He comes home to find his little kitten spending her day off by curling up in their bed together — naked and losing herself to the world resting open in her free hand.

The book slumps out of her hand as she fixes those fae-like eyes to his. Under the blazing afternoon light filtering in through the blinds the green they normally are glisten like uncovered amber.

A wicked idea comes to him.

‘Don’t stop playing on account of me. Why don’t you read aloud for me, you horny thing — I want to hear why you couldn’t wait for my permission to play.’

He stands in the doorway and watches as she turns the page and begins to play.

For herself.

For him.

A cadence forms in her adorable business-voice.

He knows the one.

He hears it through the walls when they work from home together in their respective offices.

The cutest thing is in the tiniest details.

How the rise-and-fall gives way to the push-me-pull-me rhythm of her moans.

Dialogue comes out in a breathy stammer, hanging on a syllable for dear life as her needy ass gives in to the pleasure momentarily.

He almost loses himself in the moment, watching her hands glide under the covers.

His mouth waters and he has to remind his own needy ass to tell her to slow down. She cannot come yet, only march to that delightful edge of sanity.

The flustered state she’s in is just as rewarding as anything they’ve done together. Hearing her stutter, moan through the dialogue of the book, take a break between sentences to not-so-successfully curse under her breath.

She’s unraveling before his eyes.

And he can’t help himself.

The ache in his pants is too strong.

He reaches down, dulls it with a squeeze.

It works…for the moment.

It won’t last.

He’ll need to breed her cute little ass.

It’s always fucking wonderful to see the mess he’s made of her dripping out of her beautiful pussy.

Fuck. He’s started stroking himself.

Focus.

But he can’t help it.

Watching her grind her hips up to fuck her fingers.

Seeing just how much she likes to brutalize her own nipples.

Fuck.

Her moans come quicker now.

‘Stop. Start again.’

‘What?? But come on, I just-‘

‘Nope. Take as long as you need to but stop and start again.’

Her half-lidded eyes seem to whine and beg as much as the feral, mewling noise that comes out of her.

The cutest fucking thing.

He’s got the thread and he wants to pull it till she’s gone.

The second time he tells her to stop and start again, her face turns a deep shade of red.

She actually hits the bed out of pure frustration.

One might say she smacks the chuckle right out of him.

‘Can I cum, Sir? Oh please can I cum?’

‘Please hold.’

‘Fuck!’

This she spits out.

But she keeps going.

And going.

The room is a sauna.

Sweat beads along her one exposed thigh.

She kicks off the sheets and shows him exactly how soaked she is.

And how frantic she plays.

The sounds of her soaked cunt just makes him want to cross the distance between them and slide into her.

Sympathy strikes him hard in the chest.

‘All right. You can come.’

Thank you, she stammers.

Over and over.

Words spill out like water in a bursting dam.

All of a sudden she’s a record caught in a loop.

Trying so hard to get through the sentence even as her delicious orgasm comes over her.

‘…part of…p-p-paaaaaarrr…’

He watches her body spasm, watches her eyes roll, watches the book smack against her tits.

A fleeting thought comes — he hopes that hurts her. He files it away.

Closes the gap between them just as a spray shoots across the edge of the bed.

Guttural cries.

Trembling thighs.

Sun-soaked tits.

Her favourite pink toy slips from her slit and falls against her clit.

He lays down beside her.

Rests his hand over hers as she holds it still on her.

‘Look me in the eyes.’ He says softly.

She does.

Her eyes wide and eager.

Barely holding it together.

Fuck, he’s barely holding it together himself. For now he stays still..

Watches the colour of her hand gripping the sheets drain white.

Fucking bliss.