Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Duffield
I can't keep my fucking eyes off her.
She’s turned my entire world upside down. Every minute she's not within arm's reach feels like I’m drowning. When she's near, blood rushes through my veins with painful intensity—a man resurrected after decades of numbness.
My little pink kitten moves through the office like she owns it. Those damned sparkly cat ears are bobbing up and down as she delivers files, making the other staff nervous as they note the way I’m shadowing her and giving anyone that comes within her orbit a death glare. They watch from a distance, whispering behind cupped hands.
Is that his new assistant?
How is she still alive?
Has anyone seen her cry yet?
I hear everything. They think I'm deaf as well as ugly.
Her black skirt teases me with those legs I imagine encircling my waist as I use her as my own private fuck doll. My cock has been at half-mast since she sauntered in this morning, knocking my coffee cup off my desk with a smile that showed off the most perfect teeth God ever created.
"You're drooling," Ingrid announces, dropping into the chair across from my desk. I tear my gaze from Tabby, who's bent over the copy machine outside my glass-walled office, her ass practically calling my name.
"Fuck off," I growl, adjusting myself beneath the desk.
"So eloquent, my brother." Ingrid's black-tipped fingers drum against my desk, making irritating clicking sounds. "Your little kitten's causing quite the stir. She used the breakroom microwave on a cream-filled donut until it exploded. Margaret nearly had a stroke."
My lips twitch. "Good."
"She's a child ," Ingrid reminds me, but I see the humor in her eyes. She knows I'm gone hook, line, and sinker for the pink-haired terror disrupting our carefully-crafted workplace hierarchy.
"She's eighteen," I correct, the words tasting like salvation on my tongue.
"You've checked her ID?"
I haven't, but I will. Today.
Maybe.
But maybe not. Because if she’s not eighteen? I come to terms quickly with the fact that it would have little effect on the things I intend to do to her.
My mother told me I was a monster. I’ve proven it over and over. This is just one more item for the file of evidence in favor of my non-human status.
"Isn't it time for your quarterly 'scare the shit out of the accountants' meeting?" I deflect, nodding toward the clock.
Ingrid rises with a knowing smirk and a sigh. "Just remember—she hasn't seen the real you yet." She wiggles a perfectly manicured nail in the air toward me. "What happens when she does?"
The question stabs like a rusty blade. What happens when she realizes what I do? Who I am? When the novelty of her defiance meets the reality of my world?
She thinks I’m Mr. Duffield, CEO of Bark and Purr Pet Supply and its chain of high-end stores. She doesn’t know the facade this is. The blackness in my core. What I’ve done to rise to my position in a world beyond the polite veil of society.
As Ingrid saunters out, Tabby glides in, holding a black coffee mug just like the one she spun off the edge of my desk during her interview. She smells like fucking cotton candy, and my salivary glands go into overdrive.
"Your two o'clock meeting with someone named Fredrick O’hannlan is off the books," she announces, taking a sip out of the mug, her voice silky and completely unconcerned with proper workplace etiquette. "Something about his wife going into labor."
She shrugs like it's no big deal that he chose his wife's delivery over our meeting. The man will pay for that later, but not today. Today, I have better things on my mind.
"Clear my schedule for the rest of the day," I command, rising to my full height. I tower over her by more than a foot, yet she doesn't flinch. Instead, those cat-like eyes glint with mischief.
"Why?" she challenges, and I feel my control slipping another notch.
"What did I tell you about asking questions?" I move around the desk, backing her toward the wall. She should be terrified, but instead, her pupils dilate, her breathing quickens. My little kitten likes the danger.
"I forgot," she purrs, tilting her head. "Remind me."
I'm so close now I can feel her body heat radiating against me. My hands itch to grab her, pull her against me, show her exactly what she does to me.
I don’t bother answering. Instead, I tap on my phone a message to Margaret, telling her to clear my schedule. As much as I want Tabby with me twenty-four hours a day following my every command, I don’t want her doing menial tasks like my scheduling. I want her riding my cock and passing out in my arms after I fuck her rotten, begging daddy for a break from all the orgasms.
