"Very good. This is warm, but it won't be hot," he said. "If you grow too uncomfortable, tell me. I don't want to hurt you, little one."
The porcelain was pleasantly warm as it touched my back, and the cup immediately rattled in its saucer as I took my first breath.
Was this a request he'd made of Mary? I smiled at the thought, slightly less frustrated with the woman. If I didn't already know Hunter's kindness and incredible passion for pleasing me already, I probably would also be offended at being turned into a table. But I'd once had my wrists and ankles tied and hung from a beam while two werewolves used my mouth and ass. This was infinitely easier and more relaxing.
I giggled and then sucked in my breath as the china rattled on my back.
"Do you hate it?" Hunter whispered, his shy nerves slipping out.
"No," I said quickly, wanting to sit back and look up at him so he could know I was sincere. "No, master. I was only thinking about much less comfortable tasks I've been assigned. I'm happy."
Which was strangely true. The carpet was unpleasant, and the task was odd, but Hunter was trusting me with a part of himself he'd been convinced was wrong to crave. And there was a calming quality to the stillness, even as my arms and back and legs started to ache from holding the position.
Hunter's claws traced aimlessly over my shoulders, the weight of the cup lifted, saucer left behind, and then returned again. The carpet was floral, leaves and blooms twisting and folding together, a pretty pattern to study as I tried to remain motionless.
"You're starting to arch," he warned gently.
I straightened my back, and he pet my head as the china rattled and then quieted. "Good girl."
My cheeks warmed at the praise, and I licked my lips. "Am I allowed to speak?" I whispered.
"Of course. Always."
"Will you...will you put the harness on me?"
"You really want it?"
I nodded, ignoring the chime from my back, since Hunter didn't seem to mind me making noise.
"Then if you behave well for me at dinner, I will put it on you after," Hunter said, and I thought he sounded a little breathless. "Before I fuck you."
"Then I'll behave at dinner," I said brightly.
Hunter drank from the cup again, and I made sure my back was straight before he returned it to the saucer.
"Do you want to know the truth, little one?"
"It's taking all my control as a warrior and a gentleman to keep from throwing this tea aside and pulling you onto my cock at this very moment," Hunter rumbled warmly.
The china sang as I gasped and shivered, my cunt clenching on nothing, begging for the very thing Hunter was denying us both.
"But you're offering me an incredible gift," he said, voice calming to a tender murmur, claws dragging back and forth over my shoulders. "I don't want to waste it."
"My obedience won't expire, Hunter," I said.
The door to the office creaked slightly, light from the hall falling in across the carpets, and Hunter stood, moving to stand behind me, no doubt blocking me from view.
"Dinner is ready, sir," the butler said.
"Thank you, Withes."
The light softened, and then the porcelain was lifted from my back.
"Walk with me," Hunter said.
I sat back on my heels, immediately tucking my hands, and his eyes widened, lips curling at the sight of me.
"You don't want me to crawl?"
He purred again, fingers stroking my cheek. "Later. This is training, and I don't want you sore too early in the evening."
His hand waited for mine and he pulled me onto my feet, my body protesting and settling into standing again.
"Also, I want to do this," he said, claws biting at the cheeks of my ass as he pulled me into his chest, mouth slanting over mine with a soft growl. My arms were trapped under his so I grabbed at his waist, our hips grinding together. I moaned into the kiss, bucked into the rigid length of his cock through his pants, aware of my own slickness seeping through the fabric.
His claws scratched up my back, his hands clasping around my arms to push me away, chest heaving with deep breaths as he licked his lips.
"Am I still behaving if I say I can't wait for dinner to be over?" I asked.
Hunter grinned. "You are, barely. Come, or Withes will fuss."
And in spite of our roles for the evening, Hunter tucked my hand into his elbow and walked me down the hall of his home, past the charmed windows that revealed his busy street but disguised my nudity and his true nature, as if I were not his pet, but his dinner guest.
I laughed again as we arrived in the dining room. The table was dressed in candlelight and glittering glass and gleaming china, but there was only a plate and silverware for one, a seat at a slight angle at the head of the table. And at the foot of the chair, spread over the floor, was a large cushion in pale blue velvet.
Hunter led me there, seating himself in the chair with his thighs spread wide, his cock clearly outlined through his pants.
"You'll sit there. I want you kneeling as much as you can, but don't be afraid to shift or adjust," he instructed.
I sank down onto the cushion, settling into my kneeling position from before, blooming under Hunter's answering smile.
"I'll feed you as I eat," he said, studying me. I nodded and waited. A brief war waged on his face, his lips pursing like he was fighting words, or trying to force them out. "When you want to rest, or you are full, your mouth should take my cock. You won't suck. You won't lick. You won't finish me, little one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said, arching an eyebrow and leaving off the "master." Hunter laughed at my show of defiance, but then his hands were at his pants, opening them and pulling himself free.
I leaned forward immediately, lips parting, only hungry for one thing, the beaded and weeping head of his cock in front of me. Hunter growled, his hand wrapping carefully around my throat before I could reach him, delicately cupping to avoid irritating my bruises.
"I'm not hungry," I said, remembering my instructions. "And I'm tired."
Hunter huffed out a laugh, the mask of the stern master cracking with his smile. "I haven't even been served, little one. Therefore, neither will you be," he teased.
Be good, I reminded myself. I pressed my lips together and held my position, and Hunter pet my throat before nodding and leaning back in his chair, scooting it closer until his cock was only an inch or two away and his long legs acted as a shield around me. I didn't care what the servants saw, used to being nude and being seen, but I liked this protective or possessive quality from Hunter, the illusion of privacy. Above my head, he gestured to Withes, his gaze holding mine.
A dish rang against the serving, wine splashed in a cup, and through it all, Hunter and I stared at one another. The cushion under my knees was dense and comfortable, but I was grateful he'd given me permission to move throughout the dinner, already aware of stiffness settling in my limbs.
Footsteps echoed away from the table, and Hunter's gaze finally lifted, glancing at his plate. He sat up straighter, shifted forward, and I sighed as the gold beads bolted through his cock bumped my lips. They parted and I leaned forward, drawing him in eagerly. Hunter snarled, hips bucking, cock sliding along my tongue with every bump of a piercing on the underside, and nudging briefly at the back of my throat.
Claws stroked through my hair, and I whimpered as Hunter forced me back, yellow eyes blazing down at me.
"No," he snarled.