Longarm 397 : Longarm and the Doomed Beauty (9781101545973) (14 page)

Longarm looked at her, one brow arched skeptically.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, ran her eyes up and down his brawny frame. “You're not modest, are you, Marshal?”

Longarm kicked out of his left boot. “I wouldn't call it modest. I'd call it . . . prudent, I reckon. Professional maybe's more the word.”

“Whatever do you mean, Marshal?”

“I mean, takin' my clothes off in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere with a pretty girl ain't what some might call professional.”

“Oh, I don't know. I don't think there's anything unprofessional about cleaning oneself. Go ahead, now. Don't be shy. You get cleaned up and I'll keep watch out the window. I have a feeling you're right, though, and the gang's long gone from here by now.”

“I hope we're both right,” Longarm said, glancing at the girl to make sure she had her head turned away, then rose from his chair.

He glanced at her again. She was looking out the window, her legs crossed, hands in her lap. She still had her hair pinned up, exposing the pale back of her neck, the flesh soft and ripe for kissing. Silently admonishing himself, and wincing at the continued tightening across his upper pants legs, he shucked out of his coat, hung it on an elk antler nailed to the wall, then pulled his shirttails out of his tobacco tweed slacks.

“Don't look, now,” he admonished the girl. “Wouldn't be . . . well, professional . . . for you to go seein' me in my birthday suit.”

Not only that, but he was embarrassed about his hard-on.

“It would only be getting you back,” she said, teasing.

“How's that?”

She turned her head slightly. “You saw me in mine.”

“Don't look, dang it!” he scolded her.

She laughed and turned her head away. “That was an accident,” Longarm said as he shrugged out of his shirt and hung it, too, on the elk antlers.

As he unbuttoned his suddenly too-tight trousers and slid them down his legs, she said with that same air of good-natured teasing, “I noticed you didn't pull the door closed very quickly, Longarm.”

“I pulled it closed just as quick as I could. I'm a professional, Miss Jo, and it's important we keep that straight. I'm here to protect you, see you home safely.”

“I couldn't agree more,” she said, and he glanced back to see her cheek pulled back slightly as she sat there, staring out the window and smiling.

Longarm hung his longhandles on the elk antlers, and, as naked as the day he was born and scared as hell she was going to turn around and see him here, his cock at half-mast despite his silent pleas for it to play fair, he added hot water to the cold until he had the bath temperature about one degree above what would sear off three layers of skin and stepped into the tub.

As he crouched, placing his hands on the tub's edges, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the girl was still facing away from him. She was. And she was still smiling that annoying smile that for some reason was keeping his cock at half-mast and threatening to go higher.

“Saw a family of eagles,” he said by way of distracting conversation, as he sank down into the eight inches of wonderfully hot and steaming water. Gooseflesh rose on his shoulders and across the back of his neck. “Leastways, a mother and five little ones. Ugly little things, baby eagles. In a cute sort of way.”

“Oh, I wish I could have seen!”

“Maybe we'll both ride out there tomorrow.”

“That'd be fun. A nice distraction from all this.”

Longarm snagged the cake of soap and a rag scrap off the chair near the tub, where the girl had left them with a towel she must have packed in her carpetbags. He soaked and lathered the rag, and began raking it across his chest.

“She was feeding the little ones a fish, taking little bites out of it and dropping them into their gaping beaks.” Longarm chuckled, casting another cautious glance over his shoulder, pleased to see the girl still facing away from him.

Deciding the faster he scrubbed himself and climbed out of the tub the better, he scrubbed his face and the back of his neck and then rose to a crouch to scour both legs and feet and to clean his privates. He dropped back down into the tub and splashed himself, rinsing himself off.

“Good enough,” he said, reaching for the towel draped over the back of the chair.

He felt something against the back of his neck. In his ear, she said quietly, “You haven't washed your back yet, Longarm.” He jumped with a start. “Want me to help?”

