by Penny Wylder
My jeans tighten as my cock only gets harder at the sight.
“You have one hour,” the guard announces, before he slams the door behind him. We both listen to the key turn in the lock, and then Ashley crosses the room, her high heels clacking on the floor.
I can’t help it. I watch her legs move, drawn by the smooth flow of her calf muscles, not to mention the glimpse of her ass as she turns around to settled herself onto the far side of the twin bed—as far from me as she can possibly sit, I can’t help but notice. “I must have done something right to deserve a second visit from you,” I comment.
She rolls her eyes. “I came because I had to, Tell. You didn’t give me anything last time. This time, you’re going to tell me where the money is.”
“That so?” I lift a brow. “What’s my incentive, exactly?”
‘“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself already,” she points out, with a pointed look at my crotch.
I shift closer to her, letting the hard bulge in my jeans show blatantly. “If you think wearing a tight, sexy little skirt is enough to get me talking, then you must not know many hardened criminals, Ms. Marrón. Going to take a lot more than that to get my lips moving.”
“Is it?” She shrugs one shoulder, the very picture of feigned nonchalance. “I think you’re going to tell me what I want to know, Mr. Tell.”
“And what makes you think that, Ms. Marrón?”
“Because you’ve had enough time in this prison to think about how you like it. Or how much worse we can make things for you if we get you transferred to solitary, at any rate.”
I clench my fists to avoid responding. She’s right, of course. Solitary here, from everything I’ve heard, is a living nightmare. If I think the lights are dim and the food is shitty up in main, I have no idea what I’m bitching about. Down in solitary, I hear the cockroaches are so common the chefs just started counting them as part of the meal—the protein portion.
But Ashley has tried this line of threats already. I don’t buy it.
“You can’t just negotiate on the same terms that you already failed on last time,” I tell her.
Her cheeks flush a little, but that’s her only giveaway that she’s annoyed. Otherwise her expression remains impassive. “You’re going to tell me where the money is, Damon.”
“I’d be happy to.” I slide closer to her across the twin bed. She doesn’t move back, but rather leans toward me. If I’m not mistaken, her eyes dart to my lips for a second before she regains control of herself.
She wants me. As much as I want her, I’m sure.
This is going to be fun.
“You’ll cooperate then?” she says.
“Of course. As long as you do as well.”
She frowns, sensing the catch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll tell you the secrets you want to know, as long as you tell me some of your secrets first.”
For a moment, she’s silent. I can practically see the calculations spinning through her mind. She’s trying to figure out if this is a trick, if there’s a catch she’s not seeing. But she can’t work it out, so eventually she just nods once, firm. “All right. What do you want to know?”
I tilt my head and size her up, my eyes lingering on her waist this time. She’s definitely not wearing a bra, but is she wearing anything else under there? “First secret—did you follow my final request from our last meeting?” I lock eyes with her again, and savor the spark of nerves in her big brown eyes. “Are you wearing panties, Ashely?”
In response, Ashley surges to her feet and spins around to stand in front of me. She’s just a few inches from my face, and I can already imagine how she’d taste—exactly the way those panties of hers smelled, sweet and savory all at once.
To my surprise, though, Ashley grabs the hem of her skirt and lifts it up.
She’s naked.
If I got any harder right now, I swear I’d burst a seam in these jeans. It’s all I can do not to grab her right now, pull her down onto this bed and fuck her senseless. Her pussy is right there, inches from my hungry mouth, clean-shaven and, to judge by the faint gleam at her lips, wet and ready for me. She’s enjoying this too.
“I followed your request, sweetie.” Now she’s the one smirking, and fuck, I like it. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”
I grin right back. Fucking hell. I’ve never met a girl quite like her. But she’s going to get herself into trouble, playing with fire like this. “Daddy didn’t teach you how to scheme the way he does, did he?” I murmur. “You shouldn’t show all your cards, Ashley, not this early in the game.”
Her eyes narrow at the mention of her father, and she lets go of the hem of her skirt, letting it fall back down around her thighs. “My father taught me how to negotiate just fine, thank you very much.”
“Not like he does,” I interrupt. “Not the same cutthroat, take no prisoners, kill anyone in your path style.”
“My father doesn’t kill anybody,” she replies, voice so secure and haughty that it actually makes me burst into laughter. She blinks, startled, and I realize she actually believes that.
“You don’t know your father half as well as you think you do, Ashley,” I murmur.
She narrows her eyes. “I should think of the two of us, one of us knows him much better than the other. Now stop stalling. You owe me a secret, Damon Tell.”
“That I do. But we didn’t specify what secret. So I’ll tell you this one voluntarily—I’m not in here for the reasons you think I am.”
She scoffs. “Right. You’re innocent. Just like every other thug Dad has hired who stabbed him in the back the second they had the chance.”
“I never said I was innocent,” I interrupt. “But if you think your father has never stabbed any of his people in the back either, then you’re more naive than I thought.”
