Chapter 2
2
P atrick leaned forward in the passenger seat and rolled his shoulders in slow circles. His joints cracked like gunshots, every muscle aching.
The driver laughed. “Sounds rough, mate.”
“Yeah.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a bit locked up.”
“Nothing a sauna won’t sort.”
Patrick wasn’t so sure. The stress he’d acquired throughout his bachelor party felt like it wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were the bruises he’d gotten during paintball when Ant, Dom and, Marty had held him down while Jase shot him at point-blank range.
He loved his big brothers, but it had been a long time since they’d hung out without their wives or mum keeping them in line, not since Ant’s bachelor party, where all five of them had ended up puking on the same side street.
Things hadn’t gotten that bad tonight—for one thing, he’d refused to play Edward Fireball-hands—but it was still pretty fucking gross. They’d die before they admitted it, but his big brothers were all freaked out about partying with a bunch of footy players and as usual, they’d overcompensated by drinking too much, snorting even more, and throwing a college degree’s worth of cash at the strippers.
He wasn’t responsible for his brothers’ asshole behaviour, but he felt guilty anyway. If their wives found out how they’d acted tonight, there’d be hell to pay. And why not? None of his sisters-in-law were even allowed to go to Cheryl’s bachelorette party. His brothers dressed it up as ‘too expensive, someone needs to look after the kids’ bullshit, but the truth was, they were just hypocrites— rules for thee, not for me , as Cheryl would say.
How had he wound up so different from the guys he’d grown up and shared the bulk of his DNA with? He already knew the answer. Cheryl. She’d been in his life since he was nineteen, insisting on being just friends because of their age gap. At the time, he’d have killed to get straight to the sex, but now that the dream was real and he was marrying her, he could admit it was probably a good thing. He’d been the baby of his mostly-male family, grew up comfortably, and got drafted to play AFL when he was seventeen. The shit he didn’t know about being a non-private school white guy could have filled an ocean.
Cheryl grew up broke with a terminally ill single mother. She had few illusions about the world. When she talked, she didn’t sugarcoat things. She asked tough questions and demanded tough answers. She opened his eyes to the ways the world sucked for people who didn’t have what he did without ever holding that luck against him. She’d been patient and fair, and in being his best friend, she’d taught him how to be a man. The kind of man he’d always wanted to be. Someone who took responsibility and refused to ignore what they didn’t want to see. And once he’d become Cheryl’s equal, she’d let go of her fears and trusted him to become her partner and future father to their children.
Hadn’t she?
With a surge of panic, he pulled out his phone, half-convinced maybe he was wrong that he and Cheryl weren’t engaged. That he was going to get home and find everything the way it had been back when they had just been friends.
His screensaver photo was still the two of them. Patrick studied it: Cheryl’s big smile and her engagement ring. She had agreed to be his forever. Not only that, but she’d asked him to come home early so they could do what he’d wanted to do all goddamn day and take her. She’d looked so sexy in her bachelorette dress it had turned his head around. He’d have gladly ditched his idiot brothers to go out with her mates and drink where he could see her dancing. Not that he hadn’t appreciated the naked girls pouring oil on each other at The Gentlemen’s Lounge, but he felt like a fuckwit in the strippers. Self-conscious.
How many blokes had tried to fuck Cheryl tonight? Had she gotten turned on watching the dancers? Had she wanted to touch them? He was usually pretty good with guys finding Cheryl hot—as long as they were respectful—but how she’d been acting about the wedding worried him. He didn’t think she’d changed her mind about getting hitched, but she wasn’t as excited as he’d hoped.
His phone pinged, a text from his brother, Ant.
The fuck are you, Youngest? How are we still outlasting you?
Patrick rolled his eyes. His brothers couldn’t help making everything about them. It was just the way they were. But they weren’t taking the front seat at his wedding. Cheryl was going to outshine all of them: his brothers, his teammates, their influencer wives, her friends, everyone .
She’d always played second fiddle to her DJ mate, Eden. Always made do with second-hand and second-best. She was self-conscious about being nine years older than him, about being working class, about being the daughter of a man she’d never met. ‘A bastard’, she insisted on saying, like it was her fault her dad had had an affair with his teenage employee then bailed like an asshole.
Maybe that was why she was getting freaked out by the wedding. Her dad was a Greek billionaire, and his legitimate daughters all had weddings bigger than Ben-Hur. But that was all the more reason for him to go all out for Cheryl. To show her she didn’t need that fuckwit to have a great wedding. Theirs would be one for the ages, and when Cheryl Karalis-Walker stepped into that church, everyone would know she was the most beautiful, undeniable goddess who’d ever lived.
Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on her?
He shoved the thought away. Cheryl was shy about being centre stage, but this wasn’t one of his footy events; it was her wedding. She would shine as bright in front of their friends and family as she did when it was just the two of them. She deserved it.
His Uber pulled up in front of his house, and Patrick saw that the bedroom light was on. He said goodnight to the driver and practically leapt out of the car. After a long day of bullshit, he wanted nothing more than to see his future wife on all fours, looking at him over her shoulder, the way she did when she was close to coming.
The driver could keep his sauna; Cheryl’s tits were his best shot at melting the stress in his body.
He bounded up the stairs, praying she was still in the tight white dress she’d had on when they’d kissed goodbye this morning. His cock was already hard against his thigh, throbbing in a way that would have cost him a fortune in the strip club. But he wasn’t at the strippers; he was in his own home, about to fuck the hottest woman in the world. The bedroom door was open, and he grinned as he headed straight for it, unbuttoning his shirt. “Hey, baby, how was your?—”
Patrick almost choked on his tongue.
His beautiful fiancee was curled up on the carpet in front of their bed. She was all in pink—pink underwear, pink gloves that went to her elbows and pink thigh high stockings with little pink bows. But that wasn’t what had blown his mind, at least not all the way. What had blindsided him like never before were the sparkling pink cat ears pushing through Cheryl’s dark hair, the matching collar and the fluffy pink tail trailing between her thighs.
Cheryl tilted her head to the side. That had always been the contradiction with her—how she could be so fucking cute and blow-your-brains-out hot at the same time. This costume felt like that idea jacked to the millionth degree.
Somehow, Patrick found his voice. “Well, hi there, KitKat.”
Cheryl sat up, her brown eyes gleaming. She raised a hand, her fingers curling in as she swiped the air. Her gloves were sheer, and when he saw the line of pink and white fur down the sides, he thought he would pass out. What was he supposed to do? Would she talk? Was he meant to pet her? Be mean? Be nice?
As he stood gulping and mentally running down his options, Cheryl put her palms on the carpet and shook her hips a little. There was a tinkling sound, and he realised her collar had a bell. Why that was so fucking hot, Patrick couldn’t have told anyone, but goddammit, it was.
He swallowed, deciding to go for it, to follow her lead and see what happened. He walked toward her, undoing the last of his shirt buttons. “Have you been a good girl while you’ve been home alone, KitKat?”
Cheryl made a humming sound. Not quite a purr, but in the same universe. Up close, she looked fucking incredible. The pink of her ears and collar brought out the golden tones in her skin and eyes. Like the gloves, her lingerie was see-through and lined with fur, her big tits swelling over the cups of her bra. He drank in the sight of her, taking in her hard nipples, her barely-there panties, the flush already spreading across her cheeks.
“I think you were a good girl,” he said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the corner of the room. “Did you miss Daddy while he wasn’t home?”
He’d never called himself that before, but it just slipped out in this context. For a second, he froze, but Cheryl made that same small humming sound, pressing her face into his shins. The contact—even through his pants—made him jolt. He reached down and pushed a hand into her hair. “I missed you, KitKat. I’ve been thinking about you all day...”
Another small purr, and Cheryl got onto her knees, resting her still-curled hands on his upper thighs. Looking into her perfect face, her high cheekbones and wide eyes had constantly reminded him of a kitten’s, but it was her aloofness through all the years they’d been friends that led to him calling her ‘KitKat.’ She’d been affectionate one moment, withdrawn the next. Sexy, mysterious and utterly self-reliant. But he’d always been her… well, not owner. Protector, maybe. The person who looked after her and defended her as best as anyone could protect something so beautiful and independent.
Now, it was like they’d distilled that feeling into its highest concentration. Her, a pretty, volatile animal. Him, a master, needing to care for his creature in the filthiest way possible.
He rubbed her scalp, massaging around the headband holding her pink ears. Cheryl dug her fingertips into his thighs.
He tutted, withdrawing his hand and tapping her lightly on the forehead. “Too rough, KitKat.”
She flashed him a look so sulky he almost laughed. Instead, he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I know, pretty girl. Daddy’s mean to you sometimes, isn’t he?”
Cheryl hummed softly as she gently ran her ‘paws’ up and down his thighs, every stroke getting closer to his aching cock.
“Jesus…” Patrick let his head fall back.
