by Penny Wylder
That’s not your problem, Damon, my inner voice tries to tell me. I’m being a soft-hearted moron. I probably am. But looking at her right now, half a mess because of me, I can’t help it.
“Ashley.” The soft tone of my voice makes her pause and turn her face toward mine. “I must be developing a soft spot for my fiancée,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Because I do have a tip for you.”
She pauses. I can see the careful calculation on her face, as she tries to conceal her surprise and whatever else she might be feeling right now. I don’t blame her. Not for any of it. “Okay,” she finally replies, voice even as possible.
“The money is still nearby. In this state, in the same county where it was stolen.”
She searches my gaze for a long moment. Probably trying to gauge whether I’m telling the truth. She must finally decide that I am, because a faint smile touches her lips. “Okay,” she repeats, but this time it’s softer, without the aggression and anger and fear her voice had in it before.
I never noticed, until just this moment, what a beautiful voice she has. How nice it sounds when she talks like this, like a real person. My chest aches, a stabbing pain right between my ribcage and… fuck.
Fuck.
I cannot start feeling anything for this girl.
A knock pounds on the door.
Has it really been an hour already?
“Time’s up,” the guard announces as he undoes the lock without further ceremony. Neither Ashley nor I say anything this time. We just watch each other, eyes locked, for as long as we can, until the guard slams the doors between us.
I’m in trouble.
4
My legs shake as I exit the prison. It’s all I can do to stay upright on my heels. Especially when every few steps I have to pause and clench my thighs together—without any panties on, in this tight as hell skirt, it’s going to become very obvious very fast to any passersby if my own juices start dripping down my legs. Which they’ve been doing ever since Damon—fucking Damon, that bastard—got me so turned on I can barely think straight.
I’ve never come like that before. That orgasm made my whole body feel high, and even now, almost half an hour later, I can still feel leftover shocks every now and then, jolting through my nervous system.
My cheeks are on fire as the guards smirk to one another and wave me through the outer gate of the prison. Do they know? They must be able to tell. I’m sure it’s written all over my face—that post-sex glow that I can’t ever hide. Not to mention the way I’m walking, with my legs half-pressed together, trying to contain as much of the evidence as possible.
Fuck.
I’ve never been so turned-on in my life. That orgasm left me shaking, and yet, I want nothing more than to turn around and run straight back into this prison to beg him for another one.
What kind of negotiator am I? I broke at the first damn test he put me to. Part of me knew—especially after last time, after seeing Damon and feeling the way my body was so instantly, insanely drawn to his—that this could happen. But I had no idea it would happen this fast, this dirty, or that I’d feel so damn… addicted, already.
I square my shoulders and ball up my fists. It doesn’t matter. At least I got something out of this encounter, even if it’s less than I would have liked. I know the money is nearby. The bank Damon robbed for my father is only two counties away from this prison. The cash is hidden somewhere within our reach. All I need to do is meet with Damon one more time—beat him at his own game this time, and get that last little detail I need.
Something else nags at me, though, as I cross the parking lot and climb into my car, legs still clamped tight because my bare pussy is still wet beneath this skirt, and the cool breeze out here makes me shiver for more reasons than just the chill. I drive the key into the ignition, and I can hear Damon’s voice replaying in my head. Not just the sexy-talk at the end of our encounter, but the other things he said.
Things about my father.
You don’t know your father half as well as you think you do.
If you think your father has never stabbed any of his people in the back either, then you’re more naive than I thought.
I know Dad has done terrible things. You don’t get ahead in the mafia business without being willing to cut some corners, lie to or rob or bribe or threaten the right people. Damon has probably met some people on the wrong ends of those deals, so he’s developed an overblown sense of my Dad’s guilt. Dad is guilty, of plenty of bad things. But nothing like what Damon did. Nothing like murdering an innocent bank owner in cold blood.
That’s the stuff of hardened criminals.
