Page 50 of Huntsman

“Jesus.” She pants, heels digging into the bed. “Malachi…”

“This is what you wanted,” I remind her, clamping an arm around her hips, holding her in place. “C’mon and get this nut like the bad bitch you are. ’Cause ain’t shit good about you.”

I massage her G-spot, never letting up. Her curses burn my ears, spurring me on, fueling me. I attack that little engorged bundle of nerves cresting her sex, licking, sucking, biting. And when her choked scream rends the room seconds before her walls collapse around my fingers, I lift my head, a fierce, brutal satisfaction barreling through me as a stream of clear fluid squirts up from her pussy, spraying my mouth and chin, coating my beard and the front of my shirt.

Lowering my head, I lap at it like sipping from a hose on a hot summer day. When the stream slows to a trickle and then stops, I still sip at her hole, chasing every drop. With a soft whine, she pushes my head away.

“What thefuckwas that?” Eshe rasps, easing her legs closed and curling them toward her chest.

I stand, looming over her still-shaking body, a damn-near-primitive pride expanding inside me, filling me at the wild, raw, vulnerable look in her eyes. I’m two seconds away from pounding my fists against my chest like a caveman.

Gripping the bottom of my T-shirt, I whip it over my head and swipe it over my chest, neck, and face. I’ll need to take a shower—we both will—but at this moment, I want to rub her essence into my skin. Mark myself with it.

“I licked it,” I say, tossing the ruined shirt to the floor, edging closer to the bed.

She shakes her head, her curls a glorious tangle on the bedcover. “The hell?” she whispers. “This muthafucka don’t talk and then suddenly he fucking bilingual in coochie and ass.”

The urge to chuckle surges in me. It wars with the need to pounce on her.

Shit.

She has several assassins on her ass, and one of them is the deadliest in the world. And possibly on my ass too since I didn’t complete the contract with Abena. Eshe’s aunt wants her dead and, probably even at this moment, is plotting her next move to eradicate her niece from this earth. I still want blood from both of them.

All this should be at the forefront of my mind, because the shit is real.

But she’s awakened something in me.

I’ve had sex before. Plenty of it when the urge strikes. But I’ve never craved it, and it’s never felt likethis. Like I’m going to claw my way out of tissue and bone if I don’t have more. If she doesn’t have more of me. Fucking has never felt… necessary.

Not until now.

And that fucking terrifies me.

Someone becoming necessary is a weakness. Someone becoming necessary is handing my enemies a way to maim me.

To destroy me.

Miriam was the last person who gave me a reason to breathe, to exist. And when she died, I almost did, too. Allowing Eshe to creep into my skin, my bones to be my reason…

No.Never.

My soul fucking rebels at the thought.

Yet… yet that knowledge, that deep-rooted fear doesn’t stop me from edging closer to her.

Her eyes flare wide, excitement lighting them up, as I lift a knee to the mattress—

My phone rings.

I pause, unmoving. I really contemplate sayingfuck that phoneand continuing with exploring the limits this woman pushes. Discovering who I become when I’m face down in her.

It stops ringing.

Then starts again seconds later.

Shit.

That’s my personal phone, and very few people have the phone number. Even fewer would be calling me. After shoving off the bed, I stride over to the small couch tucked in the corner under the window.