Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Tabby
T he velvet of the sofa cushions soothes a bit of the fire on my skin as he hoists me onto his naked lap, his pants discarded before he carried me here. His office is all oak and leather—a man’s domain—and I catch the tang of aged wood mixed with his spicy, musky cologne, and of course my own arousal which seems to be my new forever scent.
He smells like danger and dominance, all the things I’ve craved since I walked through that door for the strangest job interview ever.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his fingers digging into my hips as I straddle him. His voice is a growl, all raw edges and heat. For a brief second, one hand leaves me, grabbing a remote from the arm of the sofa and hitting a button. I hear the door click, then click again as he makes sure we’re not going to be disturbed. “Little thing. You gonna ride this, princess?”
I bite back a groan when the crown of his cock brushes between my legs, swollen and impossibly thick. My core clenches, nervous and greedy. He’s a tower of muscle—broad shoulders, hands like tongs—but this… I’ve seen men shirtless before, but never anything like this. Like him. And never what I see standing up, weeping, purple, swollen and ready to split me open.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, thumb grazing my lower lip—a silent command not to bite it in fear. “You’re gonna feel me everywhere, kitten. Daddy hates to hurt you, but it’s time.”
Daddy kink wasn’t exactly on the menu when I dreamed of losing my virginity, but his pet names and when he calls himself Daddy, it all feels a bit like shackles, and I don’t mind. Not at all.
“Ready?” he asks, voice low, but there’s a tremor beneath it. He’s nervous too. A terrifying thought.
I nod, arching slightly. His head nudges my entrance, stretching taut skin. White-hot pain flares the moment he pushes upward, while guiding me down.
Pushing on my hips.
My body battles against the physical impossibility of our parts fitting together.
“Let me in, baby. There’s a nice prize for you waiting at the end of the pain, I promise.”
His length splits me open inch by burning inch. I claw at his chest, nails scoring through his dress shirt to dig into flesh.
“Christ,” he curses, stilling inside me. “You’re tight. Too damn tight.” His voice cracks, and for a heartbeat, I think he’ll pull back—some tender guy move—but then he’s groaning, teeth gritted. “Don’t you dare flinch away. You’re mine now. Take it.”
Mine.
The word coils around my ribs like a snake. No other hands have touched this body—not that there ever were any—but the idea of him marking me here, first and only, hardens my resolve.
“I’m not breaking,” I snap, though my voice wavers. I sink down another inch, muscles screaming in protest. His hips buck instinctively, and a tear slips free as he fills me deeper than I knew was possible, the double pressure of his cock and the cat-tail butt plug almost too much to bear.
“Breathe,” he growls again, hands gripping my waist like anchors. “Let it burn, princess. That’s the good part.”
He’s wrong. It hurts more than when Butterbean clawed me when I tried to give him a bath.
But there’s something electrifying about this pumping need moving through my veins—the way his fingers bruise my skin, the way he fills me until I’m nothing but a vessel for him. The pain becomes a thrill, a testament to how much he’ll own me afterward.
“Move,” he urges when I finally settle around him. “Show Daddy how you ride.”
I rise up shakily, then sink back down, muscles straining against his thickness. It’s agony and euphoria in equal measure, like riding a wave of fire. His chest rises beneath my palms as I find a rhythm—slow, deliberate—and the burn eases into something else: heat, pressure building low in my belly.
“You feel that?” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges now. “That’s me marking you. You’ll feel me for a week. With every step, every breath, that pain will remind you who you are now. Daddy’s possession.” His words are primal, a hunter boasting of his kill. And I’m all too eager to be claimed.
I lean forward, palms flat on his shoulders, and take him deeper still. He growls—a sound ripped from some feral underworld—and his hands slip between us. A single finger circles my clit in tight, ruthless circles while he thrusts up to meet me, driving harder now that the initial sting’s faded.
“Come for me,” he orders, and there’s no arguing with that tone, but the pain is tugging me backward, the pleasure fighting to come forward.
The sofa cushions dig into my back like velvet-coated stones as his hips slam against me. His fingers bruise my hips, pulling me harder onto each thrust.
The slowness is gone. The easing inside me is long forgotten.
Hard. Hard. Hard.
It’s all I feel. All I can think about.
