House Of Mouse Pete Novels & Stories

"What?" "Suicide was ruled out. Based on the forensic evidence and the coroner's report, Pete was said to have sustained a blunt force trauma to the head. The police had initially believed he sustained that while descending the chimney. The numerous claw marks on his body has been tested and came back positive to a wolf's." Pete had actually been killed? He'd been attacked by a wolf? The information hovered around, not able to sink in.

Xander leaned back in his seat, linking an arm around Doe so that she was forced to lean back with him. "Layla sucked her dry a couple nights ago. She told me that she was bored with how her pet acted." Well, there goes my appetite once again. Masters' finger tapped against the table a few times before he spoke. "Ok, so it wasn't my fault," he concluded. I turned my head towards Master questionably. They didn't even care that her pet was killed. They just acted as if she was just some stupid pet fish. Xander shook his head.

I was thinking of what to say to rectify the situation when he asked, "So, you want to come with me and have a little adventure?" "Not really." I wrinkled my nose and pouted. "It's just that we've been apart for so long, and I miss you." "Are you that clingy?" Sean sighed. His expression seemed slightly troubled, but his demeanor was gentle, so my request didn't really upset him. "In that case, next time, I'll have my secretary notify you," he said, playfully scratching my chin as if teasing a pet. I didn’t think it was a bad idea to be his pet because pets belonging to wealthy individuals often enjoyed much better lives than people from less affluent backgrounds.

Like he wasn't even sure of himself. And then he tried to console her, something which made her stare at him suspiciously, before she went back to crying. And Pete had offered her his own milk instead, because he wanted her to stop crying. He didn't like anyone crying. Then he went ahead and told her that, she could have his milk, because she was crying because of her milk.

All I wished was to see a trace of where they took Selena, but every single time spent on the narrow road proved abortive. "Hey!" Pete's voice was loud and shaking as he called. "I will get you down from my back if you dare to address me in that manner again." I warned him before asking him what the problem was. "Stop, I saw something," Pete claimed. I stood strong. "What did you see?" I asked him, and my curiosity piqued. "I think there is a road over there. I can see something that looks like a house." "A house?" I questioned him and almost allowed Pete to fall to the ground.

"You fucking like that, don't you? You enjoy being treated like a whore, like a common slut. On all fours, with my cock buried deep inside you and a firm hold on your hair." She responded with a loud moan, arching her back toward me, thrusting her ass backwards, drawing me even deeper inside her. "I thought you wanted to be treated better than a pet, huh?" I paused, pulling all the way out. She whimpered in protest, so I rammed back into her roughly and didn't stop until I was fully sheathed inside. She let out a piercing scream, and I moaned my approval at the sound. "That's it, little pet. Let the entire mansion hear that I'm fucking you," I growled, my lips dangerously close to her ear.

Each came with a detailed briefing on our previous interactions, their personalities, what they respected and what they despised. "Most importantly," Sloane said, "there's Mouse. Real name Martin Rousseau, but everyone calls him Mouse because he started as an information broker, scurrying around gathering secrets. He's built himself into a significant power broker now—runs the Pit, controls a lot of the interrogation and enforcement operations." The photo showed a surprisingly large man—easily six-five, heavily muscled, with a scarred face and cold eyes. Nothing mouse-like about him at all, which I assumed was probably part of the ironic nickname.

His gaze lingered for a moment, soft and appreciative. “Ready?” “As we’ll ever be,” I said, reaching for little Ivan’s hand. ********* Pete’s house was everything I expected and more— modern, elegant, and warm. The lights glowed softly through the wide windows, and the scent of roasted chicken and herbs drifted out as soon as the door opened. “Look who finally made it!” Pete’s booming voice filled the entryway. His grin was wide, and his hug nearly crushed Ivan. “The great Ivan Clarkson, stepping away from business for once.”

This Dickweed nearly destroyed the only thing I had left of her. I can't believe he was about to kill us until I agreed to be his, "pet". I don't even know what that means, besides the fact it's something sexual. Do I just fuck him when he needs relief? I mean, he said "his" pet, so I assume he's not going to pass me around to all his men...right? "We're almost home, Mama." Mama. Why does every time he call me that, my stomach clenches? What the hell is wrong with me? How could I possibly get aroused by my father's murderer?