Like the hardened criminal I just let finger-fuck me senseless, part of my brain points out. I ignore that, shove it to the back of my mind as I start the engine. The tires squeal as I whip out of the prison parking lot, suddenly all too eager to put miles between my bad decisions and me.
I cannot let Damon Tell get to me. I cannot start thinking sympathetically about that monster, just because he gave me one good orgasm.
It doesn’t take me long, driving at the speed I’m going, to reach home. I head directly to my room via the back entrance, not wanting to run into Dad or Jasper or another of Dad’s unsavory henchmen while I’m in this state, so obviously disheveled. Once safely in my rooms, I strip down and head to my private shower, the enormous one with the rain shower head that Dad had installed just for me after his last big score a few years back, when we renovated the house.
I duck my head under the hot stream and try to wash away any memory of Damon.
But the second I close my eyes, I can see him standing over me, my legs spread to either side of him on that prison mattress. His eyes were white-hot with lust as he gazed up at me, dark as pits, and just as terrifyingly easy to fall into. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he licked my legs, knee to thigh to hip, then back again, slow and teasing. When his tongue flashed across my mound, it took every ounce of my self-control not to thrust up toward him in anticipation.
And when his tongue slipped between my lips, pushed into my pussy, thick and strong at once, I couldn’t contain the gasps any longer. I bucked against him as he licked and sucked at my pussy, desperate for release. And the whole time, all I could think about was how his cock would feel—that thick cock I could see bulging against his jeans, wanting me as much as I wanted him. How would it feel if he spread my legs around his waist and drove it into me? How would it feel if he fucked me across this bed, thrust his cock deep into my pussy over and over until we were both screaming?
Before I know it, my hand is between my legs, and my fingertips are spreading the lips of my already-sensitive pussy. I hold my head under the stream of water, press my lips tight to hold in a cry as I trace my fingers over my clit, the same way Damon did earlier. I rub back and forth, slowly increasing the pressure until I’m gasping, still sensitive from having his fingers inside me, his tongue all over me. I come with a faint gasp, and the hot water rushes down my throat, tickles my belly and my hand where it cups my pussy. The orgasm is short and sharp and just leaves me wanting more again. Because it’s nothing like the high he gave me.
And I want to feel that again.
That scares me.
I finish washing up, then get dressed. This time I make sure to put on panties under my jeans, since I’m sure my daydream reminiscences about Damon aren’t finished.
When I look presentable again—or at least less like a woman who’s recently been fucked in the conjugal visit cell of a prison—I head downstairs to find my father.
He’s in his study, as usual. I walk in on the tail end of his meeting with Jasper, the latter of whom shoots me an appreciative side-eye as he walks past me toward the door.
“Back from your dirty business at the jail?” he asks, licking his lips as he passes.
“That’s enough, Jasper,” my father replies calmly from behind his desk. Jasper merely shrugs and slams the office door behind him. Dad, I notice, doesn’t repriman
d him any further than that.
“You realize he’s a total creep, right?” I ask, the moment the office door is shut.
“I don’t employ him for his sunny disposition,” Dad points out. With that, he goes back to organizing some papers on his desk, all but ignoring me. “How did it go today?”
“Better. The money is still in the same county as the jail. It’s close.”
Dad’s gaze ticks back to me for a fraction of a second, one eyebrow raised. “That’s good news. But you don’t have any leads on an exact location?”
“Not yet. Damon is warming to me, but not enough yet. I need…” I pause, tongue flashing across my lips as I think how best to word this. “I need more time to win his confidence fully.”
“So you decided to ingratiate yourself with him instead,” Dad muses. “Not a bad idea, if outright threats didn’t work last time. You’ll need to go back and visit Damon again, though. Soon.”
“Of course,” I reply. I must say it a little too fast, or a little too eagerly, because Dad’s attention flicks back to me from his papers, and this time, his eyes narrow in suspicion.
“Does the prospect of spending more time in a conjugal visit jail cell amuse you, Ashley?”