I shove my phone into my jacket pocket and nod to the door, making a mental note to shatter these glass walls and have solid, non-see through ones built pronto.
"Come with me," I mutter, grabbing her pink purse, adorned with glittery cat ears, from where it sits beside my desk. "Now."
I see the understanding flash across her face, followed by a hunger that matches my own. Without another word, she turns on her heel as I lock my meaty fingers around her wrist and drag her out of the office toward the closest room I know that doesn’t have windows. My cock throbs painfully as I urge her in front of me, watching the sway of her hips, the bounce of her pink hair.
The hallway is quiet as she leads the way, her flats making soft padding sounds against the polished floor. The staff we pass avert their eyes, giving us a wide berth. Smart.
I follow her into the large supply closet at the end of the east corridor—the one furthest from the main hub of activity. It's the size of a small bedroom, lined with shelves stocked with everything from printer paper to those ridiculous stress balls HR ordered for "employee wellness."
The door clicks shut behind us, and for a moment, we're in darkness. Then, the automatic light flickers on, illuminating her face as she turns to me.
"Are we here to discuss my half-day performance review?" she asks, backing deeper into the room as I advance.
"Something like that." My voice is barely recognizable, strained and needy. I reach her in two strides, crowding her against the metal shelving. "ID."
She blinks. "What?"
I shove her purse at her, bending every fiber of restraint I have on not ripping the bag open and finding some sort of ID for myself. "Show me your driver's license. Now."
A slow smile spreads across her face as she reaches into the purse, pulling out a slim wallet. She flips it open, revealing her ID.
I study it carefully. Tabitha Marie Burrows. DOB confirms it—eighteen years and four months old. Legal. Mine.
"Satisfied?" she asks, as I hand it back.
I close the distance between us in one step, my body caging hers against the shelves. "Not yet."
Her breathing hitches as I plant my hands on either side of her head, bending until my face is level with hers. I inhale deeply, taking in her sweetly intoxicating scent, and she reaches up to trace one of my tattoos with a finger.
“I need something in return,” she says.
“Name it.”
Tabby licks her lips, then nods. “These cats.” She taps at the ink on my forearm. “Are you a cat person, or, like, a cat sacrifice person?”
I narrow my eyes. “You know any cat sacrifice people?” When she shakes her head dumbly, I draw a breath. “Because if you did, I would be taking names, and those people would not survive the day.”
She meets my gaze squarely, and I don’t look away. If this is her way of making sure I’m being honest, I’ll take it. I’ll never lie to her. If she asked me right now, I’d give her my whole fucking life story.
“Good,” she nods with a satisfaction that seems final and I don’t dwell, instead I close the remaining inches between us giving her a full court press of what she’s doing to me.
"Do you know what this is?" I growl, pressing my hardness against her stomach.
Her eyes widen, but not in fear—in wonder. She nods, a small movement that sends her pink hair dancing around her shoulders.
"Use your words, kitten."
"It's...you. Wanting me." Her voice is small but steady, and fuck if that doesn't make me even harder.
"And do you know what happens to little kittens who tease tigers?" I reach up, touching one of her sparkly ears, letting my finger trail down to the soft shell of her real ear. She shivers.
"They get eaten?" she whispers, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
A groan escapes me as I bend further, my lips hovering just above hers. "Smart girl."
I capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her surprised gasp. She tastes like chocolate and coffee and something uniquely Tabby that I could get drunk on. Her lips are soft, pliant under mine, and when I swipe my tongue against the seam of her mouth, she opens for me with a little moan that nearly brings me to my knees.
My hands move to her waist, spanning it easily—Christ, she's tiny compared to me. I could break her with one wrong move. The thought makes me gentler than I've ever been as I lift her, setting her on a shelf at the perfect height. Her legs part instinctively, and I step between them, pressing closer.
