Message on the Wind Read Online Free Page B

between her teeth as she rode him.
    Clint had her ass in his hands, feeling her wetness there, making her slick to hold. So he stood and deposited her on the table, grabbed her ankles and spread her so he could fuck her hard and fast. On some level he realized his back was now to the door and if Antoine came in he was vulnerable—but he soon forgot about that and would only kick himself about it later.
    He was fascinated by Jada’s face, which in the throes of passion became incredibly beautiful. Her lips seemed to swell and become even fuller, and when she bit them he almost expected them to yield juice, like ripe fruit. Her nostrils flared as she breathed raggedly. Her breasts were larger than he’d thought while she was dressed, her nipples swollen.
    He held her by the hips and drove into her, testing the resolve of the table beneath her. It wiggled and leaped and moved across the floor as he fucked her.
    And she got loud.
    And louder.
    He wondered how far away she could be heard. As far away as the stable?
    He began to fuck her faster and faster, and she began to shout to him to go faster, and harder, and don’t stop.
    Clint’s own breath began coming in rasps, though nothing as sexy as that high-pitched sound Jada was still making.
    He finally decided that this had to come to an end for both of them, in case Antoine came back. He wasn’t really looking forward to killing his host.
    As he felt her begin to tremble, he felt his own release coming to a boil and knew that this was going to be close, very, very close . . .
    He hoped the table could take it.

NINE
    Clint got dressed, said good-bye to Jada, and got away from there before Antoine could return. All the way back to town he was kicking himself for making himself so vulnerable. A great meal and a beautiful woman were nothing to die over—or to kill for. If Antoine had returned there would have been trouble, whether Jada was really married to him or not.
    It was dark by the time he reached the hotel. He considered going up to his room, but decided to see if any other citizens of Miller’s Crossing were in the saloon.
    When he got in there, he saw the bartender behind the bar and three other people—only one more than before. He studied the three of them, but couldn’t really tell if two of them were the same two from before.
    At the bar he suddenly got the urge for a cold beer. Maybe none of these people could tell him where Organ Pipe was, but they could certainly tell him where he could find a cold beer.
    â€œJust head for Yuma,” the bartender told him. “You’ll come to a town called Rosewood. They got two saloons, and both serve cold beer.”
    â€œI guess I should do that tomorrow,” Clint said. “It’s been a while since I had a cold beer.”
    â€œThey got a whorehouse and a sheriff, too,” Benny said, “so ya better watch yerself while yer there.”
    â€œI always watch myself, Benny,” Clint said.
    â€œSure ya don’t wanna stay awhile?”
    â€œWhy would I want to stay?” Clint asked.
    Benny shrugged.
    â€œDo me some good,” he said to Clint. “Yer my only cash customer.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “I’m sorry about that, but I think I’ve got to be moving on.”
    â€œStill lookin’ for that town?” Benny asked. “What was it? Lead Pipe?”
    â€œOrgan Pipe.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Benny said, “that’s right.”
    â€œStill never heard of it?”
    â€œAin’t nothin’ happened to change it,” Benny said.
    â€œI was just wondering,” Clint said. “Folks around here seem to get nervous when I mention it.”
    â€œNervous?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œDon’t know what they’d have to be nervous about.”
    â€œNeither do I,” Clint said. “All I’m doing is looking for a town.”
    â€œWell, there’s plenty of towns in all