“Of course not,” I answer, voice steady. I keep my gaze locked on his, because I know how much Dad appreciates eye contact. That’s one of the first things I learned from him. How to look someone dead in the eyes and lie. “I want to do good work for you, Dad. I failed to get the information you needed the first time I took on this job, but now I’m making progress. I intend to see this thing through, no matter what it takes.”
Dad holds my gaze for a long, quiet moment, during which my palms start to sweat. But in the end, he smiles, a slow-moving thing, a real smile, the kind I don’t receive from him very often. “Good. Good, Ashley, that’s what I like to hear. You’re finally taking some initiative.”
“Well, you’ve finally trusted me enough to give me an important job,” I counter, letting a slight edge creep into my voice. Because it’s true—I’ve been waiting for him to give me a real assignment in this business for far too long.
“You’ve proven that you’re ready. You’re smart, Ashley. You know when a job is just a job, and how to perform that job optimally.” He sighs and turns back to his work, shaking his head a little. “It’s just a shame that Damon Tell wasn’t as smart as you. Now he’s paying the price.”
I leave the office with those words ringing in my ears. Now he’s paying the price. Is that what awaits me, if I fail to do this?
I square my shoulders. Doesn’t matter. Because I won’t fail. I have Damon right where I want him. And now, I’m going back to finish the job.
5
This time, the guard drops me off in the conjugal trailer before Damon arrives. I take the opportunity to position myself to best advantage, reclined across the bed with my low-cut top hanging just at the edge of my bra, low enough to reveal the lace, and my tight skirt hiked around my thighs, barely long enough to conceal my pussy. I skipped the panties again. I’m learning what Damon likes.
The moment the door opens and Damon steps inside, his dark eyes jump straight to me and remain fixed there. I purposefully, slowly uncross and cross my legs, drawing his attention to my long, sleek, bare legs. His mouth quirks into an appreciative grin, even as the guard cracks a joke about him having more than his due share of fun this week, then shuts the door behind Damon.
“Excited to see me, little fiancée?” he asks, his voice low as he steps forward into the room.
In response I push to my feet and step toward him, letting my gaze sweep over his body the same way he’s studying me. Sure enough, there’s already a bulge growing in his pants. I smirk and glance back up at him, hips cocked. “Not as excited as you are to see me, it seems,” I reply.
He mirrors me, stepping closer as well, until there’s barely an inch of air between us. It hums with energy, with all the pent-up lust we’re both holding back, barely. His smile turns feral as he reaches out, fingertips an inch away from my hip, where they hover without quite touching me, making my body ache for his warm, rough touch. “I beg to differ, darling.” He bends down, until his lips are a centimeter from my neck, and breathes in deeply. “Mm. I can smell how excited you are from here.”
My cheeks go red-hot. Because, of course, just his mere proximity already has me wet as hell, thinking about what he did to me last time. Wondering what he’ll do this time.
But I have business here. I need to keep my head on straight. I tilt my head to meet his gaze, smiling, our lips inches apart. “I want real information today, Damon. No more hints and half-clues. None of this ‘the money is in the same county where I left it.’ Tell me what I want to know.”
To my surprise, Damon smiles right back at me and nods. “I will, Ashley. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know… As long as you make it worth my while.”
I lift one eyebrow. I’ve heard this before. “What do you want, exactly?”
“Simple.” He steps back, and for a moment, I gasp in air, trying to clear my head.
That doesn’t last long. Because his hands have shifted to the clasp of his prison-issued pants, and he’s undoing them slowly, gaze still boring into mine. “Ever since you begged me to make you come with that sexy mouth of yours, I’ve wanted to feel those big lips wrapped around my cock.” He undoes the zipper, and pushes his pants down his legs. His boxers slide after, and his cock springs free, already rock-hard.
