This is an excerpt from "Kitten" on AURORE, an online collection of erotic stories. It has been republished here with permission.
I dig my toes into the cushion of the couch, feeling the catch of the supple velvet through my socks. I will myself to focus on that fleeting latch instead of the clawing need in my chest.
It’s not working.
I try again anyway, digging my toes in harder, curling them and pressing down into the soft cushion. I’m perched on the arm of the couch, my back to the desk against the wall, but even without a line of sight, the tapping of his keyboard reminds me he’s there. Still working on something or another that needs to get done. It’s important to him, therefore it’s important to me.
But the need doesn’t care when it takes on a life of its own, becoming something else entirely. Someone else entirely. The feeling rattles me, and I often can’t resist loosening those restraints and releasing her in all her splendor.
So I do.
She does not hesitate to shake off the confines of my control and take charge. Her desire presses me into the corners of my mind until I take a backseat to her voracity, like an out of body experience in which I’m relegated to observe instead of act. My body moves on auto pilot as my toes uncurl and my legs stretch out before swinging to the floor and standing.
She moves with fluid grace. Her primal drive reads like prey, her size and submission seeming to ask you to do as you please with her. But in this she is twice-over the predator. First, she’s conquered me; pulled the strings to gain control. Now, him.
We arrive at the desk, across the room in barely a breath and we’re at his back. My hands settle on his shoulders, and the only sign that he is surprised by my presence is the brief tensing of his muscles under my hands. But the surprise falls away quickly and he has an admonishment for my interruption ready on the tip of his tongue. It never makes it out though because as he turns his head just slightly to meet my eyes, he sees her.
It’s not me, his partner and equal, looking back at him. It’s his kitten looking through my eyes, wide and glassy with the submission I’m offering - no, demanding - he take. I know the exact moment he realizes it as a slow grin curves his full lips.
Her need drives my voice up an octave, and takes on this persuasive pouty lilt that always leaves me shaking my head a little.
He turns away from the work he’s trying to finish to face me, my hands falling from his shoulders as he does so. He takes in my tall socks, short shorts and too-big t-shirt. His assessment catches at my mouth and the shift is nearly imperceptible, but she doesn’t miss it. Her victory is assured when his eyes take on a sharp hungry gleam and he meets my gaze.
He sighs, reluctant, but committed. His words reflect the former but his tone is all the latter - a challenge. A choice.
“I’ve got to finish this, kitten. Not just now.”
This would have been enough to deter me had I not let her out.
I smile, but I didn’t decide to. My tongue darts out over my bottom lip before I bite it.
“Daddy,” she says again, using my mouth. I release my lip, pouting it out just a little now that it’s wet and swollen from being held between my teeth. I take a step forward, between his knees with just a few inches between our bodies. This game is not about physically being caught, and it works best when I am as close as I can possibly be. It’s his mind I must catch, persuade. And when I am this close to him, the distinction between her and me… it melts away. We are one. One raw, aching need. One goal.
To be conquered.
Almost instinctively, his hands come to rest on my hip, hiking up my t-shirt to touch me directly. His thumbs brush up my sides and I sigh at the tenderness of his touch. In response, his grip tightens, but his gaze softens. He tugs my hips forward, closer, and he inhales.
“You smell so good,” his words are soft, not a whisper but certainly not the false determination of moments ago.
My hands run through his hair, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation of my nails across his scalp, and entwine my fingers at the back of his neck. I grin down at him, knowing I’ll only be taller than him for a moment if this goes how I want it to.
“Do I?” I ask, tugging his head forward toward my breasts, covered only by my t-shirt.
He arches a brow, but follows my grip and buries his head in my chest, inhaling me as his hands slide from my hips to the small of my back and then beneath the waistband of my shorts so he’s gripping my ass. We both groan - me at the way it feels when he grabs me like this, and him at the realization that I’ve got no panties on.
“You seem to have forgotten something,” he tells me, voice muffled by my top and vibrating through my chest in a way that makes my spine tingle.
“Oh?” I ask absently, trying to focus on the places he’s touching me, the feelings it stirs up.
His hands flex, gripping my ass cheeks and pulling them apart a little to test me. I don’t react. At this, he releases one cheek and runs a hand down my ass crack. When I tense a little, he keeps going until the tips of his fingers reach my pussy. He doesn’t even have to push inside me to realize how wet I am already and he chuckles.
“Oh, kitten,” he says as he pulls back to look at me, shaking his head. He’s not surprised, but it always seems to delight him in the most unexpected way when I come to him like this, “Come here.”
“But Daddy,” I pout, but I know my eyes are smiling, “You have work to do.”
Disbelief flashes in his gaze briefly, then amusement, then realization. He’s been caught.
But the look in his eyes holds every bit of the predatory gleam.
“And we both know,” he tells me as he tugs me down onto his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips and pulling our bodies flush so I can’t miss the press of his hard cock against me, “the only thing I’m going to be getting done this afternoon…” his voice trails off as he pulls my head toward him, mouth latching onto my neck just over my now-racing pulse.
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