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Knot Your Average Valentine

I stepped into the crowded elevator and immediately wished I'd called in sick. Again. Every square inch reeked of Valentine's Day: heart-shaped balloons, cheap cologne that threatened to singe my nostrils, and enough bright-red décor to make me wonder if I'd stumbled onto the set of a romance movie gone wrong. Honestly, if it wouldn't have landed me in AR purgatory (ironic, considering I am AR), I'd have banned this saccharine holiday from the office entirely.

I let out a low, growly sigh. It wasn't like I hated Valentine's Day just because I was a foreigner—a big lioness in a land mostly populated by smaller canids. They had Valentine's Day back home, too, and guess what? I loathed it there as well. The difference is, back home, at least I didn't feel like a giant freak looming over everyone else's cutesy love fest. Here, I was literally eye-level with the top of the elevator doors, while the rest of the city waddled around in a pink-and-red haze of romance.

The elevator ride to the twenty-eighth floor felt like a journey to the moon—an agonizing, squeaky, over-perfumed expedition. By the time the doors finally dinged, my tail was swishing with restless annoyance, and my mood hovered somewhere between “simmer" and “about to boil over." I barreled forward, my long legs making quick work of the corridor lined by cubicles. Rows of small mammals, all chirping cheerily and exchanging bouquets, only sharpened the dull ache in my chest: I never got one of those.

Eventually, I reached the door to my office—my precious corner hideaway. Of course, the nameplate was off-kilter again because why not add that extra pinch of Annoyance to my day? I straightened it with a huff, trying not to let the gold lettering mock me:

Victoria Callwather

Director of Anthro Resources

It's a big, fancy title, sure, but it didn't change the fact that no one left a single chocolate on my desk. I pushed the door open with a paw roughly the size of a small dog's face, grumbling about how “open-door policy" means I can't even hide properly. At least I had a big, plush chair to accommodate my… well, big, plush body. One perk of being the tall, lone lioness in a building full of canines is that I can demand an oversized seat without too many questions.

I collapsed into it, my gaze drifting to the throngs of pink, red, and glittery decorations beyond my office door. The hustle-bustle of Valentine's mania glistened mockingly: couples squeaking with delight, the rancid smell of discount flowers, helium balloons bonking over cubicle walls. Ugh. My ears flattened just thinking about it.

It wasn't that I wanted to be an anti-Valentine's Scrooge. Really, it wasn't. But I had never been “that girl" who gets showered with sweet nothings or love notes. Whether that's because I'm a six-foot-something lioness in a city of cocker spaniels or because no one here dares approach AR, the result was always the same: Another year, another day of forced smiles while everyone else preens with roses and candies.

My phone buzzed from within my cavernous purse, making me groan. Probably my mother again, texting from halfway around the globe with her usual “You're not getting any younger" spiel. Yeah, thanks, Mom. Like I need the reminder. As if I don't know I'm thirty-four, single, and thoroughly overshadowing the local dating pool. The last time I tried dating an average office dog, it ended with him making awkward jokes about me crushing him in bed—which was not untrue, but still.

I rubbed my temples, trying to push those intrusive thoughts away. The day was already too long, and it was barely mid-morning. The only plan for my evening involved an overpowered showerhead and the solitary comfort of my too-empty apartment. Not exactly the stuff of rom-coms, I know. But if I couldn't banish Valentine's Day from the office, at least I could banish the nagging, lonely ache in my own chest when I got home tonight.

A swell of raucous laughter from the corridor yanked me out of my brooding. My ears flicked in annoyance. Jealousy, that's all it was—pure, unfiltered jealousy that I refused to let fester. “Screw it," I muttered, pushing myself up. “I'm closing the door. Policy be damned for ten minutes."

Just as my paw reached for the doorknob, a timid knock rapped against the frame. Ugh, can't a girl scheme in peace? But I plastered on a polite smile. “Door's open," I called, half-hoping they'd lose their nerve and scamper off.

No such luck. Instead, a small fennec fox shuffled in, looking like he'd just gathered every ounce of courage in the building to stand there. A wave of recognition washed over me: That was Josh, one of the new interns in IT—barely out of grad school. The tip of his tail quivered, but his bright eyes never left my face. That short muzzle set in determined lines, like he was marching into a dragon's lair. The metaphor almost made me laugh—I guess I am the big, bad lioness in AR, right?

I cocked an eyebrow. “Yes? Is there something I can help you with?"

He swallowed, clearly mustering a reply. For a split second, I envied his nerves. At least his day might get interesting…

Josh's throat bobbed as he swallowed, shoulders tense in a way that betrayed his nerves—at least at first. His ears flicked slightly, betraying hesitation, but his eyes never wavered from mine. He stood firm in the doorway, every muscle in his lean frame taut, like a runner waiting for the starting gun. I folded my hands atop my desk, tail flicking lazily behind me, waiting to see if he'd actually say something or if that flicker of boldness would flee.

He took a breath, straightened slightly, and forced himself to meet my gaze. In that instant, it was as if he flipped a switch—timidness giving way to quiet confidence, the uncertainty evaporating. I frowned, intrigued. He was small—sure—but he didn't feel small when he looked up at me with those ferocious eyes. Despite only reaching my collarbone, the way he carried himself radiated an overpowering masculinity—lean, controlled strength beneath his crisp shirt—that made me feel… feminine, in a way I hadn't experienced in this office full of canines.

“I—I got you something," he said, the stammer in his voice hinting at lingering uncertainty, but it also held an edge of confidence that clashed with his earlier hesitation.

One brow rose. “You… got me something?" I repeated, trying not to sound too incredulous. Nobody—nobody—gave Valentine's gifts to AR, especially not a brand-new intern just starting off.

He nodded, swallowing again but keeping that poise. “For Valentine's Day."

Valentine's Day. The corners of my mouth tightened in distaste. “You know I'm the Director of Anthro Resources, right?" I asked, forcing a dry, no-nonsense tone. “Not exactly your typical Valentine's candidate."

He blinked, ears flicking, but then a small, confident smile tugged at his muzzle. “I know," he said simply.

Something in his gaze made my pulse jump. He wasn't timid now—he was decided, like he'd thought this through. My tail stilled. “Why me?" I demanded quietly, every muscle in my body taut with a mix of wariness and something that felt suspiciously like excitement.

He hesitated, then placed a small, neatly wrapped box on my desk. “Because I wanted to," he replied, voice gaining steadiness with each syllable. The sincerity in his face pressed at the edges of my guarded heart, making me feel oddly warm.

I nearly let out a hum—almost a purr, if I was honest—but I bit it back at the last second. “You do realize I could get you in trouble for this, right?" I tried, playing my AR card. A cheap move, but I was off-balance and grasping.

His grin deepened in a way that shouldn't have belonged on a college-age fox. “You won't," he said, matter-of-factly, as though he knew it for certain.

The nerve. Yet, for all his youth, something about that self-assured stance kept me from chewing him out. I could almost sense the tension in his lithe frame, the subtle flex of lean muscle under that button-down. My gaze drifted—just for a second—across the lines of his shoulders, the way his torso tapered to his waist. He wasn't dwarfed by me in the way most males here were. No, this one held his ground, and that little difference made me feel a disconcerting flutter low in my belly.

