Prison Promise (Prison Saints Book 1)

by Demi Vice

  Jack turned me on my stomach and got on top of me. He trapped me down, cock pressed on my ass as he nibbled on my ear.

  “Go where?” Jack sucked on my earlobe.

  “The library to do my homework,” I moaned into the bed while Jack sat up on the back of my thighs and kneaded my ass like bread dough.

  “Why not hold it off until tomorrow? It’s Friday, let’s have fun.”

  “Because I’m working at Maddy’s tomorrow.” I grunted, pushing myself up the foamy mattress, but Jack immediately pushed me down. His flat hand on my back, so dominant and gentle at the same time. I looked over my shoulder at him, seeing a wicked smile cross his face as he gripped my ass in the palm of his hand. He gave me a few slaps, turning my flesh red and slightly sore before he ran his hands down my back, giving me a small massage. If it wasn’t for the stress of failing my class, that massage could’ve put me back to sleep. Jack slapped my ass one more time before bouncing off the squeaky bed and heading to his clothes rack.

  “Fine, but I need to shave and do something with this mop.” He ran his fingers through his wavy hair. “Oh, and we need coffee. I need coffee.”

  “You’re coming with me? To the library?”

  Jack nodded with a broad smile on his face. “It’s been a while since I read something that wasn’t online and it might be a good place to take some pictures.”

  “I’m going to be there for a few hours, Jack. Like…seven.”

  “Got all the time in the world, baby girl.” Unemployed Jack chuckled through his sentence.

  It didn’t take long for Jack to get dressed. A pair of ripped black jeans that clung to his legs and a long sleeve V neck shirt. He didn't wear his jacket today, but he wore his boots. His ‘babies’ as he loved to call them. I watched Jack add small details to his outfit that made it feel more like him. The rolled-up jean hem, the rolled-up sleeves going over his elbows to show his firm forearms and artwork, and finally, the chain from his pants belt loop to his wallet.

  I could watch him dress and undress for hours.

  I jumped off the bed and went next door to my place. Recently my apartment was only good for one thing. A closet. I pulled on a pair of deep purple leggings, a tight green shirt that showed a little of my midriff, and Luke’s baggy, acid washed denim jacket that went down to my ass. I rolled up the sleeves like usual and looked down.

  I miss Luke.

  I went to my bathroom and added a touch of makeup to look better. Finger-combing my hair, I tried to make my bangs do anything other than flip the wrong way. This is what I get for letting Felicia cut my hair for practice.

  I let out a heavy sigh as I wet my bangs and tried to fix them, but it was no use. I stared at the mirror longer than I had in the past years. At this point, the guilt would eat me from the inside, out and the depression would pick at my heart. But I didn’t feel that way.

  I felt ok.

  I felt like me.

  I looked like me. Not Aurora or Luke, but myself.

  Odd, yet, relieving.

  When I got tired of my damaged face, I looked away. I found my tester perfume bottle, shook the last few drops on my wrist and rubbed them under my ear. I was going to spend the majority of my day with Jack, and I plan to smell and look somewhat decent. I added a little mascara and glossy lipstick until I felt satisfied. I went back out, finished my outfit with a pair of rainbow striped socks that went past my ankles and my classic Adidas.

  “Looking like a sexy version of the Hulk with that green top and purple bottom.” Jack smiled.

  His stubble was gone, his hair styled back, and his camera hung around his neck ready to be a photographer and a pain in the ass. Jack leaned on the doorframe with his hands in his pockets while he watched me gather my things.

  I hugged my textbook that didn’t fit in my bag and moved past Jack who groped my ass and stole my book out of my arms. We walked outside, our sides glued together and I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. It just happened when I was around Jack. I was convinced that it was some kind of black magic.

  I stopped at the bus stop when Jack laughed. “Hell no. We are not taking the fucking bus.” Jack scoffed with more attitude than I thought he was capable of having.

  “The library is over three miles away. Do you wanna walk?”

  “How about we take an Uber? It’s on me, and I want my coffee.” Jack used my textbook as his own personal table as he ordered the car.

