The Burning Soul

Yancey ran the ridged leather up over his rippled belly. Probed his batlocks and prowler with his paws. Brought the barrel of his doug in line with Christabel's jaws. Paused. Aimed his twanger at her maw. Ooooohs. Aaaaahs. "Oila!" "Gee," Christabel snarled. "This is fun, so far. What's next?" Belladonna stuck a reefer into the side of her yip and bit down on it. Took a hit. Stalked toward Christabel. Sidled beside her. Snapped the cindering stick from her yap. Pressed the roach out on her tit. "Shit!" Fuming flesh. Inflamed nipple. Burning soul. "You gotta do more than fuck for it, Christabel. "Belladonna," Christabel said with astonishment. "You set this whole fucking thing up, didn't you? You sent me off on a goosechase to Casanegra to make contact with these depraved motherfuckers. Supposedly in order to lead me to Florencita and Chivito-and the belt." "No shit, Dick Tracy," Belladonna snickered. "Then you fucked it around so that Chivito pulled a raid and-" "Well, Christabel. After all the work I put into this caper ...»