With exaggerated calm, I lifted the box, my claws resting on the wrapping. “This going to explode?" I asked, trying to reclaim some dryness in my tone.

He exhaled a quiet huff. “Not unless they messed up really bad."

Against my better judgment, I smirked. Carefully, I peeled away the paper. Imported chocolates—the fancy kind. Immediately, the cocoa-rich scent drifted up, and I had to swallow a sudden lump in my throat. No one had ever given me chocolates before. Not a coworker, not a friend, not a date—ever.

My chest tightened. “Josh," I started, voice softer than intended. “You really didn't have to—"

He shrugged, meeting my eyes again, and I swore I felt a physical weight behind his gaze. It made me shiver, an involuntary tremor along my spine, and it took every bit of self-control not to let a sound slip out—a sound dangerously close to a moan. The flick of his tail told me he noticed. Damned perceptive fox.

“I wanted to," he repeated, quietly. “That's all."

We locked eyes then, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how bad an idea this was, forgot the decade-plus age gap, forgot the entire office beyond my door. I only registered a young fox standing more than a head shorter than me, lean and fit, brimming with an odd confidence that both unnerved and intrigued me. My heart pounded in my ears. I felt feminine—not the tall, intimidating AR lioness for once, but a woman, wanted and desired.

I cleared my throat, tucking that messy swirl of emotions behind my usual professional facade. “Thank you," I managed, tapping the lid of the chocolates with a claw. “I guess… happy Valentine's Day to you, too."

He nodded, an easy motion that made his ears flick. “I'll let you get back to work, Miss Callwather," he said, that polite edge returning, though a mischievous glint lingered in his eye. Like he'd somehow won this round. “I hope you like them."

Then he turned and made for the door, shoulders squared, tail at a relaxed sway, all bravado and youth. I couldn't help noticing the shape of him as he walked away—slender but promising. A stud in the making, as my mother might say if she saw him. That startling thought made me swallow hard.

The second he disappeared past the threshold, I let out a long breath, my tail lashing once. Goddamn. The kid was barely into adulthood, but he carried himself like he belonged in a ring with me—like he could handle me if push came to shove. That notion was as exhilarating as it was unnerving.

I glanced down at the gift in my hands, the expensive packaging shining under the fluorescent lights. I'd come in this morning certain I'd spend the entire day cursing Valentine's from my lonely corner office. Instead, here I was, chocolates in hand, heart thudding with an inexplicable warmth. Maybe, just maybe, this Valentine's wouldn't suck as much as the others.

And that, I thought with a shaky sort of amusement, might be the most terrifying realization of all.

---

I spent the rest of the day at my desk in a fog. Emails blurred into one another, half-finished spreadsheets sat open on my screen, and the office noise felt muffled—like I was underwater, hearing distant echoes of people's chatter. Mostly, though, my mind kept yanking me back to him. That bold fox who stood in my office, all lean limbs and nerve. I tried focusing on mundane tasks: updated a few AR records, pretended to proofread policy docs, anything to keep me from replaying every second of that exchange. But my efforts failed spectacularly.

Every time I caught sight of the little heart-shaped box on the edge of my desk, I squirmed a bit in my seat, tail curling and uncurling with pent-up frustration. It didn't help that the entire office was in a saccharine frenzy—flowers delivered at random cubicles, coworkers laughing over sappy Valentine's memes. My ears twitched at their every giggle, a reminder of this holiday I used to hate for reasons I couldn't even articulate properly… and now, it was a thousand times worse.

Because for the first time in ages, I was actually thinking about Valentine's Day—thinking about what it would feel like to be included, to be wanted. And not by just anyone… but by a twenty-something-year-old intern with the gall to look me in the eye and act like I was the one who should be flustered.

I tried not to let it show. I'm Director of Anthro Resources—people come to me when they need help, or when they screw up. If they caught a whiff of my own mental meltdown, I'd never live it down. But I couldn't keep myself from crossing and uncrossing my legs, tugging at my blouse in a futile attempt to quell the warmth building low in my belly. Twice, I almost got up to slip into the ladies' room for “some relief," but each time I chickened out. The last thing I needed was an embarrassing moan echoing off those tiled walls.

Eventually, I glanced at the clock on my monitor and realized I'd stayed a solid twenty minutes past my normal quitting time, lost in daydreams I shouldn't have been having at all. Damn it. I hurriedly shoved files into my bag, snatched my purse from its hook, and made for the door. The moment I flicked off my desk lamp, I noticed the chocolates. Right. That infuriating box. Part of me wanted to leave it behind—to prove it didn't matter. But an equal part, maybe bigger, insisted I couldn't just toss it aside. It felt like a sign, or maybe a curse, but I wasn't about to let it languish for cleaning staff to find. Muttering a curse under my breath, I stuffed it into my purse.

---

By the time I stepped into my apartment, my skin was flushed, my pulse hammering. The entire drive home had been a blur of heat and frustration, my mind looping through every stolen glance, every teasing word. The second the door shut behind me, my clothes started coming off—blouse, skirt, everything discarded in a frantic trail leading straight to the bathroom.

I needed a cold shower.

The icy water hit like a slap, sending a shudder down my spine, but for a fleeting moment, it worked. It shocked me into focus, grounding me in the present and forcing me to breathe past the ache pooling low in my belly. You're bigger than this, Victoria. You can handle a silly crush.

But then I closed my eyes.

A flash of wide ears, cocky confidence,and that lean, toned body beneath a crisp button-down. That quiet, steady look in his eyes that said I might be nervous, but I'm not backing down.

Heat flared instantly, liquid and insistent, curling in my core. I fought it, but it was like trying to hold back a flood with my bare hands. My paw drifted low, skimming my inner thigh, my breath hitching at the first whisper of friction. This is wrong. But my body didn't care.

The fantasy crept in like a fever dream, vivid and all-consuming.

Suddenly, the water, the tile walls, the entire world around me melted away. I was back in my office, blouse undone just enough to tease the curves beneath, my wide lioness hips pressed against the filing cabinet.

Josh fit against me perfectly, his lean frame taut with strength, his grip firm as he seized my wrists and pinned them at my sides, locking me in place against the cool metal of the Filing cabinet. He didn't have to tower over me to control the moment—his body was a wall of heat, his confidence an unshakable force. I could feel his breath at my throat, sharp and unrelenting, the contrast between the steel cabinet and the molten heat pooling between my thighs making my head spin.

“You're not so tough," he teased, voice like silk laced with wicked intent. “Not when you want it this bad."

I let out a ragged breath in reality, forehead pressing to the cold tile, but it did nothing to cool me. Water streamed down my fur, slicking my curves, but the ache only sharpened. My thighs trembled as I parted them wider, fingers sliding between my folds, my body slicker than the spray cascading over me.

And in the fantasy?

I was bent over my desk, skirt bunched at my waist, panties hooked around one ankle. And Josh—gods, Josh—was fucking me like he'd been waiting for this moment his entire life.

There was nothing hesitant in the way he took me. No shy intern, no nervous stammer—just raw, unfiltered need. His hands were firm and possessive, palming and kneading my ass before delivering a sharp slap that made me yelp. His sharp little canid teeth scraped my neck, his breath hot against my fur as he thrust deep, stretching me open. I was big compared to him, thick and curvy, built to tower over most men in this office—but none of that mattered here.

