Joyless (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 2)
Author: Nyla K
Date: 2021-09-29 00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: Nyla K.

Copyright © 2021 Nyla K.

All rights reserved.

eBook ASIN: B0987YGGYG

Cover Design by Ashes & Vellichor

Cover model: Michael Giovanni Rivera

Photography: Wander Aguiar

Interior formatting: Champagne Book Design

Proofreading services: Nice Girl Naughty Edits

Joyless is the intellectual property of Nyla K.

Except permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, popular culture, corporations, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Title Page

Copyright

About This Book

Dedication

Foreword

Joyless Playlist

Epigraph

Prologue

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Joy’s Epilogue

Rook’s Epilogue

Velle’s Epilogue

Exclusive SNEAK PEEK of BRAINWASHED: Alabaster Penitentiary, Volume 3

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

LGBTQ Resources

Flipping Hot Fiction by Nyla K

About The Author

Joyless

Alabaster Penitentiary, Volume 2

Correctional officers get a bad rep. But in our case, it’s fully justified.

We’re not good people… We’re guard dogs. As twisted as the inmates we patrol, courtesy of the monster who created us.

Prisoners ourselves on an island of manipulation, we’ve spent years drowning in vices to dull reality. If these walls could talk, I’m telling you… they’d scream.

They call me Velle, but that’s Officer Chevelle to you. Hands dirtier than my mind, I have no qualms with staying ruthless to keep these creatures in line.

And I’m not alone.

Joy Jameson is my partner in crime, and my ex. Together we rule Alabaster Isle like Bonnie and Clyde, only prettier and far more dangerous. It’s the two of us against this wicked, secluded world.

Until he shows up…

Although we need him, the rookie is a problem. Flipping me upside down, using my own hidden desires to tempt me. Rook.… with his green eyes and country boy smile…

He has no business luring me into something that will get everyone hurt.

Let it be known, denying myself and dominating this role is my default setting. But with him in the picture, I’m struggling to keep it intact.

The mask is slipping, control I can’t lose wavering as we welcome our newest psycho to the roster.

Let’s hope, for all our sakes, Inmate #101 doesn’t do anything stupid.

**Joyless is an MMF(male-male-female) romance in the Alabaster Pen world. While it explores new characters with their own HEA, it is advised to read Distorted first to prevent spoilers.**

***Please do not read or post spoilers! Specifically for Distorted, but also for Joyless, as many things are revealed in Volume 2 that will definitely change how you view Volume 1. Spoiling the story for others is just plain rude. And I promise you, you’ll want to obtain these stories organically. Trust the author.***

To prisoners.

Welcome back.

This second part to the series doesn’t contain the same triggers as Volume 1. It doesn’t have the same shock factor, nor does it twist in a similar fashion.

But that’s not to say it’s tame. This book is crooked in its own right.

If you’ve made it this far, you probably aren’t afraid to get your hands dirty, so to speak. Things like bloody violence, degrading kinks, deadly manipulation and lack of social conscience are likely child’s play to a badass reader like yourself. If not, just be fair warned.

I’ve called this book the palate cleanser in the series. And it fits that role for good reason. This will be a perfect segue between the mind-fuckery of Volume 1 and the sheer unapologetic madness of Volume 3. Believe me when I tell you each piece of the puzzle that is this series is vastly important.

But one thing you need to know is that moments in this book will sincerely spoil important events of Distorted. So while it follows the points of view of different characters, you really should read the volumes in order. You won’t regret it.

Joyless will fill in some blanks, and bring up new questions, all of which will be answered… eventually.

Shackle up, cookies. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

;)

Available on Spotify

Of All The Gin Joints In All The World – Fall Out Boy

Pretty Handsome Awkward – The Used

Zen) – X Ambassadors, K.Flay & grandson

NIGHTRIDER – Arizona Zervas

Beautiful Mistakes – Maroon 5, feat. Megan Thee Stallion

You Be Killin Em – Fabolous

SO WHAT! – jxdn
kiss kiss – Machine Gun Kelly

F U Till I F U – Call Me Karizma, Cass

Numb – Waterparks

Tonight – jdxn feat. iann dior

Rock You Like A Hurricane – Scorpions
acting like that – YUNGBLUD & Machine Gun Kelly

Still Be Friends – G-Eazy feat. Tory Lanez & Tyga

One of These Nights – Eagles

If It Means a Lot to You – A Day To Remember

Cherry Bomb – The Runaways

Man or a Monster – Sam Tinnesz feat. Zayde Wolf

DAYWALKER! – Machine Gun Kelly feat. CORPSE

Sweet Disaster – DREAMERS

Closer – Nine Inch Nails
strawberry lipstick – YUNGBLUD

Nothing Good – Goody Grace, G-Eazy & Juicy J

Memory – Sugarcult

Calling Dr. Love – KISS
jawbreaker – Machine Gun Kelly

American Money – BORNS

Leave The Door Open – Bruno Mars, Anderson Paak, Silk Sonic

Scumbag – Goody Grace feat. blink-182

GASLIGHT! – Maggie Lindemann & Siiickbrain

Dazed & Confused – Ruel

Thnks fr th Mmrs – Fall Out Boy

Patience – KSI, YUNGBLUD & Polo G

Stupid for You – Waterparks

A Decade Under The Influence – Taking Back Sunday

All the Time – Zara Larsson

See Through – The Band CAMINO
forget me too – Machine Gun Kelly feat. Halsey

Heavy – MOD SUN feat. blackbear

Electric Feel – CROW

Listen To Your Heart – Through Fire

Buried Myself Alive – The Used

Obey – Bring Me The Horizon feat. YUNGBLUD

I’ll Catch You – The Get Up Kids

Robbers – The 1975

Until the Day I Die – Story Of The Year

“The martyr cannot be dishonored.

Every lash inflicted is a tongue of fame; every prison a more illustrious abode.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

She’s cheating on me.

I’ve been staring into this glass of brown liquor for as long as ten minutes, though it feels like hours, and seconds all at once. I don’t know what I’m doing here…

This is stupid.

No. You know what’s stupid? Fucking some asshole behind your husband’s back.

My fingers slink up into my hair and I yank it until it stings. Paula and I have been married for four years. Together for two more before that. She was the first woman I thought really saw me.

And now she’s cheating.

I found irrefutable evidence. Basically the strongest evidence of infidelity available, shy of catching her with her legs in the air.

Texts. And not just any texts, either. A long ass chain that’s apparently been going on for at least three months; thread complete with some very incriminating photos.

There’s no denying it, not when it’s right in front of your eyes like that.

We were at home, nestled up in our condo in Astoria only a few short hours ago. It was shaping up to be yet another quietly tense evening. We’ve been having more and more of them lately, another reason why when I accidentally picked up Paula’s phone and found it still unlocked… I couldn’t help but take a quick peek at her last incoming text.

I know, I know. Snooping is wrong. I should feel just awful about my actions.

