“No, kickball. I’m in an unofficial league.” His smile widened, and behind it was a type of excitement I’d barely seen from anyone before.
“What’s kickball? Like… that awful game from elementary school?” I asked, my voice small. Even as more flashlights from the phones turned on, I felt safer by his proximity.
“You’ve never heard of the league?” His voice rose in surprise, and he cocked his head slightly.
I shook my head and pressed my lips together, my cheeks growing warm. “I don’t watch many local sports.”
My ex had. Barton always watched some kind of sports on TV, and sometimes it interfered with our play. When I wanted his attention, he preferred to watch his stupid games, ignoring me in a way that had me spitting mad and curled up on our bed sulking. The only time he came looking for me was to get his dick serviced.
“It is like the game from school, mostly baseball rules, but we kick a ball instead of using a bat. Here.” He tugged out his phone with the hand I wasn’t gripping and opened up his gallery, immediately showing me pictures. He mentioned names I didn’t know and talked in terminology I didn’t understand, but I nodded anyway, curious about the game I’d never realized adults played. He kept me occupied until the lights switched on again and the music started thumping loud. I blinked at the sudden burst of brightness and leaned into his shoulder, hiding my eyes so I didn’t get a migraine that would split my head in half. He wrapped his arm around me and murmured, “It’s okay,” until I decided he was telling the truth. It was going to be all right.
Everyone in the room had begun to play again, and I didn’t know how long I stayed pressed against him, hiding myself away, but he patted his hand down my back and it felt good. Really good. The first thing I noticed when I glanced around now that the lights were back on was the beautiful tattoo that had been needled into the tanned skin of his right forearm. There was a deeply detailed castle with a ferocious dragon curled around it, and a knight stood nearby, as you might expect. Instead of fighting the dragon, the knight had dropped his helmet on the ground and was hugging the dragon’s tail. Before I could stop myself, I traced a finger over the dragon and his breath caught.
“I’ve said this before, but I’ve never played with a cat,” he whispered, and I decided that I liked his voice.
“We don’t play fetch.” I sniffed in disdain at the idea. Ugh . Fetch was the worst, and I didn’t understand why dogs liked it.
He laughed and the deep sound had me purring before I could help it. I felt myself falling deeper into my kitten persona, and the urge to slide out of my suit grew harder to ignore. I just wanted to get into my favorite crop top and shorts—shiny silver pants with a cat’s tail attached to them—and curl up at this man’s feet. I didn’t even know his name yet.
He stilled in surprise when I purred, and his petting went further south, closer to the base of my spine and the start of my ass. My stomach burned hot like lava and I shifted backward, away from him, so I could take off my jacket and already opened shirt, letting them fall to the floor. Unclipping my leather belt, I pried open the button of my pants and unzipped them, aware of this man’s eyes on me the entire time. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as though if he did he’d scare me. Maybe he would.
I shoved the pants to my ankles before I slipped off my shoes so I could take the rest of my work clothes off. The strip show left me in my shiny silver pants, so short that the bottom of my asscheeks peeked out below them. My tail was attached to the material between my asscheeks. My crop top was the same pink as my collar, and the words Daddy’s Little Kitten were written in the same sparkly silver to match my pants.
The man in front of me stared with wide topaz eyes and ran a hand through his brown hair, making it messier on top than it already was.
“I’m Harley,” I said quietly, reaching back to flick my tail in a big circle. “Harley Silvain.”
“Brad.” He cleared his throat and laughed, his own cheeks flooding red. “Brad Widstrom.”
“Hi.” I ducked my head and then slowly fell to my knees. The control I was used to needing for work drained away as my cat took over. Harley the actuary was gone, leaving Harley the shy kitten who wanted attention. I hadn’t brought my ears tonight because I didn’t actually think I’d find someone to play with, and now I was disappointed I hadn’t. Smiling, I cocked my head and licked the strip of my hand below my thumb before rubbing it over the side of my face. I purred and arched forward, stretching out my arms and yawning.
Would this work? I didn’t know. This guy—Brad—had never played with a cat. Maybe he wouldn’t like it at all.
He stared down at me, something sparking in his eyes, but then he turned, and I thought that was it. He was walking away. “Hey, Ashton!” Brad held his hand out to grab the white-haired man who was walking past him. Ashton stopped, his gaze jumping between me and Brad with a sly grin.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any cat toys?” he asked, peering around the room. I did the same. Most of the toys laid out were for dogs, from balls to play fetch with, to obstacle courses that had been set up to train mutts. I certainly wasn’t going to do anything like that. I hissed at the thought.
“Uh….” Ashton frowned at me. “I think we might. Give me a sec.” Then he was off, striding to the opening in the bar to duck into the middle.
Brad turned toward me and kneeled until he was nearly at my height. He petted across my head and down my cheek and I purred, leaning up into his touch.
“You’re a good kitty, aren’t you, Harley?” he whispered, and even though he’d never had a cat, he didn’t lack confidence. His voice was strong but quiet, and desire swelled inside me, which came as a complete surprise. While being a cat calmed me, let me give up control, it usually took a while for me to wind up and reach that pleasurable state. Yet here I was, blood sizzling and gut churning with need, my dick plumping where it nestled in my pants, which weren’t big enough for underwear too. That meant my hardening junk was on full display to the man in front of me.
“Oh,” he whispered, chuckling quietly. “You like being called a good kitty?”
I purred and leaned in closer to him, nuzzling his cheek.
“You are a good kitty, aren’t you?”
Again, he got another purr. I turned in a circle, rubbing the length of my body against him until my ass was pointed in his direction. At the angle I was leaning in, the shorts did little to cover my asscheeks. My tail hung loosely between my legs and I grabbed it, swinging it toward him before letting out a small meow.
“ Fuck .” His exhale of breath made my dick jerk. He ran his palm over my ass, stroking the flesh that peeked out from beneath my barely-there shorts. “Your ass is divine.”
I crawled backward between his legs and rubbed my ass against his crotch. With him crouching, he was at the perfect height. Purring harder, I watched him over my shoulder from beneath lowered eyelashes.
He grabbed my hips, fingernails digging into the skin just above the waistband of my pants and thrust forward, so I could feel that he was hard for me. I’d never rushed into sex on the first play, and I wasn’t going to tonight, but a little tease never hurt anyone. I crawled away from him again, ignoring the noise of disappointment he made, and turned toward him with a grin of my own. Flicking my tail at him again, I wiggled my butt with another meow, this one louder than before.