"Do you feel what you do to me?" I mutter against her lips, grinding against her center. "Every fucking minute since you walked down that hall this morning."
She flattens her palms on my chest. "Show me," she challenges, and that defiance sparks something wild in me.
I kiss her deeper, harder, one hand sliding up to cradle her face. My other hand finds her knee, tracing upward along the smooth skin of her thigh, pushing her skirt higher with each inch.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," I growl against her mouth, pulling back to look at her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, those green eyes hazed with desire. "Too good for someone like me."
She frowns, fingers tightening in my hair. "Don't say that."
"It's true." I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "I'm a monster, kitten."
"You're not," she argues, gasping as I nip at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. "You're just...big."
I can't help the chuckle that rumbles through me. "In more ways than one."
Her hand trails down my chest, hesitating at my belt. "Can I?"
Jesus fucking Christ and the whole goddamn trinity. I nod, unable to form words as her small hand presses against my length through my trousers. Her eyes widen.
"That's...a lot," she whispers, and there's a note in her voice I can't place.
"Too much?" I ask, stilling her hand with mine. The thought of scaring her with my size makes my stomach twist.
She shakes her head fiercely. "No. Just...wow."
Pride surges through me as I capture her mouth again, kissing her until we're both breathless. My hand resumes its journey up her thigh, reaching the edge of her panties. I trace the elastic with one finger, feeling her tremble.
"Tell me to stop," I murmur against her lips. "Tell me, and I will."
Her answer is to press herself closer, her hips rocking against my hand. "Don't stop."
Her perfume and arousal engulf me. That cotton candy sweetness, only now it’s like a damn sugar storm. My knuckles whiten around her wrist as I press her against the shelves, metal racks filled with the most banal of office supplies threatening to bury us in a tidal wave of paper and manila file folders.
I slip my finger beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for me. "Fuck, kitten. You're soaked." Hooking a finger under her thong, I drag it aside, my knuckles grazing the damp curls there before squeezing her clit between them sharply. She buckles, fingers tangling in my hair. "Warm and wet and wanting," I taunt against her skin. "For me."
She whimpers, burying her face against my neck as I explore her slowly, reverently. I circle her clit with my thumb now, watching her face as the things I’m doing change her expression in ways I want to watch for the rest of my life.
"That's it," I encourage as her breathing speeds up. "You’re teaching me. Tell me how it feels right here when I do…this."
I grind her clit against the bone behind in rapid, circular motions, softer, then harder, back and forth, as it moves under my fingertips, so tiny, so perfect.
"Tell me what you want," I snap when she stays silent—too clever by half. Her tongue flicks along my jawline, tasting salt from the sweat she’s causing to explode over my skin. "Or I’ll take it." My free hand tangles in that soft pink hair of hers, pulling her lips to mine roughly. She kisses like fire and ice, too passionate for her youth, teeth grazing my lower lip until I groan against her mouth.
"Fuck, it all feels good. I didn’t know it could feel so good," she whispers, nails raking on the sides of my neck.
There.
The vulnerability cracks through the defiance—her breath hitching as I push her skirt higher, thighs pressing between hers. My pants tighten painfully where her sex brushes fabric. Christ, she’s warm and welcoming, her body fucking begging for me.
Her legs tremble, knees parting instinctively.
"Steady," I bark, gripping her hips to steady myself.
The rough texture of my fingertips seems like an intrusion into her softness, but what I’m doing is melting her in front of my eyes. I keep up the pace, battling the urge to drop to my knees and devour her, but afraid if I get a taste, the little control I have will be lost.
I explore lower, that soaking entrance drenching my fingers as she shivers at the pressure.
“So little.” I grind my teeth together as her fingers tighten at my neck.
I memorize every texture and nuance of her as my fingertips tease those silky swollen lips, making her arch into me.