Here, he had me exactly where he wanted me.

His grip fisted in my hair, yanking my head back just enough that I could see the open office door. A crowd of coworkers stood frozen, staring, watching. I should have been mortified. But I wasn't. I wanted them to see. Wanted them to watch as he ruined me, as he fucked me, as he made me beg.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingled with my desperate moans, his husky grunts, the steady, relentless slap of our bodies colliding. He set a brutal pace, hammering into me, proving something to himself, to me, to them.

His teeth grazed my ear, his voice dripping with arrogant satisfaction.

"You act so untouchable, Victoria. Like no man can handle you." His grip tightened, forcing me to meet his gaze in the reflection of my office window, pupils blown wide with possession. "But you're so fucking wet for me."

I whimpered. Actually whimpered. A helpless, needy sound that I would have never allowed myself to make in the waking world. But here? In this fantasy?

I was his.

With a final, punishing thrust, I felt his knot swell, stretching me wide, locking us together. The pressure, the fullness, the raw claiming of it sent me flying over the edge. My orgasm detonated through me, a white-hot explosion that left me clawing at the desk, my vision burning with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain—

—and suddenly I was back in the shower, knees buckling.

My orgasm crashed over me so fiercely I nearly crumpled against the tile, a strangled moan tearing from my throat. My entire body trembled as the aftershocks wracked me, my breath coming in gasping, desperate pants.

The cold water pounded against my back, but it might as well have been nothing. My body burned, my fur hypersensitive, and my muscles quivered with overstimulation.

For a fleeting second, I thought maybe—just maybe—that had been enough. Maybe I'd finally purged this ridiculous obsession from my system.

But as I turned off the water, stepping onto the tile with shaky legs, the ache lingered. Deeper and sharper, a hunger that refused to be extinguished. I wasn't satisfied. If anything, I was worse off than before.

By the time I stumbled out of the shower, my pulse still pounded in my ears. Water dripped onto the tile as I dried off, but no amount of scrubbing could erase the image of Josh standing in my office, smiling at me like I was the only lioness in the world. It was Valentine's Day—my least favorite holiday on the planet—and yet somehow, one fennec fox and a box of chocolates had me in knots.

I padded into the living room, towel precariously clinging to my damp fur, ready to flop onto the couch and forget the world. That's when my eyes caught the faint glint of glossy red. The heart-shaped box peeked from my purse, half-hidden but impossible to ignore. A sharp reminder of the day I'd sworn I hated.

Heat pooled low in my belly again—just from thinking about him. Swallowing hard, I snatched it up, letting the bright wrapper sparkle in the glow of my lamp. I despise Valentine's, I told myself. So why does this feel like the one gift I never knew I wanted?

For a moment, I just stared at it. Half of me wanted to toss it, to pretend none of this had ever happened. The other half, the one still burning, needed to see what was inside.

Slowly, I reached for it.

The lid lifted with a soft rustle, and a wave of rich, velvety chocolate filled my nose—not the cheap, mass-produced kind, but something deep, indulgent, meant to be savored. The kind of chocolate someone picked with intention.

Nestled among the pieces was a folded note.

My heart pounded as I pulled it free, my claws catching slightly on the edge of the paper.

I unfolded it with trembling fingers, and my breath caught as I read the neat, confident handwriting:

Victoria,

I know AR's got rules about office relationships, but I figure if anyone can make an exception… it's the boss. And damn, you wear boss well. You looked like you could use a little spoiling today—hope I didn't overstep. If I did, feel free to scold me. Or spank me. I won't complain.

But if you did like it?

Well. Text me, and maybe I'll show you what happens when you let the intern take charge for once.

P.S. Try the caramel one first. It's my favorite. I wanna know if we have good taste in common.

—Josh

At the bottom, in bold letters, was his phone number.

I stared, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. He'd planned this all along, had the nerve to tuck a cocky little letter among the chocolates like a challenge. The condescending part of my brain insisted it was a joke, a silly stunt. But the rest of me—the part that was still throbbing from a borderline-hysterical shower fantasy—reacted differently. My tail flicked. My muzzle curled into a silent snarl of indecision.

For what felt like an hour, I paced the living room, chewing my lip, phone in one hand and that note in the other. He's an intern, for God's sake. This could blow up in your face, cost you your job, your reputation… so many ways to go sideways. But each reason to walk away only fueled the twisted sense of excitement already roiling in my gut.

Eventually, I flopped onto the couch, towel dangerously close to slipping from my busty frame, and punched his number into my phone. A thousand warnings rang in my head. I ignored them all. My thumbs hovered over the text field. “Do it, you big coward," I muttered at myself, ear flicking in agitation.

Finally, I typed:

Me: Hey. This is Victoria. Got your card.

Josh: So… does this mean I didn't get reported to AR?

Me: Yet.

Josh: Bribery works, then?

Me: Bribery would imply I accepted.

Josh: You did.

Me: Prove it.

Josh: You're texting me.

Me: …

Josh: That's a yes.

Me: Maybe I was just hungry.

Josh: Nah. If you were just hungry, you wouldn't still be talking to me. You liked my note.

Me: I liked the nerve it took to leave it.

Josh: That is what I meant.

Me: Cocky little intern.

Josh: Confident. There's a difference.

Me: Confidence is knowing you could handle me. Cocky is assuming you can.

Josh: You saying I can't?

Me: I'm saying I don't think you realize what you'd be getting into.

Josh: That almost sounds like a challenge.

Me: Almost.

Josh: Well, damn. Now you've got me distracted.

Me: Oh?

Josh: Yeah. You ever try lifting with inappropriate thoughts running through your head?

Me: Wouldn't know.

Josh: Might need to fix that.

Me: And how exactly do you plan to do that?

Josh: You really wanna know?

That smug little text lit a fire under me. I should have ended it there—should have put the kid in his place before this got out of hand.

I flipped my camera to selfie mode and tilted the angle just right—low enough that the towel barely covered my chest, teasing the generous curve of my cleavage. My damp hair spilled over one shoulder, framing my face, golden fur still flushed from the heat of my earlier… distraction. My expression? Controlled. Tempting. Just enough of a smirk to make him wonder if I was serious.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

And then? Nothing.

I stared at the screen, waiting, waiting, waiting. The silence was deafening.

Shit. I had definitely gone too far.

I nearly threw my phone onto the couch, pacing, claws flexing, tail lashing. He was probably losing his mind right now, or worse—he didn't know how to respond. Maybe I'd just scared him off entirely.

But then—

Ding.

I snatched the phone so fast I nearly fumbled it.

And when I saw what he'd sent back?

I forgot how to breathe.

The picture wasn't some half-assed selfie. It was a goddamn attack.

Josh stood in what looked like jogging shorts, but all I could focus on was the very obvious, very inappropriate, very fucking massive outline straining against the fabric.

My jaw dropped. Good lord.

Where the hell was he storing all that?

My body answered before my brain did, a fresh pulse of heat pooling between my thighs. Oh, this wasn't fair. I'd wanted to make him flustered, not the other way around. But he wasn't backing down. If anything, he had just raised the stakes beyond what I was prepared for.

And I liked it.