Salt and musk flood my nose—the tang of his cologne mixing with the sharpness of sweat. It’s all raw, feral, all him. “Fucking going to strangle my dick, kitten. Easy now. Ride and breathe,” he growls, teeth scraping the pulse at my throat. His voice is a rasp like grinding stone. “Feel like a goddamn vise.”
I claw into his biceps, muscles taut beneath my nails.
Sweat prickles over my skin as my body takes the impossible intrusion of his size. Every thrust scrapes something loose in me—hot and restless, coiling tight between my legs.
“Look at me,” he demands, but I’m already drowning in the weight of his body, the relentless rhythm of him against me.
His hands grip my waist, fingers biting into flesh as he shifts. “Bend forward.”
The command cuts through the haze, remembering the promise when I took this ‘job’.
My palms flatten on the back of the sofa, as I arch. How, I’m not sure, but he plunges deeper.
“There,” he growls, hard thumbs hooking under my ribs. “Take it.”
The angle steals my breath. Pressure blooms where we’re joined, sharp and sweet, like he’s pressing right into my bones. His chest scrapes my spine as he pistons into me—faster now, grunting with each thrust.
“Christ, you feel good. This is the only dick you’ll ever know, baby, and you’re the only kitty I’ll ever pet.” The words are a branding, heat licking along my nerves. I bite my lip to keep from screaming when his thumb drags over the swollen flesh between my thighs.
“Come for me. Do as you’re told,” he barks, and I snap.
My legs cramp as pleasure floods me—white-hot, blinding—as if every nerve ending is on fire. My nails rake down his chest in reflex, leaving half-moons of pain or praise, but I’m suddenly blind and deaf.
His teeth clamp onto my shoulder, a bite that breaks the surface, and I’m alive and tossed in the pain and pleasure of it all—the sting, the sweat, the way he stills inside me, shuddering as he spills.
“Kitten.” The word is a whip crack as his hips stutter. “Christ… you’re milking me, begging for it from the inside. Gonna fill that pretty belly with my seed, teach it to recognize who it belongs to.”
His cock pulses inside me, thick and shuddering, spilling hot jets that scald my walls.
“Take it. Fuck, Daddy’s coming home,” he roars, fingers bruising the skin where shoulder meets neck as if marking territory. His voice frays at the edges, a low growl between grunts, while his balls slap against me, sticky and heavy.
I’m drowning in the heat of him, slick and earthy, my inner muscles fluttering around his throbbing length like it’s rooting itself inside.
“Yours… yours…” I choke out, throat raw from screaming earlier, as he drags his teeth along my collarbone.
“Good girl,” he pants, voice gravel-dry now. His palm slaps my ass, hard enough to sting but gentle compared to the bite on my hip. “Gonna breed that tight little womb. Gonna see you swollen.”
A wet chuckle vibrates against my skin as he slumps forward, forehead pressed to mine.
I sag against him, trembling not just from my climax but the weight of his possession—cum coating us both, my thighs slick with evidence of how deep he’s buried himself. His fingers probe between my folds, spreading his warmth back inside me.
“Still full,” he grins, teeth gleaming. “My mark stays.”
My legs tremble like wet paper, clinging to him for balance.
“All of this…” His fingers trail down my spine, trembling now, as if even his strength can’t outlast the aftershock. “All of this belongs to me. Now and forever, little kitty.”
I sag against the sofa, lungs burning.But he’s already hauling me into his lap, his still-hard length against my ass. His pulse thrums under my palm where it rests on his chest—a storm trying to slow down.
I’m boneless and breathless. The pain’s receded to a dull ache, but I’m too sated to mind.
“You okay?” His voice is rough, reverent almost, as his thumb brushes away sweat from my temple.
I nod, catching the faint outline of half-moons where my nails bit into his chest earlier. “Better than okay,” I tease, though my smile wobbles.
He snorts, tugging me tighter against him. Then, softer, so soft—he says it, the words slipping out like a confession even alpha gods aren’t supposed to make. “I love you, Kitten.”
I press my lips to his shoulder, heart pounding. Now there’s velvet and sweat and this impossible ache between us—a brand hotter than any burn. “I think I loved you the moment you rescued me.”
“Rescued you?”
“From Miss Pinch-nose,” I say, and smirk as I add, “I love you, Daddy.”