Read Texas! Lucky for Free Online

his jeans. No wonder he was so uncomfortable.
    Befuddled, he reached for the top button of his fly. When it and the others were undone, he eased himself free, sighing with relief. The pressure had been almost painful.
    Using his personal system of radar, his lips found her neck in the darkness and began dusting it with kisses as his hand moved to her breast again. The barriers of buttons and her brassiere clasp didn't deter him in the slightest, and soon his hand was filled with warm, malleable woman flesh.
    Now we're back on track, he thought. Everything was as it should be. Her breast was full and soft as his hand gently reshaped it. When he drew his thumb across the tip, it responded as he expected, becoming tight and hard. He sandwiched it between two of his fingers, enjoying the small wanting sounds that issued from her throat each time he applied the merest pressure to her nipple. Eventually he took it into his mouth. His tongue circled and stroked and teased until her hands were clutching at his shoulders and his own body was burning like a furnace.
    "Sweet, sweet," he whispered as he moved aside her garments and hungrily kissed her other breast. "So sweet."
    Hose. Pantyhose, he thought miserably when his hand slipped beneath her skirt to caress her knee. He despised the things, and wished he had five minutes alone with the sadist who had invented them.
    Moments later, however, he was delighted when his stroking hand discovered satiny smooth skin above her stockings. Apparently she was delighted, too, because at the touch of his hand against her inner bare thighs, her back arched off the bed and she released a staggering sigh of pleasure … and mounting need.
    He tracked the lacy suspenders up to the V of her thighs. Inside her panties there were myriad textures to explore and fluid heat to drown in—he wanted badly to taste her. But he didn't have the time. His body was compelling him to hurry.
    Had he ever had this woman before? No. He couldn't have. Otherwise he wouldn't be experiencing the contradictory urges to hurry and to loiter. He resented the time it took to fumble in his pocket for the foil-wrapped prophylactic and slip it on. The same desire that compelled him to position himself in the cradle of her thighs was prompting him to wait.
    But he was already there, hard and hot and pressing toward sweet deliverance. And she was moist and soft and snug and sweet.
    He heard himself say hoarsely, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," but he wasn't even sure why.
    All he was sure of was that he could never get enough of this woman. He gathered her beneath him, stroked her expertly, then buried himself deep within the sheath of her body. He wanted to sustain the pleasure, but it was so immense, he was helpless to stop the climax that claimed him, shook him, drained him.
    It left him depleted. Totally spent, he laid his head on her breasts, making kissing motions against her nipples with his lips and lightly grinding his stubble-rough cheek against the soft mounds. Tenderly he palmed the nest of damp curls at the top of her thighs.
    She touched his hair. Feeling the caress, he smiled. Then he drifted off to sleep again, wondering why, since it had been so damned good, he'd never made love to her before.
    * * *
    No matter how much Lucky drank the night before or how late he caroused, he always woke up at daybreak. His father had had chores for Chase and him to do before school. The habit of waking up early had been ingrained in him.
    When he first became conscious, his head felt like a bowling ball stuffed with cotton, which might roll off his shoulders at any moment. It was an effort just to open his one functioning eye. Nevertheless, when he saw through the slit that he was alone in the bed, it came fully open. Stretching out his hand, he touched the imprint her body had left. Grunting and groaning from the whipping he'd taken from Little Alvin, he sat up, switched on the nightstand lamp, and groggily surveyed the room. No suit