I turned away from the phone, stalking to my apartment window, trying to breathe, cool down, get my shit together. Below me, the city stretched out, the streets illuminated in the early evening glow. From here, I could see the small park across the street, the little coffee shop nestled beside it.

And then—

An idea struck.

I smiled. A challenge.

Me: K-cups coffee. 45 minutes. Be there.

I sent it and waited, heart pounding.

For a full five seconds, I wondered if I'd just made another huge mistake.

Then—

Ding.

I lifted the phone with a shaking paw.

Josh: bet

That was it.

No hesitation. No questions.

It was a date.

---

I spotted him the moment I stepped out of my apartment building—leaning casually against the coffee shop's brick exterior, his fur still slightly damp from whatever hurried shower he'd taken, ears flicking at every sound like he was trying to look unbothered. Despite the biting February air, he wore only a thin hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts, looking every bit like the cocky young fox who'd sprinted across town at my command.

My pulse gave an unsteady flutter. He'd come for me. And he'd come fast.

I approached with a slow, deliberate gait, letting my heels click against the pavement, watching the way his ears twitched toward the sound. When I finally reached him, I arched a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Right on time."

He grinned up at me, sharp little canines peeking out. “Of course. Wouldn't want to keep a lady waiting." His tail swished behind him, betraying his confidence.

“You're off to a strong start," I murmured, tilting my head toward the café doors. “Go ahead, order for both of us."

His ears flicked—recognition flashing in his eyes. He understood immediately: this was a test. A challenge.

I expected hesitation. I wanted hesitation. But he didn't give me any.

“Sure," he said smoothly, brushing past me and stepping inside like he owned the place.

I followed him in, watching with amusement as he approached the counter without so much as glancing back for confirmation. Cocky little thing. The barista greeted him with a nod, and without missing a beat, he ordered:

“Two cinnamon cortados."

I blinked, taken aback. Cortados? I'd never had one. Never even thought to order one. They were small, weren't they? Barely a few ounces of coffee?

I gave him a skeptical look as the barista prepared our drinks. “Cortados, huh? What, you thought I needed something dainty?"

He smirked. “Just trust me."

A moment later, two tiny glasses slid across the counter, each topped with a thin layer of microfoam, dusted with cinnamon. I frowned at the minuscule size, glancing at him with a raised brow.

“That's it?"

He just grinned, picking up his glass and nodding for me to do the same. “Don't judge a drink by its size. A cortado might seem little, but it's stronger than it looks—and can really pack a punch."

The words hung between us, heavy with subtext. I swallowed, my tail giving an involuntary flick. “Is that right?"

“You'll see," he said simply.

Fine. I lifted the glass to my muzzle, inhaling the scent of espresso and spice. The cinnamon curled through the steam, warm and inviting, masking the potent bitterness of the coffee. I took a sip.

The world stopped.

The first taste hit my tongue in an explosion of sensation—bold espresso, silky milk, and that teasing bite of cinnamon, all blending into something more than just a drink. It was rich, unexpectedly commanding, the kind of experience that made my brain short-circuit for a second. My claws flexed against the glass as warmth spread through my chest, coiling low in my belly.

Gods. It was almost intimate—like being kissed with flavor.

A quiet, involuntary purr rumbled in my throat—barely audible, more instinct than intent. I tried to smother it with a cough, but Josh's ears twitched, his grin widening with knowing amusement.

“Damn," I breathed, lowering the glass. “That's… dangerously good."

“Told you it'd be worth it," he murmured, his tone teasing. “A small drink can surprise you."

Cocky little fox. I narrowed my eyes at him, but I couldn't fight the smirk curling at the edges of my muzzle.

We finished our drinks, lingering just long enough for the heat of the coffee to settle deep in my core before stepping back out into the cold evening. The park stretched out beside us, lamplights casting a soft glow along the winding paths.

He shivered.

I noticed it immediately—the faint tremor in his frame, the way he buried his paws in his hoodie pocket, trying to suppress the chill. He hadn't had time to grab a proper coat. Probably rushed straight from the gym when I texted him.

Without thinking, I stepped closer, letting my warmth bleed into him. My arm looped around his, pressing us together as we walked along the empty paths. He stiffened at first—just a fraction—but then relaxed, his body instinctively leaning into mine. The contrast between us was stark—his smaller frame against my much larger one—but there was something oddly right about the way he fit against my side.

The silence between us was comfortable, almost soothing, but I couldn't ignore the question gnawing at me all day.

“Josh," I murmured, voice low, “why me?"

A gust of frigid wind swept through the street, sending a shiver down my spine. The February night felt sharper than usual—maybe because of the clouds gathering overhead. Fine, icy droplets prickled the air, hinting at a full downpour. Josh's ears flicked at the change in weather, but he didn't back away.

He swallowed, muzzle twitching as if he'd rehearsed this but wasn't sure he could go through with it. “Because…" He hesitated, then let out a shaky laugh. “Because look at you. You're—Gods, you're stunning. I mean, you turn heads everywhere you go."

My heart sank, just a little. Physical attraction. That's it?

He must have sensed the disappointment, because his expression slipped into sudden urgency. “No—wait, not just that," he said quickly, “Yeah, I noticed you first because, well…" Another drop of rain fell between us, splashing cold against the side of his muzzle. “How could I not? You're gorgeous. But then I realized you're…something else. Someone else. You're confident, you're brilliant, you scare half the office—and I guess I'm kind of an adrenaline junkie for powerful AR ladies."

The corner of my mouth curled despite myself. “Adrenaline junkie, huh?"

“Hey, don't kink-shame me," he teased, a playful glint in his eye. “Besides, I hear the paperwork for harassing an AR director is lethal."

I snorted, the tension easing from my shoulders. Another stray raindrop splattered across my cheek, and I felt the subtle quake in his body as he fought not to shiver. “You're freezing," I murmured, inching closer, letting my warmth wrap around him.

“It's worth it," he whispered, voice husky. “I… I didn't want you spending Valentine's alone."

That did me in. With a soft growl, I snagged the front of his hoodie and hauled him closer. He rose onto his tiptoes, meeting me halfway, our size difference obvious but suddenly irrelevant. The first brush of our lips sent a bolt of heat through my veins that made the cold night vanish.

He whimpered slightly against my mouth, and I seized the moment—tilting my head, deepening the kiss. Rain spattered more insistently now, soaking into our fur, but the chill only made the contact burn hotter. er. I felt the sharp catch of my barbs against the plush heat of him, a friction that sent a delicious shock through my nerves, tightening every muscle in my body.

He whimpered at the sensation but didn't pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, pressing harder, licking deeper, as if testing how much of me he could take. I smirked into the kiss. Brave little fox.

I leaned down into him, feeling the wet press of his body, his chest heaving as he tried to keep up. He murmured something breathless against my lips, a sound part-plea, part-laughter. My paws slid around his back, refusing to let him pull away, letting him feel the full force of my warmth, my strength.

“Gods," he gasped into the kiss, rain trickling between us, “This is… I—"

“Shh," I growled softly, nipping his lip, making him moan. “Just shut up and kiss me, pup."

Lightning flashed in the distance, and the sky finally let go, releasing a torrent of cold rain. But neither of us cared. Josh, on tiptoe, clung to me like a lifeline, eager and awed, while I claimed him with slow, deliberate purpose. Through the thunder, the downpour, and the heady taste of his breath, I knew: this Valentine's was going to be anything but lonely.

