Breeds 11 by Jacobs Faith

Author:Jacobs Faith
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

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The incessant beeping of the phone finally roused Jacob from the deep sleep he had slid into. He rolled over on the couch, instantly missing Faith’s warmth, the heat of her body curled against him. Frowning, he looked around the darkened room, then growled as the phone refused to stop ringing.

His shoulder still tingled, a pleasurable warming, reminding him of Faith’s new bloodthirsty tendencies.

Those cute little canines were sharper than they looked. But along with the tingle, he could also feel his cock thickening, hardening with the thought of having her beneath him again, locked tight and hard inside the snug volcano of her slick cunt. He would have to find her first. He frowned as he looked around the room.

The dress still lay in silken disarray on the floor, the torn thong several feet from it. Jacob’s jeans were thrown over the coffee table, his ripped shirt was half under the couch. Everything was there but Faith.

And that damned phone was driving him crazy.

He stumbled to the tall walnut cabinet, jerked open the door and pulled it off the hook with a violent motion.

“Hello?” he barked, his eyes moving around the room, wondering if Faith had gone to bed without waking him. Surely, she would have wakened him to join her.

The muted sounds of raucous laughter filtered through the receiver.

“Jake, its Hawke,” the weary, wary voice identified itself.

Jacob shook his head. Hawke was supposed to be miles into the jungle, not at a damned bar.

“Why the hell are you calling? And why are you bar hopping? You aren’t supposed to be anywhere near a town.” Irritation flared inside him.

“And I was heading out, I really was,” Hawke assured him easily. “We had to wait on some supplies and extra ammo, and we were heading out of town when I just saw the most amazing sight.”

Jacob’s stomach dropped. His trouble barometer peaked.

“Such as?” Jacob asked carefully.

“Well, this pretty little auburn-haired spitfire rode up to the bar on a beauty of a black cycle, just like yours. Dressed to kill and happy as she could be, she walked right in as though she owned the place.

“What?” Fury pulsed, raged. She had sneaked out on him, damn her to hell. He was paddling her ass for sure.

“Right now, she’s parked in front of a pot of Columbia’s best, and a pitcher of the finest brew she could sweet talk the bartender out of. And ole son, let me tell you, a fine piece of ass dressed as soft and silky as she is tonight, can talk a man out of some prized brew. She has the best in the house, on the house, and a table surrounded by many male admirers.”

Jacob didn’t wait around to hear more. The phone was jammed back on its base. He jerked his jeans on, then ran upstairs and pulled a fresh shirt from the closet, pulling it on hastily. He pushed his feet into leather sneakers without socks and he rushed from the house.

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