Now I’m moaning, too, beating myself in a frenzy. And I can feel his eyes there. I tell myself I don’t care if he looks, that it makes no difference to me. I don’t acknowledge the fact that his attention is making my abs flex painfully, my skin burn. In shame? In confusion? I have no idea. I just keep my own eyes locked on the ceiling and let the climax draw closer. Closer.
“When we find her,” I say, my breath running short. “I’m going to spread her legs and ride that damp little fuck hole while you watch. I’ll be covered in her wetness and sweat and bite marks by the time it’s over. And you’re going to clean me up afterward.”
“Yes,” Ruger half exhales, half growls—and then I feel it. The pelting of his seed on my stomach. The sticky thickness of it. I look down, caught between disbelief and fascination as it slides down, down, into my pubic hair, leaving glistening trails on my belly.
I close my eyes against the fresh wave of need.
The sharp-toothed lust.
Wendy is there in my mind’s eye, but so is Ruger. With his come painting my body, it’s too much. I’m committing to something I don’t understand. Something I’m not sure I want to acknowledge. Frankly, it terrifies me how much I want to fire my seed onto his prone body, to cover him in it. Especially after pushing him over the edge by simply telling him he’d be in charge of cleaning me up. Does he…want that so badly?
Panic causes me to tear my hand away from my cock.
I stuff it back into my jumpsuit and cover myself quickly. “We’ll, um…” I order my pulse to slow down, my sensible brain to come back on line. “We’ll need to get to the infirmary. Both of us. If we have any hope of escaping.”
Ruger is silent, his complexion red. “I’m sorry for—”
“Nothing to apologize for, mate. Let’s just get our plan together, hey?”
“Klay…”
“Drop it,” I grind out.
Before I can say more, an inmate darkens the door of our cell. We don’t normally associate with anyone besides each other. Too many complications. Too many alliances in this place we want no part of. But this particular convict is the prison equivalent to town crier. He’s always got some scandalous news to impart.
Ruger pushes to his feet in a blur, inserting himself between me and the other man, as if to guard me from some kind of danger. I can only shake my head.
“What do you want?” I ask our visitor.
“Didn’t you hear?” he says, glancing back over his shoulder. “Three inmates escaped last week during the riot. Must be on the run because their cells are still empty.”
At first, this news only serves to irritate me. If three prisoners escaped recently, then security will be harder to circumvent during our own getaway. But then I start to wonder if Wendy lives close to the penitentiary. Close enough to be in danger from those escapees.
My heart starts to thump wildly in my ribcage. “Do you know which prisoners got out?”
He gives two unfamiliar names.
But the third turns my blood to ice.
James O’Casey.
Wendy’s father.
“We have to get out of here,” I growl as soon as the gossip mongering inmate has moved out of earshot. “Now.”
“I can’t do it,” Ruger breathes, gripping the shank in his shaking hand. “I can’t stab you.”
“Oy.” I grab the sides of his head, looking him hard in the eye. “Yes, you fucking can. You don’t have a choice. Wendy is in danger.”
“Wendy.” He says her name like a prayer.
“Remember, I have to stab you as well. You’re not the only one delivering a blow.”
Ruger shakes his head adamantly. “It’s not the same thing.”
I drop my hands from his head. “Why?”
“You’re not…you’re not made for violence like me.”
“Obviously not. I’m made to be sipping a pina colada on a beach in Barcelona.” That makes him laugh a little, but he goes right back to chewing the inside of his cheek, turning the shank over and over in his giant paw. “Come on now, next time we run a con, I’ll use the scar to glamorize myself as an international mercenary. Our target will eat it up.”
His brown eyes turn quizzical. “Are there going to be more con jobs, Klay?”
Wendy’s beautiful face materializes in my mind. Her sweet, husky voice fills my ears. The possibility that she’s in danger right now causes a drop of sweat to travel down my spine. As does the prospect of leaving her for any length of time to commit our usual frauds. “I don’t know, mate. I just know we have to reach her as soon as possible. We’ll figure out the rest once she’s safe. I can’t…think past that.” My heart climbs into my throat, urgency slithering through me like a serpent. “Now stab me.”