In an instant, the rain shifted from a warning drizzle to a cold deluge that hit like a slap, soaking through fur and fabric in seconds. I gasped, jerking back at the sudden chill, a shiver rippling down my spine. Josh blinked up at the sky, ears flicking wildly as droplets slid down his muzzle. His pupils were blown, his lips kiss-swollen, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. He looked dazed.

And I wanted more. So much more.

But not here—not in the freezing rain, with his hoodie plastered to his arms and water trickling off my coat. I could feel the tremors running through him as the cold bit into both of us. My mind lit on a better idea.

I grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward me. “Come on," I said, my voice rougher than I intended, thick with everything I refused to hold back anymore. “You'll catch a cold out here."

I didn't wait for his reply. Instead, I hauled him along, our feet splashing through rain-slick pavement. It was barely a block to my apartment, but it felt like an eternity—every breath a struggle between wanting to stop and devour him where we stood, and hurrying to reach someplace warm. When I finally shoved the building's door open, a rush of heated air washed over us, carrying the scent of wet city and something more intimate, something waiting.

I turned to face him in the lobby light, rainwater dripping from my mane. His hoodie clung to his lean frame, his eyes still wild with that mix of nerves and hunger. We were both soaked, adrenaline singing in our veins.

Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

---

Our drenched clothes hit the kitchen floor with heavy, wet thuds. Rivulets of rainwater traced paths down our fur, pooling on the tile beneath our feet. For a moment, we just stood there, drinking each other in.

My gaze roamed over Josh's lean frame, marveling at the way his rain-slicked fur accentuated every taut, sinewy muscle. He was compact but powerful, a coiled spring waiting to unleash, every inch of him humming with barely contained energy. And then my eyes drifted lower..

Oh.

Good gods.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Where the hell had he been hiding that? My ears flicked back involuntarily, my tail giving an unconscious flick of interest.

Thick. Heavy. Obscene. His cock hung between his thighs, already half-hard, glistening with a bead of arousal that threatened to spill over the ridged tip. It was out of proportion in the best possible way, the kind of thing that made you question the very laws of nature. Foxes weren't supposed to be built like this.

A hot pulse of need coiled low in my belly. I wasn't the type to be intimidated, but fuck—I felt it.

Josh noticed. Of course he did. That cocky little smirk crept onto his muzzle as he followed my gaze. "Problem, boss?" he asked, all smug amusement and dark promise.

"Not at all," I said, licking my lips. "Just wondering if you're compensating for something."

Josh chuckled, stepping in closer, pressing his smaller frame into mine. His heat burned against me, the sharp scent of fox and lingering cologne filling my senses. "You tell me," he murmured, rolling his hips just enough that the thick weight of him dragged against my thigh.

Oh, yeah. I was in trouble.

Good lord. Where had he been hiding all of that?

The thought was cut short as Josh surged forward, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss. He pressed me back against the wall with surprising force, the thud reverberating through my body. A small, needy sound escaped my throat as his hands roamed my curves, kneading and exploring with an eagerness that set my nerves ablaze.

How could someone so much smaller than me be so utterly dominating? The contrast was intoxicating - his lithe frame against my fuller figure, yet he controlled the pace with unwavering confidence.

My mind flashed back to the coffee shop, to the tiny cortado he'd ordered for me. Small but potent, packing an unexpected punch. Just like him.

He was all the things that drink embodied—rich and complex, with layers of depth you didn't see coming until they hit you all at once. Brown, sweet, and just the right amount of spice, a bold flavor that lingered on your tongue long after the first taste. A warmth that spread through you, subtle at first, then all-consuming, until you couldn't help but crave another sip.

And just like that cortado, he was hot as hell, a slow burn that crept into my bones, settling deep in a place I hadn't realized was cold until he came along.

I moaned into his mouth as I wrapped my arms around him, pushing our bodies together. He was a head and a half shorter, his face comfortably nestled between my breasts. Judging by the enthusiastic wagging of his tail, I had a feeling he didn't mind one bit.

With our bodies flush, I ground our hips together, feeling his hardness teasing along my slick folds. Josh's paws roamed my curves with reverent hunger, kneading and exploring. When he palmed my ample rear, squeezing firmly, a throaty purr rumbled through my chest. His touch was eager yet controlled, like he'd imagined this moment a thousand times and was savoring every second.

I arched into him, desperate for more contact. My claws raked gently down his back, eliciting a sharp gasp that sent a thrill through me. He may have initiated this dance, but I wasn't about to be a passive partner.

With a low growl, I spun us around, pressing him against the wall. Now it was my turn to explore. I trailed kisses along his jaw, down his neck, reveling in the way his pulse raced beneath my lips.

When I nipped at the junction of his neck and shoulder, he let out a strangled sound between a laugh and a moan. My ears perked up, whiskers twitching with interest. Was that...? I pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, what's this?" I purred, a mischievous grin spreading across my muzzle. "Is the big bad fox a little ticklish?"

Josh's eyes widened, a mix of panic and excitement flashing across his face. "N-no, I just—"

But it was too late. My paws were already in motion, claws strategically running through his rich brown fur to attack those sensitive areas. He yelped, his lean body squirming against me as I mercilessly tickled his sides.

"S-stop!" he gasped between fits of laughter, his tail thrashing wildly. "Victoria, I swear—"

I chuckled, relishing the way he writhed beneath my touch. "What's wrong, Josh? I thought you could handle me."

His response was a growl that sent shivers down my spine. In a burst of movement that caught me off guard, he twisted, breaking free of my grasp. Before I could react, he'd scooped me up, my larger frame somehow cradled in his arms as he spun us around.

My back hit the kitchen counter, and suddenly he was there, pressing between my thighs, his muzzle level with my neck. "Oh, I can handle you alright," he murmured, his breath hot against my fur.

And then it was my turn to squeal as his paws found my ticklish spots, nimble fingers dancing along my ribs. I squirmed, laughing despite myself, my tail lashing behind me and knocking a spatula to the floor with a clatter.

We grappled like that, tickling and teasing, our bodies sliding against each other in a sensual dance. One moment I had him pinned against the fridge, the next he was lifting me onto the kitchen island, scattering a bowl of fruit in his eagerness.

An orange rolled across the floor, bumping against my discarded bra. The sight of it made me laugh, a full-bodied chuckle that had Josh pausing to stare at me in wonder.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

He shook his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Nothing, I just... I've never seen you laugh. It's beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice made my heart skip a beat. I reached for him, pulling him close, our noses touching. "You make me feel beautiful," I whispered.

The playfulness from moments ago melted into something deeper, more primal. Josh's paws slid up my thighs, parting them wider as he stepped between them. I could feel the heat of his body radiating against my sensitive inner thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His large eyes locked onto mine, pupils full with desire.

"You are beautiful," he breathed, voice husky with need. The raw honesty in his tone made my heart stutter.

I swear if I was any wetter I'd be a fucking lake. The ache between my legs was almost unbearable now, my body crying out for his touch. I couldn't wait any longer.

"Bedroom. Now," I commanded, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him down the hall.

