Page 22 of Meow

The first lick is slow, languid—testing how deep she’ll let me go—but by the second she’s bucking under my hands, hips rolling forward like she can’t help it.

"Yes," I murmur against her, savoring the way she tastes: sugar and salt and all mine. My tongue circles her clit in steady, fevered circles while I add my thumb, pumping just to her tight cherry, teasing her with what’s to come.

This treasure she’s saved for me will soon be destroyed, and in its destruction it will be the most beautiful masterpiece.

"Tell me what you’re doing to me," I breathe against her heat, refusing to look away from those wide eyes. Her pupils are blown black with want, cheeks flushed pink under the desk lamp’s glow.

"Killing—" she gasps when my teeth graze her inner thigh, “you.”

Liar. But I let it be. Instead, I sink lower, taking more of her on my tongue, swirling around her clit until she’s a quivering mess beneath me. She fists my hair harder now, fingers bruising against my scalp, and I revel in the pain—each tug proof that this body wants me here, only me, forever.

"Look at you," I growl into her, pushing two fingers deep inside while my mouth works her like an instrument waiting to be played. Her walls flutter around me, hot and greedy, and I swear she’s humming a hymn just for me. "Come all over my face, kitten."

Her legs clamp down as her body tightens—a coil about to snap—and then the first wave hits with a cry torn from deep in her throat. Her back arches sharply; I catch her hips, hold her steady as I lap at the sweetness spilling over me.

"That’s right," I groan against her, chasing every tremor until she’s shaking like a live wire in my hands.

When she starts to slump back, spent and panting, I’m already up—ripping open my belt with one hand while the other grabs her thigh, hoisting it high over my shoulder.

"Still got me," I say, voice gruff as I position myself against her entrance. “Daddy can’t wait. You’re taking it all, not sure slow is possible now, kitten.”

Her eyes flare, dark and dangerous even in surrender. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.Always.”

Chapter Seven

Tabby

The velvet of the sofa cushions soothes a bit of the fire on my skin as he hoists me onto his naked lap, his pants discarded before he carried me here. His office is all oak and leather—a man’s domain—and I catch the tang of aged wood mixed with his spicy, musky cologne, and of course my own arousal which seems to be my new forever scent.

He smells like danger and dominance, all the things I’ve craved since I walked through that door for the strangest job interview ever.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his fingers digging into my hips as I straddle him. His voice is a growl, all raw edges and heat. For a brief second, one hand leaves me, grabbing a remote from the arm of the sofa and hitting a button. I hear the door click, then click again as he makes sure we’re not going to be disturbed. “Little thing. You gonna ride this, princess?”

I bite back a groan when the crown of his cock brushes between my legs, swollen and impossibly thick. My coreclenches, nervous and greedy. He’s a tower of muscle—broad shoulders, hands like tongs—but this… I’ve seen men shirtless before, but never anything like this. Like him. And never what I see standing up, weeping, purple, swollen and ready to split me open.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, thumb grazing my lower lip—a silent command not to bite it in fear. “You’re gonna feel me everywhere, kitten. Daddy hates to hurt you, but it’s time.”

Daddy kink wasn’t exactly on the menu when I dreamed of losing my virginity, but his pet names and when he calls himself Daddy, it all feels a bit like shackles, and I don’t mind. Not at all.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low, but there’s a tremor beneath it. He’s nervous too. A terrifying thought.

I nod, arching slightly. His head nudges my entrance, stretching taut skin. White-hot pain flares the moment he pushes upward, while guiding me down.

Pushing on my hips.

My body battles against the physical impossibility of our parts fitting together.

“Let me in, baby. There’s a nice prize for you waiting at the end of the pain, I promise.”

His length splits me open inch by burning inch. I claw at his chest, nails scoring through his dress shirt to dig into flesh.

“Christ,” he curses, stilling inside me. “You’re tight. Too damn tight.” His voice cracks, and for a heartbeat, I think he’ll pull back—some tender guy move—but then he’s groaning, teeth gritted. “Don’t you dare flinch away. You’re mine now. Take it.”

Mine.

The word coils around my ribs like a snake. No other hands have touched this body—not that there ever were any—but the idea of him marking me here, first and only, hardens my resolve.

“I’m not breaking,” I snap, though my voice wavers. I sink down another inch, muscles screaming in protest. His hips buckinstinctively, and a tear slips free as he fills me deeper than I knew was possible, the double pressure of his cock and the cat-tail butt plug almost too much to bear.

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