaze wasn’t on her face, it was locked onto
the coral nipple that showed through her camisole. A bead of sweat
popped up on his forehead and she felt the malicious grin crossing
her lips.

“
Yeah,
I’m hoping to see Matt today. Been a long time and I thought it
would be nice to drop by his place for a drink. Take care, Lucas,”
she cooed and slammed the door.

She
heard him grumble to himself as she shot the lock home. The shocked
look on his face made her grin, it served him right to find himself
staring at the wrong side of a closed door. Matt was a local boy that
they had both grown up with, a handsome fellow that had always been
in love with Layla though she really had no real interest in him.
Mentioning his name was deliberate; she was hoping to incite a
response from Lucas and as the green monster swirled in his eyes she
knew she still had him.

Heading
into her old bedroom, she flopped down on her bed and stared up at
the ceiling. Once upon a time she would have done anything to keep
Lucas on her porch a little longer, waiting for her attention. Her
body stirred again and she slammed the lid closed on the desire that
she still felt for him. She had waited for him for far too long and
was now determined never to let him get to her again.

Sighing,
she rolled over onto her belly, pressing her aching pussy into the
mattress in an attempt to relieve the pressure there.

“
You’ll
never get over him.”

The
words echoed across the room and Layla slung a pillow at the wall,
that small act did nothing to relieve her stormy emotions.

She
hadn’t gotten over Lucas.
Not
at all.

***

The
moon hung heavy and full over the parking lot of Good Time Charlie’s.
Layla knew she shouldn’t be there, she was too angry and
saddened by the death of her grandmother and the sight of Lucas had
sent that anger and sorrow spiraling into a depressing fog that
seemed to grip her tightly, too tightly. She had decided on the spur
of the moment to head to the next county over to the tiny little
cinderblock bar, a favorite for the local bad element.

The
place looked far worse than it had the last time she had seen it.
Back then she had been an adventurous teenager, looking out at the
little building squatting there in the dark she realized she didn’t
really want to be there.

She
knew she should just turn around and head on back to the cottage, but
she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She didn’t want to
be alone in the lonely cottage stuck with nothing more than her
memories. With a deep sigh, she got out of her car and made her way
across the parking lot carefully, her stiletto heels made walking
difficult, but she finally navigated past the buckled asphalt and
scattered pools of broken glass and made it to the heavy steel door.

When
she opened it the soured whiff of beer, cheap perfume and sweat
mingled with cologne hit her like a stone wall. The bar still allowed
cigarettes and a greyish-blue haze drifted along the low ceilings.
Eyes locked onto her and she paused, suddenly very conscious of just
how short her black tank dress was. Her breasts strained at the
fabric, she had foresworn a bra and she could feel her nipples
rubbing almost painfully against the dress.

A
man shaped like a fireplug detached his bulk form the bar and came
toward her, a predatory smile eating across his moon-like face. “Hey
pretty lady,” he began in a guttural voice that brought a whiff
of his rank breath to her nose.

Layla
backpedaled. Her ass hit the edge of a bar stool and it toppled to
the floor just as the jukebox died. Every head turned toward her. In
the dimness, lit only by strings of garish lights, they all looked
terrifying, she felt fear seize her and she would have run if she had
not spotted a familiar face in the crowd huddled at a table near the
miniscule dance floor.

Lucas,
and he was sitting terribly close to a blowsy looking blonde with a
drunken glaze in her eyes and her scarlet lipstick smeared around her
mouth so that she resembled a circus clown that had stumbled into the
crowd.

Ire
ate into Layla. So that was the kind of woman he preferred? She flung
her head back, her long blond hair rippled across her shoulders and
she heard an appreciative sigh from a few of the patrons. Putting a
deliberate strut into her walk she made her way to the end of the
bar, not looking over to see if Lucas were watching was the hardest
thing she had ever done. Everyone else was watching though so she
figured the odds were pretty good he was.

“
Can
I get a lemon drop martini?”

The
bartender gave her a stunned look at those words. He was a rotund guy
with tattoos snaking their way down both of his burly arms. “I
got beer and tequila, vodka and whisky.”