Caught By the Convicts by Jessa Kane

Chapter 5

Wendy

I’d managedto convince myself that afternoon at the prison never happened.

Avoidance is a powerful drug.

With Klay and Ruger out of sight, I could wake up every morning, go to my job, eat dinner, watch television. All normal things. They might have come to me late at night in my dreams, but during the day, I could deny how thoroughly they sapped my willpower in that prison cell. How their calloused hands on my skin felt like a prayer being answered. I’ve never been fulfilled. Not a single second in my life. Until them.

Until they converged on me and we absorbed each other. Became one.

So obviously I’m bananas.

I’ve lost it.

I can’t just allow two escaped—presumably dangerous—convicts into my home and allow them to slake their hunger with my body. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. No matter that the last half an hour has transcended time and space. I’m pretty sure I saw the face of God somewhere in the middle. Heard the angels singing.

And it has to be the last time. Allowing these men to sleep in my bed? That makes me an accomplice. I’ve given seriously new meaning to aiding and abetting.

I spent the first sixteen years of my life tiptoeing around my father’s danger, trying not to get burned. Or tip the scale of his temper. Since then, I’ve tried to outrun him. To move on with my life. But until he was imprisoned, he kept showing up, pulling me back into the quicksand. Terrifying me. Making me feel small and unworthy. Manipulating me.

These men are of the same ilk, aren’t they?

Offenders.

Men who are such a hazard to the public, they have to be locked in a cell to prevent them from committing any harm. I should have fought harder when Klay’s sensuality started to overwhelm me. I should be sneaking out of bed now and calling the police. Or running to my car and driving away as fast as I can. Yet here I remain. Soaking up the heat of these two men, feeling their heartbeats against my body and being lulled by the rhythm.

Ruger’s hand sits possessively on my hip, his chest hair tickling my spine.

Klay’s face is in sleepy repose on the pillow, mere inches from my face. When awake, he’s obscenely gorgeous. Asleep, he’s a wicked angel that has been booted out of heaven. Probably for excessive vanity.

A tug of affection for both men doesn’t even catch me off guard.

No, I felt something similar the day of the prison riot.

These men being in my life almost seems fated. There’s a sense of completion when they are touching me, talking to me, talking to each other about me. It’s like I’ve woken up in a new land with a unique language that somehow makes perfect sense to my ears. To my body.

In their roughness tonight, they cherished me.

And each other—though I sense they haven’t admitted it.

There’s a deep undercurrent between Ruger and Klay that excites me. That hesitant lust exhilarates and fulfills me almost as much as their hunger for me. It heightens every look, every touch and taste. When they take me, I become the glue holding everything together and there is nothing more satisfying for someone who craves the feeling of being anchored. Anchoring these men in return is even more vital than that.

But I can’t ignore the similarities of their lifestyle to that of my father.

I’m crazy to get tangled up with two criminals after spending my whole life escaping one—and finally succeeding. So I’ll just have to chalk this whole evening up to…what? Recurring insanity? And move on with my life. Pretend this never happened. Who would even believe it?

They’ll have to leave eventually, anyway. They’re escaped prisoners.

They can’t just live in my guest room forever undiscovered.

I’m sure they’ll be out the door as soon as the sun comes up—and that’s fine with me!

Perfect.

Ignore the hollow, panicked feeling in your stomach.

Resolutely, I slide out from between the men and scoot off the bed, padding my way to the kitchen. It’s only three o’clock in the morning, but there is no way I’m going to sleep with my brain in a meltdown. I stand at the kitchen counter for a moment, palms flat on the cool surface, then take a deep breath and begin the process of making a huge pot of coffee—

“Something bothering you, sweet cheeks?”

With a squeak, I spin around and find both men standing on the other side of my kitchen island, arms crossed over their bare chests. Ruger appears concerned. So does Klay, but only in the eyes. As usual, there is a cocky smile playing around the corners of his lips.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” I say, stating the obvious.

A muscle ticks in Klay’s cheek. “Would you like us to exhaust you again?”

Yes.

That’s the answer my body gives.

Somehow every nerve ending is starved for them again after only a handful of hours.

“No, I don’t think so…I…” Klay gives me skeptical look and my mouth goes dry. I have to get them out of here before I fall victim to their promise of pleasure again. “Shouldn’t you two consider leaving while it’s still dark outside? So nobody spots you?”

Several tense seconds pass in silence.

