Strokes, Vol. 3 Read online

  While fingers stroked my sex and swirled inside it, juicing me up, I let my mind wander. This wasn’t a passing fling. We couldn’t stop wanting each other if we tried. I was glad that our first attraction hadn’t been tainted by thoughts of the obstacles we faced. Our families would just have to deal.

  His fingers withdrew, then slid around my torso to cup my breasts. He gave them firm squeezes while he shuffled his feet apart, scraping them on the boards while his cock slid lower. When he was just the right height behind me, his cock snug against my entrance, he smoothed his hands to the notches of my hips. “It’s gonna get rough.”

  “God, I hope so,” I said, moaning when he nudged me there. I’d missed the feel of that fat blunt knob. “Fuck me, cowboy.”

  He obliged, driving deep in a single, steady thrust. When he was as deep as I could take, he groaned and hugged my waist, bending over me to rest his head in the corner of my neck. “I thought maybe I’d dreamed how good this felt.”

  “It’s no dream,” I said, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. “It’s just us.”

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  “Fine with me, but you better start moving.” I squeezed my pussy around him, drawing inward as hard as I could before relaxing.

  “Don’t do that again,” he said, giving a raspy hiss when I did.

  “Shouldn’t have dared me.” I couldn’t help smiling.

  “There I was, thinking I’d go slow and easy. Make it good for you.”

  “Baby, it already is. Fuck me, Dalton. Don’t worry. I’m already there.”

  He straightened, gripped my hips again and began to move, long steady glides in and out. The sound of a plane overhead reminded me where we were, in the open with a chance of discovery. My body shuddered as the thought took hold. I liked the way I felt. Wicked. Free.

  I let go with one hand and cupped a breast, playing with the nipple while he pounded me from behind. I twisted it hard and stretched to twist its twin. Then I smoothed downward, fingers touching my clit, but it was too engorged, too sensitive, I opened my fingers to feel his cock as it sank inside me, so big, so wet.

  I curled myself, reaching deeper between my legs and grabbed his balls. He paused in his strokes as I fondled him, tugging and rolling them. “Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Give it to me hard.”

  His strokes were shorter, but sharper, thudding hard against my pussy. And I was drenched. Arousal so intense my skin was hot and sweaty, a lust-haze stealing my mind.

  At last, I let go of his balls and gripped the rail, stiffening my body, tilting my ass as high as I could to take more of his length.

  His hands cradled my inner thighs, jostling me, taking me off my feet, as he slammed me onto his cock again and again. I held onto the rail for dear life while my pussy convulsed, pleasure sending pulsing heat in waves throughout my body. The top of my head felt as though it had exploded and light burst behind my closed eyelids.

  When the storm passed, he held me like a ragdoll, still attached to his hip, and I gave a ragged laugh. “If anyone saw us now…”

  He pulled free, but didn’t let me go, turning me in his arms then pulling me over him as he sat in the kitchen chair I’d been using. I reached down and guided his wilting cock back inside me, then straddled him as he sat. His hands squeezed my bottom and he kissed my shoulder blades and the tops of my breasts. “Marry me?”

  I grunted and shook my head. “It’s too fast.”

  “Who says?”

  “People will.”

  His thumb pushed up my chin so that I couldn’t escape his mossy gaze. “Sooner or later, we have to face everyone.”

  “I choose later.”

  His expression shuttered.

  “You think I’m a coward. Well, I’m not.” I stroked a finger along his cheek. “But I don’t want our time together spent worrying over what they’re thinking or doing. I want us to be free.”

  His jaw tensed for a moment, a muscle moving along the edge, but then he nodded and pulled me against his chest for a hug. “I like this cabin.”

  “No surveyor’s gonna get creative enough to cut this out of our ranch.”

  He chuckled, the sound low and dirty. “You Mallorys are always so worried we’re after what’s yours.”

  “Aren’t you?” I asked, lifting my head to give him a challenging glare. “Aren’t you after what I’ve got?” I swirled my hips, tugging on his cock, which was slowing filling again inside me.

