Auctioned to the Prisoners (Auctioned #4)

7

LORY

CAPTIVATING PLEASURE

Kinkaid is up and off the bed as I come down from the blissful orgasm he coaxed out of me like a master magician. My head is still spinning, lights flashing behind the darkness of my eyelids. When he pulls his fingers from inside me, I curl onto my side, panting, sweating, trying to catch my breath.

No one has ever made me come like that before.

Not with their tongue. Not without knowing me for at least a few weeks and with my firm direction and the assistance of my own fingers. It’s like he could sense what nudged my arousal little by little, rolling the snowball of pleasure until I got bigger and bigger, tipping down the hill to finally break.

My god.

He releases my bindings and strides through the door, shutting it decisively as I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on. I grab the shirt he gave me before he poured suns and moons and angel-song into me, tugging it over my head.

It’s long on me, reaching mid-thigh. Not long enough that I’m comfortable walking around without panties. Mine are on the floor in a scrunched heap, and not for the first time, I regret not picking a nice pair of simple white cotton underwear that would have been more practical to wash and wear for thirty days.

The warden’s words pop into my head about not needing many clothes. If the other men are anything like Kinkaid, he will probably be right.

Shoving my legs into my tangled thong is easier said than done, and I’m embarrassed about how cold and wet it is against my flesh. When Kinkaid leaned back against the door, watching me with his liquid blue eyes, my body primed in an intense new way. I mean, I’ve always liked men with tattoos and mean mouths. I’ve always loved men who crackle with dangerous static. My terrible choices are why I’m in this mess without a life partner to help me with its challenges. Some of my school friends are married to stable blue-collar husbands who’d likely drive across five states to collect their destitute sisters, but me? I end up on my back on a prison bed, getting given the most magnificent oral by a man who looks like he wants to make me his next dinner.

Kinkaid has the look of a Navy Seal or a Marine, not a criminal, although what he just did to me felt like plundering.

He could be a murderer, but I push the thought away, fearful that fixating on what put these men in jail will paralyze me.

Leaning forward, I peek around the door, watching Kinkaid speak in a low tone to Warden Grady. He has some things in his hands that he passes across, then steps into the room to look around.

“She’s getting changed,” Kinkaid says. Grady must be looking for me.

Stepping into the main room, four sets of eyes find me immediately. Hyde blinks fast, licking his lips as he rubs the tattoo that climbs up his neck. Rock shifts forward, his gaze dropping to take in my bare legs, still elongated by my ridiculous shoes. Kinkaid studies me like he’s checking for my emotional state. The man is wound tight enough to snap.

And Warden Grady nods slowly like my appearance has reassured him of my safety and confirmed I’m meeting my obligations.

“Did you bring my phone?” I ask.

He slides his hand into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out the device. I turn it on, and my heart picks up speed as it gradually comes to life. Around me, four men wait for me to search for my messages.

There’s one from Kennedy. Are you okay? Even though she’s in dire straits, she’s still worrying about me.

I’m okay, I reply. Are you?

I wait, hoping to get confirmation she’s read my message and a reply to let me know she’s holding in there.

After thirty seconds, the warden clears his throat, and I power off the phone, handing it back.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He claps his big hand on Kinkaid’s shoulder, more like a father reassuring a son than a warden with his incarcerated prisoner. Whatever these men have done for the warden is making him ooze gratitude.

When Grady retreats, and the door clanks back into place, Hyde jumps up.

“You done?” he asks Kinkaid. “Is she ready?”

His childish hopefulness is as unnerving as it is sweet. I’m filled with the mixed-up urge to back away and embrace him, all at the same time. Something about him reminds me of my childhood friend, Devon; his smile, maybe, and restless energy.

“No, Hyde. I’m not done, and she’s not ready.” Kinkaid places the warden’s offerings on the table: board games, some folded clothes, and a few packets of chips and chocolate bars. He’s treating us like kids at a birthday sleepover.

Glancing up, Kinkaid holds my gaze as he stalks towards me, heated intention blazing in the fierceness of his expression. When he’s close enough to touch me, he wraps his arm around my waist and leans in close. “You ready for part two?”

“It depends on what part two involves.”

