Chapter 2 #2
Seraphina's command is gentle but absolute, and my hand moves before my brain catches up. I lift one enormous palm toward her.
She takes it in both her slender hands, turning it over slowly, examining the pads of my fingers, the dark fur covering the back, the sharp claws I keep carefully filed so I don't accidentally hurt anyone.
"Such big hands," she murmurs. Her thumbs press against my palm, tracing the lines there. "I bet you could wrap these around my entire waist."
Heat floods my face. "I… probably could."
"Would you like to try?"
My throat goes dry. "Yes, Mommy."
Her smile sharpens. "Not yet."
She releases my hand, but her fingers trail down my wrist, over my forearm, leaving tingles in their wake. Everything about her touch feels deliberate, controlled, like she's mapping every inch of me before deciding what to do with me.
"Walk with me," she says.
I follow her through the club, hyper-aware of every monster watching us pass.
The music grows louder as we move deeper into Velvet Fang, the bass vibrating through the floor and into my bones.
Red and violet lights dance across the walls.
The scent of magic thickens—leather, smoke, arousal, something floral and intoxicating that might be coming from Seraphina herself.
We turn down a corridor lit by floating candles. It's quieter here, more intimate, though I can still hear voices and laughter echoing from other rooms. A werewolf couple passes us, the woman wearing a collar while her partner strokes her hair affectionately.
Seraphina stops suddenly.
Before I can ask why, she turns and pushes me against the wall.
The impact isn't hard, but it's firm enough that my back hits the smooth stone with a soft thud. My breath catches. She steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the faint scent of jasmine and sea salt clinging to her skin.
Her silver hair shimmers beneath the candlelight. Her eyes—bright violet in this lighting—lock onto mine.
"Can Mommy kiss you?" she asks softly.
My heart slams against my ribs. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mommy."
Her smile returns, pleased and predatory all at once. "Good boy."
She rises onto her toes—even in those heels, she has to stretch to reach me—and presses her lips against mine.
The kiss is slow. Deliberate. Her mouth is soft and warm, and when her tongue slides against mine, something inside me unravels completely.
Blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy.
My hands hover uselessly at my sides because I don't know where I'm allowed to touch her, don't know if I'm supposed to stay still or pull her closer.
Then she bites my lower lip gently, and I groan into her mouth.
My cock hardens instantly, pressing painfully against my jeans.
Seraphina pulls back just enough to glance down between us. Her eyebrows lift. "Well. Someone's eager."
Mortification burns through me. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Her hand slides down my chest, over my stomach, until her fingers brush the hard length straining against my pants. "I like an eager little boy who can't hide his needs."
A strangled sound escapes me.
She strokes me through the fabric, slow and teasing, her palm pressing against my cock with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
"Does that feel good?" she murmurs.
"Yes." The word comes out rough, almost a growl.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Do you want Mommy to make your aching cock feel better?"
I nod frantically. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Please, Mommy." My voice cracks. "Please make it feel better."
Her smile widens. "Since you asked so nicely."
My hands move without permission, sliding over her hips, gripping the leather of her dress.
She feels incredible beneath my palms—firm and soft at the same time, solid and real and safe in a way that makes my chest ache.
Her sense of authority, the calmness radiating from her, makes every anxious part of me relax even while my body burns with need.
She leans up and kisses me again, harder this time, and her hand grips my cock through my jeans.
I barely hold back a grunt. The sound rumbles deep in my chest as I growl into her mouth, my hips bucking forward instinctively.
Electric sparks shoot down my spine. My blood pounds in my ears.
Everything narrows to the feeling of her hand on me, her tongue against mine, the warmth of her body pressed against my chest.
When our lips finally part, I'm panting.
She looks up at me with dark, satisfied eyes. "What will you do for Mommy if Mommy lets you feel good?"
"Whatever you want," I rasp.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
She glances around. We're not alone in the corridor. A few monsters pass by, some glancing our way with mild curiosity, others ignoring us entirely. At the end of the hall, I can see into a room where several people are watching a scene unfold on a raised platform.
Seraphina's gaze returns to mine, sharp and assessing.
"Take off your pants," she says.
My heart stops. "What?"
"Everything else too." Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact. "Show Mommy your huge, naked cock."
