Caught By the Convicts by Jessa Kane
Chapter 4
Ruger
We standin the shadows across the street from a modest house.
A light comes on inside and suddenly there is Wendy, framed in the window.
I lurch forward with a heaved sound, my entire body hardening at the sight of her. So soft and delicate in a nightshirt, her long, blonde hair loose around her shoulders.
“Steady, mate,” Klay murmurs, his voice thick with need, keeping me hidden in the darkness with a hand on my shoulder. “Thank God she’s safe. Now we have to keep her that way.” He takes a moment to let the relief settle. “Try and remember that we are two prison escapees showing up unannounced. Let’s try and not come on too much stronger than that.”
“I need to get inside of her again,” I growl, palming my straining cock through my stolen pants. “Soft. So soft and tiny around me.”
Klay is breathing harder now. Trying not to look at me.
He’s been doing that a lot lately.
I used to try and limit the amount of time I spent making direct eye contact with him, too. Doing so always made my briefs feel extra tight. Made them chafe me in embarrassing places. But I’ve given up the battle now. My best friend is royalty in my eyes. Extraordinary. He always has the plan. Always confident and smooth where I’m a bumbling idiot half the time. If I didn’t have him to guide me, I’d still be homeless and begging for food on the streets of Baltimore. I’d be lost. Klay is my compass, even if he’d like to be rid of me.
I wish I could give him what he wants, but I can’t.
Me and Klay met when we were twelve. I’d been kicked out by my single mother for eating too much, taking up too much space in an apartment filled to capacity with children. Klay had just run away to escape an abusive father, disappearing while they were on vacation in the States, hoping to get lost in the wilds of America. His dad never came looking for him—a fact that blows my mind to this day. Klay is everything a man could want in a son.
He’s quick witted. Funny.
Attractive.
A knot gets stuck in my throat and now I’m splitting a look between Wendy and Klay, the horrible throb between my legs making it hard to breathe. How can I thirst for two people, of different sexes, in the same way? I don’t know. I’m not sure it would be like this with anyone else. Just Klay and Wendy. During those too brief moments in our prison cell, I experienced a sense of belonging that I never knew enough to hope for.
If I don’t feel it again, I think I might die.
There’s a pinch in my gut when I notice Klay pressing a hand to the wound in his side.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” He shakes himself, drops his hand. “No, it’s fine. A mere scratch.” His blue eyes travel over to me, resting briefly on the shoulder bandage. For just a split second, they darken with distress, before it vanishes and he’s once again aloof. “And yours?”
I try not to make it obvious that my pulse is racing.
Klay is concerned about me.
“Fine,” I manage thickly, remembering how my come looked dripping down his diamond cut abs. Dammit. I fucked up. I went too far. Now I’m cursed with the memory of how good it felt to release on his unblemished skin. Just like I’m cursed with the memory of how tight and wet Wendy felt sitting on my dick. How her small tongue felt tickling mine, her little hips pumping hungrily in my lap. Jesus, between Klay and Wendy, the pike in my pants is never going to subside. I’m a downed power line, sparking and dancing on the sidewalk, in need of repair and they’re the only ones who can help me.
“I think it’s late enough now,” Klay says, scanning the neighborhood. “We’ve covered our tracks well, but we don’t know what’s being broadcast on the news. It could only be a matter of time before they connect us to Wendy. We weren’t exactly subtle last week about wanting her brought back.”
“I believe your exact words were, ‘get her back in this cell or I’ll gut you all like fish.’”
“Sounds about right,” Klay deadpans, his chest hollowing and expanding quickly while watching Wendy move through the lit-up house. “Damn it to hell, she’s beautiful. I wondered if I’d imagined how much she…affects me.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. There’s something about her presence that wraps around a man like magic. Being in the direct path of those eyes, her inquisitive attention, is so exhilarating, I can still feel it on my skin. In my veins. “You’ll take your turn first.”
He acknowledges my statement with a tilt of his lips. “The question is, will she want it?”
Confusion clouds my mind. “Of course she will. You’re…”
Klay turns and pins me with a look. “I’m what?”
