Prison Fling: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  After all, I’m a newbie journalist at a small-town newspaper. Realistically, my place in the world is insigificant. Just one girl among billions who hasn’t done much with her life. But I wanted to change that. I wanted to make a difference in the world.

  And helping the inmates seemed like a good first step. Why not? It was a minimum security facility, so these weren’t hardened thugs that were going to shank me when no one was looking.

  And it was just supposed to be a simple meet and greet our first day. Nothing but an overview of the project while shaking some hands.

  No problem, right?

  Hardly.

  Because he was there.

  Mason Evercore.

  Those dark blue eyes instantly captivated mine, holding me tight in their grip. I was trapped, staring at that massive body. Broad shoulders, with long arms and strong, powerful legs. Even the prison garb couldn’t hide the undeniable power of that hulking frame.

  And when Mason moved, it was like he owned the place. How does that happen in a prison? I thought they stripped you bare, all dignity and pride gone.

  But not Mr. Evercore.

  He had what it took.

  The alpha was the conqueror come, ruling the place with charisma and intensity. It was there with every gaze, every gesture. The man knows how to get his way.

  Was I one of his subjects?

  It felt like it for sure, a pulse beating rapidly in my throat. Oh god, oh god. I’m from the outside world, it should be the other way around. I’m the one who’s going to leave at the end of the day. There are no bars, no handcuffs, no manacles on my wrists. No prison sentence, period.

  But my interaction with Mr. Evercore was crazy. Like I couldn’t think. Although I was supposed to be the “mentor,” instead our roles felt reversed. He was telling me something, those blue eyes penetrating. Sending me a message that struck all the way to my core, making me go wet inside.

  Because my body wanted him.

  I couldn’t help it.

  Even from two feet away, his aura was mesmerizing, pulling me in like a tractor beam.

  And like a helpless female, I responded. My insides became mush, hot, heavy and ripe. My nips perked, stiff and nubby, and he could tell. Those eyes lit on my sweater, and then a slow smile crept over his lips.

  Oh yeah, he noticed.

  He saw how my tits grew heavy and full, the nipples begging to be tasted.

  I wanted to make it go away, I really did.

  But with just the two of us there, the opposite happened.

  With no one watching, slowly my body moved. My back arched, pushing my chest out even further, until those melons were front and center, the tips bright and hard for his viewing pleasure.

  And another smile played at those sculpted lips, blue eyes gleaming.

  “So you like writing?” he growled, one hand below the table. “This is your first year on the job?”

  What were we talking about? Oh right. This was supposed to be a discussion on journalism and prisoner interests, and how to mix the two. We were supposed to be professional and business-like, totally kosher. And instead, here I was pushing my breasts out for him to see. I wanted him to see. I wanted him to know how hot I felt inside, how my pussy ran wetly in front of this gorgeous man.

  Because he’s a monster, right?

  Mr. Evercore’s in prison.

  They put you here for a reason.

  But my body wouldn’t obey. My melons swung, huge and ripe, beckoning for his touch.

  Enjoy me, they whispered. Make me wet.

  And the alpha did. With each word that dropped from his lips, each small, subtle gesture, my temperature ratcheted up. Juices flowed from my private chamber, thighs going sticky, my nether region deliciously sticky. More and more and more, until I squirmed in the chair.

  Oh god!

  The hard plastic was probably drenched with female nectar.

  I had to stop.

  I had to wipe it away. My skirt was surely a mess.

  But amazingly it wasn’t. Because when the session ended, I pulled scarf forwards to hide my jutting tips. Thank god the silk fabric was on hand, otherwise my co-workers would see.

  Plus, my skirt was fine. It’d tented out around my body, leaving just my panty-clad pussy pressed against the plastic.

  But what I hadn’t counted on was the chair.

  Because oh shit, the plastic was wet.

  Sticky trails of pussy cream smeared into the hard seat, a pungent aroma heavy around us.

  But what could I do?

  Quickly, I pushed the chair in so that it was tucked under the table. There, no one could see now.

