Staking His Claim

JEALOUS CONVICT

The plan was simple and straightforward.

Interview a prisoner for my term paper in the safety of my father’s office.

Only problem?

A prison riot just broke out. And I’m trapped with a jealous convict with feral eyes and possessive hands.

Monroe Gage swears he’ll lay down his life to protect me from the hardened criminals hunting me, the warden's virgin daughter.

Oh, and he’s also vowed to do wicked things to me. As long as I promise him forever.

Am I insane to agree?

Kitty

I stare at my dad across the breakfast island, imploring him with the puppy-dog look I’ve perfected over my twenty years of life.

His neat, military-cut salt and pepper hair barely moves as he shakes his head. “No, Kitty. Absolutely not.”

I stifle a sigh and play the game. I’m an expert at it, more often than not coming out on top. But this is a tricky one. My father is protective about his family, and fiercely overprotective of me.

“Come on, Dad. A first-hand account could be the difference between a simple pass and top marks. You want me to stay at the top my class, don’t you?”

I know I’ve hit his sweet spot when he tosses his fork down and grimaces.

Mom hides her silent laughter behind her coffee cup at that first sign of his impending surrender. Dad is rabid about education, especially when it comes to me maintaining top college grades. I’m a sophomore now, and he’s just as eager as I am to capitalize on the great work I did in freshman year and remain at the top of my class.

It’s something else for him to brag about to the neighbors and his golf buddies.

“I get that you want to do well, and I’m proud of you for that. But have you explored any other ways to make this happen?” he asks, a little hopefully.

I shrug. “There’s only so much I can learn from the library and online research. I’ve sat in on a few court cases and spoken to a handful of prosecutors. But they all recommended that getting a one-on-one interview would be invaluable.”

He sighs but I can tell he’s thinking hard about it, his analytical brain weighing the pros and cons of giving me what I want. “I suppose if it happened in a controlled environment, like my office, it could work,” he says almost to himself.

I try not to get overexcited. He hasn’t said yes yet.

If his overprotective side kicks in harder, I’m sunk. To be fair, what I’m asking is fairly dangerous on several levels.

Dad is the warden at Wrexton State Penitentiary just north of Seattle, Washington, a facility that has had zero problems since he took over stewardship twelve years ago.

It’s a record he’s extremely proud of. But it’s still a supermax prison full of hardened criminals, including more than three dozen lifers locked up for atrocious offences.

“Are you sure, Derek. Is it safe?” Mom finally pipes in, a tiny frown replacing the amusement from a minute ago.

Dad reaches across to pat her hand. “She’ll be entirely safe… if this happens. I’m still not sure this is the right way to go about your assignment, sweetheart.”

I pounce on the sliver of weakness. “I’ll follow every rule, Dad. You know you can trust me.”

His gaze softens and he nods.

I’m not a rule breaker. I’ve never talked back to my parents or been grounded. Ever . I’m a model daughter, respectful to my elders and figures of authority, as Mom likes to brag about to her country club friends.

I’ve been a straight A student since junior high and my parents know I’m trustworthy.

I get that they’re hesitant about sending their only child to a maximum security prison filled with hardened criminals, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m months away from turning twenty-one and they already let me attend an out of state college in California.

Freshman year at Stanford was interesting. Eye-opening in many ways, but so disappointing in others.

Pros—the intelligence pool for someone like me to learn from was mind-boggling and exciting.

Cons—a shocking number of freshmen were high on being away from home for the first time and determined to drink, party and screw their way through first year.

As much as I’d been looking forward to sampling college life, that side of it grew distasteful very quickly. I found myself leaving the handful of parties I let my roommate talk me into going earlier and earlier until she gave up asking me to go with her. And frankly, it’d been a relief.

As for the overgrown, over-hormonal boys?

None of them held my interest long enough for me to even kiss. I would’ve suspected I batted for the other team except none of the girls triggered any pulse-racing interest, either.

