Caught by the Convicts

by Jessa Kane

The man with the sharp, bloody object has almost reached me when I’m picked up and tossed over a large shoulder—and carted off into the fray.

“Fuck me,” mutters Day, a hint of England in his tone. “She’s downright adorable. And quite reckless, apparently, marching into this den of vipers in that…” His gaze ticks lower, his voice dropping along with it. “Obscenely form-fitting skirt.”

“Any man who reached the age of thirty without sampling pussy would be a beast. Now you’ve got this tasty little thing at your mercy and you want your first ride. Badly. No one blames you.”

“Do it,” Ruger groans, stepping forward. He lifts a hand, hesitates, then drags a featherlight touch down the side of my face. “Soft.”

“Fucking hell,” Klay grits out, tearing my panties off with a twist of his fist, tossing them aside. “She wants it.” He wraps his now-free hand around my throat. “That changes everything, Wendy. Now you get two cocks. Mine and Ruger’s.”

“You need to keep her,” Ruger says gruffly, meeting his cell mate’s eyes over my head. “Me too. It’s like there’s no choice. She’s…ours.”

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.

“I know, baby, you’re ripe for fucking,” he rasps, trailing his mouth down her throat, back up to snare her lips. “Put my cock in, Ruger. Right where my fingers are.”

“Prison bars can’t hold a man when pussy this hot and tiny is waiting on the outside. You should have been expecting us.”