“Now, damnit,” he complained, “you promised to sit over there in your chair and stare out the damn window!”

“I'm just trying to help!”

“Ah, hell!”

“Give me the rag, and stop acting like a child. You saw my breasts, and I know you enjoyed seeing them. It's only right I get a little look at you . . . which, um . . .” She giggled in his other ear. “Isn't so little at all!”

“Ignore that damn thing—it has a mind of its own.” Longarm slapped the soap into her open palm. “If you're gonna scrub, scrub. Be quick about it, so I can get out of here. Damn unprofessional, is what this is.”

“How 'bout this?” she said in a sexy-raspy voice, so close to his ear that he could feel her hot breath. She reached into the tub and wrapped her hand around his cock. “Would the powers that be consider this unprofessional, too?”

She pumped him slowly.

Longarm groaned as the girl, her delicate, long-fingered hand wrapped around his piston-hard staff, pumped him once more.

Longarm's eyes grew heavy and slid slowly down over his eyes. “Oh . . . that ain't nice, Miss Jo . . .”

The girl tittered as she ran her hand very slowly up from the bottom of his cock, her hand making wet sounds against his skin. “I think you like it.”

“Just the back'll do.”

“What's that? I couldn't hear you.”

“I said . . . I'll thank you to just scrub my back.”

“Oh.” Jo removed her hand from his cock, leaving it to stand there at full, throbbing mast between his legs. “All right. Your back it is,” she said with a sigh of feigned resignation.

As she rinsed the rag out in the water near his cock and balls, he could feel her penetrating eyes on the side of his face. He watched her hands, fascinated, lust stabbing through him from bowels to throat, constricting his breathing. She ran the soap over the rag, set the soap onto the chair.

“Lean forward,” she ordered him.

He did as he was told, and she raked the rag across his broad shoulders. She scrubbed hard, and he could hear her grunting softly as she worked, working the rag across his skin from the back of his neck down to the small of his back.

It was a wonderful feeling—having all those tight muscles worked, getting all that trail grime off. A sweet, luxurious feeling. When she was finished, unable to help himself, unable to keep his raging need for the girl on its leash any longer, he reached back, wrapped his hand around her arm, and drew her to the tub's right side.

“What is it, Longarm?” she asked quietly, throatily.

Her lips parted. They were dark pink and etched with very tiny vertical lines. Her skin was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Her green eyes danced with gold dust while strands of her honey-blond hair curled down over her forehead and brushed the sides of her face.

“I think I'm gonna kiss you, Miss Jo.”

“I'd like nothing better, Longarm.”

“And then I'm going to enjoy your body, but with the understanding it's damn . . .”

“I know,” she said, sliding her face up close to his, taking his head in her hands and gently tugging on his ears. “Damned unprofessional.” She kissed his chin. “Don't worry—it'll be our secret.”

He tightened his grip on her arms, drew her closer, and closed his mouth over hers. They kissed gently for a time while Longarm sat there in the tub, and then, as their body temperatures rose and they each started quivering slightly with desire, and their heartbeats quickened, they entangled their tongues and ran their hands desperately across each other's bodies—feeling, grasping, working, kneading.

Finally, Longarm rose from the tub, water cascading off his long, broad, brown body, and reached for the towel.

The girl grabbed it first. “Let me,” she said.

Remaining on her knees beside the tub, she began running the towel, which was damp from her own bath, across his left hip and down his left thigh. While she did, she held her face within two inches of the large, mushroom head of the big lawman's throbbing member.

“That is some cock you have, Longarm.” She looked up at him from beneath her thin, blond brows. “Do you think me depraved for saying so?”

“Not at all,” he croaked.

While she dried his other leg, she leaned forward and touched the end of her tongue to the tip of his cock.

Longarm drew a shallow breath.

