Primal Pursuit

“You’re not?” I hold up the fingers that were in her cunt. They’re covered with her arousal, and I wipe them, very deliberately, over her lips. I lean in, dragging the tip of my tongue around the outline of hermouth as I murmur, “Come with me, and let’s see what kind of games we can play. I guarantee it’ll be fun.”

Her tongue darts out ever so slightly, barely an inch from mine, and I swear I can already taste how fucking sweet she is, my taste buds impatiently waiting when she pulls back.

“Are you done?” Her voice scratches with disdain, and I could feed off that sound for hours.

“Not even close.” I lick my fingers clean of the remnants of her cunt juice. “You can either walk out of here and spend the rest of your life wondering if you passed on the best night of your entire goddamn life, or you can stay and get this body of yours fucked in a way you and I both know it needs.”

“And how’s that?”

I lean in close, inhaling her scent, then whisper, “Mindless.” I straighten. “So, which is it? My suite, or the door?”

I’m counting on that walk to the door.

“Is there another option…or?”

“Run, Rabbit. Fucking run, I dare you. I’m in the mood for setting traps.”

“If I choose to go near traps?”

I slide the knife point down to her nipple and draw an imaginary circle around it. “That’s the fucking beauty of traps, you don’t know they’re there.”

“Maybe I do and choose to get caught.”

“That would make you a stupid prey.”

“Or a daring one.”

“You’ve got my attention, Rabbit,” I say as I gentlytouch her mask, brushing my fingers up the delicate little ears. “Question is, what will do with it?”

“I don’t want your attention.”

“Of course not.” I take a step back, knife still in hand. “I’m bored. Veronique, the nuclear bombshell in green at the door, will give you the room number and someone will show you the way.”

She swallows. Hard.

Rabbit goes to speak, but I pull away and head out of the bar, leaving her there naked and alone among strangers in a sex club. Something tells me she doesn’t give a shit.

Declan, one of the Elites, comes up to me. “Now that was…something fucking else.”

I just give him a look and close the knife, sliding it into my pocket.

“Who the fuck is she, and are you sharing?”

“Not sure, and maybe.” I shrug. Sharing isn’t my particular fetish, although I like watching and being watched. My fetish is the chase, the takedown, the winning destruction and reveling in my spoils.

Maybe my fetish is her.

I don’t know.

Yet.

“She looks like trouble, Stark.”

“I’m betting on it,” I say.

The night in here’s going to devolve down to the real show. And my fellow Myth makers will reap the rewards. But I’m no longer fucking interested in fast food. I want that wild rabbit feast. At least a nibble.

I head down to the front entrance and bum a cigaretteoff one of the security staff before leaning against a large, double-story pillars out front.