Prison Fling Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Prison Fling

  ~A Dark Bad Boy Romance~

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  © 2017 Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

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  ALSO BY CASSANDRA DEE

  Standalones

  His Captive

  Buck Me Cowboy

  Beg Me: Sold To My Dad’s Boss

  Daddy’s Pretty Baby

  Loving the Babysitter

  Reverse Harem

  Seven Brothers of Sin

  Six Ways to Sin

  The Billionaires Club

  Sold at the Auction

  Virgin for Sale

  Serving Him

  Buy Me

  Anonymous Encounters

  MFMM Ménage Romance

  All the Best Men

  MMF Bisexual Romance

  Double Dare

  Double Exposure

  The Falling Series

  Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend

  Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad

  Falling for My Son’s Best Friend

  The Virgin Series

  The Naughty Virgin

  The Wicked Virgin

  The Dirty Virgin

  The Trashy Virgin

  Delivering the Virgin

  The Princes Series

  Double Princes

  Triple Princes

  DEDICATION

  To all the bad girls who’ve loved the wrong man.

  This book’s for you!

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

  Hi! Thanks so much for reading Prison Fling: A Dark Bad Boy Romance. We hope you enjoy the steam between Laney and her alpha billionaire!

  Love,

  Cassie and Katie

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  PRISON FLING: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

  Prison made me an animal. And the beautiful brunette’s my first victim.

  I’ve been locked up for a year now. For a crime I didn’t commit.

  But an innocent girl began writing me, pen pal style.

  Laney Smith, with big brown eyes and a trusting smile.

  So pure.

  So sweet.

  So true.

  And when we finally meet, it’s wrong.

  Because prison’s made me into a beast, hungry and ravenous.

  I’m pushed over the edge.

  Ruthless.

  Dominating.

  Savage as hell.

  And Laney?

  The innocent girl will be mine.

  Every which way.

  Twisting and turning.

  Screaming my name.

  Because walls will never come between us …

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prison Fling

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Deleted Scene 1

  Deleted Scene 2

  Deleted Scene 3

  Deleted Scene 4

  Six Ways to Sin

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Serving Nuts

  Serving Champagne

  Twin Fun

  Seven Brothers of Sin

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  All the Best Men

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

 
CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  DELETED SCENE

  A SNEAK PEEK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MORE BY CASSANDRA DEE

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mason

  I stared at the ceiling of my cell. There was a chip in the paint, just another one of the many flaws of my new “home.” The sink dripped through the night, torturing me into a state of perpetual wakefulness. The springs that jutted out from the bone-thin mattress didn’t help. There was an ever-present stench of mildew and body odor in the air, revolting and gross. And don’t even get me started on the toilet.

  San Nemo.

  One of Florida’s best federal penitentiaries.

  Fuck me.

  Fuck this.

  Because it’s a downgrade from my penthouse in NYC, that’s for sure. It’s what I get for trusting the wrong people.

  No, I wasn’t put away for murder or some other violent crime. In fact, I’m innocent. Framed for insider trading.

  Fuck that.

  It never happened.

  But they don’t care.

  And now we’re in the middle of the appeals process. But who knows when this is gonna be over? The court system is slow, moving at a snail’s pace. So yeah, my lawyers are scurrying like beetles to right this wrong.

  Much good that’s doing.

  Fuck my attorneys.

  Fuck those prosecutors who wanted to hold me up as an example.

  Because I’m a privileged bastard, the perfect scapegoat. Well, I’d like to see them try to build an empire by themselves. It’s not that easy, assholes. Give it a go and you’ll see.

  The obnoxious sound of a bell clanged through the building, ear-splitting and impossible to miss.

  It was time for work.

  Slowly I levered myself off the thin mattress, rising to full height within my cell. This place is fucking tiny, and my head almost brushed the cold concrete. But whatever. With slow steps, I strode from my cell, heading towards the laundry room. There was a crowd of us, streaming to various parts of the prison complex, on our way to do shit like painting rocks and scrubbing the john with a toothbrush.

  The laundry room is paradise compared to some of that fuckery.

  But I felt for my fellow inmates.

  Because most of these guys were convicted of petty crimes. In fact, some were just kids who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bad luck was the name of the game, and now they were here for thirty years.

  Thirty fucking years.

  I was here for two. One if my lawyers could swing it.

  But to be honest, incarceration isn’t all that bad. Ironic huh? The guy who was made of gold and lived in an aerie in the sky doesn’t think San Nemo is that terrible. Because once upon a time, I was a hustler on the street with not a penny to my name. There are worse places, trust me. At least here you get three square meals, TV and an outdoor gym.

  That’s more than where I came from.

  So yeah, San Nemo’s more like camp than anything else. Laundry room. Exercise. Lights out. A routine.

  “Hey, Mason.” Silky Slim took the washer beside mine. We were sorting shit, separating orange jumpsuits from white towels. Those are the only two things that make up laundry around here.

  “Hey,” I grunted, barely looking up. “How’s it goin’?”

  “Good,” he whispered sibilantly. “Good. I think my novel’s going to be a bestseller.”

  I nodded, even though I knew no one would want to read Slim’s memoir. The bastard was convicted of armed robbery when he was nineteen. As soon as he got out, he went and did the same stupid thing again. What the hell is wrong with these people?

