The Governor's Gun Page 8

  Over more drinks she questioned him about what he was doing in Austin. He simply said he was there on business and left it at that.

  “I’m probably taking up too much of your time,” she said. “If you have business, you probably need to get some rest.”

  “I have business,” he said, “but it’s not pressing business. I have some time to spend with a lovely lady.”

  “Ah, there you go again,” she said. “You have a way with the ladies, don’t you, Mr. Adams?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not . . . inexperienced,” he told her.

  She laughed, a deep, throaty, sexy laugh, and said, “I’ll bet.”

  “Another drink?” he asked.

  “Not another whiskey, but I will accept another brandy,” she said, “and then I’ll stop taking advantage of you—I’m costing you time, and money.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  This time when the bartender served him, he said, “Mister, if you don’t take that woman up to your room, I’m gonna try to convince her to come to mine.”

  Clint just smiled at him and went back to the table.

  * * *

  Leah pushed away her empty glass and sat back in her chair.

  “Well, that’s it for me,” she said. “One more drink and I’ll have to sleep right here. And I can’t be wandering the streets in a drunken stupor.”

  “Why would you be walking the streets?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said, “I have to find a place to sleep tonight.”

  “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you walk the streets?” he asked.

  She gave him a look with arched eyebrows.

  “Mr. Adams, would you be asking me to share your room?”

  “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I said that?” he asked. “No, I was just thinking I’d get you your own room.”

  “Really?” she asked. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. That would be . . . too much.”

  “Look,” he said, “I’m not paying for my room. My business here includes the room. So since mine isn’t costing me any money, it’s no hardship for me to get you a room for one night.”

  “That would be . . . fabulous,” she said.

  “Then you’ll allow me to do it?”

  “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think your offer could include . . . a bath?” she asked.

  * * *

  They went to the front desk and Clint asked the clerk for a room for the lady.

  “Mr. Adams,” the clerk said, “I was trying to tell the lady earlier, we don’t have any rooms available.”

  Clint looked at Leah.

  She shrugged and said, “I thought he was lying.”

  “I would never lie,” the young clerk said, then added, “not to a lady.”

  “All right,” Clint said. “Thanks.”

  Clint and Leah walked away from the desk, Clint carrying her bag.

  “Well, here’s what we can do,” he said. “We can go out and find you another hotel, or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  “You can just come upstairs to my room, use my bath, and sleep in my bed.”

  “Clint—”

  “I actually have a suite,” he said, furthering his argument. “You can have the entire bedroom, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “A suite?”

  “Yes.”

  “With a bath?”

  “And a great big bed,” he said.

  She sighed, a deep breath that once again did wonderful things to her cleavage.

  “Well,” she said. “You do make it hard for a girl to say no.”

  “That’s exactly what I was trying to do.”

  “I can’t believe my luck meeting you,” she said. “Lead the way, Mr. Adams.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  In his suite Clint put the bag down and waved his arms.

  “Was I lying?” he asked.

  She looked around the room, peeked into the bedroom, and said, “You were not lying. This is beautiful.”

  “A beautiful suite for a beautiful lady,” Clint told her.

  She turned and smiled, then wagged a finger at him.

  “I’m gonna have to watch out for you,” she said. “You have a silver tongue.”

  He raised his hands and said, “I have every intention of being a perfect gentleman.”

  “We’ll see,” she said. “I think I’ll start with that bath.”

  “The suites all have tubs,” he said, “and water. I can come in and pump it for you.”

  “No, no,” she said, grabbing her bag, “I can do it. You just stay right out here, Mr. Adams. I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

  “Whatever you say,” he told her. “You’re in charge.”

  She came up to him, tilted her head, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “You’re my hero,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  * * *

  Clint remained in the front room of the suite, listening as she filled the tub with water. He could even hear her moving in the tub, and imagined the water sluicing down between her breasts. He’d had an erection since the moment he saw her in the lobby, and now that she was in his room—and her scent filled the air—it had become almost painful.

  He tried to distract himself with a book, but was unable to concentrate. He walked to the window and stared down at the street. The erection was threatening to burst from his pants, and he wished he could take them off to relieve the pressure.

  There were no sounds from the other room now. He wondered if he should go in, just out of concern that she may have fallen asleep in the tub and drowned.

  Would she believe that?

  * * *

  In the tub, Leah used a cloth to wash her breasts, lingering over her hardened nipples, then rubbed the cloth between her legs. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations. She had often been able to give herself more pleasure with her own hands than she’d been able to get from men, like Jake. But she had a feeling Clint Adams would be different.