---

He followed eagerly, nearly stumbling in his haste to keep up with my longer strides. I practically dragged him into my room, shoving him towards the bed with more force than I intended. He bounced slightly as he landed on the mattress, looking up at me with a mixture of awe and hunger that made my knees weak.

I stalked towards Josh on the bed, my feline grace on full display as I crawled over him, a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. Our gazes locked intensely, and for just a second, I saw a flicker of uncertainty dart across his face. It hit me then - this cocky little fox was still a virgin underneath all that bravado. But he recovered quickly, his features settling into a mask of pure determination, silently broadcasting his intent to conquer me.

In a surprising burst of boldness, he lunged forward, pinning my legs and burying his muzzle between my thighs in one fluid motion. I gasped at the sudden sensation, my arousal already slicking his fur. He paused for a breathless moment, seeming unsure how to proceed.

Then, as if guided by pure instinct, his tongue flicked out to taste me. The first swipe was hesitant and experimental, but he quickly grew bolder, lapping and exploring with growing confidence. "Oh fuck," I panted, my claws twisting in the sheets as waves of pleasure radiated from his ministrations.

What he lacked in technique, he more than made up for with raw enthusiasm. He devoured me like a fox possessed, his tongue delving deep before swirling around my clit with mind-melting intensity. Incoherent moans spilled from my lips as my hips rocked against his muzzle, desperately seeking more of that delicious friction.

"Yes, Josh! Fuck, just like that," I encouraged breathlessly, my voice tight with need.

He rumbled approvingly, the vibrations against my moist pussy sending lightning bolts of ecstasy shooting up my spine. Gripping my thighs tightly, he held me open, feasting on my pussy like it was his last meal on earth. I could only writhe and gasp as he drove me closer to the edge with every stroke of his tongue, determined to make me his.

A deep, guttural moan tore from my throat as the orgasm crashed over me, my body quaking with the force of it. Wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy ripped through my body, radiating out to the tips of my fingers and toes. My back arched off the bed, hips bucking wildly against Josh's muzzle as he worked me through it with fervent strokes of his tongue.

Whether it was pure natural talent or the magic of beginner's luck, he seemed to know exactly how to prolong my pleasure, alternating between broad licks and targeted flicks against my throbbing clit. Sparks danced behind my eyelids and I swear I saw stars, my vision blurring at the edges from the sheer intensity.

My thighs tensed, instinctively trying to clamp around his head and lock him in place, desperate to keep him right where I needed him most. But he countered with a surprising show of strength, gripping my legs firmly and holding them apart, refusing to let me hide from the overwhelming sensations. He growled possessively, the vibrations sending aftershocks rippling through my convulsing walls.

"Fuck, fuck, FUUUUCK!" The words ripped from my throat, my voice raw and desperate, fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically in the sheets, claws carving deep furrows into the fabric. It was too much and not enough all at once—my body caught in a relentless loop of electrifying bliss, every nerve ignited and every muscle seizing under the onslaught of pleasure.

I couldn't hold it back. Wouldn't.

"JOSH!!" His name tore from me in a roar—a primal, broken scream that rattled the very walls. The framed pictures shuddered, a few smaller ones toppling from their hooks, crashing to the floor in the wake of my release.

I think I blacked out for a moment. My vision tunneled, body weightless, floating in the white-hot abyss of release.

Distantly, through the haze of pleasure, I became aware of it—the filthy, wet sounds of Josh slurping, lapping at the mess I'd made. His eager tongue worked over my spasming slit, drinking down everything I gave him, greedy and relentless.

The obscene symphony of slick, sucking noises mixed with my broken, breathless cries, each sound only intensifying the pulsing aftershocks still wracking my nerves. I twitched, hips jerking involuntarily, still too raw, too sensitive, and yet—fuck—I couldn't stop shuddering beneath him.

As the brutal peak finally ebbed, leaving me gasping and boneless against the mattress, Josh gentled his touch. He pressed soft, soothing kisses to my trembling inner thighs, licking me clean with long, luxurious strokes of his tongue. I whimpered at the over-stimulation, aftershocks zinging through my sensitized flesh with every rasp of his textured muscle.

"Good girl," he growled approvingly once my breathing began to even out, his voice a deep, sinful rumble. "You taste even better than I imagined."

I let out a breathy chuckle, still sprawled across the bed, my thighs trembling from the aftershocks. My tail flicked lazily against the sheets, the warmth of his breath still lingering between my legs. “You imagined this?" I rasped, voice husky with the remnants of pleasure.

Josh propped himself up on his elbows, muzzle still damp, his cocky grin on full display. "Oh, don't act surprised," he teased, dragging his tongue slowly over his lips as if savoring the taste of me all over again. "I've been thinking about this since the first day I walked into your office."

I arched a brow, stretching my arms overhead in a slow, deliberate motion that lifted my breasts enticingly. “Since the first day?" I echoed, letting a lazy smirk curve my lips. “That's ambitious, intern."

His ears flicked at the teasing title, but instead of shying away, his grin only sharpened. “I'm an overachiever," he said, crawling up my body, and pressing his lithe form against mine. The contrast in our sizes made another wave of heat settle low in my belly—the way his smaller frame molded so perfectly against my curves, the unmistakable hunger in his gaze.

I reached up, cupping his muzzle, tracing the sharp angles of his face. “And here I thought you were just another cocky little fox," I purred, dragging my claws lightly down his chest, relishing the way his breath caught at the contact.

He leaned in, letting his teeth graze my lower lip in a featherlight tease. “Call it confidence," he murmured, voice low and thick. “Knowing I could make you scream my name all night does wonders for a guy's ego."

“Is that so?" I shot back, my brow lifting in a playful snarl. “Pretty bold words from a fox who hasn't even properly fucked yet."

Josh's eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide with lust. "Oh, it's happening," he promised, his voice a deep rumble against my skin. "Been planning this for months. I'm going to absolutely wreck you, Victoria."

"Wreck me?" I repeated incredulously, even as a shiver of anticipation raced down my spine. I dug my claws into his shoulders. "That's a tall order, little fox. Sure you're up for it?"

For a split second, I saw a flicker of uncertainty cross his face, a brief acknowledgment of the challenge I presented. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by that brazen confidence that had drawn me to him from the start.

"Challenge accepted," he growled, a wicked glint in his eye. "I'll have you begging for my cock before the night's through."

I let out a throaty chuckle, slow and sultry, tracing a claw down his chest, feeling the taut muscles twitch beneath my touch. "Oh, sweetie, you're in for a rude awakening. This lioness doesn't beg for anyone."

Josh's eyes flared, sharp canines flashing as he smirked. "Oh, you will tonight." His hands shot out, catching my wrists in an iron hold, and in a heartbeat, I was pinned beneath him.

My breath hitched as he flattened me into the mattress, his weight pressing down, his heat soaking into my skin like a brand. Gone was the bashful intern—this was a fox on the hunt, a predator who'd scented blood. The flickering city light cast shadows over his fur, emphasizing the fierce, unwavering hunger in his gaze.

I growled, fangs bared, meeting his intensity with my own. The air between us sizzled, the battle lines drawn. He wanted me to break? Let him try.

Thunder cracked outside, shaking the glass. The storm had arrived, loud and untamed, rattling against my window. It was the starting gun to tonight's main event.

