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And with the thought of her slippery pussy, he had even bigger plans. He’d tap that before they got on the road and headed home. “Oh yeah,” he muttered to himself, patting his hard-on. Those two-bit cowboys didn’t have anything on him. They didn’t have shit to hold over her, either. With what he had in his pocket, Morgan wouldn’t just crawl back to him. She’d run.
He stuffed his hand back in his jeans and gave himself a hard pull, running the top of his thumb over his swollen prick. He’d surely missed Morgan. Her replacement whined about having sex every other day. Morgan spread her legs whenever she wanted to get high.
What the bloody hell had he been thinking in the first place? He’d meant to replace Morgan with Karen, but fuck, he’d rather have a junkie in his bed than a used-up hooker who belonged back on the streets.
Obviously, Morgan knew how to fuck. Her replacement just lay there and moaned, acting as if his cock was the best one hanging.
He’d like to think so, but he wasn’t well-endowed. Karen was great for stroking a man’s ego, but Morgan had it going on for stroking what he now couldn’t wait to let her toke on, too.
Kilo pressed the binoculars against the bridge of his nose and studied the basement window again. He needed one of those wheels. He’d never seen anything quite so appealing until he saw Morgan bound to the wooden spokes. Hell, he’d seen her pussy glistening from there. Okay, so maybe his imagination was running a little wild.
Tucking his hand away again, he rubbed the slit of his dick once more. He withdrew his arm and returned his focus to the second floor window.
Fuck! What had he missed?
Holding the glasses against his forehead, he squinted his eyes and tried to find them. Watching Morgan with these guys had been exhausting. He’d fumbled around with his cock for the better part of two hours. He needed a little relief.
Morgan was bound to the bed again, but where were those morons she’d been screwing? He scoured the entire top floor trying to locate her fellows, those deadbeat cowboys who must’ve thought he’d give Morgan up without a fight.
Not a chance. The bitch owed him over a hundred grand, and now she could work it off. She was obviously worth more to him alive and able than dead and cold.
Kilo laughed aloud and stuffed the binoculars in his shirt. Opportunity was best enjoyed when no one expected to see a second chance coming. The cowboys must’ve hit the showers.
He watched for any movement. Then, he glanced at the open windows on the main level one final time.
All clear! Great. He’d hurry over to the house, grab his bitch, and they’d get the hell out of there. By midnight tonight, he’d know firsthand how well Morgan could her earn her keep and work off the dough she owed.
Oh yeah. He was planning on a good time enjoyed by all. With any luck, he’d turn a profit on the junkie he almost set free. He could almost hear his phone ringing off the wall now. Whores like Ms. Keesling brought top dollar for a reason. It was difficult for men with eclectic tastes to find a woman like Morgan.
He snickered. Not only did she perform well, she seemed to enjoy herself, which mattered to some men. Kilo didn’t care either way.
“If she’ll do it for free, she’ll do it for me,” he sang, descending from his perched position. “Ah yes, Morgan. You and I are about to reconcile and have us a mighty fine time.”
* * * *
“What have we here?” Grant asked, glaring at the sorry son of a bitch who apparently wasted little time in traveling to Blountville. When he’d first spotted the asshole practically dangling from the tree, he almost didn’t believe his eyes. This guy was some piece of work. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you were already nearby when we spoke on the phone.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Kilo asked, brushing off his hands.
“Kilo, let’s not dance here, brother. I rope steers and ride bulls. I play with big girls, grown women, and I have no patience for little girls who wear their hats backwards and their pants so low they look like they’ve been shanked several times,” Grant taunted him, watching his tan skin turn pale.
“Grant, don’t be rude. Our guest may need a formal introduction,” Blake said.
“You reckon?” Grant asked, clenching his fists.
Blake aimed the gun at Kilo’s cock. “Oh yeah, I think a man has a right to know who’s gonna blow his dick off. What do you think?”
“For the record,” Grant drawled. “I ain’t seen Blake here on his knees. And he sure ain’t offering to loan you our woman.
“Given the fact you watched us with your binoculars, I’d say you already know Morgan won’t be servicing you anytime soon—or more correctly, ever again.”
“She ain’t anything but a junkie,” Kilo said, twitching as he moved, acting like a coked-out crackhead. “But, man, if you want her, we ain’t gotta fight about this. I’ll name my price. You can pay up, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Is that right?”
“Of course, yeah. You know, since she’s a junkie and all. I’ll try to set a fair price.”
“You’re right about one thing. I’ll give you that. Morgan is an addicted somebody,” Grant said, his nails biting into his palms. “She goes at my cock like she ain’t ever gonna get enough.”
