Page 44 of Pulled By the Tail
Shit. When was the last time she groomed herself? Her bush had to be a jungle by now.
Mood: ruined.
She sat up, scooting back in the chair. When she attempted to close her legs, his powerful grip kept them open.
“Human physiology is different,” he said.
“Different good or different bad?”
“Your clitoris is external,” he replied, not answering the question at all.
“Yeah.”
“Is it pleasurable when stimulated?”
“Oh yeah.”
“May I?” His amber eyes watched her, waiting for permission to touch her pussy.
This doofus.
For an ex-Navy guy, he was surprisingly chivalrous. She expected him to swear more than her, be vulgar, and just take his pleasure, not thoughtfully study her body because he wanted the experience to be good for her.
For someone who agreed to a no-strings-attached fling, he made it hard not to fall for him. He was close to perfect in a lot of ways, but that could just be her being horny. A good fuck and she’d get over it.
“Talent Achaval, if you don’t get your face in my pussy right this second, I’ll snatch your ears right off your head,” she said.
He huffed with mirth, the fucker. “Is that what humans call your cunt? Slang for a feline?”
“My twat, beaver, cooter, snatch, and muff. I don’t care what you call it.”
He leaned in, her inner thigh aching with the stretch. A breath away from her flesh, he said, “And what do you want me to call this beauty?”
“I don’t care. Call it what you want,” she said, voice plaintive.
Did he want her to beg? He certainly enjoyed teasing her. If he thought she wouldn’t give him a taste of his own medicine, he had another thing coming. If she could get that big cock of his in her mouth, she’d suck it like her new favorite lollipop and draw it out, not letting him come until he grabbed her by the hair and pistoned into her face, losing that chivalrous veneer and showing her his lusting heart—
“Mine. I’ll call it mine,” he said, derailing her thoughts of teasing out revenge as he licked her silky folds.
She melted from the combined warmth of him, the rough texture of his tongue, and the strength of his fingers gripping her thighs. His claws pricked against her skin. She’d have a bruise in the morning, maybe even puncture marks, but she didn’t care. Her hands dug into his mess of hair, nearly pulling out clumps as she came fast and hard.
He leaned back on his heels and licked his lips, eyes dark and full of feral desire.
She panted, desperate to catch her breath. “I’m sorry. I came too fast. That was really, really good.” She stumbled over the words, aware that nothing could express how that brief encounter was the single best sexual experience of her life.
“More,” he growled. Holding both her wrists in one hand, he steered her over to the table. His free hand swept aside the dishes, making a spot for her. Her belly pressed against the hard edge of the table and she felt his heat behind her.
He planted his hands on either side of her, caging her in. His claws popped and flexed, gouging the polished wood surface. All she could think of was her defiled desk in the study and how everyone ate their meals at this table. They traded jokes and stories, teased with such affection as they passed around platters. She’d never be able to eat her breakfast and not remember Talen’s claws digging into the table as his cock dug into her and anyone who noticed the fresh marks would also know, which was basically everyone.
“Wait,” she said.
He growled and did not move, waiting.
“Not here.”
He backed away immediately. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Oh no. This is happening, just not on the kitchen table,” she said.