Klay props his fists on the island and leans into the light. With his features half illuminated, half cast in shadows, he’s every inch the hardened, intimidating inmate. “Have we outstayed our welcome so soon, Wendy?”

His roughened tone raises the hair on my arms.

It also makes my tummy flip with interest. The desire to hear that rasp in my ear.

To have his growing irritation taken out on my body.

I’m a sick, sick lady.

I don’t have a good answer to Klay’s question, so I ask one of my own, instead. A question that has been plaguing me since I met them. “Why are…why were you in prison?” I split a glance between Klay and Ruger. “Both of you.”

Klay’s eye twitches. He rolls a restless shoulder, but composes himself quickly, his sensual mouth spreading into a grin. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to bed?”

“Tell me.”

The grin disappears and suddenly the cockiest man I’ve ever met is vulnerable.

It’s not lost on me that Ruger takes a step closer to his friend. Not close enough to touch him, but close enough that Klay will feel the warmth radiating from Ruger’s skin.

“Fraud. Money laundering. Robbery. Assault with a deadly weapon. Blackmail.” Klay winks at me. “It’s an impressive list, is it not?” His confidence wavers slightly. “I’m a con, Wendy. I pretend to be someone important and swindle rich people out of their money.” Another jerky shrug. “But it’s all smoke and mirrors. In reality, I’m not important. Not at all.”

Ruger frowns over at Klay. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, mate. It’s simply the truth. Even I can be honest once in a while.” Klay tips his chin toward Ruger. “He’s my protection. In case things get out of hand or my identity is blown. This last time, there was a bit of a scuffle when we were caught fencing an heirloom I’d stolen from a widow I’d been…” Air quotes. “Courting. And Ruger was forced to take certain measures so we could escape.”

“Murder,” I whisper, looking at the quieter man. “You murdered someone.”

“A security guard,” Ruger mutters, looking down at the ground, fists clenching and unclenching. “He was going to hurt Klay. He had his gun aimed at him.”

“Yes, Ruger didn’t take kindly to that,” Klay says briskly.

That would be an understatement. The memory alone seems to be agitating the other man to the point that he begins to pace.

“So you two knew each other before prison?”

Klay’s smile is brittle. “Since we were nothing but unfortunate street urchins, yes.”

A wrinkle forms between my brows. “And you ended up in the same cell.”

“A coincidence,” Klay says, shrugging a big shoulder.

“It wasn’t a coincidence,” Ruger says, coming to a stop mid-pace. Clearing his throat. “I couldn’t let you end up in a cell with someone dangerous. One of the guards was willing to take a bribe to put us together. I gave him my bank account details.”

* * *

Klay

There’s a slap of thunder in my ears.

I turn toward Ruger sharply, not sure I like the fact that my heart has made a home behind my jugular. “I didn’t realize you’d done that.” I cough into my fist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He grunts. “It’s just what I do. I guard your back.”

It takes a considerable effort to turn back around. Even when I manage it, my pulse seems determined to race at a hundred miles an hour. What is happening to me? Before the day of the riot, I could close off my emotions like a faucet. My focus was narrowed down to survival. Now it’s like a floodgate has opened, thanks to Wendy.

Her grace, her acceptance, her touch, her energy and presence.

I’m not only fixated on her, needing her with urgency that climbs higher with every second…but I’m now being forced to acknowledge the…discomfort between me and Ruger.

I’m not willing to go any further than that. Or recognize that this discomfort feels perilously close to arousal. To a deep-seated kinship that is expanding to include physical urges.

With determination, I channel all of my focus onto Wendy.

My cock hardens for her. For the lithe thighs visible under her nightshirt. Good God, fucking her was a dream. She’s tight as hell and horny. So horny. She’s got the slipperiest little pussy, but somehow gives an abundance of friction at the same time. And all the while I’m pounding away, lost in the sweet scent of her, the smooth glide of our skin, her eyes are mesmerizing me. Drowning me. If I don’t have her again soon, I’m going to come in my pants out of the sheer anticipation of banging her a second time. Once was all it took and I’m thoroughly addicted. Does she really think we’ll simply leave after experiencing heaven like that?

Well, with the police no doubt searching for us, we might have no choice.

But it’ll be a cold day in hell before we leave without her.

Somehow I doubt she’s ready to hear that, since we’re on one side of the island and she’s on the other, holding the bag of coffee as if it’s garlic to ward off a vampire.

