by C. R. Jane
At least I was having hot sex.
“You can go to hell,” I told her with a smirk, savoring the way her face fell in disbelief. Her mouth moved like a fish as she struggled to form words.
“What did you just say?” she screeched, causing every eye in the room to turn towards us. Frantically, she smoothed her hair and tried to put a pleasant smile on her lips, even though her hands were shaking from trying to control herself. If we were alone, she’d have already flung herself at me, trying to inflict as much bodily harm as possible.
I leaned forward, my lips curling mockingly. “I said, there’s no fucking way that I would ever help you out, you fucking cunt.”
I’ve never spoken like this to my mother. In fact, I couldn’t really remember a time when I’d ever been anything less than respectful of her. This felt freeing. Powerful. Fucking fantastic.
One of Rosalind’s eyes twitched from the effort of holding herself back. My mother had always prized herself on her control, but it looked like I was pushing that control to the very edge.
She stood up slowly, her hands shaking beside her. “You’re going to regret this day, little girl,” she warned in a throaty growl. She finally couldn’t hold herself back, and she reared back her hand and slapped me in the face. My head flew back with the impact, but I kept myself silent, determined not to give her the satisfaction of hearing evidence of my pain.
Now everyone was really watching us, and I saw a few guards step forward, looking unsure of what to do. My asshole of a blond guard made some kind of gesture, and they all stepped back and relaxed.
Typical.
I rolled my eyes, gesturing around me as I ignored the pain pulsating from my cheek. “I highly doubt that,” I told her haughtily, remaining seated with my chin held high.
She didn’t know what to do with me. The rage and confusion were more than she could take. Figuring I might as well go all the way, I spit at her while flipping her off, enjoying the gasps of shock from some of the family members at other tables. The prisoners I could see just looked impressed. Her hand flew to her cheek where a blob of spittle was displayed. She wiped it off, staring at the evidence of my insurrection in her hand in disbelief.
Her mouth hung open, and once again, she was at a loss for words.
When it was evident that I wasn’t going to change my mind, and before she had to endure any more public displays of humiliation, she whirled away and left the room through the back entrance without a look back.
I was trembling slightly as I stood there. I kind of couldn’t believe that I’d just done that. I’d spent whole days over the years going through in my mind what I would say to her if I was braver, what I would do.
Who knew that being sent to the prison of everyone’s nightmares would finally make me brave enough to say some of those things?
I felt a twinge of guilt about the girls Rosalind had said Julian was hurting. What if I could have helped them by giving in?
No sooner did the thought pass through my mind, then I quickly reminded myself that Rosalind was a master manipulator and Julian was even worse. No matter what I did, the sirens wouldn’t be free. No matter what I did, Julian wouldn’t change.
The guard appeared by my side, startling me since I’d still been staring at the doorway that Rosalind just disappeared behind.
I felt… complicated. While my initial emotions were pride and satisfaction, my adrenaline was fading and now I felt shaky. Shaky… and alone.
Although I had long ago come to terms with the fact that Rosalind was more likely to kill me than to help me, there was something about seeing your mother turn her back on you. The feeling of loneliness that came from that was a hard thing to shake, especially when my blond tormentor appeared next to me, a savage grin on his face at what he’d just witnessed go down between Rosalind and myself.
“You’re really livening up the place,” he commented, a sadistic sparkle in his eye that promised he had plans for me as soon as we left this room.
I sighed and accepted my fate that whatever he had planned for me was going to be extremely unenjoyable. But I’d lived through all the other shit in my life, I would live through whatever he had planned for me as well.
Probably.
He led me with a firm grip on my arm out of the room. I could feel all the occupant’s gazes on me as I left. At least their stares were more likely related to my wet dog look, terrible smell, and the fight I’d just had with Rosalind, rather than any residual siren power. Once again, I thought about rocking this look more often.
We rounded a corner and ran right into a harried-looking Keon, who looked like he’d just finished sprinting. His gaze grew hard as he looked at the way the guard was gripping my arm tightly. When he saw how bad I looked, and the blossoming bruise on my cheek, his gaze hardened even more.
“I’ll take the prisoner from here,” he growled at the idiot next to me.
Blondie puffed up his chest and took a threatening step towards Keon. Keon growled, and his eyes seemed to take on a glow, something I hadn’t seen happen with him before. The guard immediately stepped back, his body trembling in fear. I looked at him quizzically, not sure that Keon’s growl warranted such a reaction. The guard’s eyes flicked towards me.
“Don’t look at her,” Keon snarled, and the guard’s eyes immediately went to the ground. The scent of urine assaulted me as the guard pissed his pants.
What. The. Hell?
“Get out of here,” Keon ordered, and the guard immediately left, practically at a run. I turned to look at Keon in confusion.
“What was that?” I asked, but I only said it half-heartedly, because after my little interaction with my mother, I couldn’t find it in me to care that much. I was just grateful that I wasn’t going to deal with whatever horror fest that guard had planned on top of that.
“Hey, you okay?” Keon asked softly, ignoring my question. His voice was a complete one-eighty from the way that he had barked at the guard.