  So yeah, the weasel was thirty years old, immature and horny, basically here for life. He’d never be with a woman. There was just no way. Pathetic fucker.

  I studied him for a moment. The dude was practically an albino, his hair a straw-like white, skin so pale it was almost translucent. Fuck. Prison was full of weirdos with bad judgment.

  But what’s done is done. There’s no sense in raining hail and fury.

  “That’s good,” I grunted noncommittally. “Real good.”

  Slim simpered and giggled, pale hands folding a towel. They were so feminine, it was hard to imagine him holding a gun.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Are you still crying innocent?”

  Asshole. I turned on him, brows lowered.

  “I am innocent,” I growled. “It was a frame.”

  He giggled. Sniveled is more like it.

  “Sure, sure.” He looked like he wanted to chuckle but one glance at my face made him straighten.

  “Sorry,” the man mumbled. “They still trying to make you serve time instead of paying the fine?”

  “Yeah,” I growled. “Fuck ‘em.”

  Slim nodded like he was understood.

  “Well, expect to be here a while. My first sentence took nearly a year to get resolved. Them judges and lawyers move like damn snails, I swear. If you ask me, it’s all a way to torture us. Hell man, I’m so stir-crazy and horny I’m considering shacking up with that broad over on the East Wing. You think she’s cute? I think she’d like me.”

  Please. The prison nurse wasn’t interested in Slim. First, because he was a sad excuse for a man. Second, because Nurse Brock was into women. But evidently Slim had missed that point, simpering like a fool.

  “I can up the charm, you see? She won’t be able to resist.” He slicked back his near-white hair and flashed a smile.

  I tried to ignore the albino as he blabbed on and on but it was almost impossible. Silky Slim like to hear himself talk. I didn’t. As the inklings of a headache wrap began to around my mind, I resolved to cut my shift early. It wasn’t like I needed the money. We weren’t on a fixed schedule either. The minimal security facility was more like a frat house where we could come and go as we pleased. Well, one with bars around the perimeter.

  But there was a gym where I’d lift weights, keeping myself in shape. I liked to go there when it was empty just to avoid the meatheads who found it necessary to grunt and groan every time they did a rep. Seriously, such sounds should be reserved for the bedroom but who was I kidding? None of us were going to get lucky anytime soon.

  For a moment, I thought back to my playboy lifestyle. Before I’d been locked up, girls had flocked like bees to honey. I had my pick of them. They were wrapped around my little finger like string. It was funny how they would do anything to please me, thinking it would help them get a piece of my fortune. I’d dump them all by morning and move onto the next lot.

  Those were the golden days.

  Would they ever be back?

  Brow in a frown, I swore to make sure of it.

  My wandering feet brought me to the kitchen. It was a communal set-up where anyone could book time and make their own meals. I checked the log book and the hour was vacant. Perfect. It was time for Chef Mason to get in gear because during my few months behind bars, I’ve become an expert cook. There wasn’t much else to do with my time anyways.

  What was in the fridge? Ah ha. It had been newly stocked. Excellent. Browsing through my options, I eventually pulled out a cut of beef, some fresh vegetables, and a few other ingredients. Next, I picked out the biggest knife from the block and made sure the edge was razor sharp, gleaming under the light.

  With a quick and skilled hand, beef was sliced into thin strips as fragrant oil heated in a pan. Once it sizzled, I dropped in the beef, letting it brown on one side.

  Moving onto the vegetables, I hummed to myself. Maybe I’d even cont
inue the habit of cooking once I was out. My personal chef would be disappointed but it would give me a moment of peace amidst hectic days.

  And once my meal was finished, I plated the food and turned around, sitting at a small wooden table. It was littered with carvings. Shit like:

  Suck my dick it tastes good!

  Sonny Caruso 1918-1956

  RIP Brother Dan

  Shit. That fucking sucked. Did Sonny and Brother Dan die in this cesspool? Fuck fuck fuck.

  I still had another year to serve. Plus my appeal was in the works, but who knew how long that would take? I was paying my attorney through the nose to speed things up, but he’s a dumb fuck. Plus, I couldn’t exactly ride his ass from here in the slammer.

  So fuck.

  I was stuck.

  At least for now.

  Growling, I downed my meal in solitude. And the worst thing happened then. A sense of loneliness washed over my frame, making my muscles go weak and helpless. On the outside, I was a massive prisoner devouring food. On the inside, my stomach trembled, clenching in on itself.

  Because loneliness is real. Even for guys like me.

  On Visitors Day, other prisoners get guests. Their families. Wives who look exhausted, kids who squeal and throw their arms around their dads.

  But me, I get no one.

  Okay sometimes my lawyer comes, but that’s not often. He’s got “more important” shit to do on Sundays.

  Fuck.

  All those people who hounded me on the outside?

  Gone.

  All those ladies who threw themselves at my body?

  Nada.

  Where were my real friends?

  The sad part is that I had none.

  Fuck them all.

  No one stood by me. All they wanted was my goddamn money. I hope they choke on it. Every last one.

  The food turned bitter in my mouth. I chucked the rest of my meal in the trash, washed my plate, and headed out.

  Hands in my pockets, my feet strolled idly down the corridors. There wasn’t much to see. Bars on the cells, bars on the windows. Sunlight streamed in where it could, hitting the floor in zebra stripes.