This might be the first time in my life I’ve seen Klay unsure. Normally he’s cocky as sin, and who wouldn’t be, looking like that? “She’ll want it,” I say firmly.
A few beats pass before Klay clears his throat and straightens his shoulders, back to his usual self. “You’re right, of course.” He stabs his fingers through his thick hair and starts across the street, all the while searching the windows of the surrounding houses for movement. “Shall we?”
I stalk forward to keep up with him and soon we’ve made our way around to the back door of Wendy’s house. My dick feels unwieldy and painful in my pants. It pulses with feverish anticipation knowing I’m going to watch Klay and Wendy have sex together. She enjoyed herself with me, so I can’t even imagine her reaction to being with Klay. And I want that. Badly. To see pleasure etched into their features. To watch them strain and buck and moan. It surprises me a little how anxious I am for them to find fulfillment. Almost like it’s a responsibility. The relief of these two people could be my job. My duty. I want it.
It takes Klay less than five seconds to pick the lock of the back door.
The first one, anyway.
Wendy has four locks total, all of them engaged.
“She must really be afraid of the bastard,” Klay remarks with a tight jaw, working his way through the locks with a wire we picked up from a closed hardware store.
“She’s safe with us,” I vow, staring hard at the door.
Finally, Klay manages to get all four locks open and he turns the knob, moving stealthily into the darkness of what appears to be a kitchen, me following behind him. It doesn’t occur to me until this moment that we never considered knocking. “Do you think she’ll be happy to see us?” I whisper to my counterpart.
“I don’t know. But we can’t take the chance of her getting nervous and calling the police.” He doesn’t make a sound as he moves, well-practiced in the art of becoming one with the shadows. “Not until we’ve had a chance to reassure her.”
I’m already nodding. Klay always knows best.
We reach a hallway and follow the light at the end.
Klay hesitates for a few seconds, then steps into the light of her bedroom doorway.
I move forward just in time to watch Wendy jackknife in bed, screaming loud enough to make my ears ring. Klay moves like lightning across the feminine room, pouncing on top of Wendy and covering her mouth. “Lovely to see you, too, sweet cheeks.” He tilts his head. “We’re not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. We’ve come a long way to make sure you don’t get hurt. If I take my hand away, will you promise not to scream?”
Her eyes fly over to me, widen, then return to Klay.
She makes a sound of fear, but nods and slowly, Klay takes his hand down. After reaching over to turn off the light on her bedside table, he plants his fist in the pillow on the side of her head. With the threat of discovery out of the way, I can finally soak in the sight of Wendy in her thin night shirt, which is currently riding very high on her thighs. I can greedily absorb the long waves of her blonde hair that fan out around her beautifully stunned face. Klay is on top of her, pressing her body down into the mattress and my balls throb in response to the picture they make. Perfection meets perfection.
“H-how did you escape?” Her voice trembles. “How did you find me?”
“Well it took a couple of stabs, but we eventually made our way out through the infirmary where security is far less tight.” He flashes her a grin and her eyelids flutter in response, her breath catching. “Did you know they can access the prison database from the infirmary, including all past visitor information?” Dazedly, she shakes her head. “Very convenient. Of course it took a little coercion to make the nurse log us in, but after that? Piece of cake. And there you were, Wendy O’Casey.”
It’s easy to see that she’s being pulled under his spell. Under the full power of Klay’s attention, she bites her lip, her eyes glazing over. And Klay can’t see this, but her toes are curling into the bedding.
It’s also obvious that she’s determined to fight his magnetism.
“Please leave,” she says, pushing at Klay’s shoulders. “I don’t want you here. What happened between the three of us…it was a mistake. Momentary insanity. I-I was just scared and overwhelmed by the riot and my adrenaline was spiking and—”
“Wendy,” Klay croons, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them above her head, then lowering his open mouth to exhale roughly into the crook of her neck. “You aren’t trying to convince us that you didn’t love every second of your first fuck, are you? We were all there to feel the sweet shake of your thighs. We all heard you whimper through an orgasm.” Klay hits me with a glance where I stand in the bedroom doorway. “Ruger, didn’t she leave a helping of cream all over your big dick?”
“Yes,” I rasp, wetting my lips. Rubbing myself through the fly of my pants.
