Distracted

Logan lay on her side along the length of her chaise lounge like the queen she was—wearing nothing but a red tank top and white panties, the fabric clinging to the curves of her body that were usually hidden under pantsuits and business contracts. Her panties had already been tugged aside, the tank top still intact—for now.

The room glowed with dusk light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting gold across her dark, silvery-gray fur and highlighting the soft gleam of sweat on her collarbone. Her thick raccoon tail curled behind her, slightly fluffed with tension, stripes twitching with every pulse of her heartbeat that rolled through her. Her rounded ears flicked once at a subtle noise, but her blue eyes stayed on the screen in her palm. One man’s hands groped both of her breasts from behind, thumbs circling slowly, while another had her left leg lifted, held high with practiced strength, his fingers pumping steadily in and out of her dripping pussy. A third stroked her cheek gently, thumb brushing the legs of her glasses like he was trying to keep her anchored, even as her focus dissolved with almost every touch.

The raccoon had summoned these men. Invited them to her place. Handpicked them like ripe fruit: eager, pretty, trained to serve. Each of them had been chosen for a different purpose, a different skill, a different flavor of desperation.

But none of them were Riley—her favorite intern turned reluctantly full-time employee. A spotted hyena with a nervous laugh and an awkward gait, Riley was hopeless at everything she actually paid him for: scheduling, budgeting, even making coffee half the time. But gods, he was good at pleasing her. Almost accidentally perfect. Like his body had been designed just to respond to hers. And he tried so hard. That was the worst of it. He wanted to be useful—needed to.

And Logan had never known how to resist that.

Riley, who was off sipping cocktails in Tulum or some sun-drenched villa in the Caribbean with no signal. Riley, who could make her come with two fingers. Riley, who knew every twitch of her muscles and how to push her until she unraveled just the way she needed. And Logan needed that—she needed him.

Instead, she had Koa, a tiger in his mid-twenties with a swimmer's build and lazy amber eyes, kneeling between her thighs. His striped tail flicked side to side as he worked slow, practiced fingers in and out of her soaked cunt. His touch was methodical, sensual—two fingers pressing in, curling gently against her inner walls like he was searching for the answer to a pussy-shaped puzzle box. Her walls fluttered around him, pulsing in soft contractions with each stroke, then clenched—hard—whenever he dragged his fingers back to the entrance. Each time she tightened, he gave a quiet, involuntary moan, the bulge in his tight pants growing more visible as her pussy clung to him in a manner so desperate it felt like Logan was a completely different person when she was being fingered. His other hand rested on her thigh, thumb stroking in soft circles just to watch her twitch. He slid lower, his muzzle brushing her inner thigh, tongue lapping hungrily at the juices slicking her folds. The obscene sound of it echoed in the quiet room—wet and greedy. Each lap of his tongue sent a new wave of pussy juice running down her thighs, her scent soaking into to his muzzle.

Jackson, a tall, lean Doberman with polished nails and a weakness for feet, sat at her feet, massaging her digitigrade paws like they were sacred artifacts. Each paw bore four toes tipped in dark claws, and thick black pawpads that gave slightly under his fingers. Every few seconds, his muzzle dipped to kiss or suck on a toe, his tongue trailing along the edge of a pad or the curve of her heel. He moaned softly with every touch like he was the one being pleasured. The soft scrape of his teeth over her skin made her toes curl. His slick, pink tongue dragged over her ankle just as her phone buzzed. One hand slid up her calf again, fingers stroking the inside of her knee, brushing teasingly close to a wet spot on her inner thigh where Koa’s work showed. He nuzzled the ball of her foot with the same dedication monks reserved for relics. The heat from his breath against her pads only made her pulse faster. The bulge in his trousers strained as he shifted, clearly trying to hide how hard he was just from touching her feet.

Vin, the third man, lounged along the back of the couch behind her, wrapped around her back. A fennec fox with wide, eager eyes and messy auburn fur, he had his arm curled possessively around Logan’s waist, the other hand sliding up beneath her tank top. His fingers skimmed the underside of her breast, thumb brushing her nipple in teasing flicks. He watched her face quietly, noting every breath she took, every flicker of frustration or arousal. As she typed, he leaned forward, tongue flicking over the nape of her neck, then sucking on her fur and skin very gently. The heat of his breath and the wet glide of his tongue sent a ripple through her body. She could feel the soft scratch of his teeth as he grazed through her fur like a comb, leaving her skin flushed. Her tank top had ridden higher, exposing her chest fully to the air and her sex entourage’s  greedy eyes. He sucked harder on her neck, his hips involuntarily grinding against the chaise, a wet spot blooming across the front of his slacks.

It should have been relaxing. Calming, even. That was the idea anyway.

Instead, Logan was breathing in short, clipped huffs, her phone slipping slightly in her grip with every curl of Koa's fingers inside her. She’d meant to take advantage of her subs without letting them distract her. She needed to finalize this acquisition bid for one of their talent management competitors. Send it before the morning.

