Her Prison Pen Pal (Love Behind Bars)

I rip my eyes from hers, knowing I’ve been staring too long and too hard. I don’t want to end this before it can begin.

“We’re glad you’re here, Dutch.” Joan crosses her arms, offering a genuine but guarded smile. “Dinner will be ready about six.”

“It already smells delicious.” I swallow hard, wary that it might be obvious I’m not talking about the scent of food that’s drifting from the kitchen.

It’s already clear Daphne’s about a thousand pay grades above me. Too young. Too pure. Too perfect.

My world has been darkness and discomfort for so long. Her letters were the only things that kept me tethered to any sort of hope. Like flares on a battlefield.

“Mom is a great cook. But I’m not.” Daphne smiles and it feels like my balls fill with a pint of hot baby-making cream, ready to top off her womb with every drop. “Except if you count doggie stew, I guess.”

I blink. Tipping my head. For a second, my brain locks up as I swear she said doggie style instead of doggie stew…

“I’m sure you have other skills,” I say, my voice sounding far away as I glance over and see her father narrow his eyes at me.

Fucking hell. I want to chew through her jeans and tongue-fuck her pussy until she drowns me in her sweet honey, but from the glare Walter has set on me, I need to rein it in.

For now.

For a second, I make myself believe that this heady, over the top lust is from being locked up for four years. But in my heart I know that’s not the reason.

I don’t just want her. I fucking need her.

A dinging sound comes from the kitchen, releasing the tense moment as we all stand in silence.

“Show Dutch where he’ll be staying since James has abandoned him.” Walter nods at Daphne. “Sure he’d like to have some time alone to get his bearings.”

Joan scurries toward the kitchen, fluttering some words of encouragement over her shoulder as Walter shoots me a final pinning look. This old fucker, man. He means business. “We’ll talk later.” He turns, heading down the hall where James disappeared, leaving me standing with Daphne, my control hanging by a thread.

“Well,” she starts, stepping past me to grab her coat, “I got the place pretty cleaned up for you this afternoon. But if there’s anything you need, just ask. Come on. I’ll show you the little house as we call it. It’s cozy, but it has a bedroom with a smart TV, so you can watch whatever. Or my I connected my Spotify on there as well, so…music. There’s a little kitchen slash living room, bathroom. Everything you could need.”

I’ve been in jail so long that I don’t even really know about smart fucking TV’s or Spoti-whatever. But it doesn’t matter.

“There’s no way it has everything I need,” I say on a sigh, then recover when Daphne gives me an unsure squint. “A nice hot shower alone sounds good,” I mutter, before I think about what I’m saying. I watch her nibble her lower lip as we head out the front door into the cold.

“Alone, huh?” she asks, amusement in her voice as our feet crunch on the cold path with each step.

She shouldn’t be fucking amused. She should be guarded at all times around me because the things I want to do to her sweet mouth are probably illegal.

I clear my throat. “Four years showering with ten other guys takes its toll.” I breathe in her candy scent as I walk next to her. “But a hot shower alone isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Her cheeks burn red as she nods toward the door of the guesthouse. “I’ll leave you be. If you need anything, just call. James got you a cell. Should be in there on top of a basket with some towels for the bathroom, a couple new pillows we got for you and some spare sheets. I programmed our numbers in already.”

The words hang between us as my cock pulses. This girl is turning me inside out but I have to find my control.

“Thank you,” I manage as she spins, walking back down the path. Watching her go, a hollowness fills my chest. But somehow, I know she’ll be back.

And I’ll be waiting.

CHAPTER 3

Daphne

Back inside the house, I close the front door and lean my forehead into the wall, releasing the breath I’ve been holding.

Did Dutch have to be just so…Dutch?

Dark and brooding, with blue tortured eyes that call to that part of me that feels the need to fix broken and suffering things. He’s got a bad boy vibe but I know in my heart beneath it all there’s a good man waiting.

He reminds me of some of the hard cases on my outreach route. Snarling, warning people stay the heck away all the while their tails are wagging, hoping you won’t listen.