Free Longarm #396 : Longarm and the Castle of the Damned (9781101545249) by Tabor Evans Page A

humping for all she was worth. She had promised a fine ride? Well she damn well was delivering one.
    There was no way he was going to ask, but judging by the steel gray in her hair she had to be pushing fifty. Very likely pushing it down from above that age would be his guess.
    Certainly she was of an age where her tits were drooping toward her belly button and her nipples spread out like a pair of tea saucers pasted to the tips of those dugs.
    Her pussy hair was scant and gray and her belly protruded more than a little.
    But she was one helluva woman for all of that. Handsome. And lusty.
    And Lordy but she could suck a cock. She took it in wet and sloppy, making little gobbling noises all the while she slurped and suckled and damn near drove him wild.
    After he came the first time, she kept on sucking until he again was hard as a cast iron poker, then she duckwalked up to his waist and planted one knee on each side of his hips. Her cunt was slimy with her juices and it gaped wide for his entry.
    She lifted herself over him with practiced ease and lowered her hips to skewer herself on his pulsing shaft.
    Netty moaned with pleasure as he filled her to capacity, and then she began bucking and thrusting, rotating her hips around and around as well as lifting herself high and slamming down again to punish his belly with the protruding bones of her pelvis.
    All Longarm had to do was lie there and hang on to the bunk lest he get bucked off the damn thing.
    He was not entirely sure, but he thought it entirely possible that he indeed would be bucked off the bed by this wild woman.
    Not that he was complaining.
    Not likely.
    He closed his eyes and lay there, Netty bouncing her ass up and down on him, all the while with a small, happy smile on his face.

Chapter 22
    Come morning, Netty gave him a quick blow job and a huge breakfast. She piled cold biscuits and spicy jerky into a clean flour sack for him to carry on the road and said, “I’ve never been to Baggs, so I can’t tell you how to get to the Crowne ranch.”
    â€œThat’s all right. I been t’Baggs before. It ain’t so big that I won’t be able to find the place.” He kissed her. “I’m just sorry I had to be the one to carry the news about your papa’s murder.”
    â€œWasn’t your doing,” Netty said. “But I hope you will be the one to catch the son of a bitch that killed my old daddy.”
    â€œI’ll do my best. You can count on that,” he promised.
    From the Morgan place Longarm reined the gray gelding southeast, back to Medicine Bow, rather than heading directly southwest to Baggs. He needed to turn Birdwell’s gray in at the livery—and sign a voucher to pay for the mare that had been killed in the line of duty. From there the quickest way down to Baggs would be to hop a westbound train to Rawlins and hire another horse there for the last leg south.
    It probably would be easier to take a stagecoach down to Baggs, but in the tiny town there might not be a saddle horse for hire and he purely did hate having to cover new ground in a buggy or a wagon.
    Longarm napped on the Union Pacific train—after first making sure the conductor would wake him when they reached Rawlins—and felt considerably refreshed when he stepped down from the passenger coach. He had not gotten much sleep the night before and needed that rest.
    â€œSure I got horses for the hire, mister,” the liveryman told him. “Got good ones, bad ones, and indifferent ones. Which kind would you like?”
    Longarm chuckled and said, “You know your animals. You choose one of the good ones for me, please.”
    The gentleman brought out a rangy dun that had a mean look in its eye. The beast took one look at the bit in the liveryman’s hand and pinned its ears flat.
    â€œHere, you son of a bitch,” the fellow snarled. He forced the dun’s head down and jammed the bit hard against its teeth.
    Could