Page 47 of Hunted: Season Two

How the three of us actually make it to my truck on time for the funeral – after going at it on the bathroom floor – is a miracle.

A lot like me not wrecking on our way to the funeral right now courtesy of my fingers frantically rubbing Rabbit’s swollen clit while The Kid fucks her from behind in the front seat of my truck.

Something I honestly didn’t know was possible.

“Pound that fucking cunt,” I hungrily grumble, on a glimpse out of the peripherals. “Make our little whore scream.”

An animal-like snarl slips into the space as he grips her harder and slams her down his cock. “You heard Sir…” Sharp sucks of air precede another gnarl. “Fucking scream for us, baby.”

While Rabbit’s head snaps backwards to avoid crashing into the roof of the truck, her spread legs aren’t spared from savage treatment. Unceasingly, they’re banged into the dash, carelessly forced to endure what pain comes from the collision due to the pleasure our boyfriend’s providing by his ravenous ramming.

Screams repeatedly start to shoot past her parted lips yet become severed by additional hard hits that result in her pussy doing the screeching she can’t.

Wetness continuously coats my furiously stroking fingers, soaking them in juices, drenching them in their combined depravity, taunting and mocking and doing their best to provoke me into pulling over to join the lasciviousness.

To replace my fingers with my tongue which I’m about thirty fucking seconds or one stop sign away from doing.

“Good girl,” pants our partner, pumping becoming increasing feral. “Such a good girl fucking Sir’s hand like that.”

Rabbit trembles ignite my own.

Threaten to have my ripping off the goddamn steering wheel.

“Can you fucking come for him, baby?” The hint of sugar mixed with his filth has me wishing I had an extra hand to jerk myself off with. “Can you give Sir a little taste until he can have his turn?” My fingers slip a little lower to indulge in thesensation of feeling his shaft swiftly sliding in out. “Can you give him somethin’ to have on his tongue?”

“Fucccckkkk,” creeps out of me prior to my gaze growing hooded to an unsafe point. “You give me something too, you filthy little shit.” I work my whole hand so that my palm grinds against her clit in tandem with the tips of my fingers stroking the underside of his dick. “I wanna taste you leaking out of our little cum dumpster.”

“Shiitttttt,” Kid hisses on a harsh heave. “You’re makin’ her come, Sir.” The choppiness in his breath indicates how close he is too.“You’re makin’ her come all over my fucking cock like the good little slut she is.”

“Be a good little fuck and make her drip for me.”

Feral rumbles barely precede him latching his teeth onto the side of her neck and delivering me exactly what it is I’m demanding.

Blistering, thick globs, squeeze themselves past where they’re joined to not only paint his balls but my eagerly twitching digits as well.

What exactly keeps getting our womanthishot and bothered is honestly a bit of a chin scratch.

Whether it’s her “celebrating life” due to constantly being surrounded by death or “celebrating being ahead” of McAdams for once or simply being fucking horny is unknown.

And really doesn’t fucking matter to me.

She wants to be fucked, we’re gonna fuck her.

Time and place areslightlyirrelevant.

I say slightly because I’m not entirely sure that we’d leave the middle of the eulogy to bang her in the bathroom.

Then again…I’m not entirely sure we wouldn’t.

Considering the fact that I’m licking their cum off my hand as I pull into the funeral home parking lot, I think it’s safe to say it’s in the realm of possible.

She’s definitely got that type of hold on us.

After finding a spot near the back, The Kid politely helps Rabbit out of the seat they were just sharing while I properly clean my hands and take a moment to check the unread text from Garcia.

Garcia: Getting a second opinion on those spiked lug nuts.

A small smirk of relief slides into place.

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