Page 23 of Meow

“Breathe,” he growls again, hands gripping my waist like anchors. “Let it burn, princess. That’s the good part.”

He’s wrong. It hurts more than when Butterbean clawed me when I tried to give him a bath.

But there’s something electrifying about this pumping need moving through my veins—the way his fingers bruise my skin, the way he fills me until I’m nothing but a vessel for him. The pain becomes a thrill, a testament to how much he’ll own me afterward.

“Move,” he urges when I finally settle around him. “Show Daddy how you ride.”

I rise up shakily, then sink back down, muscles straining against his thickness. It’s agony and euphoria in equal measure, like riding a wave of fire. His chest rises beneath my palms as I find a rhythm—slow, deliberate—and the burn eases into something else: heat, pressure building low in my belly.

“You feel that?” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges now. “That’s me marking you. You’ll feel me for a week. With every step, every breath, that pain will remind you who you are now. Daddy’s possession.” His words are primal, a hunter boasting of his kill. And I’m all too eager to be claimed.

I lean forward, palms flat on his shoulders, and take him deeper still. He growls—a sound ripped from some feral underworld—and his hands slip between us. A single finger circles my clit in tight, ruthless circles while he thrusts up to meet me, driving harder now that the initial sting’s faded.

“Come for me,” he orders, and there’s no arguing with that tone, but the pain is tugging me backward, the pleasure fighting to come forward.

The sofa cushions dig into my back like velvet-coated stones as his hips slam against me. His fingers bruise my hips, pulling me harder onto each thrust.

The slowness is gone. The easing inside me is long forgotten.

Hard. Hard. Hard.

It’s all I feel. All I can think about.

Salt and musk flood my nose—the tang of his cologne mixing with the sharpness of sweat. It’s all raw, feral, all him. “Fucking going to strangle my dick, kitten. Easy now. Ride and breathe,” he growls, teeth scraping the pulse at my throat. His voice is a rasp like grinding stone. “Feel like a goddamn vise.”

I claw into his biceps, muscles taut beneath my nails.

Sweat prickles over my skin as my body takes the impossible intrusion of his size. Every thrust scrapes something loose in me—hot and restless, coiling tight between my legs.

“Look at me,” he demands, but I’m already drowning in the weight of his body, the relentless rhythm of him against me.

His hands grip my waist, fingers biting into flesh as he shifts. “Bend forward.”

The command cuts through the haze, remembering the promise when I took this ‘job’.

My palms flatten on the back of the sofa, as I arch. How, I’m not sure, but he plunges deeper.

“There,” he growls, hard thumbs hooking under my ribs. “Take it.”

The angle steals my breath. Pressure blooms where we’re joined, sharp and sweet, like he’s pressing right into my bones. His chest scrapes my spine as he pistons into me—faster now, grunting with each thrust.

“Christ, you feel good. This is the only dick you’ll ever know, baby, and you’re the only kitty I’ll ever pet.” The words are a branding, heat licking along my nerves. I bite my lip to keepfrom screaming when his thumb drags over the swollen flesh between my thighs.

“Come for me. Do as you’re told,” he barks, and I snap.

My legs cramp as pleasure floods me—white-hot, blinding—as if every nerve ending is on fire. My nails rake down his chest in reflex, leaving half-moons of pain or praise, but I’m suddenly blind and deaf.

His teeth clamp onto my shoulder, a bite that breaks the surface, and I’m alive and tossed in the pain and pleasure of it all—the sting, the sweat, the way he stills inside me, shuddering as he spills.

“Kitten.” The word is a whip crack as his hips stutter. “Christ… you’re milking me, begging for it from the inside. Gonna fill that pretty belly with my seed, teach it to recognize who it belongs to.”

His cock pulses inside me, thick and shuddering, spilling hot jets that scald my walls.

“Take it. Fuck, Daddy’s coming home,” he roars, fingers bruising the skin where shoulder meets neck as if marking territory. His voice frays at the edges, a low growl between grunts, while his balls slap against me, sticky and heavy.

I’m drowning in the heat of him, slick and earthy, my inner muscles fluttering around his throbbing length like it’s rooting itself inside.

“Yours… yours…” I choke out, throat raw from screaming earlier, as he drags his teeth along my collarbone.

---