The Bandit Princess by J. Roberts Read Free Book Online

polished it off.
    They had pie to complete the bad meal, apple for Alice and peach for Clint. He finished his; she ate half of hers.
    “There’s something else you’re going to have to learn,” he told her.
    “What’s that?”
    “When you get a chance to eat,” he said, “you’re going to have to do it. It doesn’t matter what the food tastes like. You don’t know the next time you’ll get a hot meal.”
    “You call this a hot meal?”
    “It’s what was available,” he said.
    She stared down morosely at the remainder of her apple pie, then picked up her fork and finished it.
     
    Tate had the woman’s hips in his hands, her big butt slapping him in the groin as he fucked her from behind. He was paying for the pleasure, but he found himself still thinking about that horse.
    “Come on, mister!” the whore yelled. “Harder, damn it! You said you ain’t had a woman in months, and that’s as hard as you can do it?”
    She jarred him out of his reverie and her words stung, so he slapped her on the ass a few times so that the skin became rosy. Let her sting a little!
    “That’s it!” she said. “Hit me harder . . . fuck me harder . . . come on!”
    He frowned, began to slam his dick into her as hard as he could. If he’d known she had such a big mouth, he’d have picked somebody else.
    Then he stopped, thinking maybe he could put that big mouth to better use.
    He slapped her ass again, then pulled out of her and said, “Turn around, you dirty bitch!”
     
    Del had chosen a little blonde, very slender and young looking. He doubted she was sixteen, like the madam had told him, but she sure looked sixteen. When he had her naked, he saw that her little teats were firm, with big, hard, brown nipples, and the hair between her legs was as golden as the hair on her head.
    He got her on her back right away and stuffed his dick into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pounded away at her. She stayed with him, even drummed her heels on his butt, so she sure as hell wasn’t no sixteen years old—but she was good.
     
    Del and Tate stood at the bar at the nearby saloon. The whorehouse didn’t have any whiskey for them, so they were sharing a bottle along with two beers, and comparing whores.
    “Mine wouldn’t stop talkin’ until I stuffed it in her mouth,” Tate said.
    “Mine was quiet,” Del said, “didn’t make a sound even when I pinched her nipples. The madam wanted me to believe she was sixteen, but she was too damn good to be that young.”
    “I don’t know what you see in them young ones,” Tate said.
    “I like ’em to look young,” Del said with a grin. “They don’t gotta be young.”
    Tate didn’t believe Del. He’d seen the man beat up on too many thirteen- and fourteen-year-old whores to believe him.
    “You still thinkin’ about that horse?” Del asked.
    “Yup,” Tate said.
    “Goddamnit,” Del said, “then let’s go and take another look at the animal. Maybe he’s worth stealin’, after all.”
    Tate knew it was the whiskey talking now, but he was hearing the same words.

SIXTEEN
     
     
     
    Clint led Marshal Eads over to the sheriff’s office, stopped just outside the door.
    “Put your badge on,” he instructed.
    “I can wear it?”
    “Yes,” Clint said. “I want him to see it, but I’ll do the talking. Got it?”
    She pinned her badge on proudly and then said, “I understand.”
    “No matter what,” Clint said, “unless he asks you a direct question, just let me talk.”
    “Okay,” she said. “I’m not going to say anything stupid.”
    “Don’t say anything,” Clint said.
    “Right.”
    He opened the door and they stepped in. The office was as run down as the town, dust everywhere. There even seemed to be a layer of dust on the man who was sitting behind the desk.
    “Help ya, folks?” he asked.
    “Sheriff,” Clint said, “we’d like to talk to you about Pearl Starr.”
    The man sat back in his chair and regarded them. He was in his