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She’s so fucking soft and pretty and I haven’t been around women besides the sixty-something-year-old prison doctor in five long years. Besides, I’m an animal and she’s right to be scared.
Still, it kills me that she’s afraid of me.
“Umm…twenty,” she answers.
Twenty.
So young.
So fucking perfect.
Jesus.
Every bone in my body craves a single precious stroke of her peaches and cream skin, but there’s an armed guard stationed outside the door, just itching for me to make his day by misbehaving.
I curl my hands into fists just so I don’t reach out to test the softness of her skin. Does it feel as damned silky as it looks? As smooth?
My hands are callused and rough from daily workouts and my job in the prison furniture shop. Hell, I have splinters that would most likely hurt her.
And yet, the need to touch is like a living flame inside me, roaring higher and out of control by the second.
She’s twenty.
Blisteringly young to my seasoned thirty-seven but still…a woman.
And I’ve been so long denied the gift of a warm, tight pussy, juicy tits and the blissful screams of a sweet beauty taking my cock.
My mouth waters as my gaze lingers on the prim little jacket button keeping her body from me.
She’s dressed appropriately for this environment, I note with approval.
Not that it’s going to make a load of difference to the animals behind bars.
The thought of any of those jackals getting their hands on this sweet thing makes my fists clench harder. If she were mine, she wouldn’t be within a thousand miles of this shithole?—
“Mr. Monroe? Are…are you okay?” she asks, and I realize my teeth are grinding loud enough for her to hear.
“It’s just Monroe. Or Gage. No mister.” That makes me sound like a gentleman, which is the last thing I am.
She frowns and looks down at her notes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No offense taken, princess.” I consciously relax my jaw and my grip on the chair.
I’m fine. I’m fine.
She’s beyond sweet, tempting in a head-wrecking kinda way.
But she’s the warden’s daughter.
Beyond off-limits. Especially if I want to serve out the rest of my sentence and achieve my freedom in a handful of months.
She stares at me for another second before she clears her throat. “Umm...okay…Monroe.”
I stifle a groan at the way her pretty lips wrap around my name. I want to hear her moan it, then scream it as I pound into her. Would she be able to take all of me at once, or will I need to work my way up to it?
Sweat trickles down my temple but I’m too wound tight to wipe it off. I sense that any sudden movement will frighten this precious girl.
For her sake I’ll be good and suffer in silence.