  She washed herself thoroughly, because she wanted to make sure she tasted sweet. She knew the effect she had on men, and in that respect Clint Adams was no different. But she had the strong feeling that naked, between the sheets, Clint Adams would be very different from other men.

  She got out of the tub and used one of the plush towels to dry herself, once again lingering at her nipples and crotch.

  Once she was dry, she put the wet towel aside, then grabbed the dry towel and wrapped it around herself. She thought about Clint Adams waiting in the other room. She thought about who he was and how many men he had killed. It had been a long time since she’d been this sexually excited—maybe never before. She could smell her own scent wafting up from her wet crotch.

  She went into the bedroom.

  * * *

  Even listening at the door, Clint could hear no sounds from inside. He wondered what she was doing in there.

  “Clint?” she suddenly called.

  He backed away from the door before saying, “Yes?”

  “You can come in now.”

  He went to the door, opened it, and entered. The thing he noticed before anything else was the smell in the room. It was still her, only more so. Her perfume, her natural scent—and the scent of her sex.

  She was sitting on the bed with her bare legs tucked beneath her. The towel was precariously tied around her, and she was showing more of her breasts than she had in her dress. The skin of her shoulders, the slopes of her breasts, and her thighs was pale and smoot
h, and her blond hair seemed to glow as it tumbled down.

  “I feel so much better now,” she said. “If you want to wash up now, you can.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He walked into the small bath room to wash up, still wearing his gun and holster. He’d noticed that Leah was keeping her carpetbag close to the bed.

  He washed his face and hands, took off his shirt so he could wash his chest, then put it back on when he was dry, but left it unbuttoned.

  When he walked back into the bedroom, there was more of Leah’s flesh on display. She had stretched her legs out as she leaned back against the bed rail, and the towel seemed to have crept down to reveal even more of her breasts. In fact, he thought he could see a small crescent of pink areole.

  “This bed is very comfortable,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “And it’s so big.”

  “Yep.”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts, which made them almost leap from the towel.

  “In fact,” she said, “I’ll bet it’s big enough for the both of us.”

  “Probably.”

  “With plenty of room left over.”

  He nodded.

  “So I think it’s silly for you to sleep on the sofa,” she said, “don’t you?”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Clint walked around to the other side of the bed. He removed his gun belt and hung it on the bedpost, then sat down to pull off his boots.

  “Get comfortable, Clint,” she said. “Don’t be shy.”

  “I’ve never been accused of being shy,” he said. He lifted his hips so he could slide his trousers off. He discarded them and then tossed his socks on top of them.

  “Take off your shirt,” she said.

  “Well . . .”

  “Come on,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take off my towel. I always sleep in the nude. You won’t mind, will you?”

  “Not if you don’t.”

  “So then . . .” She reached for his shirt from behind and stripped it off him. That left him sitting there in his underwear.

  “There,” she said, touching his bare back. “Doesn’t that feel more comfortable?”

  Abruptly, she got to her knees behind him, slid her hands over his shoulders and onto his chest. He could feel the heat of her body right through the towel as she pressed up against him.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, looking over his shoulder, “what’s that?” She reached down into his lap and felt his raging cock through his underwear.

  “How long has that been there?” she asked.

  “Long time,” he admitted. “All night, in fact, since the first time I saw you.”

  “Really? How sweet.” She slid her hand inside his underwear and took his cock into her hand. She stroked it a few times, then reached down farther so she could hold his balls. “My, my, they’re really full, aren’t they?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I have an idea.”

  She moved out from behind him abruptly, and stood in front of him. She grabbed the towel, pulled it off, and tossed it aside. Then she stood, her hips shot to the tight, arms in the air, big breasts thrust out at him.

  “Ta-da!” she said.

  “You planned this,” he said.

  “Well, yes,” she said, “but only after the second drink.”

  She moved closer to him so he could reach out and grab her breasts. They were heavy in his hands, and the pink nipples were distended. They were so big he was able to take them in his mouth and chew on them a bit.

  She got so excited when he did that she fell to her knees, took his cock in both of her hands, and then opened her mouth and swallowed him down. She gagged a bit on him, then began to ride him wetly with her mouth.

  The smell of her became more noticeable and he reached down to feel how wet she was. She gasped when his fingers touched her. She released his cock and climbed on him, quickly impaling herself on his erection.

  “Oh, God!” she yelled. “Yes!”

  Her weight bore him down onto his back and she began to bounce up and down on him. Her breasts bounced before him, the flesh jiggling, and she cried out each time she came down on him.