But her cunt was too wet, her thighs twitching too much, and someone just licked her clit again and now she had to retype a sentence for the fourth time.

"Fuck…," she muttered under her breath, not looking up.

Koa pressed deeper, curling his fingers just so, the wet and squishy sound of her arousal louder than the soft jazz playing in the background. He added a third finger without asking—a calculated risk, rewarded by the way her hips jerked forward and a strangled sound caught in her throat. She clenched around his fingers again, harder this time—tight spasms that made him groan into her folds, precum wetting the front of his pants. He twisted his fingers as he pumped them, the knuckles catching against her swollen inner walls, teasing her g-spot until her thighs flexed around his head. His tongue whipped faster, greedy, relentless, the drag of his rough tongue over her clit making her legs quake.

Jackson switched paws, nibbling at the edge of one thick pad, dragging his tongue between her toes like they were some delicacy. His fingers stroked up her calves, thumb pressing slow circles behind her knee, coaxing another twitch from her. Then he dragged his hand up to her thigh and pressed the pad of his thumb against the crease where her thigh met her hip, grinding it in tiny, teasing circles. He let out a low groan, intoxicated by her scent, by the subtle tremble in her muscles beneath his fingertips, by her feet.

Vin had slipped both hands beneath her tank top now, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers. One of them was already hard, the other catching up, and he flicked them in lazy alternation like he was testing which one would make her flinch more. Then he lowered his mouth and began suckling on her shoulder, dragging his teeth over the edge. His hands squeezed harder, before he slid his right hand lower, grazing down her stomach, slipping toward her mound, brushing the edge of Koa's wrist. His fingers dipped briefly between her folds, gathering pussy juice.

Logan moaned.

“Hhhhnnnnfff…”

One of the tiger’s finger curled inside her and pressed just right. Her hips bucked.

"Goddammit!"

Koa looked up, his muzzle glistening with her slick. He’d been sneaking in some finger-licking, sampling the product of his handiwork. "Sorry, ma'am. Should I stop?"

She glared down at him. "Did I say stop?"

He went back to fingering her again. His knuckles sinking further and further into her depths. He then leaned his head in close to her cunt and stuck his tongue out. He dragged a slow lick from her entrance to her clit, then sucked on it gently as his fingers pumped harder. He moaned into her cunt like it was microphone.

“Mmmmhhaaaahhnnng…”

Logan let out a strained breath, glanced at her phone, then at Jackson.

"Don't lick my heel, Jackson."

"Yes, boss," he murmured, pulling away from her heel, and sucking her third toe into his mouth. He groaned.

Logan’s fingers trembled slightly on the phone screen.

Ping. Slack notification. "Final version of the bid offer uploaded. Need your approval."

She tried to respond.

Another tongue flicked her clit.

Another thumb grazed her nipple.

Vin's fingers found the sticky mess Koa's tongue had left behind and dipped into it, smearing it slowly over her inner thigh. The scent of her arousal filled the room now—sharp, intoxicating, unmistakably pussy. Koa's purr vibrated against her folds as he fucked her with his fingers, his tongue tracing frenzied, hungry circles.

A moan slipped out before she could stop it. Her fingers trembled. Her amber eyes closed. She snapped them open again.

“Hhnnnggh.”

She missed a typo.

Then she dropped her fucking phone.

A dull thump against her chest. A speedy slide toward the floor.

She froze, whipped her hand out toward her phone, and let out a sigh of relief—the phone barely caught between her index, middle, and thumb.

She then turned her head to look at all three men at once.

Three mouths hovered over her body, breath hot, lips parted, eyes wide with anticipation or terror, or both.

Her voice cut through the soft jazz and idiotic stares like a whip.

"I'm tryin' to work!” She scowled.

Her voice echoed off the walls of her too-big-for-one house, and the silence after the reverb died down was deafening.

Nobody moved.

“And none of you are Riley." She muttered under her breath, to herself.

Logan looked down at Koa. Her inner thighs glistened with brushstrokes of his devotion. She could still feel his breath blowing warm over her wetness.

"You," she snapped. "Back to the floor. If you're going to be useful, learn to multitask better. Your finger work gets sloppy when you lick."

He pulled his fingers out from her and scrambled on hands and knees.

She pointed at Jackson. "Coffee. Hot. My blend. No cream, no sugar. Then you’ll get that sock I promised you.”

"Yes, boss," he said, popping a toe out from his mouth. The string of saliva connecting his lips to her spit-shined bean snapped almost as fast as it appeared. By the time Logan’s leg dropped, he was already halfway to the kitchen.

Vin, still behind her, looked frozen mid-motion, his hands still curved beneath her breasts.

Logan tilted her head. "You want to make yourself useful, or do I need to put your job up on our careers page?"

He blinked. "I—yes, ma'am."

