Page 117 of Rugger: The Huntress

“You keep falling, Gazelle. And, I catch you. Every time. Every year. Every month. Every week. Every day. Every hour. Every second. I catch you. Over and over and over again. You understand me?”

I nodded.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me you understand me. Tell me you understand that I will be there to catch you every time. Good. Bad. Messy. Ugly. Whatever. Whenever. I’ll be right there. You hear me?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good, because besides that man you just left in there, you’re all I have. And, for me, that’s more than enough.”

I crashed my lips into his. The dress I wore had already risen above my thighs. Psalms wasted very little time pulling it over my ass. He tore into my black stockings, ripping a hole in the center to release the heat from my volcano. It was near eruption.

He loosened his pants and forced them down his thighs along with his boxers. The warmth of his manhood greeted my center. Its rigidness stirred the juices of my honeypot.

“Sonnie.”

I was burning with desire. His hand cupped my pussy, rubbing against me to relieve the agonizing hankering I was experiencing inside out. He pushed my thong aside. Though embarrassingly small in comparison to my meatiness, it was still obstructing my entryway.

“It’s coming, baby,” he assured me as he replaced his hand with his missile.

His launch into my stratosphere sent me reeling. I relaxed against him.

This is mine. He is mine.

Thoughts of my ability to be selfish with Sonnie aided my sanity.

I hoisted both feet on the seat, each on the side of his frame. Slowly, I lifted until the opening of my canal met the tip of his dick and then lowered my body down onto him, again. With each stroke, I quickened my pace until I was steady on my toes and the perfect amount of friction was produced.

“Fuck.”

Psalms gripped my chin and brought my mouth to his, again. His tongue parted my lips and swirled around one cheek after the other.

Fuck,” he repeated.

“Ughhhhhhh,” I groaned.

Instant gratification was the cause of my premature peaking. Tingling began to creep upward from my toes. It rested where the tip of Psalms’ tool met my uterus.

“I’m gonna cum– Uhhhh,” I rushed out in a sharp whisper. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Please do,” he pled, finding the strength to hold onto my hips.

The assistance was greatly appreciated.

My legs grew weak. My head began spinning. My center collapsed. And, everything around me blackened. Small flickers of light from the starry sky behind my eyelids marked my location. Psalms had catapulted me to another world. Another stratosphere.

I clung to his body, pushing my shoulders forward as I withered like moldy flowers. His grip tightened. His climax stiffened him, causing him to grow rigid against me.

“Argh,” he groaned, lowly.

With each passing second, he softened.

“Gazelle.”

His whisper was grounding. I was rooted. Complacent. Unable to move. Barely able to speak. He’d anchored me.

“I don’t want to move,” I admitted, barely audible.

“You don’t have to,” Sonnie assured me.

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