Page 17 of Pragma
“Waiting for the right moment is essential. Check my other video onaccidental dischargesin case you acted too rashly already.”
That makes me think about another type of accidental discharge. Is my mind in the gutter lately, or is this guy using double entendres on purpose?
“You need to bring your prey onto your turf. Remember, no pushing, never forcing. They will taste so much sweeter, more tender if you savor the hunt as well.” My bunny’s skin does feel juicy under my teeth when I bite him. Those thick veins call to me, and I love the salty tang lingering on my lips.
“Let them come to your hunting grounds with a pretext, an enticement. Build the trap. Create the right atmosphere before going for the capture. Your prey needs to feel relaxed at first, open…to your alluring invitation.”
I can do that. Easy peasy.
“Alcohol consumption can help to loosen up a little, let inhibitions lower, but don’t overdo it. Consent is key.”
I’m usually the one getting drunk and passing out all over River.
“Listening is another focal point in getting your prey. Not only with your ears, but with your eyes as well. Study their expressions, their body language. Your prey is telling you everything you need to know to trap them without opening their mouth. Examine them as closely as you can. Keep them in your crosshairs, read their moods, and learn as much as you can from them.”
Does he mean stalking them?
River is an ornery fucker. Is his frown telling me something? Or better, maybe his blank face is the key to all his secrets. I snort.This whole relationship app crap is…crap. I can capture my prey on my own. Don’t need a stalking woodsman for that.
I turn off the tablet and toss it on my bed. This is all River’s fault. Look at what he made me do! How do people find this helpful?
I let out a long sigh. River is taking up too much of my mental real estate. No, the prick actually has it all. Every square fucking inch.
When I first met him, I had revenge filling my head—after being kidnapped and tortured, I waited for that Apollo fucker to make a mistake. And he did when he let River live. I found the hospital where he’d been admitted easily. He was just a tool, my ticket to retribution city. I hadn’t expected him to be so…interesting. His prickly personality amused me; it disrupted my avenging tunnel vision. And somehow, after fighting side by side, we became close. I had zero friends growing up. People who approached me did so because they wanted something, but since I’ve always been an unhinged motherfucker, they mostly stayed away. It worked well with my short attention span, restlessness, and easily bored personality—the life of a yakuza heir is a lonely road anyway.
Except…River.
I could feel his thirst for blood as well as his yearning for a place to belong, and I gave him both. In exchange, he remained by my side. A loyal, unwavering, guarding…bunny. I couldn’t believe I’d ever not been close to him. It was fate. He was my brother in arms, a kindred fucking spirit, the most precious person in my life.
I take another sip of OJ from the glass bottle and leave it on the dresser. I wipe the moisture from my lips with the back ofmy hand and flick my eyes over the line of colorful suit jackets hanging in the walk-in closet.
I’ve never thought about River in any other way until that hot-as-fuck kiss happened. Sex hasn’t been a real priority for me. I was never really interested in it. And after fucking a couple of girls out of curiosity, I still didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Blood and power have always been all the tingling thrill and uncontainable excitement I ever needed in my life. But to tell the truth, I’ve always been very possessive of River—even jealous when he seldomly talks about his little brother. He’s the only person with the capacity to create profound emotions inside me.
Like fathomless anger. I can’t believe he talked about that fucking skank from uni again yesterday. She was a greedy bitch! All the acid-like hate I felt years ago at the sight of her with him came back up—jealously had streaked through me every damn time she laid her tiny hand on his arm, gazing at River like she would drop to her knees and fucking blow him. I had felt the intense urge to impale her on my sword multiple times—not that I didn’t have that same urge with other people, but with her, it was more personal. Taking her away from River had been the second-best thing. He’d had a few short flings before, but I could see that clingy bitch was different. She wanted him all. Over my dead body! I actually did him a favor making that skank go away.
But I didn’t feel anything sexual toward him. Who would have thought I’d go from jealous and possessive to obsessed over the guy? The signs were all there, though. Always keeping him close, sharing everything with him, trusting him when I don’t even trust myself. The need to touch him and bite him and know where he is at all times.
Then that kiss happened a month ago. As always, I got into his bed. I kind of sleep better with him near me. It’s that minty, musky, rich smell coming off him. I can’t get enough.
That night, I turned on my side to get more of his scent inside my lungs when he suddenly let out a low, deep growl, and then I felt his warm lips on mine. The next moment, I was on my back, under him; his unrelenting tongue was exploring my mouth, and his dick was stiffening between my legs.
I could have pushed him off, I know all his weaknesses, I’m the one who trains with him almost every day. But I suddenly felt butter-fucking-flies twirling inside my stomach, a tingling sensation in my heavy balls. My body started to respond to his. My lips opening wide, my thighs tightening around his waist, my fingers holding his head still as I hungrily sucked on his tongue. I never knew how fucking good he tasted. How perfectly his hard body could envelop mine. How good his eager fingers felt on my skin. His palm slid down to knead my ass bruisingly, and I came like a fucking fire hydrant, balls drawing up, cock throbbing, body quivering uncontrollably.
That level of pleasure? I’ve never felt it in my entire life. Utterly incredible. When I could think rationally again, River was slumped on top of me, snoring—his beefy body almost crushed me to death.
The next day, he acted like he didn’t remember anything. I can’t be one hundred percent sure he has no memory of it since his communication skills are shit. He’s like a silent-ish gorilla, grunting, keeping everything inside. So I started playing with him, an extra touch here, a dark whisper there. I used dirtier than usual jokes, poked him, teased, taunted, but all I got was his broody, sexy face. Which made me realize that one thing was for sure: I want him. Really want him, or I wouldn’t spend so muchtime fucking with him—let alone listen to the Prey Master for help.
Whenever I want something, I get it. It doesn’t matter the means I resort to.
But with River, I have to tread wisely. He has a too strong sense of ethics and duty—such a bore. A bore I want to hump again. His cock was hard as a rock last night. Fuck, but he’s huge. I need to buy a bigger dildo to train my ass with if I want that monster to fit inside me. Yes, I’ve watched some spicy videos, and every time I saw the guy’s ecstatic expression while getting fucked, I felt that fluttery feeling. Only the thought makes me shiver with anticipation. I always pursue whatever gives me pleasure—like killing or eating matcha chocolate—and if his cock pounding my ass does, River will become my personal fuck toy.
He pushed my advances away last night, no surprise there. River is not the impulsive type. He must have thought I was playing around, which in a way, I was. But his refusal to stay afterward had definitely taken me aback.
It felt like he was keeping his distance from me. Like I could possibly lose someone who has always been in my line of sight. As if one of the shiniest parts of my world suddenly darkened, like it never existed. I could force him to stay, but I want him to willingly come into the palm of my hand, certain that there is where he belongs.
My phone beeps. River is downstairs waiting with Soma. I finish getting ready, opting for a pair of red cashmere pants and a darker jacket over a black sweater. I style my hair, pushing all the purple tips on one side, leaving the shaved lower part of my head more visible. Then I slide my knife in the inner pocket of the jacket, push a piece of sugar-free cinnamon gum inside mymouth, and grab the rest of my shit before putting on a pair of loafers and leaving.
As soon as I step out of the elevator on the ground floor lobby, my eyes find his piercing blue pools straight away. That intense stare, solely focused on me, I fucking love it when he’s this conscious of my presence. It sends a whole new overwhelmingly thrilling sensation over me. He’s standing near the car like a Greek god. His style is understated. He deliberately looks careless, yet his clothes stand out even more because of the six-foot-two beefcake wearing them.
