The Gunsmith 386 by J. R. Roberts Read Free Book Online Page A

brought her head up, Maria swirled her tongue around his tip until he took her head in his hands and kept her in that spot. Slowly, she began to suck him again. This time, she took every inch of him inside her mouth until her lips closed at the base of his shaft. Maria didn’t move very much after that. She didn’t have to. Her tongue was busy sending shivers down his spine until Clint thought he would burst.
    She eased her head up and then bobbed up and down even faster than before. Clint could only take that for so long before his climax approached. He leaned back, let out a long breath, and let it happen. She drank him down, licked her lips, and asked for seconds a little while later.

FIFTEEN
    â€œYou did not come back to me for more, so I came to you,” she said later, lying in the crook of his arm.
    â€œI’ve been busy,” he said. “Besides, it’s only been a few hours.”
    She slapped his arm and said sternly, “It has been all day,
bruto!
”
    â€œAnd don’t you have to go to work?”
    â€œI do,” she said, “very soon. That is why I came to see you.”
    â€œMaria,” Clint said, “I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I have to leave town tomorrow.”
    She sat up and looked down at him. He, in turn, looked at her lovely breasts, the nipples still hard.
    â€œSo soon?”
    â€œNot for good,” he said. “I have to go to Orwell, but I’ll be back.”
    â€œHmph,” she said, lying back on the crook of his arm, “so you say.”
    â€œIt’s true,” he said. “My horse is still at the vet’s.”
    â€œAh,” she said, “and you would not leave your horse, eh?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œBut you would leave me?”
    â€œMaria—”
    She laughed and slid her hand down over his belly.
    â€œDo not worry,
hombre,
” she said, “Maria is joking. I know we are only passing, eh? Lovers for the moment?”
    Her words did make him relax, but her hand didn’t. It continued to move lower until she was holding his cock in her hand—and he was filling it.
    â€œThis will have to be quick,” she told him, slipping down between his legs. “I must go to work, but . . .” She licked her lips and swooped in on him . . .
    It was quick and she was gone, leaving him pleasantly exhausted.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    After a short time, he pulled on his pants and went about packing his saddlebags, and then cleaning his guns. He worked on all three, his modified Colt, his Winchester, and the little Colt New Line. He made sure they were all working. He was after two men, but by the time he caught up to them, they were liable to have joined up with some others. Bushwhackers had a pack mentality. They were cowards, and they felt safer in a group.
    When he finished, he realized he was hungry again. It was past supper time, but he might find a café still open. He dressed, putting on the same shirt, and left his room.
    Down the street he found a small restaurant that was still open. It wasn’t late for saloons, but for restaurants it was different. Most of them had closed, the cooks and waiters and waitresses having gone home to their families.
    Bartenders, saloon girls, gamblers, their lives really began when the sun went down.
    â€œClosing?” he asked the waiter.
    â€œNot while you’re here, sir,” the man said. “We don’t turn away paying customers.”
    Clint sat and ordered a steak dinner. The waiter went into the kitchen, there was some shouting, and then a man in an apron stormed out. The waiter came out after him.
    â€œWho was that?” Clint asked.
    The cook,” the waiter said, “but don’t worry, I can make a steak.”
    â€œI don’t want to cause trouble—”
    â€œThat was my partner,” the man said. “He has a big ego, and he’s always