"Good boy. Take your shirt off. Straddle the arm of the chaise and let me play with your dick."

His cock throbbed visibly through his pants as he obeyed. He pulled his pants down just enough to free it, thick and flushed, precum already beading at the tip. She took him in hand, her grip slow and confident, her thumb spreading the precum over his flushed head with pressure. The moan he gave her was pathetic.

“Hhhhohhh fuck…”

Logan wiped her phone with a silk throw pillow and turned her attention back to it. Her tank top stayed pushed up, baring her breasts to the ambient light of the room.

A moment later, Koa resumed his place on the floor in front of the chaise, ducking his head between her thighs, licking softly, rhythmically, while Vin let his cock be stroked and fought hard not to cum too soon. Logan gripped it tightly, stroking with slow, twisting pulls, her claws grazing his shaft just enough to make him squirm. His thighs trembled beside her.

She sighed, relishing the feel of velvet-wet flesh and the warm flick of a practiced tongue. Koa's mouth was everywhere now, devouring her slowly, his tongue flicking against her clit before diving back into her pussy lips. Her legs fell open wider in response.

Her thumb resumed scrolling.

Ping. "Need your input on PR language."

She moaned.

Typed one word.

“Approved.”

Then, after a pause, Logan hesitated.

Her thumb hovered over the messaging app. She shouldn't. It was indulgent. Weak.

But her cunt was throbbing and no one had earned her orgasm tonight. Her body was soaked in attention, lips parted in demand, but none of it meant anything without that particular edge Riley brought. Not one of them could coax the break in her voice that Riley did. And tonight, it made her skin itch. Her mouth dry.

She opened the messaging app.

Scrolled.

Tapped on Riley’s name; “Ambition”.

A half-composed text sat there from yesterday. She'd written, “Hope you’re having fun. No emergencies. Everything’s fine.”

All of it lies.

Everything was not fine. Her home was a low-simmering pot of need. And Logan, the supposed head chef, couldn’t find her release with three cocks, a velvet couch, and every toy in her arsenal if Riley wasn't the one being so eager to please her.

She thumbed a new message.

“You’re missing the chaos.”

She stared at it, then deleted it.

Typed again: “Can’t even come without thinking about you.”

Deleted.

She smirked, bitterly. What kind of boss begs?

Her fingers hovered. She typed slowly: “Need you back in the office.”

Her heart fluttered.

She paused. Read it over. Backspaced the whole thing.

No. He earned that vacation. She refused to be that kind of selfish.

Finally, with a scoff at herself, she typed: “How’s the water?”

She hit send.

It was almost worse. It was soft. Boring. Normal. Like she wasn’t lying naked, leaking around a tiger’s tongue. Pleasured, but not pleasured enough.

She set her phone down, exhaled, and looked down at Koa, who was panting between her thighs a man deprived of air.

“Keep licking. If I come before you do, maybe I’ll give you that raise.”

Vin moaned beside her.

She smiled—cold, commanding. And whispered to herself again.

“None of you are Riley.”

A beat.

“But you’ll do. For now.”

—

Hundreds of miles away, on the private terrace of a beachfront retreat nestled into the white sands of a hidden tropical island, where every suite opened directly onto warm tidewaters and swaying coconut trees. The wood was dark and oiled, the linens sun-bleached and crisp, and the air held the perfume of brine, blooming orchids, and coconuts. Lanterns of gold-glass swung from iron chains above him, catching the high noon sun just enough to sparkle.

Linen pants, loose at his hips. Bare chest, golden from the sun. A fine sheen of salt from a swim not long before. A half-finished glass of something tropical sat beside him, mostly melted, the fruit garnish wilted in the heat.

The hyena’s phone buzzed.

He reached for it slowly, thumb already prepared to ignore whatever alert had dared interrupt his peace—until he saw the name.

Logan.

“How’s the water?”

That was it.

No command. No emoji.

He blinked. She never asked questions like that. Ever.

It didn’t matter that her words were casual. He could feel the tension behind them like a taut string. He could picture her—fur ruffled, breath short, frustration in the lines around her mouth. Surrounded by worship and still unsatisfied.

Heat pooled low in his belly, uninvited. The loose linen swim shorts did little to hide the slow, insistent swell she always seemed to pull from him, even from hundreds of miles away. He shifted in his chair and took another sip, but the taste of sugar and rum only made him think of her.

He tapped a reply, paused.

“Miss me already? It’s only been a week.”

Deleted it.

Typed again: “You bored without me?”

Paused.

Deleted.

Then, finally:

“Wetter than you?”

He didn’t hit send.

Instead, he sat back again, thumb brushing the edge of the message as he gazed out over the sunlit surf.

Logan never said she needed him.

Which meant she did.

He smiled, adjusted the fall of his linen pants, and took one more sip of his drink as waves crashed and seagulls squawked.

---

Art by SMU

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