In my quieter moments I’ve started worrying that there’s something wrong with me, sexually. That my wiring has gotten messed up somehow.

I don’t say any of this to my parents, of course. I stay silent and let Dad work his way through his parental-control mode.

I’m halfway through my last pancake when he sighs for the second time.

I don’t smile smugly or crow in triumph, but I know he’s about to give in even before he says, “Fine. Give me a few days to come up with someone you can interview for your paper.”

I jump up, fly around the breakfast island and throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughs and drops a kiss on my temple before I let go. “You’re welcome. And I expect absolute top marks, young lady.”

“Oh, absolutely!”

He sips his coffee before grimacing. “I wish you weren’t doing this while Mom and I are away though.”

Before he can rush down another avenue of worry and block me with more concerns, I reply, “I want to enjoy my summer, Dad. If I have to wait for you and Mom to get back from Europe with the paper hanging over my head, it’ll ruin my downtime.” I inject the barest hint of a pout into my voice, the one I know will sway him completely to my side.

I may be a model daughter, but I still have my wiles and I’m not above using them.

He looks to Mom for support, but she gives a “your call” shrug. He drains his coffee cup and rises from the island.

“I guess I better get to work on finding your subject right away then.”

I blow him a kiss as he leaves the room.

Once he’s gone, I fist pump and give a muted whoop.

Mom shakes her head with a wry smile. “Don’t think we don’t know you’ve got us wrapped around your little finger, missy,” she admonishes.

I know to quit while I’m ahead so I lower my head and finish my breakfast in silence.

As I do, reality sinks in, along with an ominous tingling.

I’m going to interview a convict in a maximum security prison about his life and crime. A man who’s probably been locked up for years and not come into contact with a female in a long time.

A fearful shiver races through me but I dismiss it.

I’ll be completely safe. Dad won’t let anything happen to me.

And I’m going to totally ace this criminal justice paper.

Monroe

“You in college?” I ask the angelic vision sitting several feet from me.

I’ve blinked a few times since I walked into the room to make sure I’m not dreaming but she’s still there.

Maybe I’ve died and I’m in the some fucked up transition. Because I’m headed to hell and God wants me to see the things I could’ve had if I’d lived a better life?

Because this girl…woman?

She’s everything I imagined an angel would look like.

She nods, her eyes catching mine before they dart away. “Yes. Heading to sophomore year in the fall.”

Sweet Jesus. Her voice. Like the gentlest chimes on a sultry summer night. “And that makes you…how old?” I push, a peculiar simmering stirring in my gut.

She jumps a little at my rough growl of a voice, and I hide a wince.

She’s so fucking soft and pretty and I haven’t been around women besides the sixty-something-year-old prison doctor in five long years. Besides, I’m an animal and she’s right to be scared.

Still, it kills me that she’s afraid of me.

“Umm…twenty,” she answers.

Twenty.

So young.

So fucking perfect.

Jesus .

Every bone in my body craves a single precious stroke of her peaches and cream skin, but there’s an armed guard stationed outside the door, just itching for me to make his day by misbehaving.

I curl my hands into fists just so I don’t reach out to test the softness of her skin. Does it feel as damned silky as it looks? As smooth?

My hands are callused and rough from daily workouts and my job in the prison furniture shop. Hell, I have splinters that would most likely hurt her.

And yet, the need to touch is like a living flame inside me, roaring higher and out of control by the second.

She’s twenty.

Blisteringly young to my seasoned thirty-seven but still…a woman.

And I’ve been so long denied the gift of a warm, tight pussy, juicy tits and the blissful screams of a sweet beauty taking my cock.

My mouth waters as my gaze lingers on the prim little jacket button keeping her body from me.

She’s dressed appropriately for this environment, I note with approval.

Not that it’s going to make a load of difference to the animals behind bars.

The thought of any of those jackals getting their hands on this sweet thing makes my fists clench harder. If she were mine, she wouldn’t be within a thousand miles of this shithole?—

“Mr. Monroe? Are…are you okay?” she asks, and I realize my teeth are grinding loud enough for her to hear.

