Where Can I Read 'The Cat'S Table' Online For Free?

"I hope you're not a minor, kitten? I don't wish to commit two sins together." "Fuck! I can't wait to taste you." "Bend on your knees and spread those legs, kitten! I want to see all of you." Some desires should never be touched. They burn too brightly, shine too dangerously, leave marks you can’t hide and once tasted, they consume everything. Forbidden fruit tastes sweet, they say. But they never mention the burn that follows, how addictive it is, the filthy obsession that settles in your bones. That’s what he was, a sin she couldn’t resist, a danger she wanted to fall into again and again. Katherine Smith, 19 years old, all-American innocence with her long light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. But her body tells a different, more provocative story, lush, curved and ripe, a woman’s voluptuous form that belies her youthful gaze. Her not-so-happening life takes a turn with the arrival of Vincent Morris, her mother’s 36 years old step-brother. Vincent is a storm given human form, tall, powerfully built with dark blond hair and watchful brown eyes that seem to see through every polite pretense. He knew it was illicit, she knew it was wrong, both of them knew it was forbidden, but they couldn't stop themselves from that intoxicating desire. Vincent, the older, dominant guide, introduces Katherine to the art of power that comes from acknowledging desire, to a world where pleasure is a transaction, a language. He teaches her that her body is a formidable instrument and he shows her how to play it. It's all about indulging in those hidden cravings with no boundaries, where pleasure knows no limits and desire is the only rule. Dive into the world of love, lust and forbidden desire.

"Let me go," She said, twisting her arm, trying to wriggle out of his brutal hold. His proximity had her heart jackhammering in her ears as tears threatened to spill out. The beast of a man roughly turned her around before grabbing her delicate throat in his big veiny hand as he yanked her to him. His tan skin contrasted against her snow one as his thumb stroked the soft flesh of her swan-like neck. Her toes were barely touching the ground as she stared petrified at the man hovering over her seemingly deranged. His hot breath caressed her face and had chills running down her spine. He looked possessed. "You're mine, f*cking MINE!" He seethed a low rumble as she flinched away. His amber rims were blazing pits as they gazed at her with an unadulterated ferocity. Her chin wobbled and her plump lips trembled as the girl shook her head trying to get away from him and her struggles grew frantic. She was so scared. His jaw clenched and his nose flared in rage. "So you won't listen, huh." He rasped in a low snarl before letting her go. She took three steps away from him, clutching her hands on her chest. Her whole body trembled wildly as she saw him locking the door before he faced her while unbuttoning his shirt and her heart dropped down into the depths of utter terror, she shook her head involuntarily. "Strip, little tigress. Strip for me." He gritted viciously causing her heart to lurch to her mouth.

[Damn it! She's obviously a scheming wretch. She's trying to seduce the male lead while the female lead is away. She's so eager to be the mistress, and she even called him Sir? Just go to hell already.] [Did you forget? There's no way the male lead would fall for such low-level tricks. He only cares about his precious niece. The male lead and the female lead's fathers were best friends. They're not blood-related. Those two are destined to marry each other!] [Hey, don't forget that the male lead also loves cats. Haha! He's an ailurophile.]

The zombie apocalypse had arrived, and pets could transform into guardians to protect their owners—each person was allowed no more than three. My best friend had spent a fortune on three Tibetan mastiffs. The landlord cleared out a fish tank to raise a crocodile. My boyfriend? He had stormed the zoo and dragged a lion home. And me? I only had three stray cats. The eldest was blind, the second one limped, and the youngest had just turned one month old. The moment the apocalypse system announced that pet slots were locked, I knew I was doomed. I tried to hide with my three disabled cats, hoping to survive quietly. Day one of the apocalypse: terrified… Day two: helpless… Day three: my cats sauntered over, tails swishing, carrying some unidentifiable object. "Mama, I bit off all the zombie heads on this street. How's that? Solid enough?" I was rendered speechless.

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.

My neighbor abandoned her cat, so I took it in. It never warmed up to me, but never stopped meowing at my husband. I grew suspicious. One night, my husband claimed to be working late. I knocked on the neighbor’s door. She stroked her slightly rounded belly. “Ms. Hill, what brings you here so late?” Her eyes gleamed with defiance and smugness. Something clicked. I understood everything. When my husband crept home at dawn, he found both sets of parents waiting. A divorce agreement lay on the coffee table.