But they’re clearly justified. It doesn’t count as being sneaky when the other party is in fact a two-timing whore.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I reopen them and lift the glass to my lips, draining both fingers of bourbon before nodding at the bartender for another.

Hence the reason I’m out at this hotel bar in Manhattan right now. Seeing that shit… the evidence… it really fucked me up. I mean, of course it did, right? I’ve had my suspicions over the past few weeks, what with how short she’s been with me, how much she’s been going out to all these new classes and seminars and dinners and bullshit bullshit bullshit.

It was all a bunch of lies, as confirmed by the texts from some dude saved in her phone under New Client.

Yea. She couldn’t even be bothered to make up a fake woman’s name or delete the fucking conversations!

Paula’s not all that bright. I’ve thought it since we met but I never cared, nor would I have ever actually admitted it to myself.

But now, now that I know she’s been letting this random motherfucker get all up in her guts for months, my negative thoughts are unleashed. She’s a terrible cook, she can’t sing for shit yet she always feels the need to subject people to the mimicking of a dying animal she calls singing, she’s shallow, and stupid, and NOT EVEN THAT GOOD IN BED.

I’m practically fuming to myself as the bartender delivers me a third bourbon and I whip it back, shoving the empty glass in his direction. I just know he’s giving me a look, but I refuse to acknowledge it as he pours me another.

I’m teetering between gutted devastation and blinding rage. That’s why I came here.

Because the moment I forced my eyes away from all that disgusting shit she’s been doing with New Client, I knew the only possible way for me to feel better in this situation would be to go out.

To find a New Client of my own and get my dick wet.

Immature? Yes. Chauvinistic? Probably. Not in any way healthy? Of course not.

But I’ve been with the same woman for six years. As often as I’ve been tempted, I never acted; not once. Many, many times I could have dipped my big toe into the pool of adultery, but I was raised better than that. I’ve had nothing but love and respect for my marriage this whole time.

And that bitch fucking cheated on me.

So here I am.

I came into Manhattan because I didn’t want to be anywhere near home, and I chose a hotel bar in the village to one, practically ensure I’d never run into anyone I know, and two, hopefully locate a dirty liaison.

That’s what hotel bars are for, aren’t they? Finding people to fuck.

I’ve been watching it happen for nearly a half-hour; people coming in, meeting eyes with someone else and striking up conversation, which ultimately leads to them leaving together. And yet I can’t seem to make a move of my own.

I have no earthly idea what I’m doing. I know nothing of the single life. I’ve been attached since college. Sure, before I met Paula, I dated some girls. And by dated, I mean got sloppy in dorm rooms or in bathrooms at clubs. But I was never excessive with it, and trust me when I tell you, all that young man’s confidence dies out fast when you’re married for a few years.

Right where I am, in this moment, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to pick someone up.

“It hurting your feelings?”

A deeply gruff voice rumbles from my right and I jerk out of my little trance of self-loathing. My face springs in its direction to find a guy staring at me.

He’s a big guy. Even sitting on the barstool, he’s clearly at least six-three, maybe taller. And wide, sturdy. He takes up a lot of space…

I mean, I work out. A lot. I don’t like to toot my own horn much, but my body is on point, as it should be since I train hard for it. But this guy, he looks like he was made that way. The kind of asshole I glare at in the gym, who spends more time flirting and laughing than working out yet still has the best body around.

That kind of guy.

He has dark hair that comes down almost to his jaw tucked behind his ear, a piercing in his eyebrow and his nose, and tattoos on almost every bit of visible skin. It’s winter, so not much skin is showing, on anyone. This dude’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that fits him too well, but I can still see ink on his hands, collarbone, neck. I can only imagine how much more is beneath the material…

I swallow hard and blink harder. Words. Say words.

“I’m sorry?” I ask, because now that I’m recalling what he said, I’m confused by his question.

His dark eyes move to the bar before coming back to mine. “The drink. You’re staring at it like it pissed you off.”

“Maybe it did.” I shift.

He smirks. “Want me to beat it up for you?”

A smirk on this dude isn’t just a leering grin. It’s this wicked sort of curl to his lips, bringing out a valley of a dimple on one side. Frontier men could get lost in that thing.

“I’m good.” I lift my drink and toss it back.

“Then let me buy your next one.” He signals the bartender before I can even accept or decline.

“That’s okay. Thanks,” I sort of stutter, though it’s already being poured.

“What’s got you so distraught?” He ignores my hesitation, tapping his index finger on his own glass while he watches me in a way that’s utterly confusing.

I’m not getting gay vibes from him at all. And I have lots of gay friends. Well, not lots, but some. This guy doesn’t seem like any of them.

Yet the way his eyes are on mine, never wavering in an intense stare, it’s as if he’s trying to read me like a complicated book. He’s looking at me like I’m Great Expectations.

“I don’t usually confess my deepest secrets to strangers,” I grumble.

His head tilts. “Humor me.”

And for some reason, I feel inclined to do just that. Maybe I’m drunker than I thought I was. Or maybe I’m just in desperate need of a friend right now. And the thing is, sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers than it is to your own tribe. Don’t ask me why, it’s just the way it is.

So I take another gulp of bourbon, swallowing the burn and exhaling a rough breath before I admit, “My wife is cheating on me.”

It feels way too real, saying it out loud. I hate how it caves my chest, and I clench my fist over and over to make all the emotions go away.

I’m expecting pity and sympathy from the stranger. The kind you always get from people when admitting something like this, as if getting cheated on makes you an incontinent loser.

But when I glance back at the guy’s face, I find a much more unlikely reaction.

He’s smiling.

It’s not a massive one, but it’s pretty bright, showing off how white his teeth are, a contrast to his bronzed skin, golden even in winter. I can’t tell if it’s from his nationality, if he just came back from a sunny vacation, or if he goes tanning. Honestly, with a dude who looks like he does, it could go either way.

Zoning back in on my confusion, my brows zip together. “Is my misfortune entertaining to you?”

“No.” He huffs a little, swirling his drink around until the ice cubes clink before taking a sip. “No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m happy for you.”

My blinking becomes rapid. “What?”

“Yea, man. You’re free.” He lifts his glass to me. “Congratulations.”

I’m stunned speechless. I can’t even process what’s happening right now.

This guy is… insane? Ridiculous? Kinda cool?

I can’t decide, so I just raise my drink and he taps his against mine in a cheers. We both sip again, him draining his glass then letting out a sigh.

“Wanna come upstairs?” He asks, literally out of nowhere.

I think I might be in the Twilight Zone. This is the most bizarre interaction I’ve ever had. I can’t get a read on this guy at all, and what’s even more puzzling is how intrigued I am.

I’m not into men. At least, I never have been before. I’ve existed on this planet for thirty years believing that I’m fully straight.

Then my wife cheats on me and apparently undoes everything I’ve ever thought about myself. Because as whacked out as this feels, I’m actually considering it.

“What’s upstairs?” I ask, stupidly. Stalling, and it seems obvious.

“My room.” He waves at the bartender, telling him, “Put mine and his on twenty-five-twenty-five.” Then he faces me once more, wearing that damn smirk like a decoration. “I mean, my suite.”

