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“That’s it, get ready for it,” he murmurs.
“I’m ready,” I manage to gasp out, my breath coming hard and fast as we move faster, harder. His balls slap against my pussy lips, and I’m sure I’ll have black and blue marks on my ass where his hips are colliding with my cheeks. I don’t care. “I want your cum, Damon. Come inside me.”
“I’m going to fill that tight little pussy with cum.” His hands reach under me to grab my breasts again, massaging hard and tight. My already hard nipples ache so hard they feel like they’re going to burst, but it’s a pleasurable ache. One that I want to keep feeling as long as possible.
He arches his hips, angles so that his cock drags along my front inner wall, and I gasp in surprise as his tip rakes hard across my G-spot. My knees start to tremble, but now that he’s found the sweet spot, Damon doesn’t give me any reprieve. He keeps fucking me right there, making sure his cock hits my G-spot on every inward and outward thrust. Before long, my breath comes in gasping pants, as the orgasm sweeps toward me.
I cry out when it hits, my voice so loud that a distant part of my brain wonders if the guards will register it as a scream. I don’t care. I’m too lost in the pleasure, loving the feeling of Damon’s cock inside me. He continues to fuck me without pause, without so much as a break to let me catch my breath. The sensation of his cock still sliding over and over my already-sensitive G-spot makes a second, smaller orgasm hit me almost right away, my legs shaking under me as I scream again, this time into the pillow.
Damon laughs softly behind me. “I love hearing you come for me,” he murmurs. But I manage to regain control of my body for long enough to thrust back against him, then, and I’m rewarded by hearing his own gasp, and feeling his cock shudder inside me as he nears the edge himself.
“Come inside me,” I gasp, thrusting back against him. “Come in me, Damon.”
A low growl is my only response. He’s beyond words now. He grabs my hips and pulls me back against him, hard, as his cock spreads my pussy wide. With one last hard fuck, he starts to come, his cock shuddering inside my pussy, and white-hot semen coating my walls as he finishes. I tighten my pussy around him, clenching the muscles as hard as I can, and I’m rewarded with another spasm from his cock, another wash of cum. So much of it. Fucking hell, that’s hot.
He pulls back, and I moan faintly, especially when the hot liquid drips down my legs in a rush—a combination of both our juices, making the air in this small room hot and thick with the scent of sex.
I collapse forward onto the bed, breath coming short and fast. I’m not sure what I expect now, but it isn’t this. It isn’t Damon lying down alongside me, wrapping both arms around my waist and pulling me tight against him. It isn’t him resting his chin on my shoulder, so his warm breath caresses my ear as he murmurs against my skin, “You’re too good for your father.”
I frown and try to turn, glance back at him. But he just tightens his grip, holds me in place.
“He doesn’t deserve your sacrifice, Ashley,” Damon whispers.
6
Fucking hell. I never knew it could feel like this. I never knew anyone could make me feel the way Ashley Marrón does. Not just the sex—although that is fucking mind-blowing, I have to admit. But I’ve never felt so tempted to open up to someone before. Especially not the last person on the planet I should be trusting or opening up to. The one person sent here to make me do just this, to win information for her snake of a father, who’d use that information to put me in solitary for life, or probably worse if he thought there was a chance I might someday speak out against him.
The moment I tell Ashley what really happened—the moment her father gets his hands on that money—I’m as good as dead. I know Marrón has men on the inside here. Hell, even the guards let him set up this fake fiancée arrangement, not just once, but three times now. It wouldn’t take more than a snap of his fingers to get me killed.
And yet, here I am. Here I am, softening toward her. Here I am, thinking about doing this. Thinking about telling her the truth, about trusting her.
I shouldn’t. I can’t. And yet…
“You have to promise me something, Ashley,” I murmur.
“Anything,” she replies, without hesitation, without guile. I’m right. She’s too good for her old man. By miles. Too good for this entire shit situation she’s been roped into.
“Promise me, whatever happens, that you won’t think worse of me, for telling you this. I shouldn’t. I should take this story with me to the grave. But…” My words catch in my throat.
She shifts in my arms. Rolls over, and this time, I let her. Let those big brown eyes of hers find mine, and lock on. I can’t lie. Not when she looks at me like that. “But?” she murmurs.
