Bayou Trackdown Read Online Free PDF

treated his pole as if they were trying to break it in half. They were much too rough. Experienced women used a lighter touch.
    Liana was experienced.
    He plied her thighs and continued to tweak her breasts, switching from one to the other, feeling her nipples harden until they were like tacks. Soon she was panting, her hot breath fanning his throat as she lavished burning kisses on him.
    “Clothes are nice but naked is better,” Fargo said, and set to work undressing her. Fortunately she wasn’t one of those females who believed in layer after layer of undergarments. No petticoats or corsets for this Cajun lady.
    As Fargo shed her clothes, Liana shed his. She got his belt undone and his holster slid down his leg and thudded to the floor. His hat she tossed to the foot of the bed. Then she peeled off his shirt. “ Mon Dieu! ” she exclaimed at the sight of his whipcord torso. “So many muscles.” She ran her fingers across his stomach and up over his chest. “I could eat you alive.”
    “Be my guest.”
    Fargo got her undressed and looked down, admiring her contours. She was exquisite. Her breasts were firm and full, her belly was smooth and flat, her bottom nicely rounded. Her curly thatch was silky soft to the touch. He drank her loveliness in, then got down to arousing her. First he eased her onto the bed and crawled on so he was next to her, his chest to her breasts. The quilts were so soft it was like sinking into fluff.
    Liana looped an arm about his neck and pulled his face down to hers. “Something tells me this will be a night I’ll long remember.”
    “I’ll try my best, ma’am.”
    If there was anything finer in life than a willing woman, Fargo had yet to come across it. His mouth and hands roved everywhere, exploring, arousing. She did the same. Both of them took their time, savoring the feel and the taste, her lust a mirror of his.
    Eventually Fargo spread her legs wide and aligned his redwood with her slit. He ran it up and down, sparking quivers from her head to her toes. Inserting the tip, he slowly fed himself in until his steel sword was up to the hilt in her wet sheath. For a space they lay motionless on the precipice.
    “I could do this forever,” Liana cooed. Her eyes were hooded, her red lips more inviting than ever.
    Fargo began stroking. He had experience, too, and he didn’t go at her hard and fast and end it too soon. He dipped into her slowly, rocking gently on his knees, his toes braced for leverage. Her nails dug into his arms so deep, he would swear that this time she drew blood.
    Finally Liana was ready. She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Now, amoureux . I am a flower and you are a scythe. Cut me.”
    Fargo had never heard it expressed quite that way before. But cut her he did, thrusting his scythe up into her flower harder and harder until the bed bounced and she cried out and arched her back and spurted.
    Fargo’s redwood exploded. Pinpoints of light danced before his eyes. He rocked in and out until he was spent and then sank on top of her, cushioned by her heaving bosom. But he lay there only a few moments. Rolling off to spare her his weight, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
    A noise awakened him.
    How long he had been out, Fargo couldn’t say. Beside him Liana snored, and he assumed it was her snoring that roused him. Then his gaze fell on the mirror above the table and suddenly he was fully awake, his blood racing in alarm.
    The bedroom door was open. Midway between it and the bed stalked a figure with a knife in his hand.
    Doucet.
    Fury gripped Fargo. Sheer, red-hot fury. He’d spared the fool and this was how Doucet repaid him. As yet, Doucet hadn’t realized he was awake. Fargo remedied that. Abruptly rolling, he deliberately fell over the side of the bed. He landed next to his gun belt and molded the Colt to his palm. He thought Doucet would come around after him and he would blow the Cajun to kingdom come. But there was a gasp, and then