Page 95 of The Huntress and Her Hound

Jude steps over the dead body, his hands on my bare skin in one swift motion. His lips lock with mine, and I fall into a passion fueled kiss. Our sweaty, sticky, blood-covered bodies melt into one, and he undoes my shorts, ripping them and my underwear down to expose me. I don’t even recall that Nile tried to take what belonged to Jude.

Because he didn’t take. And he never will.

“Holy fuck, I want you so bad,” Jude growls, trailing his mouth down my jaw to my neck. He undoes his jeans, and then sweeps me up. I curl around his hips, and he plunges his cock deep inside of me.

I crash around him in a quick orgasm, already on a high from murdering someone together. “I love you,” I cry out as I pulse around him.

Chapter 35

The Hound

She fucking loves me.

I grasp her chin and tip it up to meet her gaze. The vulnerability, the blood, the pure pleasure contorting her face is the most stunning, serene scene I’ve ever witnessed. “I love you, too.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “Good, now fuck me like you hate me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I groan, slamming into her. Blood and sweat mix between us as she cries out, already having come once. I groan, my cock throbbing inside of her. I devour her mouth as I fuck her, adrenaline pumping and upping the high. I’ve never laid a murderous hand on someone until today.

And it feels addictive—almost as addictive as being balls deep in the Black Widow, herself.

“Jude,” she moans out as I pin her to wall, one hand gripping her waist and the other slipping up her breasts to her neck. I wrap my fingers around her throat, exhilaration pulsing through my body.

“Squeeze,” she dares me. “Make me come again.”

“You evil fucking woman,” I rasp.

“Only for you,” she bites back. “Master me, Jude.”

I tighten my grip around her throat, and her lips part, a long moan slipping through. “Come all over my cock, Cher.”

She tips her head back against the wall, her body covered in a light wash of crimson. “I love you, Jude.”

My heart explodes at the same time my cock does. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I growl into her as I fall forward, bracing against the wall. I nearly punch a hole through the drywall.

She comes a second time, her pussy like a vice on my dick. She screams my name into the silence, her nails breaking the skin on the back of my neck. We cling to each other as we both pant for air.

“I love you, too,” I breathe out, before pulling away from her. “And we have to tell your brother about this.”

“I know.” She sucks in a breath as I let her down to the floor after our post-murder quickie. Her dark hair sticks to her forehead, and I brush it away.

And then I hear Cash barking.

Oh shit.

We exchange a glance as I hear a door opening downstairs. We both jump into action, and I toss Cher her clothes before buttoning myself back up. She hops into her underwear and shorts, giggling like a kid.

“This is not funny,” I chide her. “That could be the police.”

“Cher!” Henry’s voice echoes through the house.

“Or worse,” I grunt as the footsteps grow heavier.

Cher’s just fitted her bra in place when the bedroom door swings open.

And we’re caught red-fucking-handed. Literally.

I stand shirtless, a couple feet from Cher, who’s clutching her blood-stained T-shirt in her hand. We look like we’ve been rolling in the puddle of liquid soaking the carpet...together. Cher’s got blood streaked all over her, and to be honest, I don’t even know how it happened. But I’m sure I don’t look much better.

---