Page 67 of Rugger: The Huntress

In an instant, he spun me around. Now, we were face to face. Nose to nose. Eye to eye. Chest to chest. The heels extended my height. Still, I felt smaller. Shorter. Thinner.

Fuck.

He was breathtaking. I struggled with each breath I took. Staring at him through lustful eyes weakened me. He was perfection. He was Black. He was educated. He was ideal. And, he was asking me for something far beyond my control.

I couldn’t wrap my head around his plans for me. For us. No matter how well he articulated. How well he communicated. How well he painted the picture.

“Say something.”

His lips made me reconsider one of my many rules.

No kissing.

Leaving traces of my DNA was forbidden in any situation if I could avoid it. Otherwise, completely destroying the evidence made Range’s job a bit harder than necessary.

I’m working on that.I admitted, reminding myself to visit the laboratory much sooner than later.

The solution I’d been perfecting over the last eighteen months would wipe traces of DNA with a simple drop from the bottle. Up to twelve inches of it, at least. That’s how potent it was and how far its reach extended.

“Don’t break your heart, Psalms, chasing a reality that will never be either of ours. You’ve managed to start catchingfeelings for someone who doesn’t exist. Someone who isn’t real. A ghost. Because of what? My occupation? My skill? I don’t know and neither do I ca–”

His lips crashed into mine, cutting off the rest of my words. A chill ran the length of my spine as I finally succumbed to the feeling that came most natural to me at the moment. My body relaxed against his. My limbs loosened. My posture slacked. My pussy creamed.

For the first time, my tongue roamed the intricacies of another human’s oral anatomy. He tasted like minty fresh bubble gum. He felt like safety.

Security.

Stability.

Vulnerability.

Sensitivity.

Capability.

Culpability.

Accountability.

Fragility.

Fertility.

Sensibility.

Our bodies performed a one hundred and sixty degree spin. This time, my back was against the wall. My hands were no longer behind me. They were free of my weapons and pressed into the beige paint that covered almost every surface in the living area.

“Psal–” I whispered against his vastness.

“Shhhh,” he commanded with a finger against my lip. “I’ve heard what you had to say and you ain’t said shit a nigga wants to hear.”

The ripping of my stockings forced a gasp from my lips. My body was hoisted in the air. Naturally, my legs wrapped aroundPsalms midsection. Against my better judgment, my lips rushed back to his, slamming into them to the point of pain.

The bitterness of blood that seeped from my bottom lip heightened my arousal. We feasted on the coppery liquid that was diluted with our saliva.

My craving intensified. The gyrating of my hips caused my pussy to brush against the fabric of his shirt. I wanted him inside of me. I needed him inside of me.

“Use your words, Gazelle.”

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