She looked up at him, smiling. “I can't wait to get that inside me.” She caressed it again with her tongue, then drew her tongue back into her ripe mouth, and swallowed. “I've only been with two men in my life—one being Mr. Cable.” She shook her head as she inspected the large, throbbing cock before her. “Never even seen one that size!”

She closed her mouth over the head of it and groaned as she sucked, making her cheeks bulge. She turned her head from one side to the other, groaning and sucking and running her wet tongue across his cock, slathering and sucking and making little gagging sounds when she drew the head too far down her throat.

Longarm opened his mouth to draw a deep blast of air into his lungs, rocking back on his heels in the tub.

She made another gagging sound, then drew her mouth back off of him, spittle webbing from her moist lower lip to the head of his raging hard-on. “Am I doing it right? I've never done it before. Always wanted to, but I reckon I didn't know the right man.”

Her smile dimpled her cheeks.

“You're goin' at it like a pro,” he said around the frog in his throat.

She was about to slide her lips over him once more when he sandwiched her head in his hands and held her back. “Time to do this good and proper.”

He grabbed the towel off the chair and stepped out of the tub. She rose and stepped back, quickly unbuttoning her shirt. She watched him as he dried himself. He stared at her, watched in sublime fascination as she removed the big shirt, dropped it to the floor, and then lifted her chemise over her head, dropping it onto the shirt. Her breasts were large and ripe, the pink nipples jutting like spring rosebuds ready to burst. One was ever so slightly larger than the other.

He dropped the towel and stood watching her kick out of her boots and shuck out of the rest of her clothes until she stood naked before him, her hair hanging in a beguiling tangle around her face. She held her chin down and stared at him, her green eyes dark with need.

As though an unseen hand reached out from reality to touch his shoulder, reminding him of the possible danger, he glanced out the window. The clearing was filled with shadows. Night was falling quickly. Nothing moved except a single mountain jay that had perched on the windowsill and was tilting its pointed-beaked head from side to side, as though deeply interested in what was happening on the other side of the glass.

Jo laughed. “He thinks we're fascinating.”

Longarm moved to her, raked his fingers lightly across her shoulders. “He's about to get a show.”

She drew a deep breath through parted lips.

Longarm kissed her hard and passionately. After a time, while she stroked him with both hands, he crouched and sucked each nipple in turn, until both were hard as stones and her breasts were rising and falling heavily as she breathed.

Finally, Longarm placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her gently toward the table. He spread her legs about shoulder-width apart, stuck his hands between her legs, and fingered her damp, silky nest.

“Oh!” Her hair flying, she bent forward against the table.

“Are you ready?” Longarm asked her, sticking two fingers between the petallike folds, poking and prodding and causing her to moan and sigh.

“Never . . . been . . . readier . . . ! Oh, Jesus, fuck me, Longarm!”

“I oughta be ashamed of myself,” he said, glancing out the window on the table's other side, making sure the clearing was still empty. “But I reckon we've come too far to turn back now.”

He used his hand to guide his cock between her legs and into the pink slit waiting for him beneath her partially spread buttocks. As soon as the mushroom head disappeared, she lifted her head and arms and clamped her hands over the far edge of the table.

“Oh . . . God . . . that feels good!”

Longarm grunted, drawing his lips back from his teeth as he spread his feet on the splintery floor and slowly shoved the entire length of his rod inside the girl's womb. As he did so, she arched her back tighter and tighter and gripped the table harder and harder, groaning as though she were being slowly run through with a bayonet.

“Oh, fuck . . . oh, fuck . . . that feels soooo fucking
good
!”

“Such farm talk,” Longarm chastised the girl as he hit bottom and, feeling her sweet, hot snatch convulsing around him, began sliding back out.

“Yes,” she said, wagging her ass, “the good reverend wouldn't approve. Well, fuck him!” she cried. “Fuck them all!”

Longarm chuckled and rammed himself hard inside her. She threw her head back and mewled as though in the throes of death, and then lowered her head once more as he started withdrawing again.