My eyes widen as I take him in. Not only is he ripped, with that sexy V of muscle pointing straight toward his cock, but he’s hung, too. Long and thick, curved slightly upward at the tip, a bead of precum glistening, practically begging for me to lick it off. The scent of sex, already thick in the air from both of us sweating at the sight of each other, seems to grow thicker. All I can think about is him, his juicy cock, and how badly I want to drop to my knees and wrap my lips around him. I want to feel him in my mouth, to see how deep I can take him. Whether I can handle him.
“What do you say, dirty girl? Do have a deal, Ms. Marrón?”
I catch his eye. Study the feral lust written all over his face, his sheer desire for me. “We have a deal, Mr. Tell.” With that, I grab the sheet off the bed and whip it off. Dump it in a pile at his feet and fall to my knees on top of it, cushioned from the hard floor of the trailer.
He sucks in a sharp breath when I wrap my fist around the base of his cock, tracing his length with my hand first. He’s so thick that I have to reach up with my other hand to fit all the way around him. I trace his length, back and forth, slow at first, and lean down to flick my tongue across the head of his cock, licking off that delicate little pearl of cum.
“Hungry girl,” he murmurs, as his hands find my hair and dig through it, tightening into fists around my locks.
I grin and spread my lips to slowly inch him into my mouth. He hasn’t seen anything yet.
“That’s right,” Damon says, low in the back of his throat. “Take my cock in your tight little mouth.”
I open my jaw wide to slowly inch him deeper, teasing. But he’s having none of my slow moves. He grips my hair tighter and thrusts his hips forward an inch, pushing his shaft deeper into my throat. I tighten my fists around the base of his cock and relax my jaw, savoring the soft, velvet feel of his cock gliding across my tongue, and the hardness of his shaft under that soft skin. At the same time, I dig my tongue up against the underside of him, and smile to myself when I hear him moan, and feel his cock shudder between my lips.
“Deeper, Ashley. Suck my cock like you’re hungry for it.”
He pushes against me, his cock pressing farther back into my mouth than I’d ever let any of my previous boyfriends go. For a moment, I struggle to open my mouth wider, to keep my eyes from watering. But then I feel his hands loosen in my hair, go almost gentle, as he whispers, “Relax.”
So I do. I let my body go; let him take control. And he does. He thrusts into my mouth until the t
ip of his cock touches the back of my throat, and I moan against him, automatic. My voice vibrates around him, makes him gasp and draw back, then thrust between my lips again, his tip pressing down my throat a little. I struggle to catch my breath, and he runs his hands through my hair again.
“That’s it. Take it all in that sexy mouth of yours. Take my whole fucking cock, Ashley.”
He draws back for just long enough to let me catch my breath, and this time when he presses forward again, his tip slides down my throat, and my lips touch the base of his cock, my eyes widening.
I didn’t know I could do this. I didn’t know I could take a cock as big as his. Part of me, a bigger part than I care to admit, thrills with pride at the thought. I used to not be sure about blowjobs—usually it felt like a chore. But with Damon it’s hot as hell—like a contest. A game. And I’m winning it.
“Fuck, Ash, you are such a dirty little girl,” Damon murmurs, and I love that sound. The sound of him losing control to me.
He draws back, and I reach around to grip his ass with both of my hands as we find our rhythm—me rocking back and forth on my knees, keeping my lips clamped tight around his thick shaft, and him thrusting against me, his hips colliding with my face with each thrust, his cock spearing deep into my throat every time. It takes effort to keep my mouth open wide, my jaw relaxed, but it’s worth it for every peek I steal up at his face, his eyes half-closed in pleasure, his mouth open in distraction, and his chiseled body hard with anticipation in between thrusts.
“I’m going to come in your throat, Ashley. I’m going to make you swallow my cum, every last drop.”
I moan around him in agreement, and that makes his cock jump inside my mouth, the flat plane of his abs tensing as he starts to near his edge. I dig my tongue up against his underside and keep moving my lips around him, making him grit his teeth and groan through them.
“Fuck,” he hisses one last time, and with a sharp inhale, he starts to come. “That’s it, take it, swallow it all,” he gasps, and I suck his cock hard, milking every last drop.