Caught By the Convicts by Jessa Kane

Chapter 2

I closemy eyes and inhale through my nose, repeating the mantra that got me through a youth of poverty and violence and instability. You can survive anything. You can survive anything. Unfortunately, those four words don’t seem to ring as true today, since I’m currently being ferried away by a prisoner, hands ripping at my clothing, fists closing around my ankles and attempting to pull me away from whoever has taken me.

With a whimper into my captor’s shoulder, I realize the best I can hope for is to live through this day, because there is no doubt I will be assaulted.

Prepare for it now. Be prepared.

There is a series of shouts around me and then a loud metal slam.

Everything goes still, except for my pulse, which sprints a thousand miles an hour.

Slowly, I open my eyes and look down at the ground. Two pairs of feet. One belonging to the man holding me over his shoulder, one belonging to someone else. Who?

I might as well face them and attempt to personalize myself. If I can do that, maybe they won’t kill me before all of this is over.

Before I can lift my head, I’m being manhandled again. Pulled from the mountainous shoulder underneath me, my feet settled onto the ground. And there, standing on either side of me, is Night and Day.

My first reaction is relief. Which is ridiculous.

The only thing I know about these men is that they’re violent offenders.

That’s more than enough to know I shouldn’t be relieved.

“Please don’t kill me,” I whisper, an annoying tremble in my voice. “My name is Wendy. I’m a scent branding specialist. Like, hotels hire me to scent their rooms and lobbies? Sometimes casinos, too. I don’t…I don’t have any family, but I want one someday. Very badly. I have a hamster named George and he’s my family for now. I love old reruns of Gilligan’s Island and I’m very indecisive about the color of my living room accent wall. I’ve tried nine shades of green now and none of them are right—”

“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.”

Behind me, there is a long, anguished groan from Night.

I turn to find him pacing. Right. Left. Then he stops abruptly and grinds his forehead against the cinderblock of the cell wall.

“You’ve got Ruger very worked up, sweet cheeks,” continues Day, his warm hand coming up to cup my jaw, tilting my face one way and the other, his thumb pressing into the middle of my bottom lip. “Shall we have pity on the poor chap and set him loose?”

A guttural sound comes from behind me, Night’s fist slamming into the wall.

Loud enough to be heard over the pandemonium in the concourse.

“No,” I whimper, forcing my voice to firm. “Please.”

“No pity for poor Ruger, eh?” The insanely handsome prisoner chuckles, and God help me, the low rasping intimacy of the sound causes my nipples to bead. “You don’t seem to realize the predicament you’re in. See, in here there is only one of us to satisfy.” He tips his head toward the bars separating us from the violent prison riot. “Out there? Well. I’d hazard a guess there are hundreds, if not a thousand men dying to tear this skirt from your tight little arse. You’re safer in here with us.” He turns me around to face Ruger, his fingertips trailing down my spine and unzipping my skirt. “Show a little appreciation for the protection we’re providing.”

Only one of us to satisfy, he said.

“What about you?” I don’t know why I ask this. Maybe I’m an idiot. Or I’m too curious for my own good. But it strikes me as odd that Day is brokering sex for his friend, while asking for no relief of his own. “Don’t you want…”

“Yes. I want,” Day hisses into my ear, ripping my skirt down over my hips, pooling the wool at my feet. “Oh, I fucking want, but I’m far too arrogant to fuck an unwilling girl-child who looks terrified half to death. Ruger can’t help being a beast.”

“Please stop, Klay,” Ruger growls, still facing the wall.

Klay.

Klay is Day. Ruger is Night.

The handsome prisoner laughs, his big hands cradling my hips, giving them a rough squeeze—and there…I can feel his erection against the curve of my buttocks. Klay is aroused. Very much so. In fact, he seems to be breathing faster by the moment, his hands growing more and more restless on my hips. My waist. “Nothing to be ashamed about, Ruger,” he rasps, twisting the sides of my panties around his fingers. “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.”

Ruger’s massive back heaves, heaves, then he turns to peer at me over his shoulder through the fall of black hair. And his blatant hunger spears me in the middle, making my bare thighs quiver. A virgin. Ruger is a virgin, like me? It doesn’t seem possible in this place. Or that a hardened criminal could be inexperienced. But…I believe he is. I can see it in the depth of his brown eyes how badly he’s been in pain without physical touch.