My mouth is abnormally dry. “I’m um… I’m not…”

He steps off the barstool, towering over me. “You’re not what?”

Swallowing, I lean in a bit. “Gay.”

His smile widens as he leans in closer to my face and whispers, “Me neither.”

He smells like rum, mint and lime. And some kind of cologne I might recognize.

What the hell is wrong with me?? I came here to meet a woman, not a man. I don’t do this… What the hell would I even do with a man?

The endless possibilities suddenly swirl through my mind, causing me to shift in my seat.

“I shouldn’t…” I mumble in between chewing on my lower lip. It catches his gaze, and now I’m burning the fuck up beneath my clothes.

“No… you probably shouldn’t.” His voice damn near vibrates into me. Then he straightens up and cocks his head, motioning his hand toward the doorway, the exit of the bar that leads to inside the hotel. “Well?”

And for reasons I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand, I slide off the barstool. And stand up.

And I follow him out.

The guy is like four inches taller than me, built the same way I am, though it’s proportionate to his frame. Watching him stalk through the hotel lobby toward the elevators, I feel like I’m scampering behind him to keep up, which is crazy because I’m not small by any means. But this dude is built like a professional wrestler.

He wanders up to the elevators, stepping aside for people who are exiting as we’re about to enter. I keep my face aimed at the floor, for only my own insecurities since no one knows what I’m doing…

These people don’t know me. They don’t know I’m a straight guy going up to a hotel suite with a strange man. Yet my face is heating to where I’m sure I’m blushing. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience as we both step inside the elevator and he pulls out his room key, scanning it and pressing the button for his floor.

The elevator goes for a while, and we’re silent the entire time. But silence is not what I hear. My head is overcome with waves of blood rushing in my ears, and it’s loud as fuck. As is the sound of my own heart leaping against my ribcage.

“This is a bad idea…” The guy’s voice rumbles at my left, stealing the words right out of my brain.

I tilt my face in his direction. “Is it?”

He locks his eyes on me, and in this oddly bright elevator lighting I can see that they’re blue. Ocean blue with some lightness to them I can’t quite pinpoint in this moment. He nods in a solemn sort of way, which only confounds me further.

He invited me up to his suite and now, less than two minutes later, he’s having second thoughts? What the fuck is happening??

“Should I… leave?” I ask, bemused as the elevator doors open.

He straightens up and strides past me, murmuring, “No,” on his way out.

I follow behind him, shaking my head the whole time.

He walks to the far end of the corridor and stops in front of a room. Twenty-five twenty-five. He uses his key and goes in, holding the door open for me. Reluctantly, I step inside, head spinning as he hangs the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door.

Saying nothing, he makes a beeline to the minibar of this giant, lavish suite. “Drink?”

“Uh… sure.”

I wander through the massive living room area over to the wide windows displaying the Manhattan skyline. The view from up this high is amazing. I can’t help but stare at it with wide eyes as I feel him moving up to my side.

I’ve been living in New York for about seven years, and it still fascinates me. The city is like a living, breathing organism; a being with emotions and an appetite. Pretty much the opposite of my hometown, in the Midwest. Flat farmland as far as the eye can see. That’s about all you get.

The guy holds out a glass for me to take, and I do, sipping it slowly, cherishing the burn and the buzz. I need it to relax me, to calm my racing pulse that’s still so loud I’m afraid he’ll hear it. My nerves are out of control, and I’m practically jittering as I feel the form at my side; the warmth and size of him.

It’s just so damn clear to me in this moment that I’m alone in a hotel room with a man. Forget that he’s a stranger and could be planning to murder me, or worse. The fact that he’s a guy is the real baffling point here. I don’t come into hotel rooms with random men, to have drinks alone like this.

My wife cheats on me, and I decide to hook up with a dude? It doesn’t make any sense.

Or does it?

“Are you thinking about your wife?” His voice assaults my ear, and my face finally pivots to find him mere inches from me.

I shake my head a little. Because… no. I’m not thinking about my wife. Not anymore.

His gaze is hot, fiery as it falls to my mouth, a strange current sizzling in my belly at the sight. It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t… I don’t think I hate it.

I kill the rest of my glass to distract myself, to drown that tickle living in there now, though it doesn’t go. The alcohol spreads it up to my chest which heaves with unsteady breaths as the guy takes my glass out of my hand, placing it with his on a nearby table.

“Is this a good distraction?” He asks in a faint rumble, a large hand sliding up my waist.

Reality hits me quick and I back up frantically. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You can leave if you want.” He follows me.

“I should.” I keep walking backwards until my legs hit the couch.

Stumbling, my ass crashes onto the cushions. And he follows, crawling over me.

“Leave then,” he whispers, caging me in with his arms, large body trapping me down.

It’s then that I notice, on the word leave and with him so close, that his tongue is pierced too.

Jesus fucking Christ…

I move upward, trying to push him away, but I feel something that stops me. Something hard between us… And it’s not him.

It’s me. I have an erection.

Oh my God.

I’m hard. My dick is hard… Why?? How??

He shifts his hips, pressing his own rapidly firming object down on mine, and a shivering groan leaves my lips.

He leans in over my face. “I said I wouldn’t do this anymore…” His lips brush down my jaw.

My cock throbs.

“Fuck…” I whimper as he presses a soft kiss on my throat.

“This is so stupid,” he mumbles some more, barely audible, as if he’s not even speaking to me.

He seems to be warring with himself. As much as he’s saying he shouldn’t be doing it, he’s not stopping.

His mouth is sucking on my Adam’s apple and I’m coming apart beneath him. My head is a big ball of fuzz, the thick haze of the sexual tension around us suspending me until I barely even know where I am anymore.

I can’t believe this feels so good… I never thought it could. I never let myself think about things like this…

Like the feel of rough stubble grazing my warm flesh.

My dick jerks hard again, trying to break its way out of my jeans. “Wait…” I grasp at his biceps, as if hoping to stop him. But as soon as I feel all the thick cords of muscle, I start melting again.

He ripples his hips into mine, grinding our clothed erections into one another until I’m purring. “I want you…”

A subdued sound escapes me as his hand slithers between our writhing bodies to cup my groin. My dick pulses out precum in my boxers. I can feel it.

Goddammit, this is confusing…

“I want you to do something for me…” he rumbles as he rubs me, squeezing my cock until my legs spread on their own, to make room for him.

Could I let this man fuck me? That’s what he wants, right…?

What would that feel like?

My mind is unleashed, deeply hidden thoughts and fantasies charging forward as if they’ve always been there, when theoretically I never knew about them until right now. My hands move onto his chest, feeling his hard surfaces while my hips chase the friction, the good feelings he’s giving.

“Anything,” I pant, without even meaning to say it.

He growls, like a hungry animal. “I want you to fuck me.”

I freeze. Well, that’s… unexpected.

“God, I wanna take you so deep,” he purrs on my burning skin, jerking my cock through my jeans so thoroughly, my balls seize up. “Please… ride my ass, cowboy.”