“Naturally it bothers you that we’re convicted felons, Wendy…” I start to make a joke, something to break the thick tension in the kitchen, but I realize I’m on borrowed time. I have strong feelings for this woman, as does Ruger. Speaking for myself, I’m on the verge of fucking obsession here. And it’s not the jokes that are going to keep her in our lives. It’s honesty.

It’s opening up. Revealing myself in a way I’ve never done.

Damn it all.

“I became very good at pretending, Wendy. At a young age. My father was a tyrant who expected perfection from his only son. I was browbeaten…hourly, it seemed. When I was among my friends, though, I learned to fake happiness. To never let my mask slip. And so being a con came naturally. At first, running scams was a fuck you to the old man, but eventually it was just as natural as breathing. I could be someone else and that meant never having to acknowledge how god-awful I’ve been feeling for so long.” I break off when my voice begins to sound winded, attempting a smile and failing. “There you go. There’s my sob story.”

I can feel Ruger’s eyes on my back and don’t dare turn around.

For once in my life, I don’t want the focus on me. “Anyway, Ruger’s story is worse than mine. I left home by choice. He was never given one.”

“Is that true?” Wendy says softly.

And I like that she is so quietly encouraging to him. He needs that. The fact that she gives him kindness so instinctively makes me love her more.

Yes, love her. I can’t help it.

The moment she walked past the cell, my heart became her lifelong prisoner.

Ruger moves into my periphery. “I had a lot of brothers and sisters. They were smaller, from a different father. I just…grew and grew. My clothes never fit and I was always hungry. My mother had no choice but to toss me out—”

“Yes, she did,” I snap, shocked by the whip crack of indignation inside of me. “She did.”

Ruger is as stunned as I feel. “Um…” After a moment, he looks back at Wendy and continues. “When I left home, I found Klay. He…attracts people. I knew he would need protection. He disagreed at first, but he’s never made me leave. Even when I annoy him.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Ruger he never annoys me. That I feign irritation as a defense mechanism for whatever…discomfort lies between us. But he’s already had my dick in his hand tonight. Stroked it…well. Perfectly, if I’m being honest. So I think we’ve gone far enough. Admitting I like having the big lug around might encourage more and I’m never going to be ready for that.

I’m not attracted to Ruger in the same way I’m attracted to Wendy.

I can’t be.

Christ, what would my father say—

When that disturbing and useless thought wings itself through my consciousness, I rush to cover it up. “So you see, Wendy, the life chose us. And it went too far.” I wait until her beautiful eyes are locked on mine. “But we would never hurt you. Never.”

“We’re here to protect you,” Ruger adds, moving around the island in Wendy’s direction, as if he’s being pulled by gravity. I hold my breath as he reaches her. Takes the coffee from her hands and sets it down on the counter. His big cock is straining at the front of his pants and I wonder if he’s going to fuck her right in the middle of our important conversation—God knows I wouldn’t blame him—but instead, he runs a knuckle down the smooth side of her neck, sliding his fingers up her nape and gripping the roots of her hair lightly. And it affects her, his touch. Her focus loses sharpness and she sways toward Ruger, nestling into his chest.

Jesus, my heart is slamming in my ribcage.

I’m so full of this…sense of homecoming, purpose, gratitude, I could burst wide open.

Though it’s a struggle, Wendy returns to the topic at hand, even though she’s being rocked by my giant bruiser of a best friend. “What do you mean, you’re here to protect me?”

I take a breath. “Your father escaped during the riot.”

She blinks, her face paling. “What? No.”

All I can do is stare back grimly.

“B-but the prison didn’t even call me. I haven’t seen anything on the news or—”

“The infirmary nurse told us the prison is trying to keep the breach quiet. They don’t want to lose their funding.”

Wendy sputters. “But people could be in danger. I could be in danger—”

“No,” Ruger growls.

“My extra-large associate is correct. You’re not in danger. We’re here.”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t know my father. He’s…he’s insidious. Sometimes he doesn’t even want money from me. He just wants to remind me where I came from. That I’m his daughter and I belong to him.”

Jealousy snaps like a rubber band in my throat. “You don’t belong to anyone but us now,” I say tightly. “The difference is, you belong to us by choice.” I attempt to swallow, but can’t. “At least, that’s what we’re hoping.”

“Don’t you see that’s impossible?” she asks.

