Page 35 of Pragma
“He’s certainly not marriage material. Plus, he’s a man; wasn’t another reason for this marriage to produce the next heir in the Hebikawa lineage?"
All the muscles in my body tense. That’s right. Aki needs to keep his family name alive. Yet another reason to stop thinking about him naked.
“There’s IVF and surrogates nowadays.” She sighs deeply, and then adds in a commanding tone, “You will still be meeting the last three fucking candidates, without killing any of them, and then choose one, or I’ll do it for you.”
Aki hands me back the phone as the call ends abruptly. I expected an angrier reaction from her. She usually tears him a new one.
He clicks his tongue before saying, “Ane-san is too young to be senile, which means she’s fucking with me.”
“Kumichohas more important things to do. And how would she be screwing with you?” I deadpan, trying to keep my tone flat while my stomach is churning.
“She let the other families chose those candidates, giving her final approval. You know both Ishida and Yamaya bosses are just waiting for me to fuck up. I guarantee one of them recommended that perverted shitbag. He was triple my age and wearing a fucking wig made of skunk fur.”
“This is a marriage of convenience; it doesn’t matter if there’s a gap between you and your…husband-to-be.” The words feel like shards of glass on my tongue.
He hums noncommittally. Then I hear the sound of the divider moving. The opaque partition between the driver cabin and the back of the car is sliding up, providing us with some privacy.
“You know.” His tone has changed to sugary sweet. Suspiciously so. “I couldn’t remotely get it up for that fucker while I get a boner only looking at your face.”
What. The. Fuck. He just told me he didn’t want to talk about our encounter in the fitting room.
His finger trails a light path down my thigh to my knee, making my dick pay attention. I grab his hand to stop him when it tries to move back up. I’m forcing myself to remember why I should stop him. My brain seems to have short-circuited.
“Are you trying to deprive me of my purr-leasure?”
I let go of his hand. “I seem to recall I helped you out last time.” My voice sounds gravelly.
He makes one of the sexiest sounds as he starts unbuttoning his pants. “Yes, you did, bunny. Don’t you want to feel that purr-leasure once more?”
My eyes are glued to his hands pushing the fabric down his legs, leaving him in a pink, barely-there, satin thong and shirt. Jesus Christ, he’s so fucking tempting. This is dangerous.
“Stop saying pleasure like that!”
“But that’s the sound I make when I jerk off to you.Purr.”
Oh fuck! He sounds like a damn cat and moves like one, sliding deftly on my lap. His hand delves into my hair, tucking the locks that cover my face behind my ear, and then reaches my nape, running his fingers through it.
“Aki, quit it,” I try again, but my voice is weak, my conviction shaky as he keeps up the goose-bump-inducing massage.
He grinds his cock down on mine, forcing a half-angry, half-aroused grunt out of me. He knows exactly how to get a reaction out of me. I don’t like him for being a nice guy. I know exactly who he is. Every weakness, every fault and vulnerability. This raunchy side of him, though, is new. Or maybe I’ve never seen it before for obvious reasons. The thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t want to think about his past sexual encounters.
“You’re acting like a horn dog.”
“Mad horn dog…what a mouthful. It’s not that I’m horny all the time. It’s that you are always so damn sexy.” Another grind.
I stifle a groan while my hands grab the edge of the seat, making the leather creak under the hard grasp. “Stop it,” I growl.
Unfazed by my reaction, he tsks. “If you want me to stop, make me.” Aki whispers the challenge into my ear, his tongue brushes against the deformed-looking tip. He’s not repulsed by my blemished skin, but on the contrary he likes to bite, lick, and kiss it, giving life to a rush of warmth inside my chest.
“Give me what I want…sir,” he moans like a fucking bitch in heat.
My cock turns half hard hearing the word “sir.” Who knew I’d be into that shit. He uttered it with an alluring, teasing voice as only a power bottom would, and that turns me on even more. My lizard brain is attempting to overrule my little attempts at reason. Aki is so fucking stubborn; when he makes up his mind, he doesn’t budge.
His hand slides under my coat, reaching my pocket and grabbing my knife. Is he going to slice my clothes again? I don’t make a move. Feeling completely under his spell, not a peep leaves my lips.
He raises his other hand, and I see a little pack of lube there which he proceeds to pour, not over his fingers, but the handle of my knife. What is he up to?
His gaze locks with mine as he lowers the blade and moves it behind him. All the air around me is sucked away. His eyes suddenly widen, filled with lust, his breath catches in his throat, and then a moan rips out of him. I feel precum wetting my boxer briefs when his hand starts pumping. Slurping sounds fill the car. He’s fucking himself with my knife handle. Why does the crazy, obscene image forming in my head look so fucking hot? Only Aki can turn something absurd into pure sex.