The feeling of him stroking me, mixed with his salacious words and the idea that he wants me to fuck him…

This giant guy with all his tattoos and piercings and his deep masculine voice…

My stomach tightens, my lips quiver, and I spin out.

And then I come.

In my fucking pants.

Like a fucking teenager.

I’m trying desperately to hide my cries by biting my lip, but it’s incredibly obvious that I’m having an orgasm right now. My dick is twinging and twinging between his fingers, hidden away inside my jeans, soaking my pelvis with my own cum.

His body goes stock still and I feel him lifting his head, most likely peering down at me while I hum from between lips I’m pressing together. My eyes are closed, screwed shut, but I know I have to open them. I’ll need to look at him eventually, a terrifying thought.

The high of the orgasm wears off insanely fast, and within seconds, I’m being scorched alive by embarrassment. I think this is actually one of the most mortifying moments of my existence.

My eyelids peel open, and I peek up at the guy, whose name I still don’t know by the way. He blinks down at me.

I blink up at him.

His lips part.

Then they close.

My face is on fire as we stare at each other, no traces of humor anywhere. Just shock and shock and more shock from him, and pure, unadulterated humiliation from me.

He goes to speak, voice raspy as he says, “That was—”

But before he can go farther, I shove him off me and slink out from under him. “I gotta go.”

Stumbling to my feet, I rush toward the door, hearing him at my back. “Wait. Wait, don’t leave.”

“Nope. Sorry. Can’t stay.” I reach for the handle, whipping the door open fast.

Practically diving through it, I dash up the long hall toward the elevators, not once looking back at the guy.

The stranger in the hotel room who made me come in my pants.

The only man I’ve ever fooled around with, if you can even call it that, which I wouldn’t because… yea.

Mortifying.

I leave the hotel running, jumping into the first cab I see to go home. To deal with my wife…

Funny thing is, I went out tonight to dull my anger and take my mind off the bullshit that is my marriage, but all I managed to do was stir up more shit. I’m fucking tense and fuming throughout the entire drive back to Queens.

I feel like the biggest fucking coward on the planet with my head in my hands, replaying it over and over. His words, his unexpected desire for me to fuck him. The feel of his tight grip on my dick… leading to my untimely orgasm, which I can also feel, dried in my boxer briefs, causing me to squirm in discomfort.

God, I am such a loser.

Pulling up in front of the condo, the cab stops, and I rub my eyes, paying then stepping out, back into the cold of winter.

Tonight was completely fucked, but at least I’ll never see that guy again.

I can take comfort in that.

That fucking alarm is sufficiently disturbing me from a nice lil dream.

I swing my arm in the direction of the incessant beeping, missing twice before finally smashing it off the nightstand.

Five more minutes, Ma.

A foot jams into my left shin, and I grumble. But the pain is quickly replaced with how goddamn freezing I am. It’s always cold as fuck in this place, but as I blink myself awake, I notice that I have exactly zero blankets covering me.

They’re all being hogged by the forms at my side.

Sighing, I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up. Alright, fine. I guess I’ll get up now, then.

Extracting myself from the bed proves challenging. There are limbs everywhere. I can’t really tell at first, but once I’m out, I spy at least three bodies. Recognize one of them for sure…

Rolling my eyes, I saunter naked to my attached bathroom. And the morning routine begins.

Take a piss. Take a shower. Brush my teeth.

Rub my jaw in the mirror while examining the length of my beard. Yea… it’s time for a shave.

Shave my face. Pull my hair back since it’s getting a little too long and I can’t have it swinging in my eyes all day. But that I won’t be cutting… Not just yet, anyway.

Back in my room, I find the bed empty. This is also part of the routine.

Anyone who manages to crash in my massive California King at end of the night knows damn well they need to get gone by the time I’m out of the shower the next morning. Those are the rules. Heavily enforced. By me.

Tugging on boxers, I go for my closet and begin dressing in my uniform.

“Five-minute warning,” the somehow raspy yet still obviously feminine voice of my partner in crime croons from the doorway.

I turn over my shoulder to salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that. Makes me sound old.”

I watch Joy as she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning at the entrance to my bedroom. She’s already dressed and ready to go, and she probably has been for at least an hour. I have no idea how she does it…

Partying all night, as we do, and still managing to wake up and workout? She’s mucho loco. All morning people are as far as I’m concerned.

I like the nightlife, baby. I like to boogie.

Chuckling to myself, I finish dressing, grab the phone, keys, wallet, then stomp over to her.

“Have fun last night?” She grins up at my face.

Joy’s not short, well not compared to most females. But I’m six-four, so I still have inches aplenty on her.

“Fun’s my middle name, you sexy little slice of pie.” I smirk, pinching her cheeks until she elbows me right in the gut.

I laugh through a grunt as we shove each other into the hallway.

Ask me what it’s like working with my ex.

It’s fucking awesome, because my ex is fucking awesome, because she’s Joy Jameson, basically the coolest human ever to walk the earth. But if you’d asked me what it was like working with my girlfriend all those years ago, then I would have made the gun to my head motion with my hand, complete with trigger-pull and brains exploding out the other side.

Joy and I dated when she first came here. It worked for as long as it did because of the sex, which has always been a mind-bending experience, whether we were dating or not. But in this line of work, having a relationship is considered a weakness.

And you never, ever show weakness.

It’s all for the best, though, since we work better as friends who fuck on occasion. For as little as I believe I could ever be tied down, I actually think Joy is even more monogamy-repellant.

Making our way toward the stairs, the entire third floor of our wing is quiet, which is good. It means everyone who’s leaving with us for the morning shift is already downstairs in the car. There’s nothing I hate more than waiting.

Joy and I walk the long spiral staircase made of marble, our combat boots doing the clomp clomp clomp until we reach the bottom. We grab our coats by the door and bundle up, even though we’ll be spending less than one minute outside. It’s that damn cold out right now. Fuckin February.

One last look inside this bizarre place we call home before I’m closing the door and we’re braving the bitter chill for a few steps to the SUV. Joy gets shotgun while I slump into the driver’s seat of the Escalade, which is already running, heat blasting inside. In the rearview mirror, three tired faces look back at me.

“Everyone ready?” I ask. But it’s rhetorical, and they know that.

No one says a word as I shift out of park and cruise down the long winding driveway. We have a gate, and it opens automatically for my vehicle so we can leave. I drive us along the narrow road, the Ivory Mansion on our left and the ocean on our right.

It takes five minutes to get across the island to our destination, but of course we can see it the whole time… Dark, ominous, made of concrete and despair.

Alabaster Penitentiary.

I drive up to a new gate, which also opens for me, then pull us right up to the employee entrance. This place is a goddamn maze, and you best believe I know every single nook and cranny of it like the back of my hand. I should, after all.

It’s my kingdom. I’m the Prince of fuckin Darkness in this bitch.

Turning off the engine, we all pile out, hustling to the door. I enter the code, one that only four people alive know, and we go inside. Outside, the prison is guarded by pin-pads and things of that nature. Inside is all about the control rooms.