“The fact that you answered so quickly leads me to believe you’ve at least been thinking about it.” I begin to make my way around the island, coming toward her from the opposite side of Ruger. “About the three of us being permanent.” When I reach them, I press my lap to the curve of her hip slowly, letting her feel my rigid cock. I slip a hand between her body and the counter, palming the supple cheek of her ass, massaging it roughly. “Haven’t you, baby?”

Her eyelids flutter. “I, um…”

“Ruger, get down on your knees.” I gather the hem of her nightshirt, lifting it in a fist. “Lick her pussy.”

As I suspected he would, Ruger drops like a boulder, already panting for the opportunity to get his tongue in her tight little snatch. He presses his opening mouth to her naked mound, his hands shaking as they rake up and down her thighs. “I don’t know how,” he rasps. “How do I make her feel good?”

Damn. Damn, I like this too much. The fact that Ruger is so inexperienced. The fact that no one has touched him but me and Wendy. I like it as much as the fact that no one touched Wendy until the day in our cell. I’m here to guide them. Show them pleasure. I’ve always looked out for me, myself and I, but this…God, it’s infinitely better. It’s a calling, a higher purpose I didn’t know I needed so desperately. Because I care about them.

Reaching down, I use my index and middle finger to form a V. And I use that V to slide apart the lips of her pussy, presenting Ruger with the wet, pink flesh beyond. I press my mouth to Wendy’s jaw, breathing in and out while I work my fingers to expose her clit.

“Do you see that little bud, Ruger?”

“Yes,” he responds hoarsely.

“When we stimulate that with our tongues or fingers or cocks, that’s how she comes. It’s fucking sacred. It’s to be worshipped at all times. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he groans, mouth poised right above the swollen pink berry.

Licking his chops.

“Get started,” I manage, my throat made arid by the erotic sight of Ruger polishing Wendy’s clit hungrily, bathing it over and over with his red tongue, his hands gripping her thighs tightly. I keep her flesh open with my fingers and every once in a while his tongue slips, grazing the sensitive inside of my digit, causing my cock to pulse confusingly.

Wendy’s head falls back and she moans.

Moans even louder when I bite the skin beneath her ear. “Let’s continue our discussion, shall we?” I raze her skin with my teeth and she shudders. “You are safe with us. Your father can’t hurt you. As long as you’re scared, he wins. So we need to get rid of the fear.”

“I…I…that’s what I was trying to do. When I visited the prison.”

“Well we don’t have that option anymore, so we’ll have to think of something else to free you from his grip. Maybe we find him first. Play offense.”

“No, I don’t want to do that.” Her breath stutters and turns into a whimper, her left leg comes up to drape over Ruger’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I use the V of my fingers to draw her wider. “He’s good at eating pussy, is he?”

“Y-yes,” she says on an exhale, breaking off to moan, her hips rolling toward Ruger’s eager tongue. Perhaps I shouldn’t be using this opportunity to gain promises or solve the riddle of our relationship, but hey, I’ve never been a saint. “Do you know where your father might have gone, Wendy?”

“What?” Her eyes are glazed, unfocused. “No. I mean…my childhood home is on the other side of town. But I own the property now. And he wouldn’t go there anyway, it would be too obvious.”

“If he’s an arrogant sociopath, he might,” I say drily. That earlier sense of purpose is back inside of me and before I register my own actions, I’m raking my hand upward from her buttocks to her hair, fisting the blonde length of it in a stern hand. “Look me in the eye.”

She does as she’s told, so beautiful with her swollen mouth and pre-orgasm eyes, I can barely breathe for worshiping her so deeply.

“We’ll confront him head on. We’ll rid you of the fear before the sun comes up.” I kiss her mouth hungrily, sensing an increase in Ruger’s efforts. Tasting her appreciation of it with my tongue. Capturing her breathy whimpers. “Let us do that for you. Let us show you we’re worthy of your trust.”

That’s what this is all about, I realize.

Trust.

We need Wendy’s in order to keep her. I’m so eager for it, my chest is locked up like a safe and her confidence in us is the only combination.

She begins to tremble, her flesh pulsing against my fingers. And when Ruger makes a guttural sound and begins licking more eagerly, I know she’s had her orgasm.

“Say yes,” I growl against her mouth.

“Yes!”

Relief pours through me. But I’ve only won the battle.

There’s a war ahead—and the only prize I can live with, the only prize I can imagine is keeping these two people with me, just like this, forever.