"Too close," Mira whispered, voice hoarse and amused. "Only the ones who already carry my scent… or his… sleep here."
The newcomer trembled but didn't pull away completely. Her pupils shifted to hearts beating fast.
Kai smiled darkly.
The night was only just beginning.
And the hut smelled more and more of contained sex, slow-burning jealousy, and the promise that someone, before dawn, was going to cross a line they shouldn't.
The communal hut turns into a living oven once the last outside torch dies. The heat from more than forty feline bodies rises in dense waves, mixing sweat, the sweet musk of the locals, and the rougher, wilder scent of the newcomers. Mats creak under constant weight; tails slide along foreign thighs, breasts brush backs without permission, breaths quicken in the dimness. The air smells of restrained sex, jealousy simmering slow, and my own scent soaked into every skin that already belongs to me.
I sit in the center, on the high pile of thick furs prepared for me. Lira is already curled at my right, small and possessive, head resting on my thigh, blonde tail coiled around my waist like a hot rope that tightens every time she senses movement nearby. Her purr vibrates low against my skin, constant, claiming me. Mira settles at my left, mature curves spilling over the furs, hand resting on my knee with claws just barely grazing the fabric. Sylva remains kneeling at my feet, short chain dangling from her collar, ears flattened, thighs spread by instinct, still smelling of dried cum and fresh shame.
The rest crowd in concentric circles. The locals try to hold their space near the center; the newcomers push forward with subtle elbows, low growls, and tails lashing the air. Every brush draws a hiss. Every tail that crosses a foreign leg earns a shove. The collective purr rises and falls like an uneven tide.
Then I see her.
Vira—tall, sharp black ears, thin scar on her cheekbone—crawls slowly toward the center. Her movements are deliberate, feline, hips swaying with predatory grace. Her pupils are already narrowed into thin slits, but when her gaze meets mine they turn into hearts beating fast. She smells of hot ambition and a pussy already wet just from looking at me.
She comes closer. Too close.
She reaches the edge of my fur pile, less than a meter away. She kneels slowly, thighs spread, firm breasts rising and falling with ragged breath. Her tail moves slow, brushing the mats near my boots.
"I want to sleep close to Master," she murmurs hoarsely, voice low but clear in the tense silence. "Just a little. To smell him better."
The air freezes. Purrs cut off abruptly. Everyone feels the challenge.
Lira reacts first. Her purr turns into a low, vibrant growl that travels up my thigh like electricity. She leaps to her feet in a feline bound, small but lethal, ears flattened back, tail raised like a whip. She takes two steps and plants herself in front of the newcomer, nose almost touching hers.
"This place isn't yours," Lira hisses, voice low and venomous. "Only the ones who already have his scent inside sleep here. Back off. Now."
Vira tries to hold the stare, but her pupils tremble. A thread of wetness gleams between her thighs; the treacherous scent of her arousal mixes with fear. She lowers her head slowly, ears dropping, and crawls back to the edge of the circle. The collective purr returns, but now louder, more synchronized, as if everyone recognizes the victory.
Lira comes back to my side without looking back. She climbs onto my lap again, this time facing me, knees on either side of my hips. Her hot pussy rubs against the taut fabric of my pants, right over my cock that's already hard and throbbing. She grinds slowly, deliberately, up and down, the soft fur of her mound brushing the swollen head through the cloth. Her purr turns guttural, vibrating straight into my shaft.
Mira watches the newcomer with narrowed eyes but says nothing. She only tightens her grip on my knee, claws digging in just a little.
Lira leans toward my ear, hot breath against my neck.
"No one gets close without my permission," she whispers, voice rough with desire and triumph. "This cock is mine first."
She keeps grinding, slower, deeper, the wet heat of her entrance soaking the fabric. Every movement makes her clit drag across the ridge of my glans, sending waves of pleasure that make me clench my teeth. Her pupils are perfect hearts, beating wildly as she glances over her shoulder at the newcomer, marking territory with every rub.
I think: Tonight someone is going to break for wanting what isn't theirs. And Lira is going to make sure everyone sees it.
The collective purr rises again, louder, hungrier.
But no one else dares come closer.
(To be continued in Chapter 50…)