  “You got me there,” he murmured, running a hand down my back. “Guess I’ll just have to prove up my claim.”

  We smiled as we began to move together, the chair creaking beneath us.

  “Funny the trouble a little storm brings,” he whispered, his gaze intense.

  “Nothin’ little about it.” I bit his bottom lip, and then kissed him hard. Trouble lay ahead. How much, only time would tell. For as long as we could, we’d keep this secret. Give our love time to grow deep roots. Deep enough we’d weather any storm.

  Pitch Black

  ‡

  GIVEN THE RIGHT company and a soft bed, Danny Crispin would have welcomed the hot summer storm. He’d have opened his bedroom curtains, tossed up the window glass and let the wet wind howl right inside. Wouldn’t matter if his bed got saturated. The thought of a certain redhead covered in rain and sweat, green eyes glinting hotter than any flash of lightning, tightened his body.

  However, a thunderstorm spelled trouble this night. He gazed up from behind the wheel of the prison pickup and watched yet another brilliant flash dance and pop across the strands of the concertina wire high atop the chain-link fence.

  “Sarge, did you see that?” the radio squawked, all formal radio protocols forgotten by the new guard in the South Tower.

  Danny understood Officer First Class Hughes’s concern. The towers were open metal cages, no glass in the windows to protect the guards from the elements. No doubt the young officer had parked his weapon in a corner, his metal chair beside it, and stood in his rain poncho with his rubber-soled boots on the iron grating while rain sliced sideways, soaking him. It’s what he’d done when he’d been a rookie corrections officer, before he’d been promoted to sergeant a year ago.

  Another jagged bolt sparked on the wire, and he cursed, wishing he was back in his hub keeping watch on the restless prisoners. Jenna Hurly was scheduled to be in the barracks. If the power went out, she’d be trapped in the dark with eighty murderers. He hoped like hell the storm blew over soon, and he could head back to the Hub One cell block. Half an hour ago, the lieutenant had ordered him to assume his rover duties outside the fence so he could be inside the walls in case the power went out and generators had to be cranked to replace the feed from the electric company. Something that occurred with annoying frequency in this remote region of Arkansas.

  Danny drove a slow circle around the dirt track surrounding the walls. The rain fell harder, the wiper blades useless against the deluge, his headlights barely piercing the darkness.

  Moments later, another flash was followed by a loud explosion. Then the lights in the two towers in his line of sight went dark, confirming his worst fears. The transformer had been hit.

  Danny pressed the gas and clicked the button on his radio. “Grayson, meet me at the North Tower!”

  Moments later, he skidded to a halt in the mud. Because the automatic locks wouldn’t be working, he had his keys in hand, his flashlight held at his shoulder as he ran toward the gate. He opened it just as Grayson came running. “You take rover. I’m going inside.”

  Corporal Grayson gave him a curt nod as they passed each other. Danny turned to lock the gate behind him then ran toward the entrance of the prison. The pitch darkness inside the glass doors was ominous. Again he fought the lock then raced through the corridor toward his hub.

  He ran to the North Control booth. They couldn’t pop the button, so again he was delayed opening the locks to first the outer door, then the inner door. Not slowing, he ran right, passing Central Control, then
hit a quarter turn to the left and arrived at the Plexiglas corridor that usually gave a bird’s-eye view into Hubs One and Three.

  Eerie darkness spread beneath him. At the end of the corridor he entered another door and another, then passed Hub One’s control booth where he spared a second to wave at Officer McGee, whose concern was etched in his wrinkled face.

  As Danny raced through a rabbit’s warren of doors and stairs, his heart thudded dully against his chest. He hoped like hell Jenna had kept her head, followed their preset plan, and that she’d be waiting in the tiled shower area of the barracks. With the power out, the prisoners would be making the most of the unsupervised time. Images of vicious beatings and rapes flashed through his mind. A male officer faced horrific dangers, but a female caught on the floor…

  He couldn’t think about that now and not go nuts. He had to keep calm. Had to get to her. As he at last entered the third tier of the barracks, he flicked off his flashlight and felt for the iron bars atop the stairs and followed them, jostling past prisoners moving in the darkness.

