The Bonk Squad Read Online Free PDF Page A

they approached, then they swept past
with that intoxicating swish of tires on hot paving, chains driving
gears, lungs sucking breath down deep as streamlined men tortured
their muscles for even better performance.
    Helmets gleamed brilliant
in the sun, shirts stretched tightly over beautiful taut bodies.
Veronique’s panties moistened.
    The crowd applauded until
the very last man. Veronique turned away and started her walk home
on slightly shaky legs. A few minutes later, she heard a strongly
accented “Mam-zelle? Seel voo play?”
    She swung around. Hobbling
behind her was a tall American wheeling his racing cycle. Blood
welled from a gash on his upper arm.
    “ Non !” she cried, anguished that such a gorgeous man was injured.
Had he somehow become separated from the main bunch of
riders?
    She pointed to a patch of
dense shade under a nearby olive tree where the grass grew soft and
verdant. She dropped to her knees and encouraged him to do the
same. He leaned his carbon-fiber cycle against the olive trunk and
sank down beside her.
    She inspected his arm.
Such a bulging bicep...such a strong corded forearm...such long
tanned fingers protruding suggestively from his cutaway cycling
glove—all with that thin red trickle of gore.
    “ Merde ,” she muttered, reaching for the hem of her white cotton
blouse. A swift tug ripped a broad strip free. Broader than she’d
intended. The summer air caressed her slender waist. His eyes
caressed it too as she wiped up toward his wound and held the pad
of fabric firmly against it. He flinched only slightly, seemingly
distracted by the abundance of her creamy bosom above the French
lace trim of her low-cut bra as she bent over him, trying to bind
up his injury.

    Chuck no longer felt any
pain. The flimsy blouse outlined his pretty paramedic’s body in
loving detail. And the unbuttoned neckline revealed more than he’d
dared to expect. Her breasts were magnificent—full and heavy—as she
leaned forward to comfort him.
    Thanks to a sudden waft of
cool breeze, he glimpsed the jut of her stiff nipples. His own body
started to stiffen in response. Not a good look in tight shiny
Lycra. It took all his concentration to reverse the process.
Frantically he calculated the distance he’d raced today, the
distance still to go, his average speed over the route so far
covered. Tire pressure, (blood pressure!), time of expected arrival
and time elapsed.
    She was a magnet to his
grasping hands. He imagined his fingers cupping up her
over-spilling flesh, brown against cream, rough against smooth.
Longed to insinuate himself closer to her and place a chaste kiss
inside her gaping blouse. No doubt she’d make a small show of
resistance, but surely he would overcome her reluctance with
perseverance and patience. What a prize she’d be—vibrant,
voluptuous and virginal...

    The doorbell bonged
imperiously.
    Meg left Vi to the jam and cream.
Damn, she’d been enjoying that. Hadn’t even got to the shared
shower and the rollicking ride. She’d have to revisit the scene
once the meeting was over.
    “ Hi,” she said, waving
Bobbie in. “Do you know, I had a nine-thousand-dollar carbon fiber
racing bike parked right there last night?” She pointed to the
wallpaper with a flourish. As there was now nothing to see Bobbie
looked puzzled. “Nice man,” Meg added. “ Very nice man.” She took a deep
breath, hoping the love-bite showed.
    “ I’ve chained mine to the
side fence,” Bobbie said, ripping open the Velcro fastenings on her
helmet strap. Her mop of frizzy black hair expanded to fill a vast
amount of airspace, swamping her small pale face.
    “ No manuscript?” Meg asked,
eyeing Bobbie’s empty hands. Bobby went everywhere on her bike, and
seemed to live out of the sporty little bag strapped around her
waist. Plainly no neatly printed sheaf of papers lurked in
there.
    “ Oh—and I had it all ready
to bring today, too,” she replied, reddening. She sloughed off her
garish yellow