Finally, Ruger turns back around and I gasp at the large protrusion in his jumpsuit.

No, not large.

Enormous.

I stumble backward and Klay chuckles in my ear, his lap pressed tight to my bottom now, his thickness separating my cheeks. “Did I mention there’s a good reason he’s a virgin? There isn’t a woman brave enough to try him.” Shame dances across Ruger’s face and maybe I’m imagining things, but…Klay sounds regretful when he continues. “We can get it in if I make her wet for you first, mate.”

Ruger nods and moistens his lips, huffing an uneven breath when Klay’s fingers delve down the front of my panties, stopping just before the beginning of my folds. My nerve endings—every last one of them—clang like the bells of a church, shocking me. Am I…enjoying being touched by this inmate? This stranger? My nipples are stiff and I’m struggling not to circle my backside in his lap. Every time he breathes onto my neck, it’s like a wave of pleasure rolling down, down to my knees.

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

Klay’s middle finger parts the valley of my sex, dragging up and back slowly, his shuddering exhale bathing my neck. “If you think her face is soft, you should feel her cunt. Good God. It’s already wet and waxed for you, Ruger. Get your cock out.” Klay’s breath is coming in harsh pants now, his manhood straining against my bottom. “We don’t know how much time we’ll have before the guards break up this shit show outside. Don’t lose your chance.”

That statement causes a light to go on in my head.

Stall.

I need to stall.

There might be a way to walk out of here alive—and with my virginity.

If I can just drag this out until the guards get the prison back under control.

That’s definitely what I want to do. The fact that my sex is wet has to be an involuntary response to fear, right? I can’t possibly want these men to touch me. That would be…wrong. Unfortunately, there is something that feels so right about it. My trust issues have prevented me from dating or getting close to anyone in my twenty-one years. The fact that I don’t have to trust these men to experience the physical thrill of their touch…it’s a relief. It excites me.

But that’s crazy. I can’t just have sex in a prison cell.

Stall. Do it. Do the right thing.

Ruger seems to have a conscience. He must if he can feel shame.

I appeal to him with my eyes. “Please…I’m a virgin, too. You’ll hurt me.”

He takes his hand back from my face as if burned, his stormy eyes shooting to mine. “I’ll hurt you,” he repeats slowly. Then, “What were you thinking, coming into a place like this? If someone else had grabbed you first—”

“Let’s not think like that,” Klay says quickly, an edge of residual panic in his tone. Almost like…he cares about my safety. But doesn’t want me to know it.

Apparently I’ve found the two most complicated men housed in this penitentiary.

And oddly, perhaps dangerously, it makes me feel closer to them.

Makes me want to reveal secrets I’ve told no one.

No. No, I just want to personalize myself. That’s all.

Right?

“My father is a prisoner here. James O’Casey,” I whisper, drawing them both closer. They hold their breaths when I keep going. “He…he wasn’t good to me as a child.” To put it lightly. “When I finally got away at sixteen, he kept tracking me down, refusing to let me better myself. Stealing from me. Scaring off my friends. Once he even set my apartment on fire—while I was asleep.” I swallow hard. “He killed someone during an armed robbery and finally got sent away for good. I just needed to see him for myself. Behind bars. So I can stop being so scared.”

A beat passes.

Klay’s mouth skates slowly up the side of my neck. Ruger steps closer, slightly uncertain, before pressing his hard mouth to the center of my forehead. And it’s insane. It’s totally crazy, but I’ve never felt more safe or comforted or cherished in my life.

By two criminals. Strangers.

While a prison riot rages on the other side of the bars.

“You don’t have to be scared right now, Wendy,” Klay murmurs in my ear, his finger sawing wetly through the drenched folds of my sex. “You don’t have to be scared…of us.”

I tilt my head back to look Klay in the eye, finding his brow furrowed in that deeply thoughtful way. He looks as caught off-guard by this whole situation as I am. Shocked by how right the three of us feel, pressed tightly together, Klay at my back, Ruger at my front. The more fearsome of the two men breathes heavily into my hair, his lower body beginning to rock against my hip, his groans peppering the scant space between us.