Speaking of which…

“Morning, Mickey!” Joy chirps.

Mickey, our senior control room operator, is coming from the break room as we’re trudging in his direction. He gives Joy a small smile and a curt wave, the rest of us getting nothing more than an unenthused glance before he shuffles toward the hallway leading to the main control room, barely able to hold his massive travel mug of coffee in his tiny hands.

He’s a small guy is what I’m getting at.

“Why does she get a wave?” Peters grumbles.

I can’t help smirking at him over my shoulder as we walk to the locker room.

“Because I’m pretty,” Joy replies, though she does it in her usual stone-face. Downright chilling to anyone who knows what’s good for them.

Once in the locker room, we all hang up our coats, strap on our holsters and load up the weapons, locking away our personal belongings. We keep spare uniforms in here too, in case we choose to wear regular clothes in, then change, though none of us working the morning shift find that necessary. It’s the kind of thing the overnighters prefer.

Joy and I rarely work overnight shifts. It’s considered beneath us. Rightfully so, since we’ve been here for over a decade.

Who am I, you might ask?

I’m John Chevelle, Head Correctional Officer of Alabaster Penitentiary. And simply put, I fucking own this place.

I’ve worked here since the start of it, been about twelve years now. Joy came in a year later. We have a few other guards who have been with us for a decade or so. Mickey’s been here since the servers were installed, about eight years ago. The newest guard has been here for two.

Thing is, we’ve lost a few men over the years, and we tend to only replace them if it’s deemed one-hundred percent necessary. I don’t like to think about how few of us there are… Not my main concern for right now.

My main concern is keeping the guards we do have in line, just like with the inmates. It’s a tricky business we’re in here, dealing with the most morally reprehensible criminals in the good ol’ US of A. We’re their only links to the outside world.

That means things can get messy from time to time. It’s all about navigating it, I suppose.

We lost a guard last week to some sort of transfer I’m still not entirely clear on, and we’re supposed to be getting a new guy soon. I refuse to admit we need the help. Let’s just say having more bodies on our side would allow me to sleep easier and get rid of those occasional gut pains I’m almost certain are ulcers.

“Yo, Jamesey.” Brenner spins into the room, out of breath. Joy looks up, the sheer lack of amusement on her face widening his eyes. “We’ve got a problem downstairs.”

I clear my throat, loud, and Brenner’s eyes bounce to mine. He looks exhausted. Another long night in solitary, I’m guessing.

“I found a cell phone,” he admits, after some clear contemplation over whether he should tell me. “In the rec room. Linetti thinks #62 stashed it there.”

Kang.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what Linetti thinks.” Joy appears almost as displeased as I’m feeling while I glare at the side of her face. She turns her honey-colored eyes to mine and gives me a look. I already know what it says.

Let me handle it.

“You better,” I growl, and she rolls her eyes, storming out of the room like she’s ready to crack skulls.

Not a euphemism either. I’m sure if her buddy Kang really stashed a cell phone in their little playroom, she might very well break his precious head open like an egg.

I let out a strong sigh. “Let’s go, boys.”

I bring the guys back down the hall to one of our converging rooms. In here we have the schedule up, so we know who’s leaving from night shift, who’s staying at shift change later, yada yada yada. I mark everyone down to make sure they’re here for morning, then I check my watch. The assholes in solitary have approximately two minutes to get their asses up here to be relieved for the day. They always cut it close, those tools.

Working down in the dungeon weighs on a person. I haven’t done it in years, for a good reason. Because it sucks ass.

Thirty seconds later, Jasper sidles into the room. And with only ten seconds to spare, in stomps Kemper. My oldest friend. JK.

We’ve never really gotten along. Mainly because we have less than nothing in common. He and Joy are close, and for that, I don’t give him a hard time. But for all the years we’ve known each other, we rarely talk. And I don’t know dick about him, except that he’s one of only three sorry sacks in Alabaster Isle history who’s married.

He didn’t really have a choice. I get that… It’s part of the job application. But still, I can’t fathom how he makes his marriage work when he only sees his wife like twice a week.

Come to think of it, that sounds kind of nice. Maybe I could give a marriage a try…

I stifle my laughter at that thought, lifting my chin in Kemper’s direction. He doesn’t acknowledge my good morning nod, though he is glaring at me. I blow him a kiss, prompting an even harder silent seethe.

I don’t think he likes me very much. The feeling’s mutual, prick.

“Morning, assholes,” I address the room, eyeing Kemper while he slinks around the back of the room, his surly gaze now locked on yesterday’s paper lying on one of the break tables. “If you’re staying for a double tonight, I’ll see you back here at six. Otherwise, clock out and go get some rest. Or don’t, I don’t give a shit, just get out of my face.”

The overnighters grumble, moving toward the door, except Kemper who’s still buried in that damn newspaper. As if anyone really gives a fuck about the state of the world.

Out the corner of my eye, I notice that my night guys are still shuffling around in the room. I’m ready to bark at them to goddamn vamonos when a familiar voice zips up my spine.

I straighten, like a reflex. Like a fuckin soldier responding to his drill sergeant.

We all turn to face the doorway as the Warden walks in, cell phone plastered to the side of his face, as usual. We stand in a line, silent and still, waiting for him to finish barking things at whatever poor soul is on the other end.

“That sounds like something you should have handled months ago.” The unmistakable tone of Manuel Blanco bounces off the walls. He lifts his arm, long fingers raking through his silky white hair, Rolex glinting in the fluorescent light of this dingy room. “Alright, well tell him I’ll need an answer. Things are happening over here.”

The Warden’s dark eyes land on mine and he just stares. I blink, though I have no choice but to keep my gaze connected with his while he listens to the person speaking in his ear. I’d love nothing more than to look away right now… But I can’t.

He nods. “Right. Keep me posted.”

Then he ends the call while I can hear the person on the other end still talking and stuffs his iPhone into his tailored trousers. Shrugging out of what appears to be a Tom Ford coat—all about the labels, I’m telling you—he hands it off to whoever’s closest. Peters takes it and hangs it up for him while Blanco rubs his hands together.

“We have a new guard starting with us today,” he says, blinking directly at me.

No pleasantries or preambles with this guy. He just gets down to business. Usually, I prefer it, but right now it’s making me feel like I haven’t the slightest clue what’s happening in this place.

“He has experience as a decorated member of New York’s finest.” The Warden grins at me, though he’s speaking to the whole room.

I lift a brow. “He’s NYPD?”

“Former.” His smirk widens.

Then he turns and peers out into the hallway, motioning for someone to come. And in strides a sandy-haired, chiseled dude I was certain I’d dreamt up…

After the way he dipped out on me two weeks ago, I was convinced he was a mirage or something.

But nope. Here he is. Standing in front of me, gaping at me the way I’m sure I’m gaping at him. Wide eyes, shock-ridden expression… The whole nine.