“It’s just Monroe. Or Gage. No mister.” That makes me sound like a gentleman, which is the last thing I am.

She frowns and looks down at her notes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense taken, princess.” I consciously relax my jaw and my grip on the chair.

I’m fine. I’m fine .

She’s beyond sweet, tempting in a head-wrecking kinda way.

But she’s the warden’s daughter.

Beyond off-limits. Especially if I want to serve out the rest of my sentence and achieve my freedom in a handful of months.

She stares at me for another second before she clears her throat. “Umm...okay…Monroe.”

I stifle a groan at the way her pretty lips wrap around my name. I want to hear her moan it, then scream it as I pound into her. Would she be able to take all of me at once, or will I need to work my way up to it?

Sweat trickles down my temple but I’m too wound tight to wipe it off. I sense that any sudden movement will frighten this precious girl.

For her sake I’ll be good and suffer in silence.

Don’t think about her pussy. Don’t think about her sweet, juicy young pussy!

“Go on, then. Ask your questions, Miss Sophomore,” I grate out.

A tiny frown appears between her eyes at my tone. She gets over it quickly though, clearing her throat before shifting in her seat.

“From my notes, I see you’re almost done with your sentence.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Is there a question in there?”

Now that I’ve decided she’s off limits, I need this thing over and done with quickly so I can return to my lonely cell and spend the next three months jerking off to the memory of that mouth, those peach-smooth cheeks, those perky tits rising and falling in tiny agitated movements beneath her shirt. Those fucking spectacular legs. Her silky hair.

That little spot beneath her lower lip that I want to lick so fucking bad.

God, the spank-list is endless.

She flashes me an irritated look from those gorgeous baby blues, her luscious lips pursing. “In your opinion was your sentence a fair one?”

I hitch my shoulder. “I haven’t given it much thought. I got what I got and I’m doing my time.” Lies .

I was bitter as fuck about it for the better part of two years, until I realized being bitter was eating away at me and sapping all my energy. That I was better off counting the days and looking forward to getting out of here, putting this place in my rearview.

She frowns. “Three of your cohorts got much tougher sentences when they were eventually apprehended. You don’t think your term was lighter compared to theirs?”

I narrow my eyes and fury swells through me at the thought of the bastards who’d landed me in prison. Once my brothers-in-arms, I’d trusted them. Believed in their cause to do right by the widows and families left behind by our fallen comrades.

Only it’d turned out to be bullshit.

A shiny gloss slapped on a cause hiding much murkier intentions. Greedier and deadlier intentions.

“Hell no. They deserve to rot in prison for the rest of their lives.”

Her eyes widen and she tilts her head at me, pen poised over her notebook. “Why is that? Weren’t you a co-conspirator in the robbery?”

I grit my teeth at the summary judgment everyone I know has happily heaped on my head. Including my old man, who was just waiting for an opportunity like that to disown me. Not that he ever truly claimed me.

I shrug. “According to the indictment, yes.”

She chews on the tip of her pen as she consults her notes again. Jesus, does she know what she’s doing to me, twirling that fucking pen between those pillowy lips?

“It says here that the judge reduced your sentence only because you saved an old woman from being shot by one of your cohorts during the robbery, getting yourself shot in the shoulder in the process.” Her gaze frantically rushes over me as if looking for the bullet wound covered by my prison jumpsuit. The scar that’s a permanent reminder of their betrayal. Then it drops back to her notebook. “And that before then you’d personally saved three families from being made bankrupt by the bank you eventually robbed. Do you believe mitigating circumstances matter when there was clear, pre-meditated intent?”

“Are you asking if I saved the little old lady just to win brownie points if I got caught?” I ask, fury and incredulity mounting.

Have to hand it to her. She’s spunky for asking bold questions others would shake in their boots before they dared to ask.

Her gaze rises and boldly holds mine. “Did you?” she asks brazenly.