  She was so wet they soaked the sheet beneath them. She was on her knees, but then got her feet beneath her so she was actually squatting on him. She was able to bounce up and down on him harder and faster that way. He knew that, for the moment, her carpetbag—which probably had a gun inside it—was out of her reach on the other side of the bed. So he was able to slide his hands beneath her ass and simply enjoy.

  For now.

  THIRTY

  Clint marveled at how long Leah was able to squat over him, and ride him. She seemed to have more stamina than any woman he’d ever been with. Finally, when her breath began to come harshly, she dismounted and stared down at him.

  “I want you to do something for me,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  She turned around, got on her hands and knees, and presented him with her butt.

  Clint immediately positioned himself behind her. His cock was soaked with her juices, so he spread the cheeks of her butt and pressed the head of his cock to her anus.

  “Yes!” she said, happy that he had understood.

  He eased himself into her, first the head, and then the rest, until he was in her ass up to his balls. She was tight and he started moving in her slowly at first, then more quickly as she loosened up.

  “Oh God, yes,” she said, “yes, yes, that’s it, baby . . .”

  As she urged him on, he fucked her harder and harder until they were both breathing raggedly. Eventually, he flipped her over onto her back, took her ankles in his hands, spread her, and rammed into her again.

  She reached up to take hold of the bed rail and it appeared at one point that they would shake the bed apart.

  Then Leah began to shake as her orgasm overtook her. Feeling her tremors urged Clint on even further, until he finally exploded inside her, and then slumped over her.

  “Oh God,” she said, “that was wonderful.”

  He rolled off her onto his back, speechless.

  She turned to him to kiss his cheek, and he noticed the tears in her eyes . . .

  * * *

  Leah had finally found a man who could fulfill her, and it made her sad. She kissed Clint as her tears fell, then she rolled over to her side of the bed, and reached down into her bag . . .

  * * *

  As Leah came out of her bag with a gun, Clint reached for his holster, slid his gun free, and brought it to bear. She was quick. He was quicker. He pulled the trigger twice. Her gun flew from her hand to the floor, and this time when she stained the sheets, it was with red.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Detective Sam Taylor said to Clint, “So you knew she was here to kill you?”

  “I suspected.”

  “And you still brought her to your room?”

  Clint shrugged.

  “No innocent bystanders.”

  “And you thought you’d bed her first.”

  “That was her idea,” Clint said, “but I was willing to go along with it.”

  “Well, knowing Leah, I suppose I can understand it,” Taylor said.

  “You knew her?”

  They both looked over to the bed, where Leah was still lying in a pool of blood, which was soaking into the mattress.

  “Yeah, I knew her,” Taylor said. “And I knew better than to ever get into bed with her. She was a slut and a whore, not to mention a sinner.”

  Uh-oh, Clint thought. He hoped the detective was not going to preach religion to him.

  “So she’s killed men before?” he asked.

  “That’s what baffles me,” Taylor said. “Whore, yes,
slut, yes, but killer? Unless she was doing it all along and nobody knew about it—”

  “Except for the man she worked for.”

  “That’s another thing,” Taylor said. “As far as I know, she didn’t work for anyone.”

  “Well, she was definitely here to kill me.”

  “You certainly tried to make it easy for her,” Taylor said.

  “I was hoping to get something from her,” Clint said. “Some kind of information.”

  “What do you think this is about?” Taylor asked. “You’re looking for this missing woman, and you’re doing some kind of work for the governor. Could this be connected with either of those?”

  “It would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t,” Clint said. “And I hate that. So I’d say, yes, it has something to do with one of those things—but which one? I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t?” Taylor asked. “Or won’t, because you plan on doing something about this yourself?”

  “Detective,” Clint said, “I’ve already done something about it, haven’t I?”

  A few uniformed policemen arrived and Taylor said, “Just wrap her in the sheet and take her out.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of them said.

  Clint and Taylor moved out into the other room, but they heard the cops inside.

  “Whoa, that’s Leah,” one of them said.

  “Jesus, look at that body!”

  “What a damn shame.”

  “Just wrap it and take it out!” Taylor shouted.

  “Yessir,” one of them said.

  They moved out of the way so the men could carry the covered body through the room and down the hall.

  “You’ll be needing another room,” Taylor said.

  “I’m sure the hotel will oblige me.”

  “Will you be telling the governor about this?”

  Clint realized the detective didn’t know what he was doing for the Capitol.

  “Probably not,” Clint said, “but I’ll talk to somebody about it. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Will you be taking me in?”

  “For what?” Taylor said. “You slept with the woman, shot her in self-defense, and then sent for me. What else can I think other than that you’re telling me the truth?”