  “You sure? I can pay for half if you want me too?”

  Please say ‘no’ even though you’re the one that’s unemployed.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” I tried not to look too excited, because like I said.

  Never have I ever been in a car.

  We waited for the car in silence as he lit a cigarette and took pictures of me while I hid my face. After a few minutes, a black Cadillac stopped in front of us. I slid into the tan leather seats, my stomach doing flips as I took in the new car smell. Or the smell of a regular car.

  Pop goes my cherry thanks to Jack.

  The car ride was like a minibus, without the mysterious smells, the random bodies bumping into you, or the potholes that felt like bottomless pits. The car ride was smooth as ice and Jack took no time at all to get comfortable. He pulled me to his side; his thighs spread wide to take up the majority of the backseat. That was one of the many things I liked about Jack. He made everywhere he went his home, or just acted like it was his. Arrogant, sure, but that was Jack.

  We stopped at the coffee shop. Jack got his usual black coffee, but I ordered an ice chocolate ice drink with whip cream on top. I wasn’t much of a coffee person. But I sure as hell was an energy drink abuser. Like the ride, Jack paid for me, making it feel more like a date. A date I wouldn't mind having as my first—never have I ever been on a real date.

  The second we got back in the car, Jack pulled me by the side of my head and kissed my cheek, catching me by surprise. He stared for a few seconds then poked at my nose stud.

  “Why the two nose piercings?”

  I laughed and took another sip of my drink that was more ice than chocolate.

  “Aurora wanted to get her nose pierced, but she didn’t know which one she wanted. So, I volunteered. That was ten years ago. I just left them in because I thought I was cool,” I said, playing with the tiny hoop piercing.

  Jack grinned and pressed my studded nose once more. He pinched the collar of Luke’s jacket and arched his eyebrow. “And the clothes? Because your taste is a little outdated and stuck in the nineties, Miss Hulk.” He winked.

  “Ha, that’s because of Luke. He always picked out the weirdest clothes at the thrift store, and one day I caved and tried them on. He was so fucking happy that I ended up buying the clothes out of guilt. As we got older, we shopped more and our style morphed into what it is now. And I love it. Luke and I shared each other’s clothes, but not so much Aurora. She was kind of like you. Neutral colors. White, black, gray, and sometimes brown.”

  Jack laughed. “I’ve always worn black. I look too damn good in it to pass it up, and it suits me. It’s also easier matching black with black.”

  I smiled and took a sip of my drink. Before I knew it, we were in front of the Birch Park library which looked more like a large house than a library. It had a few windows, a solid front door, and only two floors. It was small, but it had everything I needed to get my homework done. An updated computer and fast-ish internet.

  “So, what are we doing today?” Jack asked, sipping his hot black coffee.

  “Well, I have to take a quiz and type out my weekly summary paper.”

  Jack followed me to my usual spot on the second floor in the far corner where my computer cubicle was.

  I took a seat, placed my textbook out on the table, and dumped out my bag. My notebook cover was still warped from the night Gomez got water on it, and my pen was still shredded from my teeth prints. I’d already written my paper by hand. All I had to do now was type it and spend hours editing
it to make sure my teacher knew I was literate.

  “Shouldn’t take too long.” Jack grunted.

  “Ha, you’d be surprised,” I mumbled sarcastically as I uncoiled my earphones off my iPod.

  Jack took a seat in the computer chair next to my cubicle and rolled over to me. He got comfortable once more, dropping his head onto my shoulder.

  “I need to get this done if I wanna pass Jack. So, can you try not to be so…Jack.”

  He shrugged, getting more comfortable. Slouching down with his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on my shoulder. Jack watched me sign onto my school website and open an online quiz. The countdown began. Sixty minutes for thirty multiple choice questions.

  “A,” Jack said after he saw me struggling to find the answer to the first question in my textbook. “The answer is A.”

  I clicked the answer. Correct.

  “D. All of the above.”

  Correct.

  I listened to him a few more times until the guilt hit me. “I need to do this on my own.”