His kitten stroked higher, and his hands started shaking. He looked back at Cheryl, taking in her sly expression. She had a plan in the works, but he’d lose it if she kept teasing him like this. He needed to bring this scene to a place he could control.
Straightening his shoulders, he stepped away from her stroking paws and smiled. “Would you like me to pick you up and put you on the bed, KitKat?”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I promise I’ll be gentle,” Patrick said, lowering his voice to a rumble. “And I know you want to play with Daddy, don’t you?”
Cheryl’s expression melted a little. Her soul might be tough as diamond, but his future wife’s sexual tendencies were pure submissive. She never minded him taking control; he just had to work for it. And hard work had never put him off anything. He crouched on his heels, wrapped his arms around Cheryl’s waist and lifted. She made a soft little mewing sound but didn’t resist as he walked them to the bed.
“Good kitty,” Patrick muttered, holding her over the mattress. “Are you ready to go down?”
Instantly, her mood changed, clinging to him with all four limbs as though he was trying to drop her in a cold bath. Patrick tugged one leg away only to have her reattach it a second later.
“KitKat? Are you looking for a punishment?”
He took her she-devil expression for a ‘yes’ and gripped her ass, squeezing her cheeks tight. Cheryl yelped, slamming a hand to his chest.
Patrick let go at once. “Shit, what’s wrong?”
Cheryl removed her hand, her face a strange mix of mischief and apprehension. She made another soft purring sound, looking deep into his eyes as though compelling him to understand.
Patrick brushed a hand down her lower back and across her ass, trying to figure out what she was saying without asking her outright and breaking the roleplay. Cheryl turned sideways, and he felt the base of her tail. Only it wasn’t the base of her tail. That was when it hit him. The long, pink and white kitten tail wasn’t attached to Cheryl’s G-string. It was plugged into her ass.
The world went blurry in front of his eyes. He had a long history of worshipping Cheryl’s ass—had bought her a buttplug with his name on it—but the idea of a tail both so prominent and buried deep inside her was enough to make him lose his head.
“Oh, KitKat,” he said, closing his eyes. “You’re such a good little girl.”
She purred, pressing her head into his chest and rubbing happily. She knew his history with buttplugs as well as he did. Patrick lifted her a little higher, trying to digest this discovery and how he might handle things going forward. This tail thing was a game-changer. He both needed to make sure Cheryl was safe and comfortable, and not come the second she slid onto his cock.
Unhelpfully, Cheryl leaned forward and ran her tongue across his lips.
Patrick kissed her hard. She complied for a second, licking her small tongue into his mouth before taking advantage of his dazed state and releasing her hold on his waist, falling sideways onto the bed.
She turned onto all fours and shook her hips, making her ass roll in a way that had him groaning. Then she came closer, butting her head against his stomach, her little bell ringing.
She wanted him to take her, but she wasn’t in charge of that call.
“Show me your tail, KitKat. Let me see it up close.”
Cheryl hesitated, and he gave her a stern look. “Now, please, KitKat. Don’t be naughty.”
She left him hanging for another second, then turned.
It was a bad idea on his behalf; Cheryl’s ass was luscious even when it wasn’t framed in her barely-there thong with a pink tail running between her thighs. He was really going to have to watch his staying power. He reached for the pink fur. Carefully, he lifted her tail so he could check out the base of the plug. What he found made him grunt like a caveman. Cheryl’s G-string was soaked, the material so transparent he could see her swollen pink slit. Above it—enough to make a man delirious—was a flash of silver, the seat of the plug deep in her ass.
“Fuck my whole life,” Patrick told no one. “You’re the hottest thing that’s ever existed.”
Cheryl purred softly as he let her tail run through his fingers. Hot as her underwear was, Patrick figured he wouldn’t be able to fuck her with it on. He gripped her waistband and carefully pulled her panties down. The smell of her arousal grew stronger, and she shook her hips, rocking back and forth. She was toying with him, trying to tempt him into taking her the way she wanted. But he was her master, and he wouldn’t be played that way.
Patrick clasped the base of her tail, gripping the plug’s rim and tugging at it, no harder than he would if it were a regular toy. “That feel good, kitten?”
Cheryl moaned, and he began tugging in a slow, steady rhythm. With his free hand, he rubbed her folds until he was firmly circling her clit. She squealed, her hips pressing back onto his hands. It was clear he wasn’t the only one suffering for satisfaction. He imagined Cheryl waiting for him, a plug in her ass and kitten ears in her hair, aching for his cock. Pre-come soaked into his briefs. God, he needed this.
