lying little-'
'This way, Billy!' I coaxed as I trotted down the alley. 'I've got a buggy-'
'Bitch!' he finished, his words following close on the clatter of my retreating feet.
The last peal of that bell didn't disguise the roar I recognized as Harold Legg's, and as I ducked right, into the alley behind the church, I could only hope the outraged magistrate was too involved with his daughter to be following us, or to head us off at my buggy. I turned again, glancing back. If I hadn't been in such a hurry, I would've laughed: Billy was hobbling at a trot, gripping his pants around his hips with his erection poking out of them.
I couldn't afford to get caught in such a caper, so with a fast glance around the front of St. Mary's, I sprinted toward my wagon. Thank God I caught the sound of escalating voices in the alley-the Judge chastising his daughter as she protested loudly in her own defense-but it was up to Billy to hustle himself to safety. I had grabbed the reins and was whistling to Dory when he vaulted onto the seat beside me. We wheeled around in a tight circle, and then the mare headed out of town at a rate that left my hammering heartbeat behind.
'I'll have your head for this, Tripplehorn!' the magistrate's threat rang out.
'Better my head than something else,' my passenger muttered, chuckling as he caught his breath. 'The way everyone tells it, I'd be hard pressed for a brain if he went after my dick.'
My eyes widened at his crude turn of phrase, yet something in me responded to it. 'So you were…thinking, when you had it stuffed up inside Miss Legg? The way I saw it-'
'The way you saw it,' he interrupted, abruptly turning my face toward his so I caught the full brunt of his reply, 'I was giving Lucy every inch of what you wanted for yourself, you little faggot. Don't get any ideas about claiming any, just because you got me out of there. I don't owe you a thing! Got it?'
A scowl clouded his darkly-drawn features, leaving no doubt about his disdain. That was exactly as it should be, since I was probably fifteen years his senior and cut from a more responsible bolt of cloth-the antithesis of a guttersnipe like Billy Tripplehorn. But did my vocation or appearance really matter, when my heart cried out to be noticed? Or when my body responded to a heat that streaked like lightning too long denied? Just sitting this close to him was altering my thought patterns. Lowering me to his baser, more sensual level.
The turning of the new century had caused little more stir here in Redemption than the turning of the ten Novembers' pages in the decade since. To follow my love for the law-a calling considered too complex for the female mind-I'd learned to disguise myself so convincingly at the University that everyone in town recognized me as Alex Moore when I tended to orphanage affairs. I was paying dearly now for the male persona I'd created: inside me beat the heart of a horny woman in her prime, who hungered for what a young stud like Billy could fill her with. It took all my effort to hold his unwavering gaze, while driving Dory and trying to refocus my thoughts.
This rogue could believe what he wanted-and it was best for both of us that he did. But he would never, never know the fever his rutting had afflicted me with, nor would he suspect the scenes I would see in my mind's eye for weeks to come. My motive for snatching him out of harm's way was every bit as selfish as Lucy's plan for him, but I could cover my strategies just as my thick, knitted gloves concealed how tightly I gripped the reins. The sheer adventure of it thrilled me, the way the possibilities presented themselves…
Billy still smelled of sex, and his animal magnetism gripped me like skivvies too tight in the thigh. He held my gaze a full minute, until I feared he might see beneath my studiously stony expression. When he let me go, my face still burned where his fingers had been. My breath escaped in a flume of frosted air that sounded far too much like a lover's sigh. The buggy seat forced us to sit closely enough that our thighs brushed with the rhythm of Dory's agitated gait. And still that pecker poked out of his pants.
He was trouble. And I already wanted him like an addict longs for the poppy.
To keep from staring at it-why didn't he tuck it away, for God's sake?-I searched for a logical topic of conversation. Some way to explain why we were racing away from Redemption together, without really explaining anything.
'You'd best keep your high-handed attitude to yourself,' I remarked gruffly. I gave him a moment to soak this in, swallowing so I could maintain the lower voice I used in public. 'Might come a time when you find my services very appealing. How's Trevor these days? Still married to that hussy from Youngwood?'
'How do you know my brother?' he shot back. The hand he'd wrapped around his cock came to a halt with that reddish head peeking out between his thumb and forefinger.