“Perfect,” I said, but again, my words don’t have any real force behind them.
Keon wrapped his arm around my waist and began to lead me down the hall. I realized belatedly that we were going the opposite direction away from my cell. I didn’t say anything. I just let him lead me wherever he wanted to go. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him so easily, so soon. But I did.
Or maybe it wasn’t trust, it was just that I felt numb right then after my encounter with Rosalind. And the presence of Keon usually meant that pleasure would follow.
And I needed all the pleasure I could get.
We encountered a few more guards as we walked, but they all kept their gazes averted from Keon as well. I hadn’t noticed this reaction before, and I wondered what had changed, or maybe it had always been like this and I just hadn’t been paying enough attention.
We finally got to his quarters, and I leaned against the wall with a sigh as he unlocked the door before I followed him inside.
Once we were cocooned inside, Keon tipped up my chin to face him. “What happened?”
I sighed and looked away from him. I’d never really realized before now how the fact that my own mother hated me messed with my head about how I was supposed to feel about myself.
“Just more of the same bullshit,” I told him vaguely. Keon didn’t know anything about my past, unless my prison file had something in it. I guess it was the next step that we needed to take, talking about our pasts.
But I didn’t feel like taking that step right now.
I just wanted him to make me forget.
“Can I use your shower?” I asked, not able to stand the smell of the rancid water a second longer.
“Of course,” he said, showing me to the shower and where a towel was. He then left the room, something I was grateful for as I started to fall apart.
I stayed under the water for a long time, hoping it could wash away what I was feeling. But I only felt marginally better when I finally got out.
I stared at myself
in the mirror above his sink, wondering about who I was and what I was becoming.
The door to the bathroom cracked open. Keon poked his head inside. “Are you alright?” he asked gently.
“Keon,” I responded brokenly.
He flinched at the tears in my voice, closing his eyes like they were physically hurting him. He opened his eyes after a minute, resolution in his gaze.
“Get on the bed.” It was a soft command, but a command all the same. I walked over to the bed in the next room, scooted to the middle of the mattress, and dropped from my elbows as he pulled his belt free. Need rushed between my thighs, and I welcomed the distraction.
Keon watched me squirm. One button, then the next, and by the time he freed his shirt and bared his chest, my clit was throbbing and I was wet, so wet, and panting with anticipation. His pants and boxer briefs followed. He stood stock still, hand stroking his hard length as I took in my fill. His abdomen rippled with dips and shadows.
Keon walked towards me, pinning me against the bed with the magnitude of his intense stare. His expression was more than hunger. It was filled with something I didn’t want to put a name to, but that I wanted desperately.
Hot tears suddenly stung my eyes, blurring my vision as I attempted to fight them off. I didn’t want to cry because of Rosalind. But dammit, it just felt nice that Keon seemed to care.
All I wanted in that moment was for him to kiss me. It hadn’t been that long since our last kiss, but the prison had a way of making you forget everything good that happened in your life. Each day that passed might as well have been a year for how well it worked to push any good memories further and further away, like good moments in my life were nothing but a dream.
I realized then how much I was falling apart with everything that had happened lately, from Rosalind’s visit, the warden’s demands, the tension with Alaric, and the guilt I felt over Seth.
It felt like only Keon could save me in that moment.
“Stop thinking,” he commanded. Naked, he stalked towards the bed, leaning over me as his hands found my hips. His fingers dug into my skin, as if he were holding tight and incapable of letting me go. My eyes closed. Tears streamed down my cheeks. A warmth against my lips, like the kind I yearned for when I was lonely in my cell, ignited a spark inside me.
He kissed me.
And the kiss was soft and tender, just what I needed right now.
His right hand left my side and trailed up to the side of my cheek, delicately cupping my face as his lips worked mine apart. Our tongues danced, and the taste of him set me on fire.
I craved him—his touch, his taste, his scent. I closed my eyes, not sure what he would see in my gaze if I opened them. I felt too raw to show him that. Keon always saw too much.
Keon’s left hand traveled down my side, pulling down the oversized prison pants I’d thrown on after my shower so that he could slip his hand between them and tug my panties to the side. One finger passed between my folds as he found the innermost part of me. He slipped one finger inside, followed by a second, curling them toward him and stroking me, long and gentle, slow and meaningful, as if he were trying to savor our connection. His fingers filled me while his lips went to work.
Doubt creeped in just then. What if Keon was a user just like everyone else I’d ever had in my life? None of this was real.
My mouth hung open, silently begging for him to quiet my thoughts with his lips. I knew it would work. If he kissed me, nothing else would matter, if only temporarily.
“I want you.” I stared at the stained concrete floors next to the bed, still unwilling to admit that while looking him in the eyes. Admitting that much threatened to suck my life out of me.
Keon’s hand angled under my jaw, lifting my mouth to his and breathing life back into my exhausted soul, one kiss at a time. Unapologetic emotion rained down on me as the heat of his body made all the problems waiting for me outside of these four walls fade away.
Keon removed his hand from my wetness and ripped my clothes off. They were all soon in a pile on the floor, and his hands immediately traced my naked flesh as his tongue tasted my arousal on his fingers that had been inside of me.
