Page 60 of Claiming His Baby


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He could be sitting on the couch in the corner of the room like he was on that first night. He could be circling the cage right now, his footsteps muted by the thick pile of the carpet.

He could touch me at any time. Force his hand between my legs. My thighs are spread by the bars of the cage. Obscene. Accessible. Vulnerable.

Wetness trickles out of me, pooling in my panties. I scoot forward, pressing my heat against a metal bar. The cage sways in the air as I rock my hips.

“Bad, bad kitty.” A deep voice pierces the air, shocking me into stillness. The cage rocks from the momentum, betraying me, casting a bright spotlight on my secret transgression. “What did I tell you?”

My heart jumps to my throat. “You said not to play with myself, Sir.”

“That’s right.” He draws near although I can’t hear his footsteps. When he speaks again, it sounds like he’s circling my cage, his voice coming from all around me. “And what did you do?”

“I . . . I didn’t touch myself.” Deep down, I know he won’t buy that excuse. But a part of me wants to be punished, to have Matteo unleash the wild beast inside him.

“Hmm . . . You think you found a loophole, huh?”

I shriek as the cage tilts violently to one side. Matteo must’ve grabbed the bars and leaned his weight into the cage. “I—I’m sorry, Sir.”

“That’s more like it,” he says darkly. “But I’ll have to punish you.”

A small whimper escapes my lips. My heart thumps faster. My adrenaline spikes. The flame in my center burns brighter.

The cage swings from side to side like a pendulum, my bare ass grinding uncomfortably against the hard metal floor, my hands gripping the bars so hard my knuckles must be turning white.

Just as I get my balance under control, the cage abruptly stops. A light touch on my leg makes me jump. Matteo chuckles. Obviously, he finds my reaction amusing.

“A kitten in a cage,” he says as his fingers drag a meandering trail up my thigh. “All mine to play with.”

I thrust my hips forward, trying to get more contact with his hand. But instead, he pulls away, breaking contact, and all I can do is whine in frustration. I shift forward until my heat presses against one of the iron bars, but Matteo slaps the top of my thigh, and I freeze.

“You don’t seem to be able to listen, kitten.” Matteo’s dark tone is a warning. His hand grips my thigh in a way that tells me he wants me but he’s holding himself back. “You’re not allowed to play with yourself. That means you can’t touch yourself with your hands and you can’t bring yourself to orgasm any other way either.” I open my mouth, but Matteo speaks over me. “And I know you didn’t come. Still not allowed.”

A big, warm hand grabs my chin and turns my head.

“I want to see your pretty face,” Matteo says, his hand dragging up my thigh. “You know why you can’t play with yourself, kitten?”

“Because you say so, Sir.” I stab my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to keep my body still. I know as soon as I make the slightest movement, Matteo will stop touching me, and that’s the last thing I want.

“Good answer, kitten. But that’s not it. You’re not allowed to play with yourself because this pussy—” he grips my mound over my panties “—is mine. Not yours. Get it?”

The heat of Matteo’s palm seeps through my panties, and I feel myself growing wetter. He can probably feel it through the lace. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” His palm presses against my pussy, making me moan.

I want to grind myself against him. The pressure building inside is killing me. Every cell in my body is urging me to do it, to rub myself against him, to go against his command.

But I restrain myself. I bite my lip until it hurts, until I taste rust leaking from broken skin on my tongue.

I want to be a good girl for him. Even if it hurts. That’s the only way he’ll give me satisfaction. I have to give him what he wants for him to give me what I need.

The sharp clanging of metal chains tells me Matteo is letting me out. “A good girl deserves a reward,” he says as he pulls me into his arms and carries me. I lean my ear against his collarbone, listening to his soothing heartbeat. What is he going to do to me?

My heart races at the uncertainty of it all. Yet at the same time, I trust him. Completely. He can do whatever he wants; I know he has my pleasure at the front of his brilliant mind. Matteo will take care of me.

I shriek as he throws me onto the bed. I bounce a little until my back settles on the cool, luxurious satin.

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