Expecting to Die

Did you enjoy this teaser? Click here to get your copy.

---

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Lisa Jackson, Nancy Bush, and Rosalind Noonan’s
coming soon wherever print and eBooks are sold!
Click here to get your copy.

---

T
hey came.
As expected.
But this time there were three, not just two.
All young, on the brink of womanhood.
All with nubile, firm bodies.
All unaware that he was hidden, deep in the umbra of the woods surrounding
the lake.
The back of his throat went dry and he licked his lips in anticipation. As the
tallest one began to strip in the moonlight, he felt his dick start to come alive,
thickening beneath his jeans and hardening in anticipation, as if it had a life of its
own. He skimmed his fingers down his zipper, feeling his boner, smiling before
reaching for his belt and silently drawing his Bowie knife from its sheath. He
traced the smooth steel of the slightly concaved clip point with the tip of his
finger and imagined the weapon plunging deep between the breasts of the girls
who had gathered on the shoreline. Underage, they were here despite their
parents’ warnings, because they were brazen and rebellious and . . . not good
girls. This, he knew. Sensed. No, they were bad.
He felt his juices flowing, that little zing that sizzled through his blood at the
thought of what he would do. Ahh, yessss . . .
But first things first.
He had to wait, until the precise moment.
Parting the branches, he watched, his heartbeat accelerating, his breath
coming in shorter gasps.
Moonlight was a ribbon on the smooth, unbroken surface of the lake and the
wind rustled through summer-dry branches, the hoot of an owl breaking the
stillness.
Come on, he thought, his blood tingling. Take it off. He’d been to his share of
strip clubs, first sneaking in when he was underage, then later, when there was
no fear of being kicked out, sitting as near the stage as possible, watching the
dancers carefully peel off their clothes in the most titillating of manners. Over
the years he became less interested in what was obviously staged, a practiced
tease to turn on the audience and draw money from the viewers’ wallets. But
this, three girls on a dock at a deserted Wyoming lake, this was different. More
real. More raw. And the fact that these near-women had no idea that he was
observing them was the ultimate turn on.
He squinted, then lifted his night vision goggles to get a better view. The tall
one striding out to the end of the dock was a blonde with an athletic build and he
knew why. Shiloh. She was the cowgirl, a tomboy, though built like a woman,

---

her pale hair braided into a rope that hung halfway down her long back.
The middle girl was shorter, but trim, a petite brunette, her father a cop. He
smiled at that. Katrina. Patrick Starr’s kid. She resembled her mother and was a
feisty thing. He knew. He’d watched. The fact that she was a detective’s
daughter only made her all the more interesting. A taboo.
But the third girl baffled him and he didn’t think he’d seen her before.
Certainly she’d never come to swim nude with the others. He wouldn’t have
missed her. She was the smallest. Petite. Her hair was probably some shade of
red, he guessed, pinned into a topknot on her head. Despite her small frame, she
had big tits. He couldn’t wait until she yanked off that sleeveless blouse she was
wearing and show ’em off.
Again his dick twitched.
He wondered at the color of her nipples. Pale and blushing? The kind that
nearly blended into the surrounding soft tissue? Or big, dark discs with pointed
little nubs that he’d love to suckle and nip?
Now his damned hard-on was pulsing.
But she was sitting on the edge of the dock now, hugging herself, hesitating.
Come on now, girl, don’t hold back now. Who the hell was she? He zeroed in on
the features of her face and didn’t recognize her, but he could imagine what it
would feel like to have her slim legs wrap around his waist, the tightness of her
moist pussy.
He had to look away for a second.
Couldn’t let sex distract him.
At least not yet.
Come on, come on. His whole body tensed as the disrobing began. Of course
it was Shiloh, the cowgirl, who started the strip show. Her friends were
following suit. The cop’s daughter, supposedly whip smart, wasn’t shy either, but
the third one was still hesitating.
So, now, which one?
Who would be the lucky girl?
He adjusted his ski mask and raising one finger, pointed at the unwitting three
as they innocently removed their clothes.
Eenie, meenie, miney, moe . . .