  “Why? I obviously know my shit,” he said playfully, digging his chin into my shoulder. “The faster we finish, the quicker we leave, and the more time we have to fuck.” Jack flashed a smile.

  “Because if I can't figure this out now. I’ll never figure it out.”

  “You don’t even like this crap.” Jack called me out.

  “No, I don’t. But…money.” I reminded him.

  I used the full hour to finish my questions. I double checked my answers while Jack kept a stern eye on the screen. When I took too long on a question and started freaking out about the timer, I looked over to Jack who gave me the answer. He was always right.

  “How do you know all of this anyway?”

  “I love learning about anything business related or how to get money with little to no effort which involves successful companies, stocks, shares, investments, the economy. All that shit.”

  I nodded, closing my beat up textbook and opening up my notebook.

  “What’s your dream?” Jack asked out of nowhere.

  I looked into his amber eyes, completely stumped. “My dream? Umm—I don’t know. I don't really have a dream. I’m just trying to survive, Jack.”

  “Make one up. Right now,” Jack commanded. He turned his chair around and leaned on the wooden divider that separated my cubicle to the next one.

  I blinked slowly. “Ummm okay. To have only one job and not worry about money?”

  “That’s your dream?” Jack grinned and cocked his eyebrow. “That’s the best you can come up with?” He shook his head in disappointment but gave me a warm smile.

  “Own a house that's all paid off in a nice neighborhood?” My awkward smile gave away how much of a big dreamer I was.

  Jack shook his head in disappointment. “That’s a weak-ass dream, Ahrianna. Think bigger. Way bigger. I’m talking about you have so much money that your rent for three months at Wazowski doesn’t even come close to touching what you’ve got in the back.”

  Yeah, that was more money than my imagination can handle. I always kept my goals realistic especially with my school grades and jail record. I can only imagine so big.

  “Say you could live anywhere, where would it be?” Jack asked.

  That was easy. Everyone in Chicago wanted to live in the wealthiest suburb. “Golden Ridge.”

  “See that’s more like it.” Jack nodded, crossing his arms. “Now, which side of Golden Ridge? The north with the million-dollar mansions? Or the south where The Bayne and other hotels are?”

  “North.”

  “Why?” Jack snarled, almost offended by my answer.

  “More privacy.” I shrugged.

  “No, Ahrianna. You want to live in a penthouse.” Jack corrected me. “You get a lot of privacy in a penthouse.”

  “I thought this was supposed to be my dream Jack?” I narrowed my eyes.

  He shrugged. “I’m giving you a suggestion. A strong one. Okay, not a bad start. How about your dream job?”

  “A bartender with control of the music.” I bit my lip.

  “But you’re a bartender now…” Jack deadpanned.

  “I know, but I mean a bartender-bartender. One that makes her own drinks and does tricks and stuff…” Ahri blushed, cleared her throat and continued. “Instead of only pouring beer. I wanna work in one of those indie places in downtown Chicago. Where tips exist, and people don’t get shit faced because they’re depressed or addicted. More because they’re influenced by stupid friends who are going to help them get home. A place where I only have to work one job and have the rest of my time to do anything else I want. Like sleep.”

  Jack nodded, pleased with my answer. “Why a bartender though?”

  “It’s the only job I do for me. I like it and I want to get better at it. And let’s not forget, I love hearing people talk, tell me their stories, and watch their true colors shine. Some people say that the drunk version of you is the real you. I believe it.”

  “Ahh, so tipsy-drunk Ahri is the real you. You still say what’s on your mind and you still have the same level of darkness. However, you’re calm, playful, and affectionate. At least towards me.” Jack winked.

  “Yeah, I guess. While you act exactly the same, but hornier somehow.”

  Jack laughed and bit his lip. “Very true. Okay, so you have your dream place and job, what else? Hobbies?”

  “Running and painting.”

  Jack tilted his head, caught off guard.

  “Used to run a lot in high school. Sure, I was practicing to get away from the cops, but it was relaxing. Liberating, even. As for painting? I hated school but enjoyed art class. I wasn't good at it by any means. I just liked putting as many colors and shapes on the canvas as I could. Abstract.”