“Let us welcome Officer Harley Samuels to the team.” The Warden gestures to the guy, tone bored as he continues, “Please get him up to speed, Officer Chevelle. And everyone make him feel at home.”

He pats the new guy hard on the back, causing the dude to flinch. Then the Warden grabs his coat and leaves without another word.

My jaw ticks. I really wish he wouldn’t just drop bombs on me then walk away. Not sure why I’m surprised, though… It’s kind of his thing.

“Uh, Officer…?” The new guy blinks his green eyes at me, stepping forward with his hand out.

“Chevelle,” I grunt, taking it in mine. Tingles. Those are inconvenient. “John Chevelle. I’m in charge around here. When he leaves.” I nod toward the door.

I usually sound way more confident than I do right now, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. Our hands are still joined, shaking, although I think it’s been well over three seconds, which is entirely too long for a normal handshake. So I snatch mine out of his.

He looks exactly the same as I remember. Maybe a little more tired, but the trip out here will do that to you. It’s only been two weeks since I met him in Manhattan. We had a very bizarre encounter and then he disappeared like a thief in the night, or fucking Batman.

That is, if Batman came in the bat suit and left Commissioner Gordon with blue balls.

“Harley Samuels?” I say his name, testing it on my tongue.

He doesn’t look like a Harley. Oddly, this pleases me.

He looks like a Derek, or a Connor, or something predictable like that. Harley fits me more than it fits him. It’s like Joy… Her name doesn’t work, that’s what makes her so interesting. She’s not joyful. Not even a little.

“That’s me,” Officer Samuels responds in a sigh, his face finally seeming to acknowledge that he now works with someone who touched his dick two weeks ago. Through the pants, but still…

That night has been seared into my brain since it happened. I haven’t stopped thinking about how fucked up it was, on so many levels.

Distracting myself from the awkward tension radiating around us like electricity, I bark, “Everyone introduce yourselves to Officer Samuels. Then overnighters, get the fuck out. I won’t say it again.”

Kemper is the first to storm up to Harley, quickly shaking his hand before bolting out of the room, newspaper still clasped in his grip. I squint after him, but before I can focus any more time on his weird ass, Joy comes swinging into the room.

She looks around. “What’d I miss?”

“Officer Jameson, this is the new guy. Harley Samuels.” I gesture between the two of them.

Samuels looks stunned to see a female guard, which is the usual first impression, and it couldn’t be more misguided.

And Joy… Well, she takes one look at Samuels, eyes scanning up and down before murmuring, “Welcome to Hell, rookie.”

When I was a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, I swore to myself I would never fall in love.

This wasn’t a dramatic declaration I made in an attempt to push people away. Nor was it something I told myself needed to be done in order to spare my heart the inevitable hurt.

It was a practical decision.

See, everyone around me tended to make foolish decisions on behalf of people they loved. To make them happy, or to protect them. And it made little sense to me…

Turning yourself into a moron for the sake of someone else always just seemed so utterly stupid.

My father is one of those guys. And trust me, it hurts his pride a lot to know I feel this way. My father is a prideful man… And not an unscary one either.

We’ll learn about him in a bit.

But for now, I’m reflecting on how falling in love always transforms otherwise smart people into total dopes. And I was having no part of it. To this day, I’m not sure I’ve ever truly loved anyone. Outside of my family, I mean.

I’ve considered that maybe I’m broken inside. Maybe my heart doesn’t work, or it’s very small like that green asshole in the Christmas movie. Jim Carey played him…

The Grinch! Thank you. That was gonna drive me crazy.

The thought crossed my mind that maybe I’m incapable of falling in love. I’ve known a few pretty great guys, and girls, in my life so far. If it didn’t happen with them, then there’s likely no hope. And I’m actually fine with it.

More than. It pleases me.

Because as I’d promised my young self, falling in love is a mistake, one I’m sure I’d prefer not to make. I’ve already dedicated my life to protecting someone. I can’t do it again, and never for anyone who isn’t family.

This guy, the rookie, Harley Samuels… Now, he’s a guy I can tell from one glance is here because of someone else. Either as retribution or consequence. It’s hard to tell, but at the end of the day, no one chooses to work here.

To live this… It’s no life.

But that’s a thought for another time.

I’m bringing the rookie home to show him around and help him get settled in the Ivory Mansion. Apparently, he showed up and dropped his stuff off, then was immediately summoned to start his first day. I’m not surprised. We’re infinitely short-staffed, and the Warden doesn’t allow people any time to adjust. He just throws you into the shark tank with a harpoon and says good luck. You’ll figure it out.

And also, evidently, it’s up to me to drive the morning shift guys home, since Velle disappeared at noon, claiming he wasn’t feeling well. That on its own had me scratching my head all day.

Velle doesn’t take sick days. I’ve worked with him for over a decade and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s called out. Not only is it a luxury we don’t get on the Isle, especially him of all people. But also, Velle thrives on how much this place needs him in order to operate. He loves that shit, like the control freakish power-tripping asshole he is.

I tell you, he’s more of a nuisance than anything, but if I could love someone, he’d be it. Don’t get me wrong, I love him as a friend. And even though I despise admitting it and stroking his undying ego, he has a Lucky Charms dick.

It’s magically delicious.

That said, we tried the relationship thing, when I was too new to know better. It didn’t work and only served to stress us both out for all of six months until we called it quits. Amicably, of course.

As the rookie here is going to find out very soon, living on Alabaster Isle has forever more drawbacks than it has perks. It’s not just a last resort for the criminals we house in the Pen. It’s a last resort for us too, or maybe an only resort for some of us. So when it comes to entertaining ourselves, we do what we can to get by in between trips off island, which only happen once a month.

You try making a relationship work amidst all this nonsense. I dare you.

Anyway, with Velle indisposed, I’m next up in the line of fire. Today was a shitshow in the Pen, and I’m ready to kick back with a cocktail, a joint, or maybe something more electrifying, and get some Ivory Mansion-style R&R before I have to wake up and do it all again tomorrow.

The moment we set foot in the front door of the mansion, well our side, the obvious loud music coming from upstairs tells me Velle wasn’t so much sick as he was just sick of being at work.

“I don’t have it in me tonight.” Peters sighs as we all ascend the long staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s barely seven.” I smirk, and he shrugs, making a beeline to his room down the hall, door slamming behind him as he disappears out of sight.

There are three levels of rooms. We’re on the top floor, which definitely has the better rooms. Still, some of the guys have to share, and Peters is one of them. But he gets along well enough with his roommate, Linetti. Linetti’s quiet and clean, so I guess the ideal roomie.

Velle and I have our own rooms with attached bathrooms, obviously since we’ve been here the longest. Well, us and Kemper. He has his own room too, all the way at the other end of the wing. He likes it that way, since he rarely parties with us. He’s married, and it’s… inconvenient. For a lot of reasons I won’t get into right now, but I remind myself to check on him tomorrow morning. He’s been sort of drifting lately and I hate to see it.

I care greatly about the dude.

“Alright, Rook,” I address the newbie while the rest of the guys disperse throughout the wing. “Here’s home. You see your room yet?”

