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I don’t expect it.
Somehow, it felt like enough just to be touched. Just to connect with these two human beings when I’ve never even connected with one. But watching Ruger become so intoxicated by pleasure from my body is…magic. Klay’s hands on my thighs, his wet mouth on my neck and his overall magnetism adds to the whirlwind and before I know it, I’m jerking my hips up and back, whining over the friction of Ruger’s erection where it slides against my clit. I’m half blind, toes straining, tummy tightening, tightening. “I’m g-going to…I think I’m…”
“Fucking hell, she’s coming, isn’t she?” Klay moans into the side of my neck. “I can feel her shaking. Don’t come yet, Ruger. She’s almost there.”
“I can’t stop it,” he pants, slamming into me now, his thick, hair-covered body glistening with sweat. And somehow Ruger gets deeper. Goes harder. And he does it by gripping the sides of Klay’s jumpsuit to keep him steady for his ferocious drives, yanking him toward us in a furious rhythm—and all at once, a rush of pleasure sweeps me, tightening every nerve ending in my body like a bolt, my womanhood clamping down, a loud cry racing up my throat.
Moisture floods me.
The sounds of the men and their animal groans fills my ears.
My femininity clenches and clenches. It won’t stop. It’s so intense, my thighs jerk and tremble, hot shudders passing through me.
Before I can even get a breath, I’m being spun around.
“Open up, Wendy,” Klay demands. “My turn inside that hot little cunt.”
With a frantic look in his blue eyes, Klay strips his jumpsuit down to his hips and wraps a hard fist around his impressive erection, surging toward me—
The bars of the cell roll open.
Several guards rush into the tight space, ripping me away from Ruger and Klay.
I’m so dazed, I barely realize what’s happening until I’m halfway out of the cell.
“No!” I scream reaching for them, before I realize what I’m saying. What I’m doing.
Am I actually asking to be left in the cell?
Am I asking to be kept locked up with these men instead of being taken to safety?
With those confusing questions ringing in my head, I’m carried away over the shoulder of a guard, my clothes in disarray, and I watch as it takes over a dozen guards to hold Ruger and Klay back from coming after me. They fight, fists swinging, wild expressions on their faces, until the guards are forced to stun them both with tasers.
The last thing I see before disappearing around the corner is Klay, face down on the floor with his head turned, mouthing the words we’ll find you.
The promise in his eyes makes me shiver.
But in relief or trepidation?
That’s the million-dollar question.
Chapter 3
Klay
This cell has never felt smaller.
I’m trapped in here and the girl is out there.
I pace in front of the bars, hands on top of my head, fingers buried in my hair. It feels as though someone has hollowed out my insides with an ice cream scooper.
What the hell did she do to me?
It has been a full week since the guards carried her out of here and my skin is still clammy. To say nothing of my cock. It waits in my jumpsuit, livid over being denied what surely would have been heaven. I can’t close my eyes without hearing her whimpering. Feeling her taut ass wiggling around in my lap. Can’t sleep or eat or even sit down, because I need. I just need. And that hunger is compounded by Ruger’s.
He hasn’t spoken since they took Wendy. Just sits hunched over on the bottom bunk with his head in his hands. Ruger is a restless man by nature and I’ve always kind of laughed about it. Told him to calm down, the way only a childhood friend can do. But Wendy…the girl has done something to me. She’s reached inside my chest and fucked everything up. Now I find myself caring a great deal about my best friend’s agony. I’m awake. I’m too awake. My cells are buzzing with energy, racing through my system, but they have no outlet.
I can’t last like this.
I have to reach her.
I need to get inside of her.
There’s a part of me that is quite resentful over how badly I need her. I’m not supposed to need anyone. As an international con man, I was always happy to work alone. Who wants to share their money? Not me. Ruger insists on being my shadow, though. He fancies himself my bodyguard or something equally ridiculous. I’d finally given up on trying to part ways with him when we were caught fencing an heirloom I’d stolen. Now we’re locked in a cell together.
There’s something ironic about that.
Too bad I’m not looking to be amused.
I’m looking to stem this rampant lust inside of me. The lust she set loose. Of course I’m feeling like a caged animal. I was hornier than I’ve ever been in my life, about to sink into tight, warm pussy when she was stolen away. If I can just finish what I started, maybe this intense sense of possessiveness will go away. Maybe this urge to tear these new, overwhelming feelings out of my chest will cease. There’s only one way to find out.
