Back in the Saddle (Avenging Angels #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
<<<<8898106107108109110118128>141
Advertisement


This was news.

“The General has a place?”

Eric shook his head. “I forgot to tell you. Yeah. We just need to figure out how to get him there. But don’t change the subject. I didn’t say I’d leave my wife for you, if she was still my wife, because you got a great ass and extreme talent in sucking cock.”

I couldn’t help my smug smile at hearing that.

Eric ignored it.

“It’s because you’re all that’s you.”

I was all that was me.

Shit!

I was either going to cry, or hug him, or both.

This had to stop.

“Great,” I said smartly. “You’re all that’s you too, and it isn’t all about your big dick and sexy bedhead. Can we stop being gooey now? We’re here. We have our shit tight. Savannah’s gone. Hopefully that’s over for good. Now, we have to be up mega early. I just had three orgasms. But you haven’t had one, so, if you’re accepting orders, I’ll take another one while you get yours.”

His brows shot up. “You just had three?”

I took my hands from his head and counted them down on my fingers between our faces.

“The fireman’s hold. Tossing me on your bed. Landing on me. One, two, three.”

“You like to get physical,” he murmured.

“Uh. Duh,” I replied.

I got that out. And then about three seconds later, I was naked (and I didn’t make myself thus). Less than three seconds after that, I was being kissed breathless. And a little bit later, I was fucked that way.

In the end, I got two more orgasms.

Eric got one.

Poor baby and his male biology.

But a big fat yay for me.

TWENTY-THREE

WE’LL TAKE HIM

Dawn was kissing the sky, and I’d switched out the night vision binoculars to regular ones.

The camp was waking up.

It was almost time to leave.

And my man was out.

I looked to him slouched in the chair, his feet up on the sill, ankles crossed, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his chin dipped into his neck, like he was the sheriff of a Wild West town, out on the front porch of the jail, catching some shut-eye between gunfights.

I was relieved to see he finally looked cute.

I thought this so I wouldn’t do something girlie, like count my lucky starts that this guy was mine.

Since he’d fallen asleep, and I wanted him to keep doing it, I’d taken the last hour of watch.

I could report it still wasn’t fun, specifically because it was super chilly that night. Eric had checked the forecast and gave me a heads up, that was why I was wearing a black knit cap with two huge pom poms positioned precisely so they would look like a certain mouse. When Eric saw me in it, he laughed so hard, I thought he’d injure himself. But I wasn’t insulted, considering I was proud of my love of that mouse, not to mention, still laughing, he started making out with me, which felt really nice.

This shit was also unfun because it continued to be mega boring.

The camp was as quiet that night as it had been the night before and the one before that (I guessed, I wasn’t awake to know, I just knew nothing happened outside my brother being taken in for questioning, but that didn’t happen in the actual camp).

So Eric and I gabbed about the kind of cat I wanted (I didn’t care, just as long as we vibed), the supplies I’d need and where I might put a litter box (I was going to buy one of those furniture-looking ones that hid it). Also my desire to make the perfect burger (I suggested mix-ins, like mustard, garlic and Worcestershire, Eric approved of this plan), my ideas on the signature cocktail for the Oasis Holiday Extravaganza (I was vacillating between a take on a French 75 with pomegranate juice, or some kind of mule that went heavy on the ginger, Eric suggested a seasonal switch up of a cosmo, which led me to learn he was a vodka guy, though he didn’t turn away from gin), and what kind of safe house Clarice would offer (Eric chuckled at my fur rugs and Waterford idea, but he also admitted I probably wasn’t wrong).

Of course, this led me to quizzing him on why an attorney would have a safe house at all.

“She likely doesn’t. My guess, it’s her summer place to get away from the heat,” he’d replied.

That made sense, so that was undoubtedly it.

And that was the end of our discussion about it.

Then he fell asleep, and I returned the gift he gave to me the last couple of nights by letting him do it.

I heard a car door slam, which surprised me, since for hours I’d heard nothing but Eric’s low, beautiful voice with the occasional whistle of wind through the warehouse, so I lifted my binoculars to have a look just as another door slammed.



<<<<8898106107108109110118128>141

Advertisement