  Two more flights down, she’d be there. Waiting in the darkness. If he was lucky the skinheads had gotten to her first. They’d stepped in a couple of times to prevent assaults, having decided Officer Hurly was “good people.”

  Relying on a lifer wasn’t Danny’s idea of the optimal situation, but an officer caught in the midst of a melee didn’t have many choices. Hiding in the darkness, her back against a wall, hoping no one heard her breathe or noted where she was when the lights went out….

  Danny drew a deep breath to calm his heart and barreled down the last of the iron stairs.

  THE MOMENT THE lights flickered out, Jenna darted to the left, through the last “hole” between prisoners where she’d been patrolling, keeping an eye on the restless bunch.

  Her radio squawked. “Grayson, meet me at the North Tower!”

  Thank god. Danny was on his way. She reached for her radio and turned it off. The sound would pinpoint her location to those around her. Then she slipped her cuffs from her back pocket, slid one manacle around her wrist and gripped the other like brass knuckles. Just in case she had to fight her way through.

  Already she heard hard thuds, no doubt the sound of battery packs wrapped in socks hitting flesh. Soon after, the slick sounds of an illicit tryst came from beside her, but she stilled her breaths, held out her hands and moved as quickly as she could, her metal cuff and pepper-spray can held at the ready in case she found trouble.

  “Red,” a husky whisper sounded beside her, using the nickname the prisoners had given her, but never dared say to her face. She was Officer Hurly to them all.

  But she recognized the voice of the whisperer. For a second, she felt relief, but then she remembered the crime Prisoner Draper had committed. Murder. Of three gang rivals. With his bare hands.

  She remained silent and still.

  “Red,” he said a little louder. “Gotta trust me on this, ma’am.”

  And because she was already turned around in the dark, afraid she hadn’t moved fast enough or that someone else would find her, she answered. “Draper, I’m here.”

  In the inky dark she felt a hand clamp around her wrist. She shook her arm.

  “It’s me.” The whisper came beside her ear. “Coats and Benny are with me. Where you headed?”

  She drew a deep breath. If she told them, and they were using her for bait, Danny would be in danger too.

  “Where to?” came the gruff whisper. “This lasts too long we’ll all be in a world of hurt.”

  “Showers,” she whispered back, biting her lip and hoping she wasn’t making the worst mistake of her life.

  He pulled on her arm, urging her forward, swiftly, jumbling past bodies beginning to bunch around them. More sickening thuds followed them, but Draper wasn’t deterred. In seconds, the sounds around them were more hollow. She reached out a hand and felt cool tile.

  “Stand here. We’ll keep you safe.”

  It was a crazy upside-down world. A guard needing to be guarded. There in the dark. Vulnerable in a way she’d prepared for, but never really experienced. Day-to-day working in a prison was fraught with dangers, but this was something darker. Something monstrous.

  But for the moment, she felt relief. She firmed her grip on her pepper spray and cuff, spread her feet, prepared to fight and listened for sounds that might indicate others had found them.

  After what seemed an hour but could only have been minutes, she heard more shuffling steps entering the shower. Strained whispers. A hand reached out and touched her shoulder, her hair.

  She tensed, ready to swing.

  “Jenn, it’s me.”

  She sprang forward into Danny Crispin’s strong arms.

  “I’ll take lead,” said Draper, his tone harder. He’d never hidden his hatred of the male officers. Likely wished he could have a go at Danny. “You follow,” he rasped. “Coats and Benny, take the rear.”

  Danny shoved her behind him. “Hold onto my shirt. Whatever happens, don’t let go.”

  They made their way slowly out of the shower. Lights flickered around them. Prisoners not using their battery packs as weapons had begun to fashion makeshift flashlights. They were on the hunt. For her, she knew it deep in her bones.

  Keeping to the side of the wall, her band of protectors moved out of the showers, toward the first tier’s steps. Then they climbed, the sounds of Draper cursing and threatening filling the air as he pushed through the men milling on the steps. Once on the first deck, they rushed toward the stairs at the far end, running now because hollow stomps trailed behind them.

