Page 4 of Meow

She bobs her elegantly arched eyebrows—natural, not like Ingrid’s tattooed-on versions. Her gaze leaves mine to inspect her unpolished little fingernails, ignoring me completely.

"Let's talk compensation," she finally replies, as though she's running the fucking show. Her attention shifts to my half-filled coffee mug sitting to her left on the desk.

Her fingertips glide around its edge, then spin it playfully by the handle. Her knees part an inch as she wiggles her ass on my desk's hard surface.

"Name your price," I respond, an odd clicking in my chest as I move closer, the Detroit skyline creates a halo effect around her from the floor to ceiling windows behind.

She nibbles her lip—the first sign of insecurity. She needs this money. That's her weakness, and being the bad man I am, I'm here to exploit it.

"Three hundred?" A veiled tremor in her voice cracks my heart as her pink hair bounces around her jaw. The mug-twirling stops while she awaits my answer.

Three hundred? A week? I'd give this girl three hundred dollars for every second she breathes near me, but I'll let her offer hang.

"Three hundred?" I nod with a considering frown, stuffing my hands into my front pockets. "That's a lot. I need to see more of what I'm getting for that price."

Her eyes narrow as I think of everything I've never done that I want to do with her. Like sliding my cock between those magnificent tits until her face is flooded with my cum, then instructing her to open her mouth as I clean it from her flushed cheeks with a gold spoon and feed it to her.

"Spread your legs. I want to see if you've violated the dress code."

She blinks. Those long black lashes flutter, but after seconds of silence, her nose crinkles, defiance sets her jaw, and she parts her knees a few inches.

Then a few more, and I stop breathing entirely.

I drop hard into the chair before her.

"Pull your skirt up. Show me," I demand, expecting her to bolt while knowing she could try to leave, but I'll never let her go.

The floor creaks in protest beneath my weight. Blood thrills through my veins when instead of telling me to go fuck myself—which would be perfectly appropriate—her pink-tipped fingers start to shimmy the fabric up creamy thighs, bringing my control to its knees. Drawing breath becomes painful as I fixate on the still-shadowed space between her legs.

She's locked her eyes on mine, and for the first time in my life outside of maybe my sister, I've met an equal. I see zero fear in her too-young doe eyes, no loathing or disgust at the monster ordering her exposure. Internal turmoil has me fighting to maintain dominance with this soft, playful creature metaphorically sinking her teeth and claws into my heart and balls.

"There's a dress code?" She arches her back, thrusting her tits into the front of her blouse, exposing the hard little pebbles underneath. My heart skips as she makes a little popping soundwith her lips, settling her knees wide enough for me to shove my face between them.

I imagine what sounds she'd make as I buried my tongue in her silky wetness. How loud would she be when she came undone? What would my name sound like on her lips as she fell into the abyss while I dug my fingers into her ass and lapped at her pleasure? Like the sounds I make slurping up that blessed ramen Ingrid orders us for lunch every Wednesday.

A spasmodic grunt catches in my throat at the thought. She quirks one brow as though she’s got that same superpower as Ingrid, reading my thoughts exposed in some girl power bubble over my head.

“Wider,” I grit out, giving up on distracting myself from the wondrous gift God or the devil has delivered to me this day.

The final inches of her spreading legs make time loop in and around on itself. Nothing is linear anymore; it’s all steep peaks and sudden drops. There's no air left as her skirt settles at the crest of her thighs and heavenly light casts away the last darkness between her legs, exposing black letters printed on that slip of fabric covering my new home.

Purrfect Girl.

Everything in my life before now turns to ash. Air turns to fire as I struggle for oxygen through the chokehold she has on me. I let my gaze travel upward, memorizing every inch on the journey to her smiling face, watching her delicate fingers walk across the desk and back to the rim of my coffee mug. They flutter around the edge as I imagine they would when tickling my fucking balls.

Through the lust haze, standing here gape-mouthed sucking in air, her cheek twitches, her shoulders hitch upward in a cute as fuck little shrug. She pulls her plump lips tight against her teeth, and twists the mug like a top, sending it spinning as her eyes lock on mine—

I motion toward the mug. "Wait, that's going to fall—" it’s too late. My little pink kitty gives it another spin, this time closer to the edge.

Her eyes narrow, her tongue runs along her upper lip before she smiles. “Oops.” Her bottom lip pops out and the porcelain mug crashes to the floor.

Chapter Two

Tabby

Riding the elevator from the lobby to the top floor of Bark and Purr Pet Supply with the Pinched-Nose Lady who looked at me like I was a sideshow, two things consumed my thoughts.

The first was how adorable my reflection in the polished elevator walls looked in my sparkly headband—a gift from Nana, arguably the meanest yet most loving human alive. She despises everyone except me, leaving cat ear headbands on my pillow weekly.

---