By Kitty Thomas
Veronica Cason lives in a small condo with out transparent view of the sky. It's doubtful which would overwhelm her first: her debt or the structures squeezed in so tight that they encompass her like ominous sentinels. She can't breathe within the urban. Her luck is a lie, and her debt is coming to assemble her--unless another person will get there first.
When a stranger bargains her a task at a ranch, it appears like salvation, however it can also suggest her demise if his causes aren't natural. Which door has the tiger in the back of it? The claustrophobia of the town or ranch lifestyles below an open sky?
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Extra info for Big Sky
Yeah? ” “What, baby,” Kit teased. ” Jesus. Christie was a talker. I knew that about her. It didn’t matter what the occasion or who was listening (or trying not to)—the Super Bowl, a movie, a crowded elevator, or, apparently, in the middle of sex—she’d talk all the way through it. I should’ve told them right then that I could hear them. But just as I opened my mouth, Christie moaned. Now, I’ve spent a lot of time with Kit and Christie, and I’ve heard Christy laugh and curse and cry and tease.
She asks. I feign surprise. ” I try unsuccessfully to suppress my knowing grin. She slaps at me playfully and pulls me in for a hug. I notice with great joy that she hasn’t ordered me to remove my Þngers yet, so I wiggle them ever so slightly and am rewarded with a little intake of breath. Yup, I could get used to this game. Being the top is pretty fucking cool. ” “Another stupid game I don’t know how to play,” Christie grumped. I felt her pouting all the way in the front seat, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the snow-covered road to check her pretty pink lips.
She sat up and gripped my shoulders. Her hips began their magical dance again, fucking my Þngers. “Yes, I feel you,” I whispered. “God, I feel you,” she said between clenched teeth, tossing her head back. She thrust harder and harder, riding me fast and frenzied until her cries were short and sweet. And then, just before she came, she stopped. Breathing slowed, she held on to my shoulders and moved so her cunt slid up and down, on and nearly off my Þngers, long and slow. Her nails dug into my back as she drew out the pleasure, milking it for every last drop.
Big Sky by Kitty Thomas