The Hunt for Clint Adams by J. Roberts Page A

grinding herself against him.
    â€œCompletely.”
    â€œThere’s still something between us, though,” she said. “Allow me?”
    â€œOf course.”
    She dropped to her knees and slid his underwear down to his ankles. His penis sprang free, almost hitting her in the face. It made her laugh, but only for the moment. Then she became very serious.
    â€œMmm,” she said, taking the shaft in both her hands. She found it solid and very smooth. She flicked her tongue at him, just barely touching the swollen head. Then she licked it more deliberately, up and down the shaft until she was back at the top. She popped it into her mouth, circled it with her tongue, soaking it with her saliva. When she withdrew her tongue a string of saliva came with it and then broke.
    He reached down, grabbed her, and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her again, then slid his mouth to her neck, her shoulders, and then her breasts. He took her breasts in his hands, held them to his mouth, and licked and sucked the nipples until she moaned. He put his hands on her waist and directed her to the bed. The back of her knees hit the mattress and they fell onto it together.
    She rolled onto her side and he spooned her, his penis nestling in her delicious butt crack. He reached around for her breasts, toying with her nipples while nibbling on her neck and ear.
    â€œIf you’re hungry,” she said, “I can arrange for something to be brought up.”
    He turned her over, looked into her eyes and said, “Oh, I think I have everything I want right here.”
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    Across the street, Bobby Davis and Tom Melvin stood in the darkened doorway of an abandoned building.
    â€œWhat are we doin’ this for?” Bobby asked.
    â€œThis is what Tarver’s telegram told us to do,” Tom said. “Just keep an eye on Adams.”
    â€œKeep an eye on him,” Bobby said. “We don’t even know if he’s in there.”
    â€œThe game’s over,” Tom said, “and we ain’t seen him come out, so he’s in there. Stop givin’ me so much grief, Bobby.”
    â€œHey, don’t blame me because you backed the wrong horse,” Bobby said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m betting you’re in such a foul mood because you lost your bet, right?” Bobby asked. “You picked the wrong poker player?”
    â€œNever mind.”
    â€œI knew it.”
    â€œLook,” Tom said, “we don’t both have to be here. We’re just gonna watch, we ain’t gonna make a try for him. Why don’t you go back to the hotel.”
    â€œWhat for?” Bobby asked. “To sleep? I had enough sleep. I’m ready for some action. Besides, ain’t we supposed to spook him some more?”
    â€œLike we said before,” Tom reminded his partner, “we don’t wanna take a chance that we’ll have to face him and Masterson together.”
    â€œWhy don’t we just backshoot Masterson like we did that big feller in Colorado Springs?”
    â€œWe do that and Adams would track us forever,” Tom said. “No, we’re gonna do what we’re getting paid to do—watch.”
    â€œYeah,” Bobby said, “but when are we gettin’ paid, that’s what I wanna know.”
    â€œDamn it, Bobby, just shut up.”
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    As soon as they were on the bed, Clint maneuvered Jane so that he was on top. She was more than a handful of woman, which was just what he liked. He filled his hands and his senses with her, squeezed her breasts together, pressed his face in between them, breathed in her heady scent, enjoyed the warmth of her skin.
    â€œYou’re not a man who’s in a hurry, are you?” she asked.
    â€œNot with a woman like you.”
    â€œA woman like me?”
    He slid his hand up and down one of her thighs, over her belly.
    â€œA woman who should be . . . enjoyed.”
    â€œIs that what you’re going to do,