“That’s your secret, then? ‘I’m not in here for the reasons you think?’ That doesn’t tell me anything, Damon. If you’re going to cheat, there’s no point to this game.” She spins around, about to walk toward the door.
On instinct, I grab her waist. Pull her backward. She falls onto my lap, and for a second, we both freeze, as her full, muscular ass rubs against my cock, still bulging against the zipper of my jeans.
Then she gasps and pushes back to her feet, off of me.
“I’m not cheating,” I say before she can say anything else. Before she can run again. “You need to set ground rules. You need to tell the other person you’re negotiating with exactly what you’re willing to trade and for what.” I push to my feet, and I don’t miss the way her throat catches or her pupils dilate as she gazes up at me, mouth parted, expression torn between anger and lust. I know that feeling. It’s the same one I’m feeling right now. I want to rip that tight little skirt off her and fuck her until she screams. But at the same time, I know how dangerous that is. How dangerous she is.
I need to follow my own advice and set ground rules for this game.
“For example,” I tell her, “I will give you a hint about where the money is located—a hint only—if you can keep yourself from begging me to make you come.”
There’s a pause, and I watch her breath catch again thinking about it. I know she’s every inch as turned on as I am. I plan to use that to my advantage.
“Wh-what are you going to do to try to make me? Beg, I mean,” she adds, and she almost manages to hide the sexy catch in her voice. Almost.
“Tongue and fingers only,” I tell her. Then my mouth quirks into a half smile. “This time, anyway.”
Her eyes narrow. “If I win, there won’t be a next time.”
“Maybe.” My eyes search hers. Find the same white-hot lust in them that burns in my own. “Or maybe I’ll get you addicted. Maybe you’ll be back for more, and succumb to me again and again, because you can’t stop yourself from begging for release.”
That does it. The dare is enough to push her over the edge into doing something she might regret. And fuck am
I glad for it.
Ashley sidesteps me, drops back onto the bed and lies back across it. Then she hikes up her skirt once more, baring that tight, gorgeous, wet little pussy to the world. “You talk a big game, Damon. Let’s see how well you play it.”
“Spread your legs.”
Ashley Marrón does as she’s told. She spreads her legs wide enough for me to see that she’s shaved her pussy lips too, and there’s a little pearl of moisture collecting on the edge of them, just below the entrance to her pussy. Fucking hell, I want to fuck her. The way she glares up at me, equal parts defiant and turned on, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, maybe next to the tight-as-hell outfit she’s wearing, and the panties she isn’t.
I’m so hard that it’s difficult to kneel next to the bed. Once I’m down there though, I don’t waste any time. We only have an hour—and I intend to make her come more than once this conjugal visit. Not just because that will win me this game, but also because part of me has started to enjoy it. I want her to come back again. I want to drive her wild with lust, make her crazy for me… and then I plan to use that to get back at her father once and for all.
I grab Ashley’s ankles and pull her down the bed toward me, in one swift motion, until her ass hangs at the edge, and her pussy is right in front of me, close enough that when I blow gently on her skin, she shivers and tightens her thighs, reflexive.
“Ah ah. Keep those legs wide open.” I grin up at her. She glares back, but pushes them back open again. “That’s right. I’m just getting started, Ashley, so you might as well lie back and enjoy the ride.” I lean down and gently bite her inner thigh, just above her knee. She gasps faintly. I chuckle, mouth against her soft, smooth skin, and begin to kiss, bite and suck my way up her leg. At the crease where her thigh meets her hips, I press my tongue into the divide, at the same time reaching under her body with my hands to grip her ass tightly, massage it in both hands. Her skin feels so soft and smooth against my calloused palms that it nearly sends me over the edge. That, combined with her taste, salty and sweet on my lips, is driving me fucking crazy.
And I haven’t even reached her pussy yet. I lick and suck and bite my way up her other thigh, leaving marks behind—let her try to explain those to any boys she might have waiting at home. I don’t care. I reach the edge of her pussy and let my tongue trail along the crease, slowly, teasing. I glance up at the same time, and find her eyes locked on me, her chest heaving as she arches her back, limbs quivering.
“Ready to beg for release yet?” I ask, making sure my breath blows hot against her pussy lips as I speak.
She laughs, though I notice it’s through gritted teeth. “Never.”
I grin. “Good. I’d hate it if you were easy, Ashley Marrón. Because I’ve been looking forward to making you scream all week.” With that, I spread her pussy lips with two fingers, my other hand still gripping her ass tight, and lean down to slide my tongue along the length of her slit.
She gasps, a soft, helpless sound that makes my cock throb against the confines of my jeans. I run my tongue up her slit, slowly, and right at her clit, I circle the tip of my tongue, pressing just hard enough to elicit another louder cry before I trace my tongue back down between her lips. I don’t push it into her pussy, not yet. I just savor the taste of her, that sweet tang that drives me wild, and trail my tongue back and forth, back and forth.