  Jenna concentrated on holding onto Danny’s shirt, afraid she’d trip and they’d be trapped or pushed through the wide bars to the concrete floor below.

  Sharp slaps and thuds surrounded them. Fights and sex. She could picture it, but still couldn’t see. She kept silent until a beam of light flashed in her eyes, and the whispers surrounding her grew to satisfied laughter and shouts.

  Then the eerie catcalls began. “Hey, Red! Where are you sexy?” Followed by smacking sounds, like wet air kisses.

  She shivered in revulsion.

  They were nearer now. But her strange band of protectors was on the third tier now, heading toward the fire-safe stairwell. Almost there.

  Something slammed into Danny, and he jolted sideways. Her grip on his shirt loosened. A hand wrapped around her hair and pulled her away. She kicked and slugged at the man holding her. Then there was darkness again, more shoves, and the fingers wound into her hair tugged free. She got to her knees and crawled forward, toward the door.

  Behind her, something solid bounced against her buttocks. A hand grabbed for her belt, lifting her to her feet. She swung around, but a beefy arm encircled her waist.

  “It’s me,” Danny said loudly, because now the sounds of an all-out brawl filled the upper deck.

  A flashlight shone. The door was just in reach. Danny thrust in the key, turned the lock, and they darted through the door, leaving the battle raging among prisoners behind them.

  DANNY LOCKED THE door then tossed down the flashlight and reached for Jenna. He slid to his ass on the floor, there in the stairwell, his back against the cell-block door. His hands roamed her body, seeking injuries. But he found none. She shivered inside his embrace.

  “See why I don’t want you here?” he rasped.

  “Goes both ways,” she whispered harshly, her breaths slowing as she wrapped herself around him. She straddled his hips, bracketed his face between her hands and kissed him hard. “I’m okay. We’re both okay. Draper and his buddies had my back.”

  Danny cussed. “It just as easily could have gone another way. You’d have been at their mercy.”

  Her feminine huff blew against the side of his neck. “I’m not a hug-a-thug. I know how bad it could have been, but I had to put my trust in someone.”

  His arms tightened. “I should have been there.”

  “You had a job, just like me. We’ve train
ed for this kind of event. It all worked out.”

  Anger spiked inside him, heating his face. “Fuckin’ hell, Jenn. Fuck the job.” Why was she so damn stubborn? There were other jobs in the prison system for chrissake. He shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from railing at her. This was an old argument, one they had a couple of times a week. If being trapped in the dark with homicidal maniacs wasn’t enough to convince her she had no business working inside the prison, he didn’t know what would. His shoulders slumped. “I’ve never been so scared,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her.

  Again, she snorted. “Scarier than two tours in Iraq?”

  Scarier than any firefight he’d lived through when he’d been in the Marines. “Hell, yeah.”

  Her lips stretched against his cheek.

  “Think it’s funny?” he growled.

  “No, I like that you were so worried.” She snuggled closer to his chest. “And I’m relieved as hell you got to me. But won’t the LT have your ass for leaving your post?”

  “I put Grayson on rover. LT will just have to understand. A female on the floor is every male guard’s worst fear.”

  She sighed. “Shouldn’t be that way. I’m just another officer.”

  So she always said. And he’d never agree. A distant hum sounded. Lights flickered than brightened. Danny blinked against the harsh fluorescence filling the stairwell. “SRT will be suiting up.”

  She nodded, sighing as she crawled off his lap. “Better go. You’ll be busy getting the prisoners back into their cells.”

  “When shift’s over…”

  She gave him a nod. “My place.”

  Danny gave her a lopsided smile. “Don’t even think about entering the barracks again.”

  She tilted her chin. “I’m not crazy.”

  Reluctant to leave her, he turned her toward the corridor and the hub’s control booth. “Stick with McGee.”

  He gave her ass a slap, and she aimed a glare over her shoulder, then walked with a sway that drew his gaze straight to her round, muscular bottom. Their conversation was far from over. Only talking wasn’t going to cut it. Maybe she needed a little dose of reality.