"Don’t—I don’t know--"
Her protest dies when I grind the base of my palm against her heat, wiggling my thumb until it finds that little, greedy bump again. When I touch her there, her moans increase in pitch. I love all her sounds. The more, the better. I focus right there, watching her writhe back against the wall.
"Say it," I demand, stalling my explorations, watching her unravel under my touch. "Tell me how good you need to be for Daddy."
"Just your fingers… please—"
"Not enough." My voice cracks—I’m sweating now, the air thick with body heat and her arousal. "Say my name," I grit out, spinning her clit under the pad of my thumb. A raw cry tears from her throat.
“Daddy.”
Yes, there it is.
I still for a beat, tickling her entrance with my ring finger, basking in the knowledge that nothing this tight could have been breached before. Christ, she feels like heaven and vengeance all at once.
Our lips come together in a mutual fury. More. More.
The kiss is a storm. She smells like fire and rebellion, while the fire she’s lit inside me is turning dangerous.
She moans into my mouth as her body takes off, soaking my hand as tremors shake her and my own greedy lust starts to unravel the last remnants of my civility.
In one sweeping move, I break from our kiss, her half-lidded, blind eyes barely registering the movements as I pull her from the counter, bending her at the waist, my fingers snagging the hem of her skirt, yanking it up to bare her ass, making quick work of those Purrrfect Girl panties and stuffing them into my pocket.
My clothes stay, my brain screams. Not here. You’re not fucking her in a closet. Not the first time. Not like this.
But my cock doesn’t care, tenting my trousers as I pin her wrists above her head.
“Bend,” I growl into her ear, voice thick enough to choke on. She does—a lithe arch of defiance and want—and I fist myself through my expensive suit pants, positioning myself behind her. My cockhead is willing itself to tear through the five-thousand dollar barrier between us and feel that first brush of her tight little entrance, slick heat teasing me…
Down boy. Not happening.
I grab her hipbones like an anchor. “Look at you,” I rasp, the words raw. “Drenched. You want a good performance review don’t you?”
She whimpers as I grind my erection into the curve of her ass. The counter creaks under us. She’s trembling, nails clawing at its surface.
“More,” she pants, and I curse, slamming harder and harder against her bare ass.
Fabric friction rubs my flesh raw, the glorious pain searing up my spine. “Fuck, you like making Daddy lose his fucking mind, don’t you?”
I don’t last long after. My hips piston wildly against her, my pants straining as I come hard in a flood of super-heated release, groaning her name like it’s a prayer. I will her to another orgasm with filthy words and a pinch on her swollen nub.
My hand finds her throat as she comes undone, fingers digging into her windpipe, holding her very life in my hands while pleasure rips through us both.
We slump there, heaving—the air thick with sweat and unfinished business—and when she turns to grin at me over her shoulder, I drop my head to the crook of her neck.
“We have a strict no sexual harassment policy.”
Her soft giggle makes my heart sing. “So I hear. But, time will tell. I might have to make an appointment with Margaret to lodge a complaint.”
“Oh, something is getting lodged very soon. This was just a prologue, kitten. Daddy’s got a whole story to tell you later. It’s long, thick and has a happily ever after.”
“I want the first chapter now—”
Fuck, my dick is ready to blow again, I consider how wet she is, maybe, just maybe I’ll fit, just the tip and then--
The door rattles, and we freeze.
"What’s taking so long, Tabby?" a male voice destroys the moment from the hallway. "This door shouldn’t be locked…are you in there? Someone said you went to the supply closet. It’s your first day, Tabby, did you lock the door by mistake?”
I withdraw my hand, my heart pounding for entirely different reasons now. Tabby's eyes are wide, a mixture of disappointment and amusement dancing in them.
"Who the fuck is that?" I growl quietly.
"Some guy who was treating me like some intern earlier. Asked me to freshen his coffee," she whispers back. "Jake or Jason or something. From IT."
The door handle turns, but I locked it the moment we entered—a habit from years of paranoia that's finally paying off.
"Definitely locked," the voice says. “I need red toner, like, right fucking now.”