Klay hums low and long, shifting his lower body against Wendy’s hips.
Her breath catches. Stutters out.
But she still twists, digging her heels into the bed in an attempt to gain her freedom. “I can’t. I c-can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Klay says smoothly, easily keeping her pinned, his mouth raking up and down the side of her neck. “You want me to fuck you, Wendy,” he croons in her ear, his voice dropped to baritone level. “Stop pretending otherwise.”
Her head writhes side to side. “No.”
With a low rumble of frustration, Klay gathers both of her wrists in his left hand. Then he trails the right one down, down between them, shoving his big hand into her panties, his fingers moving in long strokes beneath the white cotton. “You want it. You want to be fucked.”
“I…I…”
It’s obvious when Klay sinks one or more fingers inside of her cunt, because she cries out and now, now I can see his wrist flexing, hand moving inside of her underwear. He’s finger banging her. And I have to grip the doorway or risk my legs giving out, the scene is so erotic. So charged and raw. They are forehead to forehead, both of them panting, Klay’s hand moving relentlessly between her thighs. I don’t know a lot about women, but even I know her resistance isn’t completely authentic. She wants my best friend. Of course she does.
“You want to be ridden now,” Klay says thickly against her mouth. Before she can respond with another protest, he slants his lips over hers. He invades her. Licks his tongue into her mouth—and almost immediately, her pussy starts making wet sounds. It squelches with every pump of Klay’s finger. And slowly, she starts to kiss him back. Hesitantly at first and then she makes a sharp sound of surrender, openly her mouth wide, allowing it to be taken.
Mewling for it. Giving in.
Klay knees her thighs open and presses his fingers deeper, breaking the kiss with an almost stunned expression. “God. God. Tight doesn’t even begin to describe this little pussy.” His intense eyes whip in my direction, knocking the breath out of my lungs. “Ruger. Come over here and take off her panties for me.” While I make my way across the room to the bed, he kisses her long and hard. “We’re going to finish what we started, aren’t we, baby?”
A beat passes. Two. “Yes,” she whispers.
Triumph fills me. For Klay. For the three of us.
I allow my palms to slide up and over Wendy’s knees, traveling higher to her smooth thighs, gripping the sides of her white panties and stripping them down her legs. And I almost come in my pants and the sight of Klay’s middle and ring finger sunk into her pussy. Thrusting in and out, her flesh drenched around his knuckles. “Undo my pants,” he says raggedly. “She’s finally admitted she wants it. I’m not giving her a chance to change her mind.”
There’s a harsh, labored sound filling the room and I realize it’s coming from me. I’m breathing like I’ve just run ten miles, sweat beginning to soak the front of my shirt. When I move to stand beside Klay, reaching for the straining zipper of his pants, my fingers are clumsy. Mired in lust, I barely have any dexterity and…and I’ve never had my hands this close to Klay’s cock before. I’ve seen it, of course. We grew up together. But it’s one thing to look at it covertly from the corner of my eye, and another to drag my fingers down the swollen front of it.
But that’s what I do. It’s what I have to do, in order to lower the zipper.
Do I imagine the way he pauses in the act of kissing Wendy?
Do I imagine the guttural sound he makes when I drag my knuckles down his bulge?
Both of us expel a heavy breath when his dick springs out, slapping down onto Wendy’s belly. Klay glances to the side—at me—right at me. Humping the curve of Wendy’s hip, still finger fucking her so thoroughly and without cease, she’s started to writhe and whine his name, her knees lifting up to hug his hips. “Klay. Klay.”
“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.”
Lust slams into my belly like a launched brick.
Did I hear him right? He wants me to touch his dick?
There’s a rushing river of sound in my ears, hot shivers passing through me, head to toe. Klay and Wendy are kissing passionately, her hands trapped overhead, her body arching, and they’re moaning brokenly. The last piece of the puzzle is Klay being inside of her. He needs it.
And I can help him. I can do for him the way he’s always done for me.
I move behind Klay, my hand shaking as I press a knee onto the edge of the bed and reach between his legs, gently fisting his thrumming shaft. Jesus. Jesus, it’s like hot steel, shaped like it has been sculpted by an artist. “Can I jack it a little?”
