Longarm Giant #30: Longarm and the Ambush at Holy Defiance by Tabor Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

saw…how you looked at me. I knew—oh,
fuck
!—I knew what you wanted to do to me!”
    Longarm only grunted through clenched jaws.
    “You uncouth brigand!”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Oh, fuck—your plow handle is going to bust me in two!”
    “I’ll stop if you want,” he reluctantly offered while he continued to hammer away at her.
    “Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard!”
    He’d known women who’d go on like she was. Talking mean and dirty seemed to be part of their pleasure, sort of cutting loose from the bonds that otherwise constrained them and kept them “proper.” Personally, he liked to be quiet when he was hauling a girl’s ashes, but to each his own. This girl had a body that could light a fire in God’s own soul, and she sure as hell knew how to wield it. That’s all he cared about.
    In and out, in and out. Her hot juices engulfed him. He felt as though hot water were rising around his straining legs.
    Suddenly, the warm folds of her pussy engulfed him, squeezing him gently, and she gave a guttural groan, tipping her head back, as though a bowie knife had been plunged into her belly button. She quivered almost violently, shoulders jerking, as she gained the crest of her passion. He rammed hard against her once more, held himself firmly against her ass, and cut loose, feeling his seed rocket into her.
    He groaned loudly, throwing his head far back and tightening his jaws.
    When she began to pant and waggle her ass against his hips, he continued to ram against her, bucking back and forth, no longer caring how much racket the sofa made as itbanged against the wall. She screamed and cried and grunted, called him a dirty bastard and a few other things, and then screamed and cried and grunted again, until she seemed to sort of faint from exhaustion and passion, and dropped to the floor on her knees.
    “Ohhh!” she said through a long, loud sigh, bowing her head and clawing at the couch the way a cat kneads a rug with it paws. “Oh, Jesus H. Christalmighty.”
    She rested her face against her hands and then slowly rolled over to face him, sitting on the floor with her back to the sofa, the corners of her fine mouth quirking a satisfied smile. “You do that rather well.”
    Longarm leaned toward her, feasting his eyes on her beauty, closed his mouth over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss hungrily. Pulling away, he said, “You’re no slouch yourself, Miss…”
    “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “No names. You don’t know me; I don’t know you. You’re a stud, and I’m a craven harlot. Understand?”
    Married, Longarm thought. Mr. Mucky-Muck can’t satisfy her. Understandable, given the obviously high grade of her demands. Why, she’d kill a man with any physical weakness whatever.
    “Understand?” she demanded, splaying her hands across her ears and staring up at him, one of her eyes crossing beautifully. Her nipples were pebbling again.
    “Lady, you’re every man’s dream.”
    He smiled and then lowered his head and kissed each nipple in turn, sucking as he kissed her until she rolled her head back against the couch and was groaning, arching her back, lifting her breasts toward his mouth, running her hands through his hair.
    He lowered his head and ran his tongue down her fine, flat belly, swirled it around inside her belly button. Now she started convulsing, giving little spasming jerks and shivers.
    “Oh, Christ, you’re a devil!”
    He continued to nibble and lick while gently kneading her proud breasts with his hands.
    When his cock was fully engorged once more, he stood and reached for her.
    “Oh, God, wait!” she said, and flung herself toward him on her knees. She grabbed his member in both her hands. “Oh, my God. You’re a monster. A big, brawny monster with a cock like a plow handle.”
    Gazing at the organ of topic, she whispered, “You can really torment a woman with this thing, can’t you? Make her think about you and want you even