Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,13

have liked. I know the money is nearby. The bank Damon robbed for my father is only two counties away from this prison. The cash is hidden somewhere within our reach. All I need to do is meet with Damon one more time—beat him at his own game this time, and get that last little detail I need.

Something else nags at me, though, as I cross the parking lot and climb into my car, legs still clamped tight because my bare pussy is still wet beneath this skirt, and the cool breeze out here makes me shiver for more reasons than just the chill. I drive the key into the ignition, and I can hear Damon’s voice replaying in my head. Not just the sexy-talk at the end of our encounter, but the other things he said.

Things about my father.

You don’t know your father half as well as you think you do.

If you think your father has never stabbed any of his people in the back either, then you’re more naive than I thought.

I know Dad has done terrible things. You don’t get ahead in the mafia business without being willing to cut some corners, lie to or rob or bribe or threaten the right people. Damon has probably met some people on the wrong ends of those deals, so he’s developed an overblown sense of my Dad’s guilt. Dad is guilty, of plenty of bad things. But nothing like what Damon did. Nothing like murdering an innocent bank owner in cold blood.

That’s the stuff of hardened criminals.

Like the hardened criminal I just let finger-fuck me senseless, part of my brain points out. I ignore that, shove it to the back of my mind as I start the engine. The tires squeal as I whip out of the prison parking lot, suddenly all too eager to put miles between my bad decisions and me.

I cannot let Damon Tell get to me. I cannot start thinking sympathetically about that monster, just because he gave me one good orgasm.

It doesn’t take me long, driving at the speed I’m going, to reach home. I head directly to my room via the back entrance, not wanting to run into Dad or Jasper or another of Dad’s unsavory henchmen while I’m in this state, so obviously disheveled. Once safely in my rooms, I strip down and head to my private shower, the enormous one with the rain shower head that Dad had installed just for me after his last big score a few years back, when we renovated the house.

I duck my head under the hot stream and try to wash away any memory of Damon.

But the second I close my eyes, I can see him standing over me, my legs spread to either side of him on that prison mattress. His eyes were white-hot with lust as he gazed up at me, dark as pits, and just as terrifyingly easy to fall into. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he licked my legs, knee to thigh to hip, then back again, slow and teasing. When his tongue flashed across my mound, it took every ounce of my self-control not to thrust up toward him in anticipation.

And when his tongue slipped between my lips, pushed into my pussy, thick and strong at once, I couldn’t contain the gasps any longer. I bucked against him as he licked and sucked at my pussy, desperate for release. And the whole time, all I could think about was how his cock would feel—that thick cock I could see bulging against his jeans, wanting me as much as I wanted him. How would it feel if he spread my legs around his waist and drove it into me? How would it feel if he fucked me across this bed, thrust his cock deep into my pussy over and over until we were both screaming?

Before I know it, my hand is between my legs, and my fingertips are spreading the lips of my already-sensitive pussy. I hold my head under the stream of water, press my lips tight to hold in a cry as I trace my fingers over my clit, the same way Damon did earlier. I rub back and forth, slowly increasing the pressure until I’m gasping, still sensitive from having his fingers inside me, his tongue all over me. I come with a faint gasp, and the hot water rushes down my throat, tickles my belly and my hand where it cups my pussy. The