Josh moved with startling speed and strength, his grip firm yet deliberate. His paws clamped around my thighs, the rough pads against my fur sending a jolt of heat through my core. With one powerful motion, he hauled my legs up and back, folding me open, and forcing me to submit to his control.

The sudden shift stole my breath. I let out a sharp gasp, my back arching against the mattress, the sheer force of it leaving me splayed, vulnerable, and utterly exposed beneath him. Pinned. Offered. Owned.

His eyes raked over me, dark with hunger, his muzzle parting slightly as if he were starving for the sight. My pussy throbbed under his relentless stare, flushed and swollen, slick with desperate need. I could feel the obscene slickness pooling beneath me, soaking the sheets, my body betraying just how badly I wanted this.

I clenched involuntarily around nothing, my walls fluttering, craving the stretch, the fullness, the heat of him. But he just hovered there, watching—the cool air licking at my slick folds, teasing, tormenting.

Josh let out a slow, shaky breath, ears flicking as he took me in—really took me in. His pupils were blown wide, golden irises swallowed by sheer hunger, his cock twitching at the sight of me spread out beneath him, drenched, desperate. His tail flicked once. Then again. That sharp little smirk crept onto his muzzle.

“Damn," he murmured, his voice thick, rough around the edges. “You look—fuck. Look at you."

I was beyond looking. I was feral, half out of my goddamn mind with need, my claws twisting into the sheets as I arched toward him, every instinct in my body screaming for him to move.

"Josh, fuck—do it!" The words ripped from my throat, raw, unfiltered. "I need you inside me, NOW!"

He froze, just for a second. A flick of his ear, the slow curl of his tail—oh, the little shit was enjoying this.

His hips inched forward, his cock nudging just at my entrance, teasing, not quite giving me what I needed. His muzzle tilted, brows raised, smirk widening.

“Huh." A pause, dripping with smug satisfaction. “And here I thought you didn't beg."

My breath hitched. My face burned. I snarled—but the only thing that spilled from my throat was a deep, needy purr.

Josh's confidence fucking skyrocketed. That lazy sway of his tail, the glint in his eyes, the slow, deliberate roll of his hips as he pressed the tip against me, just enough to send a bolt of heat rocketing up my spine—he had me. And he knew it.

"Say it again," he murmured. Low. Taunting. Demanding. He pushed in a little more, just enough to make me gasp, to make my walls flutter around nothing.

Gods, he was going to kill me.

I clenched, frustration mounting, tail lashing, my entire body tensed like a bowstring. He felt so thick, so perfect, so fucking right, and he had the audacity to hold back?

I snapped.

"Move, damn you!" I snarled, hips jerking up, trying to force him deeper, trying to take what he was holding hostage.

Josh laughed—low, dark, victorious. And then, with one slow, gliding thrust, he slid all the way in.

I watched the look on his face as he pushed into me, the moment he lost his virginity. His jaw fell slack, lips parting on a ragged gasp as my slick heat engulfed him, gripping his thick length like a velvet vice.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, voice breaking on the last syllable. "Victoria, you feel - gods, you're so tight, so wet."

I let out a breathless laugh that quickly morphed into a moan as he rolled his hips, driving deeper. He was right, I was so wet I thought we'd both drown before the night was through. My body welcomed him eagerly, inner muscles fluttering and clenching, trying to draw him into the hilt.

He started slow, eyes locked on my face, watching raptly for every minute reaction as he experimented with different angles and speeds. Each thrust punched the breath from my lungs, sparks of tingling pleasure radiating out from where we were joined. It was intense, almost too much, every ridge and vein of his shaft stroking my inner walls so perfectly.

"That's it, Josh," I purred encouragingly, fighting the urge to throw my head back and let the sensations overtake me. I wanted to watch him, to drink in the sight of this beautiful fox claiming me so thoroughly. "Fuck, you feel amazing. Don't hold back, give me everything."

Josh exhaled sharply, his smirk widening as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "Everything, huh? Careful, boss. Keep saying things like that, and I'll make sure you can't walk straight for a week." His thrusts grew rougher, more deliberate, his cock hitting deep, claiming every inch of me. His eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he let his teeth graze my throat. "Then again… maybe you like being under me more than you let on."

Cocky little bastard.

Something fierce flashed across his face at my words, a surge of male pride and possessiveness that sent tingles racing down my spine. His next thrust was harder, more purposeful, angling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I cried out, my back arching off the bed, pressing my breasts up in shameless offering.

Josh thought he had me. Thought he could hold me down, keep me pinned beneath him, ride me until I was boneless and broken beneath his pace. Oh, my sweet summer child… you're gonna learn tonight.

Leverage was a beautiful thing.

With a fierce twist of my hips and a powerful thrust of my legs, I flipped us over, using his own momentum against him. He barely had time to gasp before I was on top, straddling him, pressing him into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside me. His ears flicked back in surprise, his pupils wide as realization dawned. Priceless.

I wasn't done.

With a sharp twist of my hips and a commanding grip on his shoulders, I dragged him up with me, forcing him upright whether he was ready or not. His breath hitched, his hands scrambling for purchase as I rolled my body, shifting into a position he definitely hadn't expected. This wasn't just straddling—I pulled him into Lotus, locking him in, trapping him between my thighs like a lioness claiming her prey.

Let's see if you sink or swim, pup.

I tightened my grip around his waist, my legs flexing, holding him exactly where I wanted him—deep inside me, chest to chest, nowhere to run. He was strong, sure, but he wasn't leading this. Not tonight. I was using this cute fuck as my personal fuck pillow, and he'd damn well learn to keep up.

Josh shuddered beneath me, his paws flying to grip my hips, his entire body taut and trembling—completely at my mercy. I felt every inch of his cock throbbing inside me, nestled impossibly deep as I flexed around him, teasing. His breath hitched against my throat, a whimper caught between pleasure and surrender.

This was my domain now. I was in control.

I rolled my hips with slow, deliberate precision, dragging his length against every swollen, aching inch of me. A deep, rolling grind, pulling him in, squeezing him tight, dictating the pace, the depth, the rhythm. He whimpered, a raw, broken sound as his claws dug into my hips, his whole body trembling beneath my hold.

He tried to take over. I felt it the moment his muscles tensed, his hips jerking forward in a desperate attempt to drive deeper. But he wasn't going anywhere—not unless I allowed it. My thighs clenched tighter around his waist, locking him in, controlling the exact depth he could have. He groaned, the frustration rolling through him in waves, his hands gripping my ass, trying to force me down faster. I denied him.

“You don't get to fuck me," I murmured, my voice low, taunting. “I fuck you."

I tightened my legs around him, flexing just right—pulling him deeper, then easing up, letting him feel the agonizing drag of restraint. He gasped, his forehead pressing to my shoulder, his breath ragged against my neck. “Gods, please—"

“Please, what?" I teased, rolling my hips in another slow, deliberate grind. “You don't sound very sure of yourself now, pup."

“Not so cocky now, are you?" I purred, dragging my claws up his back, teasing at the sensitive fur at the nape of his neck. “What happened to wrecking me?"

Josh growled, a flash of defiance cutting through his haze of pleasure. Good. I wanted him to fight for it.