“Her pussy is dripping for you, mate,” Klay pushes through his teeth.

Ruger makes a doubtful sound, but doesn’t stop pumping his hips against me. “No. It’s for you, Klay. Not me.”

“That’s not true,” I blurt, before I can stop myself. And there are my fingers, threading into his long, black hair, tugging him closer. As if my body is obeying some urges that my mind can’t comprehend. What is happening to me? “It’s for you, too,” I whisper against Ruger’s mouth when it reaches mine. “It’s for both of you.”

The air crackles with static, both men surging closer, sandwiching my tightly.

Making me whimper, clutch at Ruger’s collar.

“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.”

“Two? H-how?”

Klay sinks his teeth into the side of my neck and thrusts against my buttocks. Roughly. “Going to put it right here, deep and dirty. Going to bounce you around like a little rag doll.”

Ruger growls, shaking his head. “She’s too innocent, Klay. You can’t. Not the first time.”

I’m being lifted, Klay’s hands scooping beneath my knees, opening them for Ruger. Exposing my drenched sex in a shocking, unexpected way. I’m between two hard-bodied men now, my legs pried wide, Ruger’s hips inserting hungrily between them to grind his shaft against my juncture, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his hips humping in a jagged pattern.

I make a sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a moan. Both men seem fascinated by it, staring at my mouth. Licking their lips. Releasing harsh exclamations when I begin to meet Ruger’s pumps shamelessly.

“Fuck,” Klay rasps beside my ear. “Fuck, you’re right. I’ll wreck her. I don’t…I don’t want to.” He sounds almost shocked by his own revelation. “I don’t want to wreck her, Ruger. I want to…I need to…”

“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.”

An understanding seems to pass between them which I’m not privy to.

I don’t have a moment to analyze, though, because Ruger begins to peel down his jumpsuit, Klay breathing heavily against my ear, his fingers buried in the undersides of my knees, which he still holds wide open. For just a moment, he props my right knee on Ruger’s hip and reaches past me to help Ruger drag the orange jumpsuit down his thickly muscled shoulder and I feel it. I feel Klay’s erection swell even bigger where it pressed between the cheeks of my bottom, feel the added strength in his grip when it returns to my knee. And I hear Ruger’s breath stutter at the helpful action of his friend. Suddenly there is so much tension in the air, it’s like a spell has been cast.

Dramatically, it all zeroes in on me.

Klay licks up the side of my neck, planting kisses beneath my ear.

Ruger looks me right in the eye and guides his shaft between my legs, sweat trickling down the side of his face, bursts of animal grunts falling from his lips.

And he drives halfway home, his eyes going blind as I surround him.

The pressure of him inside me shoots discomfort down to my toes, but I bite my lip and focus on the man in front of me. This man who has been rejected because of his size. Locked up like an animal. Untouched his entire life. I relate to that. I connect with him over that and suddenly, we’re kissing, his tongue stroking into my mouth, his moans noisy and shocked, his hips thrusting involuntarily to seat his huge sex fully inside me, my hymen giving way around his size with a painful tear. “She’s kissing me, Klay,” groans Ruger in disbelief, between kisses.

“I see that,” Klay says hoarsely, his mouth raking up into my hair, jerking my knees wider. “Hear the way she moans? You must be very good at kissing, mate. Have you been…practicing?”

The question is posed casually, but there’s a hard edge to it.

There’s danger there.

Klay’s muscles don’t relax until he gets an answer.

“No, Klay,” Ruger says firmly, diving back in for another taste of my mouth, his fingers quickly unbuttoning my blouse and shoving it open, his pupils dilating at the sight of my white strapless bra, my breasts swelling over the silky tops. “Dammit. Her tits are going to make me come,” Ruger groans, beginning to buck inside me uncontrollably, his jaw going slack. “Oh Jesus, is she supposed to be this tight? I can’t…I can’t stop…”

I’m pinned between two hard bodies, one of them filling me repeatedly with hard flesh, the one holding me open for his cell mate’s pleasure. Klay curses vilely, then begins to match Ruger’s thrusts. When his friend drives home, Klay grinds his erection into the split of my backside. Now they’re moving in unison, humping me, occupying me, groaning into the air that surrounds me. And that’s when the quickening begins in my loins.

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.