He sped up his motions, and Cheryl lowered her mouth to the covers and screamed. The sound reminded him of hearing cats in heat back in Rockingham, roaming the streets, pleading with any and all males to get them pregnant. He imagined his KitKat padding around outside, calling for him. He imagined coming to her aid, burying himself inside her like an animal, breeding his baby into her the way they both wanted. He wished Cheryl wasn’t still taking birth control, and there was a chance he could knock her up right now. With the wedding so close, it wouldn’t matter. She’d still look beautiful in her dress...
Soon, he told himself, rubbing faster, tugging harder. Cheryl bucked against his hand, and he knew she was close. “You’re in heat, aren’t you, KitKat?”
She shook her head, still pressed face-down into the bed.
“You are. You’re in heat, and you need Daddy’s cock to make it all better, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she moaned, speaking for the first time. “Take me. Make me come on your dick.”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “You’ll be a good girl and come like this first.”
Cheryl yowled in outrage. She tried to sit up, but with his fingers around the plug, she couldn’t without the threat of pain. She hadn’t used their safeword, so she wasn’t hurt, but it was one hell of a bondage tool.
She thrashed against him, her tail whipping into his stomach, and then she seized, all her limbs locking into place. Patrick laughed as she came against his hands, screaming in indignation.
“That’s it, KitKat. Good little kitten.”
He let go of her tail and unbuckled his belt. The second she was free, Cheryl crawled up the bed and out of his grasp.
“KitKat,” he warned.
She looked at him over her shoulder, her glare making it clear she wasn’t done fighting.
Patrick pulled his belt from its loops and stepped out of his chinos. “Come here.”
She shook her head, her little bell jingling.
“Okay, we can play that way.” He moved around the mattress, cutting Cheryl off as she tried to crawl away. Then he lunged, lifting her bodily into his arms. Careful not to touch her tail, he turned, dropping himself back onto the bed and bringing her with him. Cheryl’s thighs split around his hips, and he held her in place, her wet pussy pressing hard against the bulge in his briefs. “That’s more like it, isn’t it, Kitty?”
She hissed, clawing angrily at his stomach, but it soon turned to giggles as he tickled her sides, making her squirm. He ground against her, watching as her eyes went glassy.
She lay flat along his body, pressing her face into his neck as they worked against each other.
“Good,” Patrick muttered. “That’s a good kitty.”
He stroked her lower back, revelling in the velvet of her skin, its contrast with the soft fur of her tail, until she nipped him with her teeth.
“Ow,” he said, tapping her nose. “Bad.”
Cheryl shifted back along his body, and before he could stop her, her face was against his briefs, rubbing his cock through the cotton.
“Fuck…” Patrick almost pulled her away, then decided he could handle a little more torture. “You want it, KitKat? You wanna taste me?”
She pressed her cheek harder to his cock and purred, then her ‘claws’ hooked into his waistband, making his bare shaft slap onto his abs. He grunted as she ran the tip of her tongue along his dick, then she looked right at him and let a drop of saliva pool and fall onto his cock.
“Shit…”
Her smile was pure evil as she bent her head and sucked him clean. Patrick gritted his teeth. Torture was one thing; this was fucking agony. He held his breath as Cheryl played with his cock. She did it differently from usual, lapping him all over without using her hands. Soon, he was panting hard, as close to being forced to orgasm as she had been.
“KitKat,” he said. “C’mere.”
A grin, and then her lips were around the head, her mouth diving deep. Patrick swore, gripping her hair and holding her tight as she buried him in her throat. His back lifted involuntarily, hips driving up.
“Mmm,” Cheryl moaned, the vibrations surging down his shaft and into his balls. He jolted, swearing again, but by some miracle, he managed to hold off. As Cheryl gagged and released him, he yanked her upward by her hair. “Enough. Sit on me.”
She allowed herself to be dragged onto his hips as he kicked his briefs down his legs.
“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you,” he muttered, praying he had the strength to make it true. He’d wanted to eat her out, but that would have to wait. He needed to be inside his kitten now. Needed to fuck her until he came with her tail plug in her ass. He fisted the base of his cock and pressed it to her cunt.
They groaned together as he pushed inside her. The plug pressed through the walls of Cheryl’s ass, making his eyes roll back as he sank deeper into her pussy. She was always tight enough to kill, but this was fucked.
“Tell me it’s okay, KitKat… Tell me you like it.”