  But Mason knew. I could tell he knew.

  That patrician nose crinkled a little, nostrils flaring as he sniffed.

  And those blue eyes turned to me, knowing.

  Oh yeah, he knew.

  He knew that I’d creamed while talking to him. The effect of the alpha male was so powerful and magnetic, that my pussy had lost it right there in the prison library.

  But the man didn’t do anything. Not at that moment, at least.

  He merely stuck a big hand out.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Evans.”

  I took it, breath fast in my chest.

  “You too, Mr. Evercore,” were my trembling words, even as I tried to smile professionally again. “Until next week.”

  And instead of replying, the alpha merely nodded, that strong jaw tilting down.

  At that moment, Karen, the office busybody ran over, practically yanking me away.

  “You have to be careful!” she admonished, shooting Mason the side eye. “These people are criminals!”

  “Shush!” I said out of the corner of my mouth, cheeks scarlet. Oh god. Karen was always sticking her nose in things where she had no business. I hope Mr. Evercore hadn’t heard her words.

  But if he had, he gave no indication.

  Because as the door opened, I couldn’t resist one last look over my shoulder.

  And what the alpha did made me gasp.

  He was looking straight at me, those blue eyes holding me captive. And pulling the chair out, the big man swiped one square finger over the seat before lifting it to his lips.

  Oh my god!

  Did he really …?

  He did.

  Mason knew everything. He knew exactly how hot I was. How hot I’d been. How much I wanted him, and my body’s involuntary reaction.

  And he was telling me he knew. Those blue eyes never left mine as he licked his lips discreetly, a sly smile crossing that handsome face.

  “Tastes good, baby girl.”

  I could almost hear the whisper from across the room.

  “Your pussy juice tastes real good, sweetheart.”

  And just like that, it happened again. I creamed right there into my panties once more, our gazes clashing across the space. My co-workers continued to file out around me, laughing and chatting with no idea.

  But he knew.

  And I knew.

  The aroma rising around my form was pungent, heavy and sensual, a tiny rivulet running down my thigh.

  And then reality snapped back once more, jolting me forwards.

  “You ready?” chirped Marie, a cute copy editor who was perennially happy. “Ready to go?”

  I turned to my friend with a fake smile, trying to look like nothing was wrong.

  “Um sure,” I said, my cheeks lifting with a forced grin. “Sure, let’s go.”

  And just like that the connection was broken. Marie and I walked down the hall, the big man still in the library, his massive frame unmoving.

  But out of sight didn’t mean out of mind.

  Because something’s taken hold.

  Something dangerous.

  Something exciting.

  And oh god … but I want more.

  Quickly, I scampered out of the room, feeling like I would explode without some relief. Leaving the rest of the group, I rushed into the nearest bathroom, hastily runn
ing into the furthest stall. Oh god, please let no one be here. Because I needed it that bad.

  And in seconds, my hand was on my pussy, the folds slick and wet.

  Mason’s image appeared in my mind as I leaned against the wall, fingers pumping in and out at a rapid pace. My juices flowed like a river, making obscene squelching noises that seemed to echo through the bathroom. If anyone else was in here, I’d die. I’d absolutely dissolve into puddle on the floor.

  But it was too late.

  I didn’t care. The need was too strong, too powerful.

  So I did even more.

  Another finger slipped in, now pumping three at a time. Still, I didn’t think that even came close to the girth Mason packed between his legs. He had to be a monster, given his height and frame. He’d stretch me to my limits, and maybe even make me go beyond. I could almost feel it, that cock crammed into my tight pussy, making me moan.

  Oh god. I was getting close. Very close, even as those fingers moved faster and faster. My fantasies grew vivid as I imagined Mason bursting into the stall and ravishing me. His hands would be around my wrists, pinning me to the wall. He wouldn’t hesitate to ram himself inside of me, taking what he wanted. His lips would press against mine in a rough and forceful fashion. His tongue would show mine no mercy.