I ground down harder, rolling my hips in deep, languid circles, forcing him deeper still, my thighs squeezing and my body flexing around him like a vice. His breath stuttered, his claws gripping harder as his entire frame tensed like a bowstring.

His body said surrender. His eyes told me never.

This was going to be fun.

"Fuck, Victoria..." he growled huskily against my fur.

I let out a slow, satisfied purr, rolling my hips again, feeling the tension ripple through his body. "You like that, baby?"

Josh choked on a groan, his grip tightening - one paw digging into my ass, the other threading into my hair, tugging just enough to send jolts of pleasure racing down my spine. "I fucking love it," he rasped. "You're perfect."

"You're goddamn right I am," I purred, letting him have a taste of my own cocky attitude. I relaxed my legs, causing him to slip out, before tightening them again and pushing him back inside. The way he moaned into my breasts as I used him like my personal fuck doll was absolutely adorable.

His muffled declarations of love from between my breasts filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. Pride swelled in my chest at his words, my entire being shivering as I bore down on him, milking every thick inch of his glorious cock. I could feel the raw honesty in his voice, could see it in the way he held me, like he never wanted to let go.

"That's it, baby," I cooed, riding him with slow, deliberate rolls of my hips. "You feel so fucking good inside me."

Josh's response was a strangled groan, his claws digging into my hips as he struggled to maintain control. "Fuck, Victoria," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that."

I grinned wickedly, clenching my inner muscles around him in a rippling wave. "Oh, we can't have that, can we? I'm not done with you yet."

He let out a choked laugh, muffled against my chest, his head firmly trapped between my breasts as I continued my relentless assault. I could feel every desperate twitch of his cock inside me, the way his body trembled on the edge of release. He was close—so fucking close.

But then, his breath hitched, his whole body going rigid. His muffled moan broke into something more panicked, and I felt the first frantic jerks of his hips—not to thrust but to retreat.

“Fuck—" His voice was strangled, his words barely squeezing past where his face was still buried against my chest. His hands scrambled at my hips, gripping like he was trying to lift me off him. “I—shit—I'm gonna—Victoria, I gotta pull out—"

Oh no. Absolutely fucking not.

I locked my legs around him in an iron grip, my powerful muscles flexing as I ground down hard, forcing him deeper. His breath hitched, a strangled moan leaving his throat, but I didn't relent. Not now. Not when I was so close.

"Don't you dare," I snarled against his ear, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin before biting down hard. "I want every single drop."

Josh's entire body shuddered, caught between panic and raw, uncontrollable lust. His claws dug into my back, gripping me desperately, but I could feel his restraint unraveling. Good.

I clenched hard, flexing my legs and pussy around him, forcing his cock even deeper, urging his knot to swell against my entrance. The thick bulb stretched me obscenely, inching forward and promising the inevitable. He let out a desperate moan, his head falling against my chest as he struggled to hold back.

But I wasn't letting him go anywhere.

"Knot me, Josh," I purred, grinding against him with deliberate, torturous slowness, my claws raking up his spine. "Breed me!"

His eyes locked onto mine, a mix of pleading desperation and cocky surrender. That infuriatingly sexy grin I'd fallen for spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around my waist and thrust upwards, meeting my downward motion. Time seemed to crawl, each second stretching into eternity as I felt myself being spread wider and wider, our combined efforts pushing the limits of my body's accommodation.

Then, with a lewd, meaty pop that echoed through the room, his knot finally breached me.

The moment it slipped inside, a jolt of electricity shot through my core, igniting every nerve ending. It slammed home, locking us together as it stretched me impossibly wide, a delicious burn radiating outward. Josh let out a ragged shout, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure sending me hurtling over the edge.

Mine. All fucking mine.

I threw my head back with a loud, drawn-out moan as the first scorching spurts of his cum painted my fluttering walls, triggering my own earth-shattering climax. Waves of ecstasy crashed over me, radiating out from where we were so intimately joined. I rocked against him feverishly, grinding down, milking his cock for every last drop as my greedy pussy clenched and rippled around him.

Josh clung to me like a drowning man, his claws digging into my back as we rode out the intense shared bliss. His hips jerked erratically, pumping me full of his hot cum, marking me as his from the inside out. I could feel the heat of it spreading through me, a primal claiming that left me shuddering.

As the intensity gradually ebbed, I cradled Josh's face, tilting his muzzle up to meet mine in a deep, passionate kiss. It was tender and intimate, a stark contrast to the feral hunger of before, an unspoken conversation passing between us. I poured everything I couldn't say into that kiss, and he returned it with equal fervor.

We stayed like that for a long time, our bodies entwined, exchanging gentle kisses and caresses as we basked in the afterglow. His knot kept us locked together, a potent reminder of the carnal bond we now shared. Nuzzling his neck, I breathed in the mingled scent of us, feeling utterly sated and content.

---

We stayed like that for what must have been an hour—our bodies still entwined, our breath mingling in the heavy, humid air. His knot kept me full, locking us in an intimacy neither of us seemed eager to break. Between panting, satisfied sighs, we exchanged lazy nips and teasing licks, soft yips and purrs filling the room like a language only the two of us could understand.

Eventually, our bodies cooled, exhaustion threatening to pull us into sleep—until a particularly mischievous tickle match ended with me facedown, ass up, and my little cortado proving he still had more rounds in him.

The second time left me boneless, the third time had me singing his name against the shower tiles, and the fourth? Well, we barely made it through waiting for our clothes to dry before he had me spread out over the bed again, legs locked around his waist, taking everything he gave me.

I'll be honest, by this point I had no idea how Josh's body was even capable of going again and again like the fucking Energizer Bunny. That insatiable little fox must have had a secret stash of Viagra or some kind of supernatural stamina because he just kept coming back for more. And damn, was I enjoying every second of it.

We fucked our way through the entire Valentine's weekend like a couple of horny teenagers. It was the kind of debaucherous, hedonistic sex marathon that would make even the most jaded porn stars blush.

Come Sunday evening, my apartment was a complete wreck. The heady musk of sex, coffee, and fox hung thick in the air, clinging to every surface. My bed looked like a crime scene, the sheets hopelessly stained and tangled, the mattress drenched with the evidence of our fucking. At this rate, I might as well just throw the damn thing out and get a waterbed. Or hell, maybe I should invest in a breeding bench, considering how thoroughly and repeatedly Josh had mounted me. The thought of ending up pregnant, my belly swollen with his kits after this weekend, probably should have freaked me out. Oddly enough, it only made me purr harder.

My body was deliciously sore in places I didn't even know existed. Walking was a challenge, sitting was an ordeal, and I'm pretty sure my neighbors now knew Josh's name from how loudly I'd screamed it over the last 48 hours. But it wasn't the toe-curling orgasms or the impressive size of Josh's cock that had me feeling so satisfied.

No, what really got me, what made my heart flutter and my tail curl, was the simple joy of waking up next to him. Feeling the warm, solid weight of his body pressed against my back, his arm draped possessively over my waist. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his soft breaths tickling through my fur. The way he nuzzled into my neck, even in sleep, like he couldn't get enough of my scent.

I had no clue where this crazy, wonderful, unexpected thing between us would lead. The future was a big, scary question mark. But one thing I knew for sure?

I could definitely get used to waking up to my hot, fresh cortado every morning.

The coffee was pretty damn good too.