Cheryl leaned forward, licking his lips.
“Good kitty,” he panted. “You take over now. Show me what you can do.”
She shifted against him, grinding slowly as they both got used to the sensation. Patrick screwed his eyes shut and thought about the weather, determined to make it last. Cheryl sped up, her tail swishing over his bare legs. He squinted up at her, and the sight of her big tits bouncing in her sheer bra almost sent him over. Fuck teasing her, fuck playing with her nipples or making her say his name. It was all he could do to tilt his hips the way she liked and not come.
“Good KitKat,” he chanted. “Good girl. Good kitty... fuck!”
Cheryl giggled, and he knew he was losing the race to see who could break who first, but fuck it. He was just a man, and his fiancée was riding his dick with a plug in her ass. Cheryl seemed to sense his inner defeat, rolling her hips faster, the bell on her collar ringing with every stroke.
“I’m so full, Daddy,” she moaned. “So full. I’m so close. I’m gonna milk your cock like a good kitty.”
As his brain short-circuited, Patrick gripped the base of her tail, tugging along with her motions. Cheryl screamed, her ass tightening around the plug as her pussy strangled his cock. “Daddy, I’m coming! Fuck me harder, Daddy! Fuck me harder!”
The soundproofing better work , Patrick thought as Cheryl finished like a fountain, wetness gushing down his shaft and splashing onto his stomach the way it sometimes did when she was getting fucked in both holes.
“Screw the noise,” he muttered, gripping her tail tight and pounding upward. He slammed into his kitten, his wife, his everything, and she broke the sound barrier as he emptied himself inside her.
They stayed locked together for a long moment before Cheryl collapsed forward onto his chest, both of them so sweaty they could have just been swimming.
Hope you’re having fun, not fucking strippers , Ant, Patrick thought dimly. I just smashed the hottest girl in the world...
Cheryl shifted against him, but with the plug deep in her ass, he knew he needed to pull out slowly, or he’d hurt her. And while his soul was barely clinging to his body, he was still fully erect.
“Give me a sec, baby,” he mumbled. “You gotta…”
Cheryl nodded and allowed him to hold her close until he was only semi-hard. About ten years later, he eased from her clinging wetness, his brain spinning like a hula-hoop.
Cheryl cupped a hand between her legs to catch everything, her brown eyes gleaming.
“Well,” she said. “Meow.”
Patrick laughed, his voice sandpaper-raspy from all the dirty talk. “Fuck my life, you’re incredible.”
“Thank you,” Cheryl said, running her tongue over her lower lip.
“I mean it. You’re a goddess. I’d say angel, but angels don’t fuck like that.”
“Thanks again. You’re no angel yourself.”
“Cheers.” He raised a weary hand to touch her kitten ears. “Where did you get this stuff from?”
“That good sex shop in Fitzroy. Passionfruit. I already had the ears and the tail, but I went back for underwear that would work. And these.” She held up her gloved hands.
“Nice.” He collapsed back onto the bed. “Jesus, when I realised the tail was in your ass…”
“You didn’t think it was too much?”
“If by ‘too much’ you mean ‘you almost killed me,’ then yeah, it was pretty close to too much. Fuck, it was sexy, though.”
Cheryl ducked her head, letting her hair swish in front of her face. “You didn’t think it was freakish?”
“Fuck no. It was fantastic. I wanna do it again. I want a leash.”
Cheryl’s sly smile returned. “Oh, really?”
“I’m gonna play with you like this a lot from now on, kitten. You wait.”
“Good.” She yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her still-gloved wrist. “Sorry, I’m so destroyed.”
“I’m not surprised. Come lie down for a bit.”
“I have to go clean up,” she protested, but when he promised to change the sheets, Cheryl let him bundle her onto his chest. He was glad. What was a little mess when he needed to hold her close? Her heart was still racing, and he couldn’t help but be proud of himself. For a first-time kitten role-player, he didn’t think he’d done too badly. As though reading his mind, Cheryl shifted. “Thank you for playing kitty with me, Patrick.”
“That’s okay, KitKat.” He traced circles on her back. “You’re a very good little girl, and I love you.”
“I love you too,” Cheryl said sleepily. Then she went rigid. “Oh God, I need to take out the tail.”
“Why? Does it hurt?”
To his surprise, Cheryl laughed. “No, but it’s probably getting soaked in… how much you liked this roleplay… and I have no idea how to clean it.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” she said, rolling off his chest. “And I’m not taking it to dry cleaners.”