He nods warily. “You know, you can just call me Harley. Or Samuels… Really anything’s better than Rook.”

“Really?” I scrunch at him. “I like it. I think it fits.”

“I just don’t like that it’s catching on,” he grumbles, and I grin. “Half these guys are calling me Rook because they can’t remember my name, I can tell.”

I laugh. “Lesson number one, Rook. Lower expectations in this place. If you wanna keep those rose-colored glasses on like Elton fucking John, get ready for some disappointment.”

He gapes at me for a moment, as if he has no clue what the hell I’m even talking about. I have to sigh out my frustrations, rubbing my eyes with my fingers.

“Which one did they put you in?” He points up the hall, and I blink in that direction. “You’re sharing a wall with Velle?? God help you.”

Rook’s face goes still, and he starts vigorously chewing on his lower lip while his uneasy gaze drops to his boots. I squint at him.

He seems to do this a lot when Velle is mentioned. I saw the way the two of them kept awkwardly flitting around each other before Velle dipped out for the day… There’s something going on there.

It’s a little too tense to be just an attraction. Plus, Velle doesn’t act that way around anyone. Even if he has some sorts of feelings swirling around beneath all the muscles and tattoos, he’d sooner slaughter everyone around than reveal them. That much I know for a fact about my ex.

So, then what the hell is going on with these two?? Do they know each other? If so, how?

“Why’d you say you’re here again?” I ask the rookie, walking in the direction of his bedroom, which also happens to be the direction from which the loud music is coming. It’s either from Velle’s room or the living room area, the next room down.

Rook peeks at me while we wander up to his room, opening the door and stepping inside to check out his new digs, the music only slightly drowned out in here. “I’m just looking for something… different. Something new. Exciting.”

I scoff. “You want exciting, go to Six Flags, pal. This place is a death sentence.”

I witness him gulp in my peripheral, but he keeps going with his little story. “I’ve been living a lie for a while. I found out my wife was cheating on me…”

That gets me. I stop fidgeting and turn to face him, seeing some obvious hurt on his pretty-boy face. It makes me wonder what kind of dipshit wife he has. What dumb bitch would ever give up something so yummy?

I mean, forget the body, which is somehow even visible beneath his uniform as incredibly cut the hell up, but he just looks like a tasty fuckin cowboy.

I can practically visualize him wearing assless chaps, and it wakes me up below the belt.

Biting my lip, I reach out and brush his stubbly jaw with my fingers. The feeling makes me shiver. His eyes widen, and I bite back a smirk. He’s freaking precious.

“Your wife sounds like a cunt,” I tell him gently.

He gapes at me for a solid three seconds in silence before bursting out laughing. It’s a great sound. I love a guy with a sexy laugh. And the sight is mesmerizing. He has a ladykiller smile for sure.

“Are you my new favorite person, Joy Jameson?” He grins.

I poke his nose with my fingertip. “I’m everyone’s favorite person on this island, Rookie Cookie. You’ll find that out very soon.”

Rook sighs out hard and shakes his head. “I came here because… I wanted to be myself again. I was trapped in a boring ass life, practically putting myself to sleep. When I found out Paula was cheating on me… I just needed something new. I’m not that guy, you know?”

“What guy?”

“The boring one.” His eyes, this deep moss-colored green, sparkle at me in the dim light and he looks really invested in this.

Either he’s trying to prove something to himself or someone else. Regardless of which, I won’t rain on his parade, but he’ll learn soon enough that nobody chooses Alabaster Isle.

A loud crash happens up the hall, followed by raucous laughter. Rook’s eyes flit in its direction, but I’m not fazed. Naturally.

“See? Like that.” He gestures with his arm out. “That’s how I want to be. Fun. I don’t want to spend my life worrying about shit… bills, mortgages, cheating spouses. I just want to live.”

“Well, then,” I take his hand in mine, “If that’s all you want, you came to the right place.”

I bring him out of the room, pulling him up the hall like a puppy on a leash who hasn’t quite figured out how to walk yet.

“W-wait,” he stutters, but I ain’t stopping. “I’m not ready. Can’t I take a shower first? Or at least change out of my uniform?”

My suspicious eyes dart to his. “Why? Who you tryin to impress, Rook?”

His face goes still again, lips zipping shut. Yea, that’s what I thought.

Clearly, I won’t be getting the truth out of the newbie just yet, but I fully intend on grilling Velle later when he’s nice and drunk, to find out what’s really going on between him and Cowboy Samuels.

As soon as we step through the entryway of the living room, it becomes apparent that I won’t have to wait until later.

Velle is on one of our maroon leather couches—this entire place looks like it was decorated by Nasferatu himself—hanging upside down while a girl I vaguely recognize, who’s wearing only a thong, holds a beer funnel up to his mouth.

I simply blink because a scene like this is pretty standard for a Thursday evening around here. The rookie looks sufficiently shocked, though, and that’s making me chuckle.

One of our regular party guests, Soren, who’s dressed in fishnets and an obviously expensive white dress shirt hanging open, tips a bottle of green liquor up to the funnel, unable to stifle his chuckles. Actually, they’re all laughing hysterically. Even Velle’s wide chest is shuddering a bit as he tries not to laugh openly.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” They all begin chanting while Soren pours the liquor and Velle’s throat moves, swallowing large gulps of whatever it is.

Is that Absinthe??

Sweet Jesus, it’s gonna be a long night.

“So, yea. Welcome to our humble abode,” I tell the rookie, but he’s not listening to me.

When I turn my face, I find him staring, transfixed by the side of Velle’s throat adjusting as he swallows, dusted in his dark five o’clock shadow.

I bite my lip while I watch Rook watching Velle. I swear, those two together would be a match made in lady-jizz heaven.

And now it’s my new official mission to convince them to hook up so I can watch.

Probably won’t take much convincing from the looks of it.

The thought has my mind drifting back to an experience in high school that started it all…

It’s a great night to be sipping warm beer in my basement.

Mom and Dad went out. They haven’t gone out together in a while. Dad’s been working like crazy, all hours of the day, coming home exhausted, grumpy, and sometimes covered in blood.

His job is pretty stressful.

So when the opportunity presents itself for him to get a night off, he spares no expense perusing around town with Mom. Tonight they’re seeing the Boston Philharmonic.

It was a perfect opportunity for me as well. I invited my boyfriend, Tony, over, and naturally he brought his best friend, Colin. The two are pretty much inseparable.

Which gave me an idea…

Tony and I have been dating for a couple months. In high school time, it’s pretty serious, but I’m not one of those girls. I only date boys for fun, and Tony is pretty damn fun.

But his friend, Colin… Now Colin is a freaking blast.

I mostly date Tony because it irks my father. He wants me to date boys whose families he knows well, like Colin’s.

It doesn’t matter either way. This won’t stick. Long-term relationships in high school are pointless.

Tonight they came over knowing my parents were out and we could drink without worry, at least for a little bit. We’re a six-pack deep between the three of us, but I’ve only had one. I want the guys to get tipsy, not necessarily me.