  Jack looked at me in awe and sadness. Probably because he knew I hadn't done either of those hobbies in years. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I was short on time and expenses.

  “You know, The Bayne has a nice private gym for the residents who live at the hotel. While I do my workout, I wouldn’t mind having a nice view of you running in some tight yoga pants.” Jack licked his lips. “And I also have a few extra rooms in my penthouse that’s waiting to be colorful and abstract. Paint on the walls or canvas’. I don’t fucking care.”

  I rolled my eyes then deadpanned. “I see you have it all planned out, Jack.”

  “Like you wouldn't believe, Ahrianna.” Jack laughed. “So, now what? What else do you want? One last dream.”

  I didn’t have to think about this one, but unfortunately, I didn’t think I could have this. Not while unresolved issues from my past still lingered in my present and not while the only good thing in my life was my temporary roommate. To make matters worse, I was falling for him. Falling hard.

  “I don’t wanna say.” I blushed.

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t. Let’s switch, what’s your dream, Jack?”

  Jack sucked on his tooth while a huge smile spread across his face. He stretched his legs out and wiggled his ass on the chair as he got into his highest level of make-yourself-at-home.

  “I dream big and hard, baby girl. I’m talking about the size of my cock big,” he growled. “I’ve had the same dream since I was fifteen. I want to live in the motherfucking penthouse on the 59th floor of The Bayne Hotel.”

  Yep, Jack’s a dreamer. Should’ve figured that much.

  “I want it all. I’m talking about the highest end kitchen appliances where I can cook my fucking meals. Or if I’m too lazy to cook, I’ll order my food from The Bayne restaurant downstairs. All the fucking food I want worth two Michelin stars.” Jack was practically salivating. “I want all my rooms painted black or white, trapped inside an old, colorless movie. I want my floor made out of the toughest hardwood in the world. Like if one day I decided to take up tap dance, they’ll survive.”

  “My bathroom will be glorious. White marble floors, black glass tiles, black cabinets with white marble c
ounters, and a porcelain bear claw tub at the end of the all-window wall. And, my god…I will have a fucking shower that hits the top of my head. No more squatting down or waiting for the water to turn clear. I will have my own personal waterfall.”

  Jack’s eyes glistened from his dream. I didn’t dare stop his joy or wild imagination. I wanted to hear more about his penthouse—Jack’s dreams.

  “My office will be my private library, full of books that I’d handpicked to perfection. I’ll have bookshelves going up to the ceiling where I need a fucking ladder to reach the top. I’ll have my first editions inside a glass case, while the rest fill my walls. Of course, I would have read every single one of those books because they’re my favorites. And I’ll have an encyclopedia set just for shits and giggles. You know you’ve made it when you have encyclopedias for no goddamn reason. Everything’s online.” Jack scoffed.

  “Behind my large desk and black leather chair, I want a massive fucking fish tank against the window-wall with my pet piranhas. And in the corner, I want one of those comfy leather chairs with an ottoman. I want to be one of those men you see in the movies. Just chilling in their robes, smoking a pipe, and enjoying a good book while sitting in their stupid leather chair with their feet kicked up. Except in my world, I’ll be in my briefs, smoking a joint.”

  “As for my bedroom?” Jack sighed blissfully. “I’m going to have a king size bed fit for a king like me. My black kingdom will be covered in the most expensive blankets, sheets, and pillows, and it’ll be protected with a layer of black sheer drapes, tinting the sun when it rises over the Chicago skyline and Lake Michigan. And no fucking doubt, my bed will have a squeak. Can't live without it. I want to alert the whole damn hotel who I am and when I’m having the best sex of my life.” Jack bit his whole bottom lip and moaned.

  “Out of all the rooms in my home, my walk-in closet will be my favorite. It’ll be pure white, filled with all the same fucking one shade of black. And that includes my socks. All my clothes will be from Armani, Prada, Diesel, Versace—all the expensive Italian luxury clothes you can imagine. And each one tailored to fit me like a glove. As for the shoes? Only Docs, but I’m not going to stick with only the classics. I want all the styles that come in black and size thirteen.”