Cursed Angels

Chapter 18

Archer

I’m home. I’m free for the first time in what feels like forever. My cock is buried deep within Samara’s pussy, and she’s drenching it with her orgasm. I can feel every wave of pleasure as it ripples through her because it wraps me in a vice so tight, I bury myself deep inside her and call out a desperate release. I feel the other man in our ménage sheath himself fully within Samara’s ass and his cock twitching with his own climax. Part of me is seething. Another man is inside my girl. I should take the gun from my jeans and shoot him between the eyes. He has no right. But then I look at the pleasure on Samara’s face and know, at this moment, both of us are what she needs. She has something special with Hunter. He saved her when I couldn’t. My release finishes, my cock starts to soften, and I start to withdraw.

“No,” Samara breathlessly whispers. “Stay.”

My throat dries with the honesty in her plea, and I still with her in my arms. Hunter curls his body into her from behind and doesn’t move either. We stay like this for I don’t know how long, but eventually my cock starts to harden again. I feel Hunter’s do the same. Slowly, tenderly, we both move once more within the angel cradled in our arms. There is silence all around us except for Samara’s lascivious breaths as we ignite the heat in her body again.

Soon, we’re both thrusting hard. My eyes capture hers. Her eyelids are heavy, and her pupils are black as night. She’s in the throes of passion. It’s tearing her apart but rebuilding her at the same time. I’m doing that. She loves me. She leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips. My dick jumps within her, and my rhythm falters. Her taste is intoxicating. I feel as though I’m losing all I know about myself because it’s all been a lie. Hunter jerks, and my eyes flick to his. They are focused and dangerous. His pupils are also black, but it is not from lust. It’s from the knowledge of rescuing Samara. He hates me and wants me dead. His face bears the scars of our previous fight; that time will come again, but now, we’re at a truce.

He looks down toward his hand running protectively over Samara’s breast. He pinches the nipple. I trail mine over the other breast and do the same. He growls and brings his mouth to Samara’s ear and starts to explore the lobe. She relaxes back against him.

“Hunter,” she moans.

“Here, Buttercup.”

“Archer.” She hisses my name when I find my rhythm again. It’s punishing this time.

“Never leaving, Dollface. Fly for us again.”

“I . . .,” she stutters and then explodes. I feel her orgasm all down the length of my dick. It pulsates around me furiously. I look back to Hunter, and he buries himself deep inside her, roaring his own second release. I feel mine in my body, as it unfurls its way from my tightening balls to the length of my cock, buried deep in a haven so sweet it never wants to leave. My seed shoots from my body in endless jets, washing Samara inside and marking her forever mine. My head is spinning. My chest is tight with the gasps of air I struggle to inhale. A fine sheen of sweat soaks my body.

Fuck. I’m done. I’m gone. I’m ruined for the rest of my life.

“You remember me?” Samara’s voice floods into the high I’m experiencing.

“My Dollface,” I reply and kiss the tip of her nose.

Hunter swallows loudly behind us, and Samara cries out in tender pain when he withdraws himself from where he’s seated deep in her ass. He places her on the sofa, causing her tits to bounce with the harsh movement. He pulls up his boxers and tucks himself away.

“I’ll be next door if you want me.” He turns on his heel to leave.

“Hunter, no.” Samara is off the sofa and after him. Her body looks well and truly fucked. She has my seed dripping down her thighs, Hunter’s leaking from her ass, and her nipples are rosy red from our torturous play. Her hair is a tangled mess. “Stay.”

“I’m not what you want.” Hunter looks over her shoulder at me. She turns her head to look back at where I’m still standing with my dick on display. I offer a smirk and pull my trousers up, tucking myself away. I retrieve my jacket and shirt from the floor before placing my discarded gun into the back of my pants.

“I . . . I . . ..” she stutters her attention, re-focusing on the other man. “I need to talk to him.”

“He betrayed you once. He’ll do it again.” Hunter strokes his hand down her cheek.