A Triple Scoop of I Scream Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Gabrielle Holly
presence while awake. He’d never told anyone—not even Toni—and if anyone would understand, it would be her.
* * * *
Thomas hiked the short, winding path down to the water’s edge. He reached into the open collar of his shirt and found the chain around his neck. He followed it downward until he was fingering the little coin. It was one of the cache of thousands of antique pennies he and Toni had found at her inn. They had both been crushed to learn that the coins weren’t gold, but each of them had walked away with a nice little windfall. He’d cashed in all of his with a local antiques dealer—all but one, which he’d drilled a hole through and now wore on a chain around his neck. It reminded him of her and of the adventure they’d shared.
Toni Bianchi was unlike any woman he’d ever been with. She was passionate, sharp-tongued, smart, funny and beautiful. Everything about her was extravagant—her personality was enormous, her eyes were big, her lips were full, her hips were lush, her breasts were… Oh, those breasts . Thomas’ cock twitched when he thought about pinching and sucking her nipples, kneading her heavy breasts, pushing them together while he straddled her ribs and slid his erection between them.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
The time he’d spent with Toni had been wonderful and terrible and confusing. She’d called in the team to investigate a haunting at her run-down bed-and-breakfast inn. Not only had he had direct contact with the ghost of Civil War soldier John Buckman, but the spirit’s energy had joined with Toni’s, multiplied, and resulted in the most mind-blowing sexual encounter of Thomas’ life. His rod stiffened at the memory of plunging into Toni’s tight, wet pussy while Buckman had sucked at her nipples and massaged her clit. Toni had been outside herself with pleasure and she’d dragged Thomas along for the ride.
The intensity of that otherworldly ménage à trois couldn’t be matched, and couldn’t be replicated. Thomas and Toni had had good sex—really good sex—immediately following the encounter, but the intensity had faded quickly. They had parted amicably enough, but Thomas had felt rocked back on his heels. He’d put the coin money in the bank, told his producers he needed a break, and headed to his cabin in the woods of northern Minnesota. He’d thrown himself into chopping wood, fishing and hiking, but nothing he did could erase her. He kept conjuring up the scent of her hair, the yielding softness of her skin.
Thomas shook his head and tried to push Toni from his mind. His cock wasn’t so easily put off track.
This is fucking ridiculous! I’m standing out in the middle of nowhere with a hard-on for a woman who doesn’t care if she ever sees me again.
Thomas stepped off the path and onto the narrow dock. He dropped his gear in the rowboat. His erection refused to be ignored. He looked into the boat then past the end of the dock to the smooth surface of the lake. It was spring in northern Minnesota—that water had to be cold, really fucking cold. Thomas dug his cellphone from his pocket and tossed it into the boat. His sweatshirt, T-shirt, shorts, shoes and socks followed. Thomas stood in his boxers and scanned the lake. It was the middle of nowhere and the middle of the week. There were a handful of other cabins dotting the shoreline, but it was too early in the season for many of those to be occupied.
“Fuck it,” he said, sliding off his boxers and feeling his cock spring back against his flat belly.
Just before jumping feet first off the end of the dock, Thomas exorcised his longing by shouting, “God damn it, Toni!”
If his erection didn’t respond to reasoning, it responded immediately to sixty-degree water.
Thomas pushed off the moment his bare feet hit the sand and weeds at the bottom of the lake. He let out almost his last bit of air with an underwater scream. He broke through the surface sputtering and spent his first fresh
* * * *
Thomas hiked the short, winding path down to the water’s edge. He reached into the open collar of his shirt and found the chain around his neck. He followed it downward until he was fingering the little coin. It was one of the cache of thousands of antique pennies he and Toni had found at her inn. They had both been crushed to learn that the coins weren’t gold, but each of them had walked away with a nice little windfall. He’d cashed in all of his with a local antiques dealer—all but one, which he’d drilled a hole through and now wore on a chain around his neck. It reminded him of her and of the adventure they’d shared.
Toni Bianchi was unlike any woman he’d ever been with. She was passionate, sharp-tongued, smart, funny and beautiful. Everything about her was extravagant—her personality was enormous, her eyes were big, her lips were full, her hips were lush, her breasts were… Oh, those breasts . Thomas’ cock twitched when he thought about pinching and sucking her nipples, kneading her heavy breasts, pushing them together while he straddled her ribs and slid his erection between them.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
The time he’d spent with Toni had been wonderful and terrible and confusing. She’d called in the team to investigate a haunting at her run-down bed-and-breakfast inn. Not only had he had direct contact with the ghost of Civil War soldier John Buckman, but the spirit’s energy had joined with Toni’s, multiplied, and resulted in the most mind-blowing sexual encounter of Thomas’ life. His rod stiffened at the memory of plunging into Toni’s tight, wet pussy while Buckman had sucked at her nipples and massaged her clit. Toni had been outside herself with pleasure and she’d dragged Thomas along for the ride.
The intensity of that otherworldly ménage à trois couldn’t be matched, and couldn’t be replicated. Thomas and Toni had had good sex—really good sex—immediately following the encounter, but the intensity had faded quickly. They had parted amicably enough, but Thomas had felt rocked back on his heels. He’d put the coin money in the bank, told his producers he needed a break, and headed to his cabin in the woods of northern Minnesota. He’d thrown himself into chopping wood, fishing and hiking, but nothing he did could erase her. He kept conjuring up the scent of her hair, the yielding softness of her skin.
Thomas shook his head and tried to push Toni from his mind. His cock wasn’t so easily put off track.
This is fucking ridiculous! I’m standing out in the middle of nowhere with a hard-on for a woman who doesn’t care if she ever sees me again.
Thomas stepped off the path and onto the narrow dock. He dropped his gear in the rowboat. His erection refused to be ignored. He looked into the boat then past the end of the dock to the smooth surface of the lake. It was spring in northern Minnesota—that water had to be cold, really fucking cold. Thomas dug his cellphone from his pocket and tossed it into the boat. His sweatshirt, T-shirt, shorts, shoes and socks followed. Thomas stood in his boxers and scanned the lake. It was the middle of nowhere and the middle of the week. There were a handful of other cabins dotting the shoreline, but it was too early in the season for many of those to be occupied.
“Fuck it,” he said, sliding off his boxers and feeling his cock spring back against his flat belly.
Just before jumping feet first off the end of the dock, Thomas exorcised his longing by shouting, “God damn it, Toni!”
If his erection didn’t respond to reasoning, it responded immediately to sixty-degree water.
Thomas pushed off the moment his bare feet hit the sand and weeds at the bottom of the lake. He let out almost his last bit of air with an underwater scream. He broke through the surface sputtering and spent his first fresh