Page 86 of Hunted: Season Two
Tiny bits scatter across the shop floor, yet it’s her final blow that sends the dead cell the direction of the gun I imagined was used to intimidate her earlier. Whether it’s the fact she’s finished or has her attention recaptured by the object that brings her back to her senses is unclear.
And unimportant.
Much more irrelevant than the instructions she delivers to me. “Mutt, call Athie, first. Get him down here to get the knot on The Kid’s head checked out-”
“I’m fine,” he immediately croaks.
“I wasn’t asking,” she informs, stare never wavering from mine. “I wanna make sure he doesn’t have a concussion, and that the pepper spray didn’t do any major damage.”
“I said-”
“I’m not listening,” Rabbit brushes off in such a powerful way it’s practically impossible not to get a little harder. “I’m gonna call Garcia and make him aware of the situation.”
Unlike The Kid, I don’t make the mistake of arguing.
“Afterward? CallPost.” Her hands plant themselves firmly onto her hips.“Get him down here. Let him see what the fuck happened. Because ifthisis where we’re raising our kid? It’s time to know exactlywho’sinour columnon this spreadsheet we call life and who the hell needs to be deleted.”
Chapter 17
Kipp
“Go slower, you filthy little brat,” Nolan unexpectedly commands from where he’s just closed the apartment door behind him. “I wanna see that shit in her fucking throat.”
Bunny instantly moans in response, and the added vibrations cause my head to slightly loll backwards.
Hips to rock forward.
Dick to dive itself deeper down the soaking wet confines it unsuspectingly got trapped in.
No bullshit.
One minute I’m washing the new cookware I bought at the grocery store during lunch, telling her how Suzie forwarded me an article about pregnant women needing to eat more quinoa – so I got some for dinner – and the next she’s on her knees swallowing my cock.
We’re talkingGone in Sixty Secondsfast.
I don’t know if it was the hormones – those apparently flex during this whole process – or watching me do dishes – I honestly do them the most out of the group – or hearing me ramble about the weird rice I’mma make for dinner that got her wound up.
I just know that it did.
And that I’m fucking grateful for it.
And that I need to know after the fact so I can do whatever it is again.
And again.
And then once more for good measure.
“That’s it,” our boyfriend gruffly grunts during his amble closer. “Feed her that shit inch by fucking inch.”
Bending my arms to grip the counter space behind me barely precedes the execution of his instructions.
Slowly letting my dick slip lower and lower not only allows us both to watch the ball swelling sight of her quivering throat gradually expanding, but to also enjoy a symphony of wet gasps and gags that’s tools down the most beautiful shit to hear at any time of the day.
“You’re such a pretty little whore,” Nolan compliments upon his arrival, keys carelessly tossed onto the nearby surface. “You love bein’ on your fuckin’ knees for us, don’t you?” Through hooded eyes, I watch her glossy gaze glide over to him. “Chokin’ on cock.”
Her whimpers yet again add cum summoning sensations that have me struggling to catch a fucking breath. “Fuckbaby.”
“Keep lookin’ this way, you hungry little slut,” he demands at the same time he positions himself directly beside me. “Watch me jerk it while he face fucks you.”