Page 18 of Pragma
I can see the three buttons of his Henley—the first two undone—the black waistcoat, and jeans under the gray coat. Long, wavy strawberry hair that blends golden blond with hints of red is as usual tied in a half ponytail, with some locks strategically loose to cover the left side of his face. I hate that he feels the need to hide a part of himself so much that I can see myself shoving the fingers of both hands through those thick waves, plunging into the softness only to hold his head captive as I pull him down toward me.
A low groan escapes me. I'm getting close to the car. Ahh, those beautiful eyes, chiseled jaw, and perfect cock-sucking lips. Fuck, I didn’t know my mind could turn this dirty. Where does all this desire come from when I’ve spent years just using my hand?
I smirk at him as he opens the car door. “Morning, bunny.”
His grunt surely translates into a fuck off. I almost giggle. I love this gorilla side of him. As we both get in, I hear the low hiss leaving his lips when he presses his shoulder against the leather seat. I don’t like when he gets hurt, especially when it’s pointless—I could have avoided that knife, easily. He’s just so overprotective sometimes…and I fucking like that too.
The inside of the car smells like menthol cigarettes and shampoo. I fill my lungs with it, knowing this is all River. Soma greets me politely from behind the wheel. After the car starts rolling down the street I ask him, “Any problem with the package yesterday?”
He replies straight away, “No boss. Left it in front of their warehouse. I saw two of Ling Wang’s men bring it inside.”
My lips curl into the most devilish smile imagining Fuckchill’s expression when he looked inside. Maybe one of those rattlesnakes injected him with a deadly enough dose of venom. I turn to look at River, but instead of an exasperated raised brow, I meet a distant expression.
“You getting the midnight blues?” I poke him, this dark mood might be caused by someone else. And I don’t like it. If something upsets him, it has to be me. No one else.
“It’s nine thirty in the morning.”
“My baby bunny is broody.” I give him an excessively frowny face.
His expression turns cringey. “Fuck, don’t call me that.”
“Baby or broody?”
“Both,” he growls. Grumpy much?
“Prefer honey and pouty?” I tease him. I want his attention on me.
The corner of his mouth quivers like he’s attempting to keep from laughing.
“Sweetie pie and frowny?” I keep going. Now I want to see a smile.
But I only get a lip twitch in response.
“You angry about the snakes in the box? Fuckchill needs to know I’m not fucking around. And if I can have some fun while doing it, hallelujah!” He stays silent. “Come on. I know you’re pissed.”
“Am not.”
Word-constipated fucker. I chew my gum noisily, knowing how much he hates it. “Where did you go last night?”
“Home.”
I smack my lips as I try to keep my temper down.
“Why?” My tone is cold, but the ice is quickly cracking.
“I wanted to.”
“Are you being an asshole on purpose?” I snap.
“That’s your specialty,” he retorts with a brief, close-mouthed smile.
I lift my arm and give his half ponytail a hard pull.
He growls my name, and I wish he’d do it while balls deep inside me—how would that feel with a real dick? My inner muscles clench. I’ve only used dildos. I’ll find out with him, I promise myself.
Soma pulls over in Midtown, and I get out before giving them a chance to open the car door. If I keep imagining climbing into River’s lap like this, I might actually do it. He needs time to process it all. A day. Then I’ll strike again.
I swiftly make my way into the headquarters’ high-rise building, knowing River is behind me. We are one of the five largestyakuza families in Japan, secretly controlling the maritime trade. That’s how we branched out in LA, by sea, building a few import/export companies. Our involvement in the US revolves around drug trafficking, smuggling, gambling, extortion, and money laundering through offshore entities and real estate investments.
