Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
And Warden Grady nods slowly like my appearance has reassured him of my safety and confirmed I’m meeting my obligations.
“Did you bring my phone?” I ask.
He slides his hand into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out the device. I turn it on, and my heart picks up speed as it gradually comes to life. Around me, four men wait for me to search for my messages.
There’s one from Kennedy. Are you okay? Even though she’s in dire straits, she’s still worrying about me.
I’m okay, I reply. Are you?
I wait, hoping to get confirmation she’s read my message and a reply to let me know she’s holding in there.
After thirty seconds, the warden clears his throat, and I power off the phone, handing it back.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He claps his big hand on Kinkaid’s shoulder, more like a father reassuring a son than a warden with his incarcerated prisoner. Whatever these men have done for the warden is making him ooze gratitude.
When Grady retreats, and the door clanks back into place, Hyde jumps up.
“You done?” he asks Kinkaid. “Is she ready?”
His childish hopefulness is as unnerving as it is sweet. I’m filled with the mixed-up urge to back away and embrace him, all at the same time. Something about him reminds me of my childhood friend, Devon; his smile, maybe, and restless energy.
“No, Hyde. I’m not done, and she’s not ready.” Kinkaid places the warden’s offerings on the table: board games, some folded clothes, and a few packets of chips and chocolate bars. He’s treating us like kids at a birthday sleepover.
Glancing up, Kinkaid holds my gaze as he stalks towards me, heated intention blazing in the fierceness of his expression. When he’s close enough to touch me, he wraps his arm around my waist and leans in close. “You ready for part two?”
“It depends on what part two involves.”
He seems to like my answer, nuzzling against my ear with a chuckle. “We could go back to part one if you want me to lick you again.”
Mmmm. I clamp my legs together, liking that idea a little too much and feeling weird about it. This man is a stranger. A stranger who looks like the cousin of Charlie Hunnam with the same Sons of Anarchy grittiness to him. A stranger who’s been more selfless and giving when it comes to pleasure than any of the previous men who’ve seen me naked. “You’d do that without me doing something for you?”
“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “That’s all for me.”
I flush all over at the huskiness of his voice. “I mean something to get you off.”
He stops mouthing my jaw with hot kisses to look me dead in the eye with all the ferociousness of a famished predator. Fearing I’ve said something wrong, I jerk back, but he holds me steady. “If the warden hadn’t interrupted, I could have shot my load with just my tongue in your sweet little hole.”
When I shiver, he grins. “Oh, you like that. Some dirty talk tickling your little shell ear. Disrupting your sensibilities.”
I do. More than I realized.
“What would you do to get me off, baby?”
“Whatever you want.” When the words are out of my mouth, I realize how dangerous they are. He could do anything with me, so it’s not like my agreement is important, but giving him free rein to do whatever he wants might encourage his mind into deeper, darker places than I want to go.
He could have gone to those places already, I realize. Nothing is stopping him from shoving me onto my back and fucking me brutally. He could do the violent things my ex used to make me watch online like force himself into my ass without lube or put his whole fist inside me. Men can do terrible things to women, things that cause pain rather than pleasure, without consent. Kinkaid hasn’t done any of that. He’s made sure I’ve experienced pleasure first. He’s been as careful with me as I imagine is possible under the circumstances. He’s taking his time, and that makes me like him. It makes me trust him, which is probably what he wants.
“Your hand,” he says, “to start.”
His pants are loose on his hips, but he flicks open the buttons anyway. Beneath, he’s wearing a pair of black boxers that cling tightly to his form. I get a glimpse of cut abs and the V of muscle pointing to his dick so effectively, I can’t look away as he clasps my hand tightly around his dick. It was rigid though the fabric of his clothes, but skin on skin is so different. He’s hard and so hot, he practically sears my cooler skin. The tip is wet under my thumb and throbs when I slick over the tender head.
“Oh, fuck, Lory.” The gravel in his voice sends heat pulsing through me, and he curls forward like I’m stealing the strength out of him. Watching such a big, strong, controlled man lose it undoes me.