Heat floods my face. "There are people around."
"I know."
"They'll see."
"I want them to see." Her hand slides up to my chest, fingers splaying over my sternum. "I want them to know you're my boy. That you submit to me."
My throat tightens. Arousal and fear tangle together until I can't separate them.
"I'm not taking you into a room," she continues softly. "I'm not giving you anything until you listen to me."
The dominance in her voice makes my knees weak. I love it. I love how completely she takes control, how she doesn't ask or negotiate—she just tells me what she wants and expects me to obey.
But my hands tremble as I reach for the button of my jeans.
Seraphina's expression softens. Her hand moves to my shoulder, stroking gently through the fabric of my shirt. "I'm here," she murmurs. "There's no reason to be scared."
The maternal warmth in her voice grounds me instantly. My breathing steadies.
"Do you need help taking off your pants?" she asks. "Do you want Mommy to do it for you?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Good boy." She reaches down and flicks the button open with practiced ease.
My throat goes tight with need.
Her fingers slide along the waistband of my jeans, then lower, brushing over the hard length of my cock through my boxers. "Look at you," she murmurs. "So hard for Mommy already."
I whimper—an actual whimper—and the sound shocks me.
She smiles. "I love that sound."
Then she hooks her fingers into the waistband and pulls everything down.
My cock springs free, thick and veiny and so hard it almost hurts. The cool air of the corridor hits my overheated skin, making me shiver.
Seraphina stares at it for a long moment.
Then her eyes lift to mine. "That's the most delicious cock Mommy has ever seen."
Pride swells in my chest even as embarrassment burns my face.
Her fingers trace along one prominent vein, following it from base to tip with agonizing slowness. My hips jerk forward involuntarily.
"So sensitive," she murmurs. Her hand wraps around me, stroking once, twice, and I nearly come right there.
"Mommy," I gasp.
"Shhhh." She strokes again, her grip firm and sure. "Let Mommy take care of you."
I can't think. Can't breathe. Every nerve ending in my body focuses on the feeling of her hand moving over me, the slick sound of her palm against my skin, the way her thumb swipes over the head of my cock and makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
"You're doing so well," she praises softly. "Being so good for me."
A low moan tears from my throat.
She strokes faster, and my hips move on their own, rutting into her hands like I've lost all control. Maybe I have. My mind feels hazy, lost in a maddening haze of desire and submission and the overwhelming need to please her.
I whimper again, then growl, the sounds mixing together into something raw and desperate. I didn't know I could make noises like this. Didn't know I could feel this much.
The scent of jasmine and arousal fills my lungs. The music pulses through the walls. Somewhere nearby, someone laughs, but it sounds distant, like it's happening in another world entirely.
All I know is Seraphina's hand on me, her voice in my ear, the way she looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters.
"Grab my hips," she orders.
My hands move instantly, gripping her waist. She feels perfect beneath my palms—solid and real and safe. I lean down and kiss her neck, worshiping every inch of skin I can reach.
She moans softly, and the sound sends another jolt of pleasure straight through me.
I forget the people walking past. Forget where I am. Forget everything except her.
"Please," I beg. "Please, Mommy, let me come in your hands."
She stops stroking immediately.
"No," she says firmly.
My eyes fly open. "What?"
She releases my cock, leaving it throbbing and aching in the open air. "Not yet."
Desperation claws at me. "Please."
"This was just to make sure you understand what I expect from you." Her hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. "Which is good behavior."
Then she kisses me again, slow and deep and devastating.
When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with satisfaction. "I loved hearing you whimper for me," she murmurs. "Loved feeling how big your cock is in my hands. How beautifully it throbbed beneath my fingers."
My breath comes in ragged gasps.
She reaches up and bites my bear ear gently.
I shudder.
"Your ears are so cute," she says, touching them softly, reverently. Then her voice drops, growing darker. "But now I want to feel that cock inside me. I want you knotting me while I ride you."
My entire body detonates with desire.
Before I can respond, her hand wraps around my still-hard cock again. She tugs it firmly, pulling me forward.
"Follow me," she commands.
And she leads me by the cock down the corridor, toward a private room, while my heart pounds and my mind spins and every instinct in me screams that I would follow this woman anywhere.