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His Prisoner's Hotwife Desires
Angel has desires she barely understands. Her husband, Dennis, has his own forbidden fantasies. When escaped convict Hardy invades their home, he brings temptation along, and Angel's hunger for him increases with every passing hour. Dennis is drawn into their erotic acts until only one question remains: who will Angel be with when it all ends? ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ After a brief burst of static, a commanding voice cut through the air, amplified by a bullhorn."We know you're in there, Hardy.
There's no sense in anybody being hurt and making things worse for yourself. Throw out your weapons, then come out the front door with your hands over your head."At the announcement, Angel was rudely jerked fully awake and scrambled to dress. Then, standing beside Hardy at the window, it was her turn to peek out. The street in front was blocked by several police cars parked at random angles. Hunkered down behind the cars were uniformed officers from several surrounding departments, each holding a weapon pointed at the front door.
On one side was an older man, his eyes obscured by mirrored sunglasses. He wore a starched tan uniform, and even the three silver stars on each collar couldn't hide his stomach bulge. The uniform went along with the tan cowboy hat, tilted back on his head, that matched his pointy-toed cowboy boots. Hanging from his belt was an enormous chrome revolver in a quick-draw leather holster. He was holding the bullhorn by the handle at his side.
Angel continued watching until he repeated the announcement, directed at Russ Hardy. Yellow crime scene tape had been strung, and a crowd made up of their neighbors and one reporter watched from behind the barrier. On bare feet, Angel made no noise as she moved quickly to the rear bedroom, a room she'd one day planned to convert into a nursery. She peeked out the rear-facing window at the weed-filled yard, where officers squatted behind anything offering concealment.
In the front bedroom, Dennis and Hardy pulled on pants, while Hardy tried to think of a way out of this mess. He first ruled out using Angel as a hostage to trade for a car. Hostage schemes always seemed to go wrong, and he had no interest in harming the woman he'd just taken to bed. It wasn't that Hardy wouldn't have killed a different woman in a New York minute. But he felt affection for Dennis's wife, or at least for her parts.
He also considered taking Dennis hostage, but he didn't think Dennis would be as good a hostage as Angel. He also correctly guessed that the officers didn't know Dennis and would simply shoot him as an accomplice. Next, he rejected the obvious: surrender himself or come out shooting.
There's no sense in anybody being hurt and making things worse for yourself. Throw out your weapons, then come out the front door with your hands over your head."At the announcement, Angel was rudely jerked fully awake and scrambled to dress. Then, standing beside Hardy at the window, it was her turn to peek out. The street in front was blocked by several police cars parked at random angles. Hunkered down behind the cars were uniformed officers from several surrounding departments, each holding a weapon pointed at the front door.
On one side was an older man, his eyes obscured by mirrored sunglasses. He wore a starched tan uniform, and even the three silver stars on each collar couldn't hide his stomach bulge. The uniform went along with the tan cowboy hat, tilted back on his head, that matched his pointy-toed cowboy boots. Hanging from his belt was an enormous chrome revolver in a quick-draw leather holster. He was holding the bullhorn by the handle at his side.
Angel continued watching until he repeated the announcement, directed at Russ Hardy. Yellow crime scene tape had been strung, and a crowd made up of their neighbors and one reporter watched from behind the barrier. On bare feet, Angel made no noise as she moved quickly to the rear bedroom, a room she'd one day planned to convert into a nursery. She peeked out the rear-facing window at the weed-filled yard, where officers squatted behind anything offering concealment.
In the front bedroom, Dennis and Hardy pulled on pants, while Hardy tried to think of a way out of this mess. He first ruled out using Angel as a hostage to trade for a car. Hostage schemes always seemed to go wrong, and he had no interest in harming the woman he'd just taken to bed. It wasn't that Hardy wouldn't have killed a different woman in a New York minute. But he felt affection for Dennis's wife, or at least for her parts.
He also considered taking Dennis hostage, but he didn't think Dennis would be as good a hostage as Angel. He also correctly guessed that the officers didn't know Dennis and would simply shoot him as an accomplice. Next, he rejected the obvious: surrender himself or come out shooting.