  Pleasure washed over my frame. It was powerful and all-consuming, bringing me to my knees. I screamed, my mouth opening into a wide “O.” If Mason had truly been here, he would have rammed his cock down my throat, fingers through my hair, holding me in place, shooting his seed into my belly. I could almost taste it. Thick and salty. Or maybe he’d pull out at the last second and decorate my face, marking me as his.

  With that thought, I shot over the edge, squirting in climax. My body sank to the ground as I was left quivering. I didn’t even bother to remove my fingers. I liked how they felt inside of me. Nothing, however, would compare to what it would feel like to have Mason’s cock nestled inside, deep in my most private place.

  Eventually, I got up, cleaned myself off as best I could, and walked out the door, acting as if nothing had happened.

  “Laney, there you are!” chirped Marie again, taking my arm. “You were gone for so long! Come on, it’s time to get back.”

  “You’re right,” I said in a casual voice. Oh god, hopefully no one could hear the tremor. “Hamster wheel it is.”

  My co-workers milled about, laughing and chatting like nothing was wrong. But to me, it was obvious. My face was flushed. A heavy female musk rolled off my frame in luscious waves, the evidence of my secret session.

  But no one knew. It was my secret, my first session with Mr. Evercore. Maybe it was imaginary, just a figment of my imagination … but oh god, I hoped there would be more.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Laney

  Exiting the prison compound, I stepped into the bright glare of sunlight, squinting my eyes.

  “Bye Laney,” chirped Marie, skipping away. “You came with Mark, right? I came with Josh, we’ll meet you back at the office.”

  My eyes rolled discreetly. Of course. Marie had a crush on Josh, so she wanted to have some “private time” with him, even if it was just chatting during the ten minute drive back.

  Meanwhile, that left me with Mark. Ick. The man leaned against the hood of his car like he was Danny Zuko from Grease, except nowhere near as cute.

  And nowhere near as magnetic as Mason. My thighs still rubbed stickily against one another from my session in the bathroom.

  Mr. Evercore would know what I’d done.

  He’d realize in an instant, those blue eyes devouring my sweetly heaving frame.

  But instead I had Mark.

  My stomach turned as he narrowed his gaze in my direction. Unlike Mason’s deep blue eyes, Mark’s were pale and glinty, like a nasty ferret.

  “Everything alright?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said with a smile.

  “Well, you spent a long time in the bathroom. I just assumed,” his voice trailed off.

  “Assumed what?” I asked archly. “Indigestion? Unnamed female problems? No Mark, I’m fine. Let’s just get back to the office.”

  He chuckled.

  “Totally hear you, girlie. This place sucks. I can’t wait to get out of here. What the hell were they thinking, organizing volunteer work at a prison? Seriously, I’d rather be picking garbage off the street.”

  Subtly, his eyes dropped to the hem of my skirt before rising back up along my body, drinking in every hill and valley.

  Because it was no secret that my co-worker had a giant crush. In fact, he’d been flirting with me for a while now. Mark would always find excuses to come into my office, just so he could linger around my desk, sneaking a peek down my shirt.

  But I never showed any interest. First, because harassment is uncool. I knew what he was doing, even though the guy thought he was discreet. Second, Mark is sad and flaccid, with shiny skin and hair so fair that his scalp was sunburned. But most importantly, it was his attitude. I resented the way he spoke about the San Nemo. Every individual has a story, even if they’re a prisoner, and his comments was unusually cruel and harsh.

  So when he reached out to cup my cheek in his palm, I dodged the advance by ducking down to fix the strap of my heel. By the time I straightened myself out, his arm hung limply by his side.

  Good.

  I slipped into the car.

  “Come on!” were my words. “Let’s go!”

  The thud of the heavy door seemed to break Mark out of his trance. Quickly, he rounded to the other side, hopping into the driver’s seat before putting the pedal to the metal.

  For a while, we didn’t talk. The awkwardness was thick and uncomfortable, and I cursed myself. Why did I ever agree to let him give me a lift? If only my trusty little Nissan hadn’t broken down earlier this week.