He seems to like my answer, nuzzling against my ear with a chuckle. “We could go back to part one if you want me to lick you again.”

Mmmm. I clamp my legs together, liking that idea a little too much and feeling weird about it. This man is a stranger. A stranger who looks like the cousin of Charlie Hunnam with the same Sons of Anarchy grittiness to him. A stranger who’s been more selfless and giving when it comes to pleasure than any of the previous men who’ve seen me naked. “You’d do that without me doing something for you?”

“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “That’s all for me.”

I flush all over at the huskiness of his voice. “I mean something to get you off.”

He stops mouthing my jaw with hot kisses to look me dead in the eye with all the ferociousness of a famished predator. Fearing I’ve said something wrong, I jerk back, but he holds me steady. “If the warden hadn’t interrupted, I could have shot my load with just my tongue in your sweet little hole.”

When I shiver, he grins. “Oh, you like that. Some dirty talk tickling your little shell ear. Disrupting your sensibilities.”

I do. More than I realized.

“What would you do to get me off, baby?”

“Whatever you want.” When the words are out of my mouth, I realize how dangerous they are. He could do anything with me, so it’s not like my agreement is important, but giving him free rein to do whatever he wants might encourage his mind into deeper, darker places than I want to go.

He could have gone to those places already, I realize. Nothing is stopping him from shoving me onto my back and fucking me brutally. He could do the violent things my ex used to make me watch online like force himself into my ass without lube or put his whole fist inside me. Men can do terrible things to women, things that cause pain rather than pleasure, without consent. Kinkaid hasn’t done any of that. He’s made sure I’ve experienced pleasure first. He’s been as careful with me as I imagine is possible under the circumstances. He’s taking his time, and that makes me like him. It makes me trust him, which is probably what he wants.

“Your hand,” he says, “to start.”

His pants are loose on his hips, but he flicks open the buttons anyway. Beneath, he’s wearing a pair of black boxers that cling tightly to his form. I get a glimpse of cut abs and the V of muscle pointing to his dick so effectively, I can’t look away as he clasps my hand tightly around his dick. It was rigid though the fabric of his clothes, but skin on skin is so different. He’s hard and so hot, he practically sears my cooler skin. The tip is wet under my thumb and throbs when I slick over the tender head.

“Oh, fuck, Lory.” The gravel in his voice sends heat pulsing through me, and he curls forward like I’m stealing the strength out of him. Watching such a big, strong, controlled man lose it undoes me.

“That feel good?” I ask softly, head spinning with the rush of power. What would it feel like to finally feel a woman's touch after so many years? Knowing how much he must have thought about this moment and yearned for it spurs me to make it as good for him as I can.

There will be days, weeks, months, or years when this memory lives in his mind, and I want it to be colored with all the best sensations.

“So good.” He moans, the sound almost pained.

I urge him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then I take a pillow, placing it on the floor. When I stare up at Kinkaid, his eyes are intense blue flames, and his lips are parted at the sight of me on my knees. I rest my hands on his thighs, and the muscles jump. His fingers grip the edge of the bed, bunching the regulation covers with thick fingers that have been inside me. He’s strong and braced for something he seems nervous about giving into. His dick stands proud, bigger than any cock I’ve ever handled in my life. I swallow, nerves rushing through me like a spring stream.

I know how to suck average dick, but this isn’t average. The head is broad and flared, the shaft wider than the circumference of my grip. There’s no way I’m getting it all in my mouth, but I’ll give it my best. Now I’m on my knees, and he’s staring down at me with a dark expression, there’s no backing out.

When I shuffle closer, I catch his scent. He’s fresh and soapy, like he made extra sure to wash ready for me. I tentatively wrap my hand around his girth, smiling when it kicks against my palm.

“Easy,” I whisper, like I’m calming a skittish horse. He snorts, but it turns into a hiss when I lick the head of his cock with a teasing, featherlight stroke.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Suck my dick.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, and heat floods between my legs as I shift against the urge to be filled.

I’ve always thought of myself as a sexual person. When I’m at home, I get myself off at least once a day. I tend to pick the fuckboys who make big promises about how good they are in bed but are the most selfish. At least my finger knows the way to make me shake and moan.

