Straw Men by J. R. Roberts Page A

cannot allow that.”
    â€œThen why come to me at all?”
    Since she seemed to have trouble finding the right words, Fawn kept her face close to him and her eyes locked upon Clint’s. He seized the opportunity to lean forward a bit more until he felt his lips touch hers. The moment Clint started the kiss, Fawn had no trouble finishing it. She slipped both hands up to slide against Clint’s face and slip around through his hair. All Clint had to do was push forward just a little bit more and she parted her lips to let his tongue slip into her mouth. She returned the favor and tasted him as if she’d been starving for weeks and was now finally getting the feast she’d been after.
    Before long, Clint felt her body pressing against him and her hands wandering over his shoulders until they caressed the muscles in his arms. When she slid her hand down along his stomach and then reached a little lower, Fawn touched the erection growing between Clint’s legs.
    â€œIf you’re not going to let me go,” Clint said, “then you must have come here for a reason.”
    Fawn locked her eyes upon Clint, straddled him, and then slowly peeled her tunic up and over her head.

TWENTY-TWO
    Fawn moved with as much grace as her namesake. She wriggled out of her tunic and set it aside without making a sound. She then started to pull apart the buttons of Clint’s shirt, but only loosened enough for her to slide her hands under his clothing to touch the bare skin of his chest. When she leaned her head down to close the distance between herself and Clint, she closed her eyes and waited for his touch.
    She didn’t have to wait long. Clint leaned up to kiss her, savoring the feel of her lips as her hands continued to move over his skin. Rather than think about the death and blood and pain that filled his more recent memories, Clint gave in to what was happening. If he was to be executed by these Indians, he wasn’t about to turn his nose up at one last chance for something as pleasant as Fawn’s soft body on top of him.
    Fawn never took her lips off him as she unfastened Clint’s belt and then pulled open the front of his jeans. Sliding her entire body down a little ways, she eased his pants down and then guided him between her legs. Even Fawn’s hands were soft and smooth as she stroked Clint’s rigid cock a few times before easing it inside of her. When she lowered herself down onto him, Fawn let out a contented breath and closed her eyes as if she were in the middle of a dream.
    Come to think of it, Clint wondered if he was the one dreaming. As Fawn rocked slowly on top of him, the rest of the world seemed to quiet down. When he turned his head to get a look on either side of her, all he could see were thick shadows. The only indication he had of the outside world was the warm breeze that drifted in.
    Fawn straightened her back and placed her hands upon Clint’s chest. Gazing down at him, she let her head droop forward so her hair spilled over her shoulders to brush against his neck and chest. Her fingertips pressed into his skin as she slowly ground her hips back and forth. Just as she’d rocked all the way forward, she pushed her hips a bit more to take every last inch of him inside of her. She clenched her eyes shut and tensed as a little quiver worked its way through her body.
    More than anything, Clint wanted to get his hands on her. He strained against the ropes that were binding him just so he could cup her backside in both hands and guide her so he could pump into her. At the moment, he wanted that even more than to get away from wherever it was he was being held. Perhaps that was written on his face, because Fawn let her body drop forward so she could reach behind him and grab on to his bindings.
    Instead of untying him, she gripped the ropes around his wrists and rested her head close to Clint’s face. “I will let you go,” she whispered. “I just