Dangerous Love(8)

By: Penny Wylder

Get your shit together, Tell.

I straighten and lean back on one elbow, a smirk already plastered on my face as the guard shoves open the door. “Your fiancée is here,” he announces, pointlessly, since Ashley is already brushing past him into the room.


She looks even hotter than last time. She’s clearly abandoned the pretense that she’s here on business—rather than a suit, she’s in a tight miniskirt and a top that clings in all the right places, cut low enough to give me a perfect eyeful of her ample breasts. And… if I’m not mistaken, she isn’t wearing a bra. I can see the hard outlines of her nipples, standing at attention in the chilly room.

My jeans tighten as my cock only gets harder at the sight.

“You have one hour,” the guard announces, before he slams the door behind him. We both listen to the key turn in the lock, and then Ashley crosses the room, her high heels clacking on the floor.

I can’t help it. I watch her legs move, drawn by the smooth flow of her calf muscles, not to mention the glimpse of her ass as she turns around to settled herself onto the far side of the twin bed—as far from me as she can possibly sit, I can’t help but notice. “I must have done something right to deserve a second visit from you,” I comment.

She rolls her eyes. “I came because I had to, Tell. You didn’t give me anything last time. This time, you’re going to tell me where the money is.”

“That so?” I lift a brow. “What’s my incentive, exactly?”

‘“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself already,” she points out, with a pointed look at my crotch.

I shift closer to her, letting the hard bulge in my jeans show blatantly. “If you think wearing a tight, sexy little skirt is enough to get me talking, then you must not know many hardened criminals, Ms. Marrón. Going to take a lot more than that to get my lips moving.”

“Is it?” She shrugs one shoulder, the very picture of feigned nonchalance. “I think you’re going to tell me what I want to know, Mr. Tell.”

“And what makes you think that, Ms. Marrón?”

“Because you’ve had enough time in this prison to think about how you like it. Or how much worse we can make things for you if we get you transferred to solitary, at any rate.”

I clench my fists to avoid responding. She’s right, of course. Solitary here, from everything I’ve heard, is a living nightmare. If I think the lights are dim and the food is shitty up in main, I have no idea what I’m bitching about. Down in solitary, I hear the cockroaches are so common the chefs just started counting them as part of the meal—the protein portion.

But Ashley has tried this line of threats already. I don’t buy it.

“You can’t just negotiate on the same terms that you already failed on last time,” I tell her.

Her cheeks flush a little, but that’s her only giveaway that she’s annoyed. Otherwise her expression remains impassive. “You’re going to tell me where the money is, Damon.”

“I’d be happy to.” I slide closer to her across the twin bed. She doesn’t move back, but rather leans toward me. If I’m not mistaken, her eyes dart to my lips for a second before she regains control of herself.

She wants me. As much as I want her, I’m sure.

This is going to be fun.

“You’ll cooperate then?” she says.

“Of course. As long as you do as well.”

She frowns, sensing the catch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ll tell you the secrets you want to know, as long as you tell me some of your secrets first.”

For a moment, she’s silent. I can practically see the calculations spinning through her mind. She’s trying to figure out if this is a trick, if there’s a catch she’s not seeing. But she can’t work it out, so eventually she just nods once, firm. “All right. What do you want to know?”

I tilt my head and size her up, my eyes lingering on her waist this time. She’s definitely not wearing a bra, but is she wearing anything else under there? “First secret—did you follow my final request from our last meeting?” I lock eyes with her again, and savor the spark of nerves in her big brown eyes. “Are you wearing panties, Ashely?”

In response, Ashley surges to her feet and spins around to stand in front of me. She’s just a few inches from my face, and I can already imagine how she’d taste—exactly the way those panties of hers smelled, sweet and savory all at once.

To my surprise, though, Ashley grabs the hem of her skirt and lifts it up.

She’s naked.

If I got any harder right now, I swear I’d burst a seam in these jeans. It’s all I can do not to grab her right now, pull her down onto this bed and fuck her senseless. Her pussy is right there, inches from my hungry mouth, clean-shaven and, to judge by the faint gleam at her lips, wet and ready for me. She’s enjoying this too.

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