Prison Fling: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford

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 …

Hey Readers – If you’re into dirty, filthy jail house love, then this is the story for you! No one gets hurt, we promise. As always, there’s a guaranteed HEA with no cliffhangers and no cheating. Xoxo, Cassie and Katie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Dee Romance
• Release date: Jan 28, 2020

Book preview

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.

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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 …

Hey Readers – If you’re into dirty, filthy jailhouse love, then this is the story for you! As always, there’s a guaranteed HEA with no cliffhangers and no cheating. Xoxo, Cassie and Katie

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

Sneak Peek: My Boyfriend’s Boss

Chapter One

Chapter Two

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 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 liked to hear himself talk. I didn’t. As the inklings of a headache began to wrap 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, the meat was dropped in, browning on one side.

Moving onto the vegetables, I hummed to myself. Maybe I’d even continue 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.

Fuck this place.

A tuneless whistle came from my lips.

Cameras followed my every move, the steady red eye unblinking.

Fuck ‘em.

But before I knew it, my feet were entering the prison library. This place was okay. A decrepit room, but books are books.

Because before, I had a massive library. Dozens of shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Volume upon volume stacked inside, anything you wanted. Rare books. Dictionaries. A first edition of some Ian Fleming shit.

Not that I touched any of that stuff. There was no time to read. It was just decoration more than anything, like wallpaper or a beautiful vase.

Instead, I listened to the news. CNN, MSNBC, and the like were constantly streaming in the background, acting as white noise. In the morning, I’d check in on the stock exchange, silently calculating my next move. By contrast, books were too time-consuming, plus there was no action. I like colors, pictures, and a voice speaking into my ear.

Books have none of that.

Now, however, I read like a starving man. That first edition of Man with the Golden Gun in my library? I’m devouring its sad, tattered cousin, a trade paperback that’s dog-eared with crinkled pages. The dictionary? Well, I still haven’t flipped that shit open. But it’s just a matter of time. I’m going through everything in this place. Ain’t nothing too good for my eyes.

But something was different today. As I stepped into the library, my fave chair was missing. What the fuck? That thing was amazing, practically a Barcalounger, huge and comfortable. Where was it?

And then I saw.

It’d been pulled over to the common area, a space reserved for events.

Because there are a lot of events at the prison, believe it or not. Swing lessons were offered on Thursday nights. Aspiring artists could paint landscapes on Monday mornings. Hell, there was even a sewing class that was quite popular among these hardened criminals, their stiff fingers fumbling with needle and thread.

It’s weird I tell you. This arts and crafts shit is hella bizarre, not to mention dangerous. Some of these guys are MacGyver types, cunning and patient. They’d be able to break out of this place with a toothbrush and a thimble. So why take the chance? Was someone asleep at the wheel? Who put together this programming?

But whatever.

Not my problem.

If you asked, the warden would probably give some bogus answer anyway. Something about helping inmates release energy so they don’t act up while they're behind bars. Bullshit. The real reason is that they just like to make us dance like ants under a magnifying glass.

Grunting, I ignored the event and settled myself into a chair. But the commotion was fucking annoying. People were setting up tables, piling them with notebooks, pens, and books. There was even an easel to the side.

Probably some literacy class. It’s hard to believe, but some of my fellow inmates don’t know how to read. Somehow they fell through the cracks way back in third grade, and never figured out how to spell their own names.

Sad, right?

How do you live without knowing how to read?

On a practical level, how do you get around?

I shook my head.

Again, not my problem.

So I turned back to my book, ignoring the growing crowd. But then a flash of color caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, a girl got up, addressing the small group of prisoners.

But I had no idea what she was saying.

Because my brain ground to a halt.

Holy fuck.

The brunette was gorgeous.

Goddamn amazing.

Curvy, with hips that filled out her tight-fitting skirt to perfection. One look at her and I already wanted to hike up that fabric. My arousal stirred as I imagined her voluptuous ass, swaying back and forth. It would look even better if I had her bent over the table.

I adjusted my position, cock already growing. It twitched when my eyes settled on her cleavage. Double D’s – at least – if not bigger. They strained against the buttons of her blouse like giant melons, begging to be kissed and sucked. Oh shit. I needed that. I imagined taking her supple mounds in hand and kneading them with my fingers, as the brunette moaned.

And oh fuck, but that giant butt bounced with every step. Her hips swung with a natural rhythm that made me want to grab hold and take a bite. A big meaty bite that would make her scream.

Unaware of my gaze, the girl smiled at the crowd. With her brown, curly hair framing her youthful face, she looked like an angel. A sexy little angel with giant caramel eyes.

I had to have her.

Interest piqued, my ears tuned in.

Laney, as she introduced herself, was a journalist from a nearby paper. She and her co-workers were at San Nemo volunteering their time to work with inmates. The goal was to start a prison newsletter called the San Nemo Times.

Really?

My brow scrunched with disbelief.

Why would anyone volunteer for this?

Wouldn’t their time be better spent with friends and family? Or hell, even watching TV?

It was fucking weird.

But the world has a lot of strange people, so I continued to listen, eyeing the curvy female.

Shit, if she was leading this project, then I needed to be a part of it.

Casually, I got up, moving silently across the room to join the group.

The girl’s eyes flickered in my direction, the connection immediate.

Because there was a surge electricity. Not a tiny blip, but a giant arc crackling like a live wire between us. My body stiffened involuntarily, blue eyes going dark.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

Absolutely stunning.

And Laney could feel it too. The girl stammered a little then, cheeks burning red.

I’m sorry? she turned away quickly. I’m sorry, could you repeat that question again?

The brunette shot me a sideways look, inhaling unsteadily, before trying to focus once more.

It drove me insane. All I could think about was having her lips wrapped around cock, fist tangled in her hair, pulling her further and further along my length until she choked.

My fantasy became intense, picturing all the naughty things we’d do together. I’d have her screaming my name before long, begging for it. I’d have her on the floor, writhing and panting, swaying that big bottom.

A man can dream right?

But when our eyes met again, it was pure heat.

Damn, this wasn’t a fantasy.

The girl was

[krybby17 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I'm giving this three stars even though I didn't finish it because I like the plot overall and won't lie I like the "juicy" scenes but honestly I can't handle the kid talk during them. When the characters are talking normally there's cussing and nothing censored but when naughty scenes happen I'm supposed to believe a grown man, a playboy of a man who's in prison says the word "boobies".. I just couldn't. I'm sorry I hate to leave bad reviews I just personally couldn't handle it