Before long, I’ve gotten into a rhythm, licking and sucking her clit every few strokes, never for long enough to get her close to the edge, just enough to make her swell with desire. She’s soaked by now, more juices leaking from her pussy every time I go back in for another slow lick. Her hips start to buck up against me too, and I pin her down with both hands. Then, when I think she’s ready for it, I press the tip of my tongue into her tight little pussy.
This time I get a full-blown moan in response, complete with her back arching and her head falling to the side, mouth open. She’s almost there. Almost right where I need her to be.
“You like that Ashley?” I murmur, pausing to stroke her pussy with my fingertips instead, tracing that same path up and down her slit, circling her clit with my thumb, pressing gently, too gently to actually make her come. Yet. “You like having my tongue inside your pussy? You like being here spread across my bed—the bed of a prisoner, a con man? You’re a dirty girl, Ashley. Filthy, in fact.” I press my finger against her pussy entrance. “You want to come for me, don’t you?”
I can see it written all over her face, but she sets her jaw, stubborn, and narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not begging.”
My grin widens. “Not yet.” I press my finger into her, just the very tip, just an inch inside her pussy. Even so, she gasps, and I can feel her tense around my digit, her pussy tight and swollen. “But I’m just getting started, my dear. And you… well…” I press that finger deeper, going an inch at a time. She writhes against the bed, unable to help herself, though her mouth stays clamped firmly shut. “You seem like you haven’t come in a very long time. I think you need this. You need the release. You need to be able to have some fucking fun, don’t you, dirty girl?”
Her reply is drowned out by another long moan as I thrust a second finger into her pussy.
“Go on,” I murmur. “Beg me to give it to you. We both want it.”
Those thick lips of hers tremble as I add a third finger to her pussy, pushing roughly now. I draw my hand back and start to thrust it in and out of her pussy, fingertips curled to press against her front inner wall, hitting that sensitive G-spot on every downward stroke.
She cries out again, breathless, and her whole body twists with each thrust of my fingers, helpless.
“Beg, Ashley.”
I lean down to lick her clit. She gasps.
“Beg.”
Thrust. Withdraw. Flatten my tongue along her clit. Thrust again.
Another moan, longer and louder. I have to be careful now. I’ll accidentally let her climax at this rate, without getting what I want.
Without winning.
I stop moving my hand, my fingertips still buried inside her. Ashley tries to thrust against me anyway, bucking her hips up, but I push them down to the bed with my other hand and nip her stomach in response. “Beg me, and I’ll give you what you want.” I look up at her across the flat plane of her stomach, her breasts, unfortunately still wrapped in that shirt of hers, standing between me and her narrowed eyes.
I curl my fingers within her, just enough for her to feel the motion.
This time when she groans, it’s a long, drawn-out, defeated sound. “Fine,” she finally gasps. “Make me come, Damon.”
“You’ll have to beg harder than that,” I murmur against the soft skin of her stomach, as I withdraw my fingers from her pussy slowly.
“Please,” she spits, through gritted teeth. “Damon. Please make me come.”
Good enough. I thrust my fingers back into her, at the same time leaning down to flatten my tongue against her clit. It doesn’t take much at this point. A few long, flat, hard strokes of my tongue across her pussy, combined with my fingers pumping into her pussy, curled to press her G-spot on the way, and the sensations push Ashley over the edge. She cries aloud as she comes, hands buried in my hair, gripping so tight that my eyes sting. But I don’t stop—I keep licking her, finger-fucking her, until the spasms subside and she collapses back across the bed, legs shaking where they’re wrapped around my head.
I draw back, and stand upright, gazing down at her prone body, glistening with sweat, her bare pussy soaked with her own cum.
I’ve never been this hard in my life. I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so badly as I do now. She’d be up for it, too—I can see that in her eyes, lowered at half-mast, as she gazes up at me with longing. Her eyes drop to my erection, and I know she’s wondering the same thing. What would fucking me be like? What would it feel like to have my cock in her mouth?
I grin, and as she watches, I reach down to rub my hard-on, with the same hand that still has her
juices all over it. “Next time, you can have a taste of me,” I promise her. “If you want to come again. If you want to get more information.”
That seems to finally recall her to her senses. She pushes upright onto one elbow, eyes narrowed. “More information? You haven’t given me any. You owe me a clue about the money, Damon.”
I lift one brow, clicking my tongue as I do. “You came, Ashley. You lost the game. You don’t get anything this time.”
To my surprise, for a brief instant, I see genuine fear flash across her face. It’s gone, almost before I can register it, replaced by fury. She surges to her feet and yanks her skirt down, about to dart for the door. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your goddamn games too,” she snaps.
Then I remember. Her father. The man she’s answering to for all of this. The man who stopped at nothing to get me thrown in here—who thought nothing of mowing down any innocents in his path. Yes, she’s his daughter, but so what? After what I’ve seen Mauricio Marrón do, I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt her too, in the pursuit of his goals.
If she goes back to him with nothing, after all this, what will he do to her?
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.