“Look here, little girl?—”

“I’m not a little girl,” she snaps.

I force myself to relax. To take her in again. Slower this time. Savor her.

My initial impression doesn’t change. She’s hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time. Hell, ever .

I traveled the world enough times in my army days to have seen and bedded my fair share of beauties.

Her blonde hair holds a natural gloss I’m sure didn’t come from a bottle. The thick strands are pulled back and knotted at the back of her head, with enough loose strands to frame her face, drawing attention to her high cheekbones and the glory of her gloss-free, luscious lips.

Her winged caramel-colored eyebrows frame her face perfectly. And that faint hint of a blush that I suspect isn’t from makeup?

I suppress a groan and shift in my seat as my cock thickens in my jumpsuit.

Slightly reddened lips, as if she spent time biting them nervously before I arrived, have a natural pout that invites any red-blooded male to imagine sliding between them.

Red-hot jealousy blazes through me, shocking the shit out of me. “Do you have a boyfriend, Kitty cat?”

Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes. “T-that’s none of your business,” she sputters adorably.

The more I’m left in the dark, the more vicious the green-eyed monster grows. “It’s the very least you can offer a curious guy, seeing as I’ve given up my precious time for you.”

She pauses, her impeccable manners probably stopping her from telling me to fuck off. Her gaze shifts to the side for a moment and I stem the urge to bark at her to look at me. To beg her to keep those baby blues on me because they’re so gorgeous. And because a weird emptiness invades my chest when she deprives me of her attention.

Shit, I’m fucked, aren’t I? She has me beyond hypnotized, heading toward obsession.

“Okay. I guess there’s no harm in…umm, no I don’t have a boyfriend,” she mutters.

My exhale is loud enough to make her eyes widen even further.

“That’s good, Kitty cat. That’s very good.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather not spend the whole interview daydreaming about choking the life out of some fucker who thinks he has a right over you. Then beat him to death for allowing you to come to this place where the only thing separating you from a few hundred assholes are a few walls,” I growl, abandoning any need to remain civil.

I’ve been angsty since I stepped into the room and saw the warden has allowed the most precious thing in the world—his daughter —to waltz in here virtually unprotected .

Her jaw drops, and I get the first glimpse of her pink tongue. A tongue I have zero problem imagining licking up and down my engorged shaft like her favorite lollipop.

“Y-you…you’re not joking, are you?”

“No, kitten. I’m most definitely not joking.”

“But you know…you can’t go around choking people though, right?” There’s a bit of stern hope in her voice, as if she can reason sense into me.

Too cute. “I’m not a civilized man. Never have been.” Even before I went to that bank that day to make a definitive point with the assholes taking homes from vulnerable families, I was a specialized monster for my government.

But for her…maybe I could learn ?

The idea grows, expanding in my chest until there’s little room to breathe.

Then, I shake myself free of it. I don’t want to be civilized. Not over this breathtaking girl who I can already feel changing my life.

We continue staring at one another, the trepidation on her face growing. Until it morphs. Not much, but enough for a sizzle to pass between us. For her to know that the rampant emotions swirling through me are real.

Because I’m beginning to get ideas about this stunning creature. Ideas that aren’t at all as farfetched as they were five minutes ago.

She blinks, visibly snapping herself out of the connection.

Her gaze darts to the clock above the door behind me. “Umm…I only have twenty minutes left. Can we get on with the interview?”

Twenty minutes. Then she’ll be gone. And I’ll be dragged back to my cell.

I want to bellow with the unfairness of it. Rip my insides out at the thought of being deprived of her so soon.

But…soon enough, I’ll find her again, I vow.

No one will keep this priceless treasure from me. There’s a reason I was discharged from the army with full honors and a chest full of medals.

I excel at the impossible.

So I breathe through my nose and force a nod. “Of course, baby.”

Her nostrils quiver at my low, deep response. Her beautiful lashes flicker rapidly before she turns the page in her notebook.

“In the court transcript, you say you were misled by your co-conspirators. Is that true?”

