Greenskeeper's Locker Room Minotaur

I wiped the last streaks of grass clippings from my forearms as I pushed open the heavy metal door to the old staff locker room. The sun had dropped behind the ancient oaks that bordered the 18th green an hour ago, leaving the air thick with the scent of cut Bermuda, motor oil, and the faint metallic tang of the sprinkler system. My tank top clung to my sweat-slicked breasts, the thin cotton almost translucent, and my short khaki work skirt was damp between my thighs from the long, humid evening. At twenty-four, I’d thought I was beyond getting this filthy on the job, but the exclusive club paid well enough to keep me coming back, even when it meant finishing the final green alone after everyone else had gone home.

The lights were already on inside. That was strange. I stepped in, letting the door clang shut behind me, and that was when I saw him.

Thorne.

He stood near the far row of lockers, easily seven feet tall, his massive shoulders brushing the overhead pipes. Coarse black fur covered a body carved from pure muscle—broad chest, corded arms, thick bullish thighs that ended in heavy hooves. Curled horns swept back from a powerful bovine head, and his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. A worn leather work apron hung low on his hips, barely concealing the heavy sheath already beginning to swell beneath it.

I should have screamed. Instead, heat flooded straight to my core.

“You’re real,” I whispered, voice hoarse from the long day.

Thorne’s nostrils flared, taking in my scent. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. “I’ve watched you for months, little greenskeeper. Every time you mowed near the tree line at dusk, I told myself to stay hidden. Tonight I couldn’t.”

I took one step, then another. My heart hammered against my ribs. “I’ve seen you too. Just glimpses—your horns above the ferns, your shoulders moving through the brush. I thought I was imagining it. But I… I touched myself thinking about what you might be.”

His ears flicked forward. A low, appreciative growl rolled out of his chest. “You’re soaked in sweat and grass. Smells like hard work and woman. Fuck, I want you.”

The raw honesty snapped something inside me. I closed the distance until I could feel the heat radiating off his furred body. “I need it, Thorne. I need every thick inch of that massive bull cock I’ve been fantasizing about. I’m tired of toys and fingers. I want to be fucked by a monster who can actually fill me.”