Kinkaid isn’t selfish. He’s ladies first when it comes to food and fucking. A gentleman, if that’s a thing prison inmates can be.

I decide to go slow, wrapping my fingers around him and licking just underneath the ridge where he’s sensitive. Hissing again, one hand releases the blanket and rests heavily on the back of my head. Is he going to take control and force his cock down my throat? The prospect is equally arousing and terrifying. He pulls in a deep breath as I circle my tongue around and explore more with my hands. He likes it when I squeeze nice and firm, even more when I run my knuckles gently over his balls.

His thighs tense as he blows his breath through tight lips. The fingers on my neck flex, digging in with his faltering restraint. I pump, and he grunts, tipping his head back and clenching his eyes closed.

When I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and gently suck, my tongue is coated in salty-sweet arousal that I swallow down as he trembles.

“Hands behind your back,” he growls, making me jump. I comply, encircling my left wrist with my right hand and working to keep myself balanced. It’s hard, and I end up taking him deeper in my throat, which is probably what he wanted. His fingers grip my hair, pushing me harder until I gag.

“That’s a good girl. Make it nice and wet.”

Like my body is tethered by his demands, my mouth floods with saliva. It’s a strain to keep my jaw flexed this wide. My lips are stretched tight like I imagine my labia will be when he fucks me.

I feel empty between my legs, and my fantasies fill my mind as I imagine another man behind me, touching me, teasing me, filling me while I take Kinkaid deep into my throat. It’s the fantasy that gets me off the quickest. The fantasy I’ve never indulged in in real life.

I let my hand roam between my legs to tease my swollen clit.

His hips rise, jerking enough to make me gag, spiking tears to slip over my lower lids and coat my cheeks.

“Careful,” he says, bringing a calloused thumb to stroke one away. “The only tears I want to make you cry are tears of pleasure.”

I don’t stop, though, pushing through to hollow my cheeks and suck him noisily. He’s probably just telling me what I want to hear, like most men in my experience, but the sentiment is sweet.

I wonder if Rock and Hyde are thinking about what we’re doing here. Are they imagining me kneeling for them, too?

Hyde scares me. He’s so jittery. And Rock is so big he could crush my skull like a walnut. Where Kinkaid is rugged but controlled, the others are wilder and less known.

Strange that I sense that after such a short amount of time.

I shut my eyes and focus on opening my throat and letting him control my movements. He groans and shudders as I bob my head, tasting his increasing pleasure and his dick swell inside my mouth.

His fingers tighten against my scalp, and I stare up at him, right into his eyes that have shifted to a deeper, ocean-at-midnight shade. I keep sucking, watching his jaw tic as he grits his teeth, bracing for release. I give him my all, sucking hard, working my clit. “Don’t stop,” he grunts, jerking me so hard onto his dick that my nose touches his abs.

My clit pulses with my heartbeat as I tease my slickness through my labia and around the bundle of nerves that are screaming for stimulation.

“That’s it,” he all but growls. “Touch yourself while you suck my fucking cock.”

I strum my clit, so close that I’m dangling between pain and pleasure, heat pooling in my belly as I let my body sing as he uses me.

“That’s it,” he repeats. “That’s it. Come again, princess. Come while you’re sucking my dick.” A waver in his voice tells me he’s getting close to losing control. “Take this big fucking dick all the way… yes…”

The last word is breathed out as his dick jerks, sending hot cum streaming into my mouth. I swallow reflexively, and he groans like I’ve pressed a hot poker against his skin. If his friends hadn’t heard us before, there’s no way they missed this.

He tugs my face from his lap and releases me, staring down at me with such awe that it’s like I just unlocked the doors in the place and showed him the path to paradise. He cups his dick and shivers, licking his dry lips.

“God, you’re good at that.” He laughs lightly, and I smile, pleased, shaky, and totally in awe. In exchange for my sister’s freedom, I can give this man what he needs. All my life, I’ve pushed through hardship to get to the to the other side. And this doesn’t feel too much like hardship; not when it comes with a side of white-hot pleasure. Not when I get such a kick out of watching him lose control.

Kinkaid, handsome, even-tempered, giving, and controlled is the easiest of the three.

But I can’t hide in this room with him forever.

At some point soon, I’m going to have to face two men who might not be so careful with me.