Primal Pursuit

The guy catches sight of me bearing down with intent and turns away, dodging around the corner just as Poppy crosses the street. I come to a complete stop when Rabbit whips around, staring at me through the crowd, cheeks flushed. She just stands there, looking at me, like she’s begging me to catch her. But my little rabbit waits until I’m about six feet from her before she swallows hard and darts across the road and into a bar. I cross, pausing outside the entrance to text her.

Don’t get your little paws singed, rabbit. Beta wolves abound.

You don’t scare me.

I laugh.

Rabbits give themselves away when they move too fast.

She waits. Two whole beats.

And what about bad wolves who need a rabbit’s support?

I know she’s trying to fuck with me, but the fact that she’s so wrapped up in the chase delights me.

She called herself rabbit.

Beyond fucking thrilled doesn’t begin to describe it.

I saunter into the place with the dark music and darker lights, and it’s like my senses zero in on her instantly. She’s at the bar, taking a seat in the corner, and I’m next to her within a heartbeat.

“Yeah, real fucking subtle.” I stand next to her but don’t look. “Did you think I’d look good in rabbit skin?”

“Are you Hannibal Lecter by night?”

I laugh and order. “A whiskey and a Negroni.” The bartender gives us a narrow-eyed look but I dead-eye straight back.

Her soft hand flutters against my arm. “For me?”

“Yeah. For you, Rabbit. And to answer your question, only on Tuesdays. So, you get to keep your skin. For now.”

The drinks arrive, and I pay cash. Still without looking at her, I speak to her again. “Seat next to you? Sit on that. You’ll be up against the wall, but face the bar and spread your legs, skirt hitched to mid-thigh.”

“Careful, Davian. It’s like you expect me to obey.”

I pause, grinding my teeth. “Do as I say, Rabbit.”

“Why?”

I grab the bar’s edge and straighten my arms, leaning down a little as I turn my face in her direction without making eye contact. “Because I want you open, wet, and ready. For me.”

Poppy gasps. “But?—”

“Fucking do it.”

The drinks arrive, and I crowd her, dropping my hand to her thigh as I pull out my phone and put it on the table. I text her.

Hips to the edge of the seat, rabbit.

You’re an asshole.

I’ll buy you a dictionary. You can learn some more insults. Get creative.

Asshole suits you.

Obsession, rabbit, is nine-tenths of desire. Someone seems fixated on assholes. Need yours pounded into oblivion?

I stroke up between her thighs, to her pussy. It’s warm, wet fucking velvet.