Page 63 of Huntsman
Getting my hands on that beautiful, powerful, wholly deadly body. Getting inside that body.
Once I gain the landing, I toss her onto the king-sized bed with the plain black sheets and immediately follow her down. Slapping my palms on either side of her head, I crowd her, crouched over her smaller curvy frame, mimicking the same position she treated me to days earlier. And though our roles are reversed this time, the same lust, the same feral heat bends and kinks inside me, grinding all reasons why I shouldn’t do this—touch her, put my mouth all over her, fuck her—to dust.
Everything in me roars with the need for this, for her.
The only question left is where to put my first bite.
My gaze zeroes in on her mouth. That disrespectful, corrupt, beautiful mouth.
It’s been my downfall and my revelation. And I want more. More of those full lips. More of that bold tongue. More of those teasing, dangerous teeth.
More of the strange… buzz that both whips me into a frenzy and feeds something deep inside me that I wasn’t even aware was starving.
I duck my head, distracting my own dangerous thoughts by setting the edge of my teeth to the graceful column of her throat. Even now, my fingers curl into the mattress, eager and itching to circle her neck again, feel her pulse flutter and race against my skin, thrill in that sign of her potent, gorgeous life force under my hand. Under my control. That power is only sweeter with the knowledge that this unstoppable force of nature wrapped in smooth brown skin and thick, luscious curves has submitted her power to me. That surrender is more intoxicating than any kill.
With a hum that rumbles in my chest like a rusty engine, I follow up that scrape with the flat of my tongue. Cedarwood and hints of jasmine hit my taste buds with the strength and power of a sledgehammer.
“Are you going to fight me, li’l queen? Are you going to run?”I ask against her skin, rolling my tongue over her rapidly beating pulse.
Her breathy chuckle brushes my ear. “I never run; you should know that by now, Huntsman. But fight you? Oh yeah. If you want, we can get all good and bloody before we fuck.” She bows beneath me, rocking her hips upward. “I know you’d like that,” she softly taunts.
I rake my teeth down the side of her throat again, but this time I’m not so gentle. Her moan drenches the air with pleasure and unashamed lust. She twists harder beneath me, spreading her legs and planting her feet on the mattress. With a move that’s too sharp, too powerful for me to control, she flips, and suddenly I’m under her.
Before I can buck or try to unseat her, regain control, she strokes that hot little pussy over my cock, branding me. My back bows at the searing pleasure, and I clap a restraining hand to her waist and slide the other around her neck. What’s becoming my favorite resting place.
She slaps my hand away and replaces mine with hers at my throat. My pulse thunders in my ears, growing louder and louder as her grip tightens. Her hazel eyes gleam with excitement, with the same need pumping through me. I press my head back into the pillow, arching into her hand, pleading for—demanding—a firmer, tighter touch from her.
Did I think she was submitting to me?
Did I believe I wanted that?
No, I may have wanted her submission, but right now I need the woman above me, grinding over my dick with a sadistic gleam in her eyes.
“Rub that pretty cunt all over my dick like you got an itch to scratch,” I say, digging my fingertips into her skin. Hard enough so anyone who looks here will know that the feared olori of the Mwuaji let me get close enough to mark her.
“You’ve become a regular fucking Chatty Cathy.”Goddamn,that mouth. Twin needs claw at me. Give her something to fill that insolent mouth—my tongue… my cock. And the warring desire wants her to keep talking, continue teasing me. Only she would dare. Only she gets this pass from me. “I really do have the power of the p.”
She smirks, and I surge upward, crushing my mouth to hers. It’s a hard, almost-punishing thrust of tongues, raking of teeth. When I tear my mouth away, her breath breaks on my lips in heated, fast puffs, and her gaze is bright, fucking glittering.
“Shut up,” I growl.Keep talking.The contradictory command echoes in my head.
That wicked, taunting smile revisits her lips as she shimmies off me and strips out of my too-big clothes. I’ve learned several things about Eshe in the last few days. One of them? Modesty is theory, not practice. She doesn’t try to conceal her breasts or shaved pussy from me. No, she stalks across the room to my bathroom, comfortable in her skin. When she reappears, she climbs onto the bed and crawls up my body again. Her small, firm, and absolutely perfect breasts are on full display, and my mouth waters to get around those large dark brown tips.
Earlier this evening, I feasted on that juicy flesh between her thighs but neglected to get a taste of those gorgeous tits. Not this time. I’m not going to make that mistake again.
“You’re going to be my gift to myself before I—” She bites her lip, cutting off the rest of that sentence. That admission. “C’mere.”
“Before you what, Eshe?” I ask, dread pooling in my chest, temporarily eclipsing the lust. My gaze roams her face, searching for… something.
She shakes her head and slips her hand behind my neck, pulling me forward until I’m sitting up.
“Atonement,” she murmurs. Before I can question that further, demand an explanation, she palms the back of my head and brings me close until I’m face-to-face with those beautiful breasts. I inhale the scent of her skin, and shit, she’s not playing fair. I sink beneath the undertow of desire and deliver a sharpnip to her neck and her collarbone. Then I make my way to the tits that have been tormenting me since I woke up to her straddling me in that cottage. I’ve watched them, free and jiggling, and my palms and fingers itch to plump them, mold them, pinch the berry tips.
I surrender to that fantasy.
On a low growl, I suck a nipple into my mouth, drawing hard. Goddamn, it’s better than in my imagination. Her high, tight cry cracks on the air seconds before she drags her nails over my scalp and holds on to my head. The tiny flares of pain from her nails only egg me on, and I curl my tongue around the beaded tip, tormenting it with alternate long, hungry licks and fast stabs. I shape the other tit, squeezing and pinching the nipple.
Eshe writhes against my mouth and hands, those nails digging into me, one clutching me close and the other gripping my shoulder. Her hips roll and slide to the rhythm I’m setting, and she’s caught on so quickly, so expertly, I reward her with a graze of my teeth over her swollen nipple.
