Page 38 of Auctioned to the Prisoners

Most girls pretend they don’t like ass play, but when you get your fingers and tongue there, they turn mindless.

I think of other ways we could enjoy each other but stuff them back down. All of this is wishful thinking. Grady’s going to take her from us. I know he is. She’s going to leave, and all we’ll have are fleeting memories of what it was like to be a real man again.

I don’t want to let her go. Not yet.

What would Grady do if we refused? He’s not strong enough to take on the three of us by himself. He’d have to tell other guards and expose his potentially dangerous attempt to repay a debt. He’d lose everything.

For the first time in forever, a flicker of power ignites within me. If they come for her, we don’t have to agree to let her go.

I grip the back of Lory’s neck, turning her toward me. I don’t own much in this world, but right now, I own her.

“You going to come, little bird?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

Like I yanked out her orgasm with just my words, she clamps around me and a gust of wetness coats my balls. I pound harder, chasing my own pleasure.

Fuck Grady. Fuck this prison. Fuck the system that put me in here for a crime I didn’t commit. I’ve tried to play the game, but public defenders don’t want to hear about innocent men inside. They just take the easy path of plea bargains and parole requests. I want to get out of here and clear my name, but it’s not going to happen. If the only good I’m ever going to feel is Lory, then I’m getting my thirty days, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine.

When I come, it’s like spinning out in space. Behind my eyelids, white lights streak my vision, and my body focuses on the pulsing heat spilling through my dick. In my chest, my heart swells and pounds, echoing through the rest of my body.

It’s the greatest release of my life.

I pump through it all, reveling in the crazy amount of wetness lubricating my way. But when I look down, I find the condom bunched strangely, and I realize immediately that it broke.

“Fuck, Lory.” I pull my dick and my thumb out of her body, fascinated by the way her pussy gapes open, and my cum trickles out. If I could take a picture, I would. It’d be the only pornographic image I’d ever need. “The condom broke.”

She reaches around and touches her entrance like she’s searching for proof. She finds it when it coats her fingers.

“I’m on contraception,” she says breathlessly. “Are you clean?”

“Yep,” I confirm. I pull the useless remnants of the condom from my dick and toss it on the floor.

“Can I put it back in?” I ask. “I wanna feel you from the inside.”

“Yes.” Her body quivers with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she curls her spine when I enter her again.

Pushing back in bare is so much more than I thought it’d be. The heat of her and the slickness we’ve created is magnified. We’re connected in a way that doesn’t happen with rubbers. Even though my cock is softening, I ease my way in and out, watching every thick inch disappear and reappear, coating my dick in cum with leaks around my shaft. I push my thumb back into her asshole, which clenches, and she moans softly, pushing against me.

“I bet you never imagined you’d be on your belly with your ass in the air for a man like me.” The words spill out of me before I’ve even considered what impact they might have.

“A man like you?”

The question in her statement leaves me puzzled. When a man is incarcerated, the person he is becomes secondary. We’rea number, a statistic, with a label of the bad we’ve done hanging over our heads and victims who resent our existence. I could be an obedient son, an excellent student, loved by many, but my conviction wipes that all away, guilty or innocent.

Who does Lory see when she looks at me? Rock the man or Rock the convict? Who do I want her to see?

I don’t even know anymore. I’ve lost myself in this place. It’s eaten away Colton Brownlow and replaced him with Rock. Rock is impenetrable. Rock is hard. Rock doesn’t experience shame or remorse. He doesn’t care because he can’t.

The sound of someone punching in the door code carries from the main area, and I pull my dick out of Lory, shoving it back into my boxers and tugging up my pants. Lory’s a mess, but we don’t have time to clean her up. I grab her shirt.

“Put your hands over your head.”

She complies, and I pull her shirt on like a father dressing his kid. Her leggings are twisted up with a pair of panties. As I struggle to disentangle them, the door opens.

“It’s Grady. Get out here,” Kinkaid barks.

“Go,” Lory says, grabbing the bundle. “I’ll sort this out.”

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