Michael

By Sylvia Redmond

Kate wasn't looking for a relationship. She had been down that road before and she had been burned. She was merely a social worker working with men who were trying to turn their lives around - and then she meet Michael.

Michael was everything her ex-husband was not - strong, tough and interested in her. He was also a man who had committed murder, although that was over ten years ago. His was out on parole and the prison system said he deserved a second chance. Her friends had told her that she was crazy, but when he touched her she could feel her body come alive.

Is what she was doing wrong? How can a man that excited her this much be bad for her? And what would a man that hasn't been with a woman in over ten years be like behind closed doors?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Night Watch Publishing
• Release date: Oct 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370127184

Book preview

Michael

Women Loving Prisoners 1

Sylvia Redmond

Copyright 2015 by Night Watch Publishing. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story contains sexually explicit content and is intended for readers over 18 years of age. By downloading this document you acknowledge that you are over 18 years of age. All fictitious characters who are engaged in sexual acts in this book are likewise over 18 years of age, whether explicitly stated or not.

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Introduction

I was exhausted. My body was weak from a prolonged sexual excitement that I had never experienced before. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop but I could do little more than moan. He had been making love to me for hours and wasn’t showing signs of slowing down. The only thing keeping me from passing out from exhaustion was the fact that he was still bringing me to orgasm despite my fatigue.

I was on top of him now, because that is where he had placed me last. I was only able to stay upright by leaning forward and placing my hands on his muscled torso. His rippled midsection was one of the few places on his upper body that didn’t have any kind of tattoo ink on it. I thought momentarily how ink might have blurred the chiseled lines of definition in the muscles there. It served him well to leave that skin a blank canvas. He started to touch me between my legs and I gasped with what little energy I had left.

I had stopped moving up and down on him and had slowed to a gentle grind. I was trying to ration what little energy I had left, and I knew if I started moving faster I risked having another orgasm. He didn’t speak but I could sense that he needed the tempo to be faster. I suppose after ten years without a female’s touch he wasn’t longing for a gentle embrace. Still, I would have thought the last couple of hours would have been enough tempo to last him a lifetime.

He reached up and put his arms around me and flipped me onto