'I handled his case when she had him jailed for dipping his pen in some other woman's ink well,' I replied smugly. 'Abandonment, she called it. He left her with three squalling brats to feed.'
'Yeah, well they weren't all his, now were they?' Defiance made Billy's eyes shine like hard brown marbles. 'And what business is that of yours?'
I shrugged, keeping my gaze on the road ahead so I wouldn't follow that finely chiseled hand along a shaft that seemed to grow longer and thicker with every stroke. How could he play with it that way and still carry on a rational conversation? 'Just trying to save you from the same fate, son-'
'I'm not your son, nor anyone even vaguely related to you!'
'-because it was obvious to me Miss Legg is playing you for the same sort of fool,' I continued. Damn him, he was starting to squirm with an impending orgasm-right there beside me on the buggy seat!-and I was having trouble sitting still myself. 'She's pregnant, you know. Trying to make her daddy think you did it, so he'll force you to marry her and make it all clean and respectable.'
'I don't think-'
'Then what do you call what you're doing with your, uh-head there?' I retorted rather hoarsely. 'For a man who doesn't want my attentions, you're certainly polishing your pipe.'
The grimace on that stubbled face set my insides afire. Under cover of my heavy coat, I began to clench my cunt muscles while pressing my slit as hard as I could against the wooden seat. The pearly drop of pre-cum that gathered at his tip and then dropped off had me licking my lips before I could catch myself.
Billy let out an edgy breath. 'I was ready to come when you grabbed me, dammit,' he protested, still gripping his cock in his undulating fist. 'Once I get this hard, I can't relax until I unload.'
'So,' I remarked, grinding myself discreetly against the seat, 'if the matter comes up, so to speak, we can assure Judge Legg you did not knock up his darling daughter? Lucy's looking for an alibi, Tripplehorn. The way she sees it, if she marries a fine-looking fellow like yourself, she'll be the envy of all her friends, her baby'll have a name, and she'll be set forever. It's how women think.'
It was how this woman was thinking, too, dammit, but at the moment I'd have settled for just the pleasure of gripping that prodigious prick and being the one to make it shoot like a cannon…to feel it tighten to iron-pipe hardness and then fire off a shiny-white wad with spasm after spasm. And then to rub the remains of his cum around that sensitive head, which was growing purple with his need now. Perhaps out of sheer gratitude, he would yank down my pants to reward me for releasing him- But that wouldn't do, of course. I could no longer maintain the facade Alex Moore had worked so hard to perfect, if Billy found out I was really an Alexandrea. He'd shoot off his mouth-the main danger of such cocky types in their twenties-and my legal practice would go down the drain, along with my integrity where dealing with the orphanage was concerned.
So I forced myself to sit still, to ignore the burning, twitching, tingling sensations that had turned my twat into an itch that desperately needed scratching. Damn that Billy! And damn my own desperation, my inability to ignore the sight of him thrusting into a conniving Lucy Legg. I was too high-minded for my own good; had too much to lose, to be mixing myself up with this rutting mutt who followed in the footsteps of all the Tripplehorn men.
'You're full of shit, Mister-'
'And you're full of jism, Billy,' I rasped. Before my left hand knew what my right hand was doing, it took the reins while I reached over to grasp him. From within my thick glove, I felt the throbbing of his pulse in that vein along his underside. Up and down I pumped, tentatively at first-for I'd rarely had such an opportunity, except in my wildest dreams-until Billy's broad shoulders strained and his eyes squeezed shut. He sucked air as I pumped him harder, my own need raging as those first squirts shot out.
'Jesus-I-' He could barely speak, he was so caught up in his impending climax. To keep from slipping, he pulled my body against his, and then he cut loose. His strangled cries echoed through the dusky countryside while the rocking of his hips set the seat to squeaking with a highly suggestive rhythm.
Again and again he shot, straining and writhing within the grip of my gloved fingers as flumes of crystal-colored semen arched over the buggy's front. The heat between us magnified until I thought I'd melt from the sight of it- from the magnificence of the member that pumped its stuff like a rigid fire hose hooked up to a well. God, how I