God help me, those words are out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying.
I watch tension ripple up Klay’s spine with a sense of dread and self-loathing.
But then he grunts, “Just a little.”
Oh my God.
Unable to breathe properly, I tighten my hold and he shudders, the muscles of his buttocks flexing, visible because his pants are down around his knees, the curve of his cheeks only inches from my face. Taut and covered in a light layer of hair that reminds me of the peach fuzz on Wendy’s belly. Biting down on my bottom lip so I won’t make any embarrassing sounds, I pump Klay’s dick in my fist. I jerk him off at the same tempo I’ve watched him employ in our cell when he thinks I’m not watching. I thumb the slit every time I reach the top and it swells while he makes choked noises, his hips beginning to rock subtly.
“Goddammit,” he grounds out.
But he doesn’t make me stop.
I go faster, my pulse accelerating with the pace of my strokes. Through the upside-down V of his thighs, I watch his balls seize up and turn a mottled color. I watch the sheen of sweat appear on his backside. When he makes a ragged sound, I know I’ve pushed enough. I’ve taken enough liberties. I can’t push my luck. So I guide him to the hold between Wendy’s legs, eager to watch the pulsing length of him sink into her cunt. Eager to hear her whimper when he’s fully seated and watch them race toward pleasure together. Just to be a witness to these two people fucking makes me the most fortunate man alive.
“Oh fuck!” Klay shouts through his teeth once I’ve got him buried halfway. “Fuck, it’s so tight.” The muscles of his ass shift and he buries himself the rest of the way, making Wendy cry out, the lips of her sex wet and stretched around the fat base of Klay’s cock. “Prison bars can’t hold a man when pussy this hot and tiny is waiting on the outside. You should have been expecting us.”
“I was,” I hear her whisper. “I…I couldn’t help…”
“What?” Klay prompts her gruffly.
“Hoping,” she says, her voice barely audible.
“Baby…” Klay pumps into her hard, almost like a reward for that confession—and she screams with pleasure, her thighs opening wider, her hips lifting to greet his next rough pump. “Ruger,” Klay says, laboring for air, his sleek body bucking between Wendy’s legs. “Lift this shirt up. Show me her tits.”
Before he’s even finished speaking, I’ve climbed onto the bed alongside of them and started gathering the nightshirt in my hands, raising it to her neck, exposing two small bouncing breasts, bare this time, peaked with dusky rose-colored nipples. She looks up at me while I expose her, her mouth open in a cry of pleasure, eyes glazed and…trusting. She trusts me. That realization is so humbling, I can’t seem to swallow.
“Ruger hasn’t been able to shut up about your sexy rack, Wendy, and good God, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve got tits like a spoiled daddy’s girl, don’t you?” Klay pants, eyes glittering with lust, hips rolling, his jaw slack as he enters her again, again, again. “Do you want Ruger to play with them while I finish off this exquisite little pussy?”
I hold my breath, only letting it out when she nods. “Yes.”
Christ, I fall on them like a man being offered a meal after a week of starvation. Maybe that’s what I am. I latch onto her nipples and worry them between my lips, licking them like ice cream with embarrassingly eager strokes of my tongue. Sucking on them, right then left then right, as if she can nurse me back to health. As if she can heal every wound I’ve ever sustained on the inside.
My hips slam up and down on the mattress, causing myself pain, but I can’t stop. My hunger is so violent. So urgent. My need is not for one person, but two, and that doubles the sharp burn for relief. It amplifies everything. So I’m almost felled by gratitude when Klay says, “For the love of God, mate, take out your cock,” he rasps. “Stroke it properly.”
I moan around the peak of Wendy’s breast, my hand grappling frantically with my zipper, a hoarse grunt leaving me when that heavy flesh is finally free.
I form a makeshift pussy with my fist and drill my dick into the opening, fucking it frantically, the way I’ve done so many times on my prison bed, pretending it’s another person. Klay. Wendy. Klay. Wendy. Pretending I’m giving them pleasure. The sounds of grunting and whimpering and slapping flesh fill the room
“Good man, Ruger. Doesn’t that feel much better?” Klay manages, struggling to breathe, his body riding Wendy’s without a hint of gentleness, his sweaty buttocks flexing, his tongue dragging upward a path between her jiggling tits. “Now put that big, dirty thing in her innocent little mouth.”
