Read Online Longarm and the Arapaho Hellcats by Tabor Evans - Free Book Online Page B

took his hand and slid the head of his cock against her sopping pussy.
    â€œOh, Christ!” she groaned, lifting her chin, the cords standing out in her neck. “Fuck me,” she whispered, looking down at his cock slowly sliding into her. “Fuck me, Custis.
Fuck me!
”
    He shoved forward off his knees, pushing his throbbing hard-on deep inside her. He dropped his body over hers, squeezed her breasts in his hands, and closed his mouth over her lips as he started to slide in and out of her. When he lifted his head, continuing to thrust himself against her, she licked his lips and chin like a truckling dog, whimpering deep in her chest.
    â€œFuck me!” she pleaded, straining against the stays that held her fast to the ground. “Oh, God . . . that feels so . . . wonderful!”
    Longarm felt his own blood rise as he toiled away between her legs.
    In and out.
    In and out.
    He varied his rhythm occasionally, pumping savagely, then more tenderly, pausing now and then to lick her breasts and kiss her lips and nuzzle her neck.
    After he’d fucked her for ten minutes he pulled out altogether and endured the nasty look she gave him, her cobalt blues brushed with the salmon light of the fire dancing behind him.
    He laughed and squeezed her breasts. She mewled and fought against the stays, causing the leather and the wood to creak, cursing him to continue.
    He straightened his back, sat back against his heels, and using his pelvis, shoved the swollen mushroom head into her pink, ­black-­tufted folds once more. He slid only the head in and out for a time. Cynthia tipped her head back, tensing all her limbs, and groaning like a lovesick ­she-­wolf.
    She flexed each knee in turn, wagged her head from side to side, her hair flying across her face and hiding her eyes.
    â€œOh, Custis . . . please . . . !” she begged, dropping her chin to stare down at their joined crotches. “Shove it in . . . all the
wayyy
!”
    Longarm chuckled, sucked a deep breath, and then he rammed his shaft into her once more. Closing his hands over her hips, he pulled her against him while he rammed his own hips forward, thrusting in and out of her with gradually more speed.
    Suddenly, he felt her womb grabbing him like a small, warm, wet hand. She groaned more passionately, turning her head wildly from side to side, causing the sticks and the leather to creak and sigh.
    When Longarm could tell it was time, he leaned forward, hoisting himself up on his arms and his toes, and hammered them both on over the edge of the steep precipice they’d been teetering on, into oblivion.
    He felt her womb spasming against him, coating him with hot honey that oozed out from between both their bodies to bathe his balls and his thighs.
    Gradually, he stopped thrusting. He slowly lowered himself onto her and shoved his face between her ­sweat-­bathed breasts.
    From nearby came a soft thud.
    Cynthia lifted her head to peer at something over Long­­arm’s left shoulder. The fire blazed in her eyes as she screamed.

Chapter 8
    Longarm wheeled, grabbed his Colt from its holster, and twisted around, clicking the hammer back. Two round eyes reflected the fire’s umber light from just beyond the fire, near where one of Cynthia’s three attackers lay. Above the eyes, large ears twitched.
    Longarm eased the tension on the Colt’s trigger and lowered the piece. “Horse.” He sighed. “Just a horse, Cynthia.”
    â€œOh, God,” Cynthia said with a sigh, resting her head back against the ground.
    The three dead men must have hobbled their horses and one had come to investigate the commotion. Now it shook its head and backed away, out of the sphere of shimmering firelight.
    Longarm holstered his Colt, picked up the barlow knife where he’d dropped it, and cut the ropes binding Cynthia to the four stakes. When she was free, she