Yes, this was what I needed.
My heart pounded hard in my chest. I just wanted the emptiness to go away. I wanted to feel every inch of him inside me. The sensation of his hand grabbing his erection and positioning it at my entrance as my legs gripped his sides sent an ache straight to my core. But the second he entered me, the heavy, burdening pain dissipated into thin air. Like it was never there in the first place. With my arms draped over his shoulders, I gave myself to him.
The raw awareness of him moving inside of me made every thrust a thousand times more intense than I ever dreamed possible. I wanted the pleasure he could give me more than anything, and my body was willing to do whatever it needed to get it. My teeth grazed over my bottom lip as I stifled a moan. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to know if he was looking at me with deep longing or scarier…love.
It felt like love, the way he was fucking me, but it was easier to not get my hopes up if I didn’t have to see his face.
My lower back arched as every thrust moved me up farther on the bed. His fingers were gripping my hips painfully, in a way I knew would leave bruises.
But it didn’t matter. The physical pain on the outside was miniscule compared to what was going on inside me. My body and heart worked in tandem to soak in every detail of that moment, from the smell of the cologne that faintly floated from his sweat-glistened skin, to the way his hair felt as I gripped the back of his neck. My mind quieted itself, as if to graciously give me a break finally. Keon groaned as he released himself inside me, and I let go, riding an intense wave of all-consuming pleasure as my hips bucked wildly in response to his writhing cock. When it was all over, he pulled out of me and I rolled to my side, bringing my knees up to my chest in silent pain.
I needed someone, or something, to cling to before I crumpled. I forced my eyes open, looking at him finally. I drank him in, letting his beautiful gaze stare right into my soul.
He was real. He was there. He’d just made love to me. I don’t think I could call it anything else. Even now, he was looking at me like I was everything.
I felt shy under his gaze. I opened my mouth to try and say something, anything to break this intense silence, but my ankle began to burn again like it had after the last time we’d had sex. Looking down at it, trying to rub the pain away, I was shocked to see another star appearing on my skin.
I looked at it and then him in confusion, but he just had a proud, satisfied look in his eyes as he stared down at it.
The pain finally stopped, and I flopped back on the bed in confusion and exhaustion. This place was turning me inside out. Every day was something unexpected. I glanced at Keon again as he grabbed a cloth and wet it in the bathroom before bringing it over to me and cleaning me off. I blushed at the gesture. It felt so intimate, more intimate than what we’d just done felt like.
He set the cloth on the nightstand next to the bed and then laid down next to me, enveloping me in his arms once again.
“Sleep,” he told me softly. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”
My last thought as I drifted off to troubled dreams was if his statement applied to just his presence in the prison while I was here…or if he was talking about forever.
Chapter 4
My skin tingled when I woke up, my thighs aching in a delicious way, and Keon was on my mind. He had this way of showing up when I needed him most. Whether I realized it or not at that moment, it became clear afterward. He swept me out of the horrid existence in this penitentiary for long enough to find my peace of mind. Now, all I could think about were his strong arms around me and that in his embrace, I could breathe in this place that suffocated me.
I rolled over in bed to find myself back in my cell, not Keon’s quarters. I remembered closing my eyes, and I must have fallen asleep. I’d like one
day to wake up in his bed with him…except this wasn’t a fairy tale, now was it?
The small moments of escape he provided were everything to me—they were pockets of stepping out of my horrible situation.
I remained on my back and stared up at the stark white ceiling. My thoughts drifted to my mother’s visit yesterday, and bitterness rose through me once more.
I had always been a good girl growing up. I listened to my mother, because that was the only life I’d known for so long.
To follow the rules.
Never talk back.
Do as I was fucking told.
Be the type of girl who never fought back so I could be groomed for that sonofabitch Julian to claim me.
Well, he could go to hell. The best thing I ever did was lose my virginity to Keon before Julian touched me. I reveled in knowing it was killing him that I didn’t bend over so easily. And in some bizarre fated coincidence, crossing paths with Keon in the penitentiary after our time at the bar had given me an ally… or someone to look out for me. With everything going on, there was peace of mind in knowing he was there for me.
A pulse thrummed at the base of my spine when I thought of our time together yesterday, and the things he did to me. Who would have thought that being in prison would come with me finding men that brought me the most amazing orgasms? I refused to ponder how a relationship in here could actually work, because right now, he offered me an escape from the horrors within these walls.
I glanced at the round clock on the wall. Twenty to seven.
The officers walked the hallways. Prisoners snored in nearby cells. And the humming sound of the air conditioner fans continued.
As much as I loathed this place, there was a level of peacefulness when silence cloaked the building.
I pushed myself out of bed and stumbled to the sink to wash myself and get ready for my morning shift of delivering food.
Dressed, hair combed off my face, and feeling semi-normal, I flopped down on my bed and put on my black shoes, lacing them up just as the click of metal drew my attention to the door. A guard pushed it open and stood there as he did every morning when he collected me for my shift. The other cells remained locked at this time of the day and would automatically open at eight a.m.