  Well, maybe the car wasn’t so trusty, given that it wasn’t working.

  “So… I was thinking –” Mark began as we cruised down the street.

  “Turn here,” I interrupted. “It’s faster.” I pointed through the window.

  “Fine.”

  He did as he was told, driving along a winding back road. Those narrow, pale fingers fidgeted against the steering wheel and his lips opened and closed like a couple of flaps fluttering in the wind. The man wanted to say something, but had grown hesitant.

  Good.

  Because I didn’t want to hear it.

  It’d be bad for sure.

  Most likely he was going to ask me to go out for a drink. Again. Every week, he would ask the same question even though I always said no. Mark didn’t seem to understand the meaning of that word. Maybe he was just confused. After all, I would happily join in on group drinks, but never one-on-ones with Mark. No way. I had no doubt he would get the wrong idea.

  “Um, so are you going to keep up with this prison project?” the man asked, struggling with his words. He was obviously trying to fill the silence.

  “I think so,” I answered slowly. “I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”

  Mark shot me a sideways glance.

  “Really Laney? Most of those guys are illiterate. The newspaper is going to be crap. I mean, come on, what could they possibly write about? The best way to make a shank out of a toothbrush handle?”

  “I think you’ve been watching one too many movies,” I replied, my tone somewhat icy.

  But Mark is a clueless guy and didn’t detect the freezing temperature.

  “I’m being serious. It seems like a waste of time. What do we care about those people anyway?”

  Again, outrage tore through my soul. Because they’re people, I wanted to say. Real people, with hopes and dreams, even behind bars.

  But I went with a vague answer instead.

  “It’s just the way it is Mark.”

  He snorted with derision.

  “Yeah whatever. They shouldn’t have committed a crime, no way no how. They deserve to
be there.”

  But I just didn’t think life was that simple. It’s not black and white, one two three. Life is about choices, sure, but sometimes, there are no good options.

  Suddenly tired, I sighed, looking out the window.

  “That’s a very narrow-minded perspective Mark,” I said softly. Everyone makes mistakes. If you were there, wouldn’t you want a second chance? Wouldn’t you be grateful for people who came in, volunteering their time?”

  My co-worker plowed on ahead, face in a scrunch.

  “Yeah well, I don’t like it. And I definitely don’t think it’s a place for a pretty girl like you.”

  I blushed a little at the compliment. I can’t help it. When I was a kid, my brown hair was more frizzy than curly, my weight a giant issue. I used to wish that I could disappear, literally vanish into thin air. Over the years, things have gotten better. I’ve grown and matured somewhat, but any mention of my looks still makes me blush, even compliments.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” were my soft words. “I’ll decide what’s right for me.”

  Mark sighed, shaking his head. But at least he didn’t say anything. Good.

  For the rest of the ride, we drove in silence. It felt like hours before we arrived back at the Star.

  And as soon as he parked the car, I swung the door open, ready to make my escape.

  But Mark was fast, real fast.

  “Wait, Laney!” the man called out, jogging up to me. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  Slowly, I turned.

  “I don’t really have much time for chit-chat, Mark. It’s five p.m. I have to catch the 5:05 because the next one doesn’t come for half an hour.”

  “No worries, I can give you a ride home if you’d like.”

  He should have offered before we arrived back at the office.

  “No, it’s okay. I already paid for my bus ticket.”

  But Mark was going to say what he wanted to say. The man took a deep breath, supporting himself with one hand on the nearby wall.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to… you know… go out with me…?” the man mumbled, a hopeful expression on his face. He looked like a five-year-old asking his mother for an ice cream cone.

  This guy was really impossible. It’s hard to describe. On the one hand, he was a nervy, cocky asshole, putting prisoners down without an ounce of compassion. Someone who you’d hate, flat out. But sometimes, Mark was also someone else. Right now, reminded me of a teen boy standing on your doorstep, insecure with a big zit on his chin. I didn’t know what to do.