“But you make me want to tell the truth. No matter how many people it puts in danger.”
A little frown line appears between her brows. A crease of concern that I want nothing more than to kiss and smooth away. But I’m about to make that frown line deeper, and I know it.
“Telling me about the money won’t put anyone in danger, Damon,” Ashley whispers. “All it will do is secure my father’s business—my business, for a little while longer. That’s it. We don’t want to hurt anyone, I promise you.”
“You don’t, Ashley. And I believe that. But I was telling you the truth when I said you don’t know your father as well as you think you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifts her chin, meets my gaze without fear, without judgment. She just wants the truth. I’ve not met many people like her, people who aren’t looking for white lies to soften the blow or to ease the pain. I’m usually a straight shooter—I’m not used to being the one tempted to lie, tempted to tell her another story, any story, that will make this easier for her.
But when I stare into those big brown eyes of hers, and when she whispers, “Tell me, Damon,” I can’t do anything else.
“I agreed to do a job for your father. To rob the Cornerstone Bank. Local business, owned by Eric Brown. Small job, not a huge payroll, but I was in a bind, needed the cash.”
Her brow furrows a little bit more. “I know all this.”
“No,” I tell her, “you don’t. Not the whole truth of it.”
“Then explain to me what I’m missing.”
I lean closer. Tilt my head forward until my forehead rests against hers, and I have an unimpeded view of those gorgeous eyes, the kind of eyes a guy like me could drown in. She might look innocent, but Ashley Marrón is dangerous, all right. Possibly the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met.
I decide I don’t care.
“Things went south. The owner’s wife and kid were at the bank too. The wife started to scream the moment she saw my gun. I managed to calm her down, got the owner to fill the bags I carried. But when my back was turned…” I groan. “The wife had a cell phone. She dialed the police. I called your father, told him we had to abort—he was outside in the car. I was running to meet him, bag from the vault in hand, when I ran into him going the other way. Back into the bank.”
I pause, check Ashley’s expression. She’s still staring at me, deadpan, waiting for the reveal.
God, I hope I’m doing the right thing. I hope this blow doesn’t hit her as hard as I fear it will.
“He had a gun drawn, Ashley. I sensed something was wrong. I shouted for Eric, the bank owner, to run. He didn’t, though. He helped his wife and daughter out the side door, then faced your father alone, unarmed.”
“No,” Ashley breathes. “Dad didn’t—he wouldn’t.”
“I stole the car your father left idling. Picked up the wife and daughter around the side of the bank. Drove them away, just as we heard the gunshot back inside.”
“He wouldn’t.?
?
“Your father doesn’t like leaving loose ends, Ashley. He was worried Eric would talk, pin this back on us. He called, left me about a dozen voice messages telling me how and where to kill the wife and kid. It took a while before he realized what I must have done. That I’d freed them instead.”
“We don’t kill innocent people,” Ashley says, louder now. She pulls away from me a little, her expression hard. “It’s the number one thing Dad always promised me. The one code we stand by.”
“You don’t know your father half so well as you think, Ashley. I’m sorry.”
Ashley swallows down whatever protest is clearly itching at her throat next. Her forehead is a tight crease of a frown, and in her eyes, I can see the war beginning. Part of her wants to deny it. Wants to call me a liar and a snake and the root of all this evil. But there’s another voice in there. Another part of Ashley, the smart girl that I’ve gotten to know so well in such a short time, who knows better. Part of her knows that this is entirely plausible.
You can’t grow up this smart, and be the daughter of Mauricio Marrón, and not know a thing or two about what that man is capable of doing.
“If you don’t believe me, I left the burner phone we were using for the heist, turned off and with the SIM card removed, in the same place as the cash. When you go to pick that up, you can listen to the voicemails yourself. Hear your father condemn an innocent woman and child to death, just so he can be sure he’s not pursued.”
When I open my eyes again, Ashley is white-faced, staring at me in open-mouthed shock. But she isn’t saying no anymore.
“I’m sorry, Ashley,” I repeat, softer now. “But you need to know. If you’re following in his footsteps, you need to know who Mauricio Marrón truly is.”