My fingers dig into the chair. “I’m not a liar, little girl.”

Her eyes flash, but this time the awareness is more pronounced, the connection a touch deeper. “But these were men you’d known for years.”

Bitterness surges into my throat. “Goes to show people are never what they seem.”

“Are you what you seem, Mr. Monroe?” she asks softly.

“You have my word that what you see is what you get with me, baby. And it’s just Monroe. Don’t let me remind you again,” I warn just as softly.

The naked intent is present in my voice. She hears it.

And her pulse starts racing like mad.

Jesus fuck, I want to lick that fluttering spot in her throat. To tongue the skin where her lifeblood surges from her unguarded reaction to me. Then keep going until I’ve tasted her everywhere .

“Do you believe that the end justifies the means? That your plan to…liberate funds for the widows from the bank that was fleecing them was the right thing to do?”

“The plan was to talk to them, make them see how badly they were hurting the families. Not to use the bullshit loopholes to make veteran families homeless. Throw around a few threats and yeah, knock a few heads together if necessary. That part, I’d do again in a heartbeat.”

Her eyes widened. “So you’re not remorseful about your actions?”

“My only regret was that it didn’t go the way it was supposed to. For what they did to those families, the assholes deserved to feel an ounce of the trauma they put innocent people through,” I say through gritted teeth.

She scribbles rapidly, then spears me with another direct look. “Do you believe you have a Robin Hood complex, Mr.…umm, Monroe?”

I bare my teeth in a half-smile. “If that’s what turns you on, Kitty cat, then sure.”

I meant it as a joke, but I’m rewarded with the sight of her nipples hardening and announcing their sexy presence beneath her shirt.

My mouth waters. My dick thickens and lengthens, unfurling down my thigh. I pop my ankle over my knee just so I don’t frighten her with my rampant state.

At least not yet. I’m enjoying talking to Little Miss Sophomore Without A Boyfriend. I’m not ready for her to jump up and run out of the room once she catches sight of the size of my junk.

Sadly, she wouldn’t be the first to do so.

But she sees enough for more color to flow into her cheeks. She tries to cover it up by bending her head and scribbling furiously in her notebook, but she can’t help herself from casting me furtive looks from beneath those lush eyelashes.

God, she’s breathtaking.

And she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Not that it would’ve mattered. Even from prison I can wreak considerable havoc. I left the army with enough connections and favors owed to pretty much pull whatever strings I want bar my freedom.

A boyfriend would’ve been quietly convinced to move on. To forget she existed and never speak her name again. Or fucking else.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I know what she’s asking. More than one girlfriend in the past mentioned being nervous about the intensity of my stare.

My emotions and feelings over certain things have been known to be a little…feral. Jealous possessiveness is a monster I wrestle with when I care about something. Or someone. But it’s never been this ferocious.

Don’t frighten her.

To cover it up, I lean forward and plant my elbows on my knees. “Why me?”

“Sorry…what?”

“Every other inmate out there would’ve jumped at the chance to tell you they’re innocent of their crimes. Why did you choose to interview me?” I have a fair idea why but I want to hear it from her.

“Oh. Umm…” Her lips tighten as if she wants to stop the words from falling out, but she hitches a slim shoulder and answers, “My d—umm, the warden told me you’ve been a model inmate, that you look out for a few of the other guys who can’t defend themselves. That you’re not a mindless thug.”

I grunt and shift in my seat.

I’m surprised Warden Gray has noticed that I don’t let weaker guys get bullied or drafted into shitty situations on my watch.

I’m not sure how I feel about being labeled a model inmate, though. Besides the unfortunate situation at the bank, I’ve done more than a few things in my past I’m not proud of.

But I’m not going to confess them to the sweet beauty still speaking.

“He also said you’ve only got a few months left on your sentence. He thought that because of that you’d be…more cooperative—” She jumps when a loud bang erupts from outside.

Then her wide, fear-filled eyes rush to mine. “What was that?”