Page 45 of Hunted: Season Two

Being fucked faster and more relentlessly leaves no time to catch my breath or fix my balance or even switch from pulling The Kid’s hair to Sir’s. Despite being the one feasting between my legs, lapping up every last drop he can find, it’s not his head that receives the ecstasy filled scrapes to his scalp, a fact that I assume infuriates him by the way he digs his nails into my thigh.

“Sir!”

Anxiousness to hear his own name causes my other boyfriend to capture our partner’s tongue just long enough to swap places with it.

“Kid!”

Back and forth the two go, turning my pussy into a soaking wet battle ground, where small nips and licks are campaigns and long sucks and strokes are carnal crusades. Their ceaseless oscillation transposes into something so seamless that I lose track of whose mouth is exactly where and when.

Whose tongue is nestled in my deepest depths and whose is laving the stickiness smeared elsewhere.

I can’t tell which man descends lower to roll his tongue around my taut back hole.

Or which one pushes the tip of theirs inside.

Or whose fingers have joined the frenzied movements to provide additional pressure.

One leg falling off the counter and over someone’s shoulder is instantly proceeded by the other following suit.

I grab a fistful of hair from both men and completely surrender myself to the endless sea of euphoric devotion on one loud, back breaking scream. “I’m coming!”

Two sets of groans vibrate the already sensitive area in gratitude forcing my eyes to squeeze shut as I blissfully buck into every pulsation and ride their wordless adulation past the brink of dawn.

I may be what’s for breakfast, but something tells methey’llbe what’s for lunch.

Chapter 9

Nolan

Is it my funeral today or November’s?

Because I’m starting to think that the big mechanic in the sky sent these two here to kill me.

By any means necessary.

The Kid slowly whirls his tongue around the rim of my asshole for the third time, forcing my fresh out the shower, naked frame to fold further forward and ram my dick deeper into poor Rabbit’s throat.

And I say poor Rabbit like our dirty little slut doesn’t love choking on my cock.

Except that she does.

The fact that she’s on her knees, practically smiling while swallowing me, screams that she fucking does.

Sopping wet constrictions are followed by dribbles of spit spewing past the corners of her lips yet instead of simply watching them cascade down to her heaving chest, I find myself catching it with the tip of my thumb.

Lifting it to my lips.

Tasting what I taste like off her tongue.

Rabbit whimpering at the action prompts The Kid to abandon his teasing and roughly shove his wet muscle deep inside.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” skates through the cracks of my gritted teeth as I curl that same hand around my torso to grab a fist fullof his hair. “That’s right, you filthy little brat.” I harshly yank him into me to ensure he stays buried in the new territory. “Be a good little filthy fuck and make Sir come down our dirty little slut’s throat.”

Groans of approval send vibrations running up my spine.

Down my tensing my calves.

Into my curling toes.

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