"Let me try," a second voice offers. "Sometimes these doors stick."
The handle rattles again, more forcefully this time. Tabby presses her lips together to stifle a giggle, and despite my frustration, I find myself smiling too.
"We should wait them out," I whisper, adjusting her skirt back over her thighs. As much as it pains me to cover an inch of her creamy flesh, it’s for my eyes only.
She nods, then leans forward to press a soft kiss to my lips. "To be continued?"
The possessiveness that surges through me is all-consuming. "Count on it, kitten."
We wait in silence, listening as the voices eventually fade away down the hallway. When I'm certain they're gone, I straighten her clothes, then my own, trying to will away my persistent erection.
"I should go first," she suggests, sliding off the shelf. I catch her easily, steadying her as her legs wobble slightly. The knowledge that I did that to her sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
"Wait." I tilt her chin up, studying her face—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips swollen from my kisses. "Tonight you are coming to my place."
It's not a question, but she answers anyway. "Not tonight."
“Do you know what happened to the last person that said no to me?” I growl.
“I’m not saying no. I’m saying not yet . There’s something important I have to do at home.”
I seethe. I don’t like being denied.
At the same time… There’s something hot about her taking control, making me wait, giving me just enough to drive me wild then taking it away. I sense that there’s more to her denial than shyness. This isn’t a brush-off. But at the same time, I won’t push her to tell me everything. Not yet.
I’ll her have her little victory. But what she doesn’t know is, she won’t be out of my sight for a moment.
"I’ll drive you to yours. No arguments on that."
She smiles, that mischievous glint returning. "Would I ever argue with you, Mr. Duffield?"
I snort. "Only every fucking minute of every fucking day."
Her smile widens as she reaches for the door. I catch her hand, pulling her back against me for one more kiss—slower, deeper, more demanding.
"Mine," I growl against her lips.
She nods, her fingers tracing my jaw. "Yours, big boss."
As she slips out the door, I lean against the shelves. Big boss.
Yes, that but it’s something else.
I want to fuck her rotten and give her a bath and three swats on that perky ass of hers, then cook her a nutrient-dense dinner, counting up all her macros and micros and logging her food and hydration on an app, so I know her body is getting everything it needs.
I’ve never cooked anything outside of the microwave popcorn bag which set my parents’ house on fire god rest their souls. Mom was hard on me, but there was love there too. She just had a hard time showing it, especially to the son that tore his way out of her body.
What has this little cat eared sprite done to me in a matter of hours? This morning, all I wanted was the Belford brothers’ balls in a jar. My business and my cats were the extent of my world. Now? Now I have her. My little pink kitten with her defiant smile and fearless heart.
And I'm never letting her go.
The door opens again, and I tense, ready to eviscerate whoever's interrupting. This closet will forever be off limits to anyone but me and my kitten. Her scent is in the air, it’s mine and mine alone.
But it's her—poking her head back in, those ridiculous ears catching the fluorescent light.
"By the way," she says with a wicked smile. "Jake or John or whatever found me. Told me to grab him a fresh coffee, extra hot, double cream and sugar. Seems he thinks I should do as I’m told, just like you.” She shrugs her lips in a playful frown. “You want a coffee too? As long as I’m going.” She pauses, but I’m already planning the fifteen ways I’m going to make Jake or John or whatever the fuck his name is beg for his life. Tabby bobs her head back and forth when I don’t answer. “No? Okay. Never mind…”
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone with the rage building in my chest. Jake from fucking IT. The name is burned into my brain now.
I pull out my phone, texting Rocko: Jake from IT is fired. The special kind of fired. Bring him to the east dock. I’ll meet you there.
He responds immediately: On it, boss.
I adjust my tie, taking several deep breaths before heading back to my office to handle any urgent business that’s still dangling. I have a business to run, a new baby girl to fuck, and now, apparently, an IT guy to dismember.
Just another day in the life of Duffield, the beast who finally found his beauty.