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“Did you not read my file, baby girl? I’ve been in here for over five years. Which means it’s been almost five years since I touched a woman.”
“I heard you. And I still want you to t-take me.” Her fingers grip the knot at the back of my head. She twists it, then releases the hair I now wear long so I look as different as possible from the soldier I’d once been.
It cascades around my face, partly blocking my view of her gorgeous face. Before I can toss it back, she rakes her fingers through it, making that whimpering noise again and pulling another spill of pre-cum from my dick.
I grunt as pure temptation takes huge chunks out of me. A little desperate, I shake my head again. “No, baby. Not here. You can’t ask me to take your precious gift here. Like this?”
Her mouth—that Cupid’s bow of deliciousness—trembles and more tears spill free.
“Fuck. Stop crying, angel. Those tears are wrecking me.”
“Please, Monroe. I’ll do anything,” she implores.
“Baby, no,” I plead, dragging my nose along her neck and inhaling her deep, as if her sublime scent will give me the energy I seek when it only weakens my already battered defenses. “You’ll hate yourself in the morning when you’re safe and back home and realize what you’ve done. That your first time was with a criminal.”
I don’t feel the need to elaborate that her first time will be with a convict anyway. But an ex-convict. A free man. One who plans to track her down the moment he’s done his time.
But she’s shaking her head, the knot at the back of her head loosening with her frantic motions. “I won’t hate myself. I promise.”
“No.” I inject as much authority into my voice as possible then want to kick my own ass when she whimpers. “Kitty?—”
“Does it help that I wanted you to…f-fuck me before the riot started?” she whispers.
I freeze. “What?”
Her gaze drops and color stains her cheeks in shy embarrassment. “Before the riot started, I was thinking…” She pauses and bites her lip.
I let out a low, hungry growl. “What were you thinking, little girl?”
“I was thinking how…hot you were.” Her body jerks against mine but this time it’s not in terror. She’s squirming because she’s…turned on.
Fuck. “Jesus, what are you doing to me?” Blood surges into my dick so fast my vision hazes for a minute before I focus again.
Emboldened by my response, she rakes her fingers through my hair again and I vow in that moment never to cut it again. To keep it long for her so she can play with it whenever she wants.
Preferably while I pump inside her warm, tight cunt.
“I was thinking how hot it would be if you kissed me. Wondered how your hands would feel on my body,” she whispers shyly, her cheeks now in full bloom.
“These rough prison hands?” I mean to be disparaging but she nods eagerly, her breath panting slightly.
A scent hits my nose. The scent of wet, willing pussy. And, sweet Jesus, it’s the headiest aroma in the world.
“Yes.”
I suck in a breath and slide further down the slippery slope. “And what did you want these hands to do to you, sweet Kitty?”
“I imagined you ordering me to get on my knees and crawling to you, then commanding me to unzip your jumpsuit. Then…then you put those hands in my hair, grip it tight and…and you kiss me. Then you order me to do…other things.”
“And do you obey me? Are you a good little girl and do everything I ask you to?” My voice is so hoarse I can barely get the words out.
She nods, her face eager and open, just as a series of loud explosions make her jump. “I do,” she cries.
“You said other things. What other things, baby?” I demand greedily, the scenes she’s painting too delicious and mind-blowing for a man who’s been starved of sex for too damn long.
A man who’s beginning not to care that there’s a fucking prison riot in full rage just a few walls away. A man who’s so focused on the words falling from the pretty lips of his kitten that the whole world could spin into anarchy and he wouldn’t budge until she speaks them.
“Maybe…you want me to suck your…thing?”
