Page 167 of Rugger: The Huntress

She pulled in a wad of air as I slid into her. She was as snug as she was warm.

“Shit.” I could feel my ending before I had even begun.

The first stroke proved to be the most difficult. Her pussy had reset itself, forgetting there was a nigga that was willing to breech its threshold each chance he got. But, rather quickly, it adapted to my girth.

From the way that it polished my pole, I knew I’d jogged its memory. It remembered all the work I’d put in. It remembered the offering I gave faithfully. And, it remembered how I liked to be surrounded by its moisture and warmth.

Whap.

Whap.

Whap.

Whap.

The sound of our skin colliding was stripping me of my sanity with each blow. Her pussy, her protruding stomach, her hair, her skin, her flesh, her moans… It was all-consuming. It snatched the nut from my balls and delivered it to her pussy in record time.

“Argh,” I growled, unable to come down from the ledge.

I was a goner.

EPILOGUE

3:12a

September 12th

Psalem Rowan Santoro took his first breath earthside a full month before his anticipated due date. Surrounded by his grandmother, aunts, and uncle, there was an abundance of love in the room.

The pain in my body wasn’t harmless cramps. I’d been experiencing mild labor pains for two weeks. The day of Psalem’s birth, they became unbearable, forcing Psalms to get Roaman on the line. When she finally made it to our home, the urge to push was overwhelming. Minutes later, a six pound boy was born.

I was waiting to be pinched. I was waiting to wake up from my dream. I was waiting for the curtains to fall and the production to end. But each time I heard my son wailing, it became clearer that his was no dream. He was real. I was real. Sonnie was real. And, we were together.

Ding. Dong.

I sank in the bed, silently wishing the power in the doorbell would mysteriously die.

“Baby–” Sonnie whispered, desperately trying not to wake a sleeping Psalem.

He’d only been down for a total of seven minutes. It had taken two nursing sessions, rocking, and Sonnie’s saxophone to get him to sleep.

“I’ve got it,” I promised.

As I slept between nursing sessions, it was Sonnie who’d stayed awake with the baby. I was unable to keep my eyes open. Exhaustion forced me to surrender.

“I can..”

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll get it.”

It was no secret who was at the door. Our son was born September 12th. Chemistry had visited every day after, and multiple times a day.

September 13th – 7:00a and 4:00p

September 14th – 7:00a and 6:00p

September 15th – 7:00a and 1:00p

September 16th – 7:00a and 4:30p

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