Then, in time to some inner rhythm that only she could hear, Angela Fulton began to rise and fall with all the slow, inexorable power and insistence of the tide.
When once Longarm tried to move, tried to meet her motion with a thrust of his own, she clucked her tongue and shook her head to stop him. “Let me,” she whispered. “Let this be my gift to you.”
And so he subsided and lay quiescent and accepting as Angela lifted and fell, lifted and fell … and gently, inevitably pulled the hot, liquid life force from him.
As the sensations she was giving him built one on top of another, accumulating like snow adhering to a ball rolled from the top of a steep hill, Longarm closed his eyes and arched his back, lifting both of them off the floor while Angela’s movements became faster, faster, harder and deeper. She was panting now and bucking up and down with frantic urgency. He could feel the clutch and the pull of her thighs clamped hard against his sides and the dripping heat of her body engulfing him.
Angela began to whimper and groan, all thoughts of her son nearby forgotten for the moment, and Longarm felt a wave of powerful convulsions sweep through her. Her body rocked and quivered, and the lips of her pussy clamped tight around him as a powerful climax surged through her.
The feel of her pleasure clutching so hard and hot around him was enough and more than enough to tip him over the edge so that he too went rigid as a drawn bowstring. He felt the flooding eruption of pleasure gather deep in his balls and race the length of his cock to spew out in one pulsing gush after another, the seed of his body spilling deep inside hers, gluing the two into one if only for that brief instant in time.
Longarm shuddered, only dimly aware of Angela’s own tremors of pleasure. And then, gentle once again, he drew her down onto his sweaty chest. He could feel the flutter of her racing heartbeat soft against his body and the flow of her breath warm on his throat. He took a slow, deep breath and lightly stroked the back of her head. “Wow,” he whispered.
“Mmm. Yeah. Really wow,” she mumbled, the contentment like honey in her voice.
He continued to pet and stroke her, and after a bit could feel her body go lax and utterly limp on his. Her breathing slowed, and soon he knew she was asleep.
Longarm closed his eyes. He would have to wake her before morning to make sure Buddy didn’t get up and catch the two of them together like this. But there was time enough to think about that later. For right now this was … nice. It was even quite special. Longarm certainly was in no hurry to let go of this great and wondrous gift Angela Fulton had bestowed upon him.
He smiled into the night and continued to stroke Angela’s hair even though he knew perfectly well she no longer consciously felt it. He smiled. And after a time he slept.
Chapter 17
“You cocksucker!”
“It’s nice to see you too, Harry.” Longarm hung his Stetson on a peg and helped himself to a seat on one of the two chairs that crowded the Cargyle police chief’s tiny office. He was able to manage both without taking his eyes off Bolt. Just in case. Not that he expected anything untoward to happen before breakfast. But with a man like Harry …
HarrY Bolt—former deputy United States marshal, former undersheriff for Animas County, Colorado, former night marshal at Trinidad, former … there were lots of jobs Longarm knew Bolt had held—was a beefy man with the red-veined complexion of a heavy drinker and the bulging belly of a dedicated eater. A good many men had thought Harry Bolt’s appearance was that of a man who’d gone slow and soft. Those men had been wrong. And more often than not they’d paid for their error with spilled blood, broken bones, or worse.
Bolt had thinning gray hair, a gold tooth in the middle of his jaw, and a pipsqueak Smith and Wesson rimfire .32 revolver that he wore on his belly to the right of his belt buckle. The gun looked too small and inoffensive to be threatening. Much of the nickel plating on it had worn off to be replaced with rust, and the front sight was missing. Practically no one took the gun seriously. Except Longarm. He had seen what Harry Bolt and that idiotic, two-bit popgun of his could accomplish. Not fast, mind. No one can be fast with a rimfire Smith & Wesson. But Harry Bolt was hell for accurate, and in a real-life gunfight deliberate accuracy beats a fast noise every time.
Longarm didn’t underestimate Harry Bolt. Didn’t like the son of a bitch either. Which, of course, was neither here nor there so far as this assignment was concerned.
Before Longarm could tell Bolt what that assignment was, the Cargyle police chief spat in the general direction of a filthy cuspidor and growled, “You wouldn’t’ve been messing around at Cletus Terry’s hog ranch last night, would you?”
“I don’t recall ever meeting anybody by that name.” Longarm glanced idly around the tiny building that served as jail and police station alike here. There was no sign of the prisoner who’d been in the one cell the previous evening. At the moment Longarm and Bolt were alone.
“Clete runs one of the joints down by the gate,” Bolt said. “Big fella, Clete is. Said some smartass son of a bitch sucker-punched him last night and then backed it up with a gun. When he said smartass son of a bitch, Long, it shoulda been description enough for me to know it was you.”
Longarm snorted. “This Terry fella. He think he’s a big man with a knife? Hell on hot wheels when it comes to scaring little-bitty women?”
“See? I knew it was you. Soon as I seen you walk through that door I knew it was you.”
“The man’s an idiot, Bolt. Almost as stupid as you are. He’s an idiot an’ a liar too.”
“The biggest difference between him and me, Long, is that you wouldn’t be able to take me like you took Clete. You see, he don’t know you like I do. Me you couldn’t take by surprise like you done him.”
“Look, Harry, I didn’t come here to lock horns with you.” There was no point in trying to explain what really happened last night, Longarm knew. Harry wouldn’t believe him anyway. Hell, he wouldn’t want to believe him. Better to just let that go. “I came here to save your worthless ass. Not my idea, mind, so don’t get all upset thinking you might have to thank me. I’m here on official business.”
“So lay it out and get the hell outa here before I run you in for disturbing the peace.”
Longarm gave Bolt a smartass grin, the most deliberately smartass expression he could manage since it seemed to be smartass that Bolt was expecting here, and said, “On a warrant sworn out by your pal Terry? Go ahead, Bolt. Feel free.”