Maybe I should be humiliated by my reaction. The way I shudder and choke on my breath, burying my face in her sweet neck to try and anchor myself. But there’s no room for embarrassment here. There’s only reaching the summit and they are very close, very close. Wendy’s breathy cries are gaining momentum and Klay is pumping harder than before, his eyes squeezed shut. And they’re being generous enough to bring me along on the trip up the mountain and down the other side. I’m not going to squander the opportunity.
Wendy’s eyes welcome me as I walk forward on my knees and push my dripping cock into her beautiful mouth, shouting a curse when her tongue wraps around me. Her hands are still pinned above her head and Jesus help me, it’s like she’s at my mercy. There’s no barrier to stop me from taking a fist full of her hair and turning it to the side, fucking my shaft deep into the warmth of her perfect mouth, watching her lips plump and strain in order to take me.
I’ve been denied sex all my life because of my size. Because I’m not pretty to look at.
Now this princess, this angel, is accepting me and I’m dizzy with gratitude. With unspent desire. With affection and lust for this girl as I position myself right in front of her face and fill her throat with my too-big cock.
She moans for it.
Moans.
Sucks me eagerly as I pull out, crying out happily when I sink balls deep again.
“Does it taste as good as it looks, Wendy?” Klay asks hoarsely.
Her head nods up and down on the pillow, eyes smoky, tits shaking up and down.
“He’s been thinking of you all week, jacking and jacking when he thinks I’m asleep.” Klay wets his lips. “But you can’t beat off quietly with a cock that big, can you, Ruger?”
“No,” I pant, shame and gratification colliding inside of me. He called me big. He said it looks like it tastes good. And Wendy, she’s drawing on it eagerly, as if she agrees.
Jesus. Jesus. Am I dreaming?
“Look at that suckling little mouth of hers. If it’s half as sweet as this pussy, we’re both very lucky men.”
“Lucky,” I repeat raggedly, tunneling deep. So deep I almost feel ashamed of the liberties I’m taking. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I’m fucking her mouth now, sweating, animal noises coming from my mouth and come is beginning to rise, hot and sticky in my shaft. “Oh fuck. I…I’m going to come.”
Klay lets go of Wendy’s pinned wrists and grips her chin, tilting it up for me. “Do it. Look how bad she wants a taste. She’s gotten wetter since you’ve been in her mouth.”
That does it.
I sink home once final time and send my seed down her throat. It’s a pleasure I never could have believed. It rips through my muscles and chokes me. It blinds me, owns me. And it only grows more incredible when Klay massages Wendy’s throat and I feel that firm touch on my cock, all throughout my stomach and right in the center of my chest.
A roar leaves me, more moisture being enticed out of my balls.
When Wendy starts to moan around my shaft, I look down to find Klay playing with her clit, rubbing it in quick little circles until her hips become restless, lifting, twisting under the inundation of his thrusts—and then her eyes widen and she comes. Wanting to hear the scream of ecstasy, I pull my cock out of her mouth and witness her coming apart. She gasps, nails buried in Klay’s strong shoulders, eyes unseeing, thighs shaking.
Fucking glorious.
“Look at her. My God,” Klay breathes, his hips slapping deep—and he holds, a violent shudder carrying through his muscles, veins standing out on the side of his neck. “Fuck!”
I’ve seen Klay climax before. Often covertly. But out in the open like this, without hiding, it’s like watching a masterpiece being painted. All I can do is observe in awe as he falls forward onto Wendy and humps her ferociously, his teeth burying in the side of her neck, his hands yanking her knees high, up to her armpits and groaning long and loud until the final drop leaves him.
We all have our strings cut at the same time, dropping to the bed, boneless. But moments later, it seems like the most natural thing in the world for me and Klay to sandwich a drowsy Wendy between us, holding her as the three of us fall asleep. If either of us feel a ripple of tension building in Wendy throughout the night, we choose to ignore it.
For now.
