Page 71 of Hunted: Season Two

I copy the execution on him yet snarl, “Wider.”

Sir buries his face in her neck, so I bury my hand in his pocket.

Fish out the tiny bottle of lube he’s learned to keep in there at all times.

He brutishly works her bottoms down until they’re around her ankles; however, my struggle is significantly less. One harsh tug of his belt is followed by one pop of his button and his fall to the floor.

While she has on no panties – granting his fingers immediate access to her pussy – I’m left to remove a boxer barricade. To my surprise, the sensation of my nails scraping the length of his legs causes him to shudder, and the sight – the unusual view of him atmymercy – leads to me hurriedly flicking the lid open.

Excessively coating my fingers.

Dragging them up the crack of his ass during the rising to my feet.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” escapes in an airy rapid succession that prompts Rabbit to glance over her shoulder.

Needily bite her bottom lip and rock into his hand as if wordlessly begging for more.

“You heard what the doctor said,” I wolfishly begin, bottle of lube gliding closer to where his digits are submerged. “Make sure our girl is good and wet.” Squeezing the cold liquid into the hot situation has them both ravenously moaning. “Soaking.” The jamming of my middle finger past the taut ring accents my point. “Fucking.” Smoothly gliding it outward grantsmy index finger the opportunity to join in on the next heave. “Wet.”

“Fuck!” Nolan barks at the top of his lungs over the invasion.

“That’s what you’re gonna do to our good girl, Sir.” Abandoning the bottle allows me to use my free grip to undo my own pants. “And that’s what I’m gonna do to you.”

Inhuman noises reverberate throughout the tiny kitchen to such a steady pattern that it’s practically effortless to sync my stroking to it. The curling and uncurling process uncomplicatedly transitions into one of widening and spreading.

Stretching.

Resistance to the oscillation of discomfort and delight results in him frantically diving forward into Rabbit, yet his frenzied stabbing simply sparks her to cry out louder and louder and louder until he’s left with no choice but to become balls deep.

Which prompts me to do the same.

My first thrust inside isn’t easy or effortless or even pleasant – in spite of the generous amount of prep that’s been done.

“That…that…” Sir shakes his head prior to letting it loll backwards. “I…don’t…I…can’t…”

“You fuckin’ can,” I devilishly demand and drop one palm onto his shoulder for stability. “And you fuckin’ will, Sir.” The sudden tightening around my cock is so heavenly that it hoods my gaze. “You’ll do anything for your filthy little fuck, won’t you?” His delirious nod has my lower half hammering onward of its own volition. “Say it.” Pleasure-filled grumbles leave but not the words. “Say you’ll do anything for your filthy little fuck…”

Sir bucks back into me at the same time Bunny bucks back into him. “Anything for you.”

“Say you’ll do anything for your dirty little slut.”

This time, he slams his dick forward, crumpling her over the table. “Anything for her.”

Feeling his slick muscles blissfully loosen and swell and loosen and swell, pitilessly milking my cock on each thrust, tips my forehead forward to rest on his back. “Say you’ll do anything for us.”

“Anything for you two,” our partner pants in tandem with persistently pounding faster. “Anything for our fucking family.”

Vigorous pumps are attached to a bellowed command. “Say that shit again, Sir.”

“Anything.” He reenforces, ass tightening during his heaving, my balls mimicking the motion. “For our fucking family.”

My fingers clamp down in agreement on his shoulder as I groan into the increasingly feral fucking.

Whimpers out of our girl collide into the hot huffs coming from the man sandwiched between us while my heavy breaths drizzle themselves down his spine due to me watching my shaft disappear unbelievably deep again and again.

“Paint me white, Sir,” Rabbit unexpectedly begs, voice almost completely air, a sound so beautiful I swear my balls clap in approval.

“Make a fuckin’ mess, Sir,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Give your filthy fuck something to lick up.”

---