Last weekend we were at a party at some annoying girl from school’s sister’s apartment in Somerville. There were tons of people there. We were doing the party thing, drinking and dancing. Tony and I were making out a little, and I was digging it. Until my eyes peeled open and I saw Colin watching us.

He was watching in this sort of hungry way, like he wanted in on it. But not just for me… He looked like he wouldn’t have been opposed to taking some from Tony, too.

And that got me thinking… and obsessing…

All week since then I’ve been fantasizing about watching the two of them together. At first, I wondered what it would be like to hook up with them both at once. But after a while, after nights in a row of multiple orgasms alone in my bed, I started to consider that maybe I wouldn’t even care if I weren’t a part of it.

I’m just so desperate to watch two hot guys hooking up, I barely even need to be involved. I’ll sit in the corner quietly if that’s what it takes. But at this point, I need to see it.

I’m so damn curious. I’ve never watched boys kissing before. I know I could probably find some hot as fuck videos online, but my parents monitor my internet activity. I don’t know how else to sate this desire to watch… Other than getting my boyfriend and his best friend drunk and letting the chips fall where they may.

We’ve just been drinking and playing cards for a while, and I’m sure the guys are loosening up. Colin’s Irish ass has a nice pinkish blush to his cheeks, and Tony’s already rolling his second joint of the night.

It’s go time.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” I suggest, sitting back, smirking to myself at my awesome idea to jump-start the sexiness.

“Just the three of us?” Tony grumbles. “That sounds kind of stupid. Plus, I already know everything about both of you.”

“Maybe not everything…” I wink at Colin. He gives me a look like I’m crazy.

Yea, crazy like a fox.

“Then how about just dares.” I shrug, crawling over to where Tony’s sitting on the floor, back propped up against the couch. On all fours, my arm in between his parted legs, I inch my lips to his ear. “Unless you’re scared.”

He tilts his face to mine, squinting in that displeased, intimidating way that makes me clench inside my panties. It’s pretty much the only reason I’m dating him other than to spite my dad. Because he’s sorta scary, in a cute way.

I’m not afraid of men. Never have been.

“You wanna poke the bear, sweetheart?” He smirks, abandoning the joint he was rolling to focus on me, his large hands grabbing at my waist.

This will really piss him off…

“You’re not the bear.” I nod toward his best friend. “Colin’s bigger than you. You can be the kitten. Or maybe the bunny!”

Colin cackles out loud and Tony glares at him.

“You think that’s funny, prick?” Tony says in a teasing manner, though I’m sure he’d do a lot to prove his masculinity right now.

Colin shrugs, taking a large swig from his drink. “Your girlfriend said it, not me.”

“It’s just a fact, babe,” I keep going. “He’s cut.”

“I’m heavier,” Tony protests, glassy eyes aimed up at me.

“Hmm… I don’t know.” I slump off of him, taking a seat in between the two of them. “I’d have to see both of you shirtless to make a proper assessment. Side by side.”

I fold my arms over my chest, incredibly pleased with how cunning I am.

Tony looks skeptical, but then Colin sighs out loud, rolling his eyes before tugging his t-shirt over his head. He crawls over to where Tony is sitting, giving his friend an impatient look. Tony gazes over Colin’s bare chest, and I can see some minute appreciation in his eyes.

That little morsel is what I need to keep pulling at, like a loose thread, until it unravels to reveal what I’m really praying is underneath… Curiosity.

Tony gives up and removes his shirt as well, both of them looking at each other, comparing their muscles, which are nice as hell for seventeen-year-olds. Tony is bigger, but Colin is more defined, a fact that seems to catch my boyfriend’s attention.

“That’s so hot,” I murmur and they both look up at me, snapped out of whatever trance they were in.

Colin’s face is still sorta red, whereas Tony’s brown complexion doesn’t allow for blushing. Still, it’s all in the facial expressions with him. His dark eyebrows pull together a bit, and he continually wets his lips.

He’s feeling the burn… Just a little. This is good. I can work with this.

“You guys look so sexy next to each other.” I bite my lip. “Like a wet dream come to life.”

Tony is giving me that look he gives when he’s turned on, while Colin seems to be trying not to watch his friend.

Tony’s voice rumbles, “We’re shirtless, babe. Now it’s your turn.” He smirks. “I dare you.”

I shrug. If it’ll move the process along…

I whip my tank top off, tits out and no fucks to give. I don’t usually wear a bra when I’m just hanging out. My breasts aren’t huge, nice little handful B’s, which I’m fine with. I like how they look and I’m not too self-conscious, especially when I have two hot dudes gaping at them like they’re pieces of lickable candy.

“Jesus,” Colin breathes.

I scoot over to my boyfriend and grasp the nape of his neck, kissing him softly, pressing my bare tits into his chest. He hums in my mouth as I pull away.

“My turn,” I whisper, eyes set on Colin. “I dare you to kiss me.” I tap on my lower lip with my finger.

He hesitates, peeking at Tony to make sure he’s alright with it. Tony still looks crazy turned on, so he simply shrugs as Colin inches closer, leaning over Tony to get to me. I purposely don’t let go of Tony, to keep him close while Colin comes in, pressing his super soft lips to mine.

Wow…

Tony is hot as fuck, with his domineering alpha personality and grumbly brooding ways. But guys like Colin are silent killers. They act sweet and a little naïve, this innocent air about them. They’re usually amazing kissers, and when you get them alone, like we are right now, they toss all inhibitions to the wind.

I love it way too much.

Colin and I are making out, Tony right next to us, breathing picking up while my fingers twist in his hair. I pull away from Colin, keeping him close with my other hand on his jaw, going back to Tony’s mouth. I kiss him deep, feeling Colin’s presence, so close I can practically still taste him.

Now, let’s drive this home…

Releasing Tony’s mouth, I use my grip on both of their heads to push them together. To be honest with you, I barely even have to act as a sneaky little guide before their eager mouths are on one another’s.

My eyes widen while I watch, committing this shit to memory. It’s fucking fantastic already, and I can feel my panties drenching in a matter of seconds.

Tony starts out stiff, though he’s not pulling away. Colin, on the other hand… he came to play. He parts his lips over Tony’s bottom, then tugs it between his teeth. I have to stifle a moan, it’s so damn hot to witness. Tony, probably in some attempt to make this anything but a gay makeout session, slides his hand up to my breast, cupping and squeezing just enough. Then Colin follows his lead, caressing my other breast, his fingers occasionally brushing Tony’s.

Tony lets out a brief hum, and I think it’s safe to say he likes it. A lot.

I’m ready to come in my panties as I watch them, their kisses building into something so fucking hot I can barely stand it. They’ve already been going for much longer than I was kissing either of them, and now their hands are starting to explore each other.

I have to keep my eager breaths under control. I don’t want to snap them out of this hypnotic state. Whatever I do, I can’t break the spell.

This is what I’ve been dreaming about all week. I won’t let anything ruin it.

I inch myself back, just enough to give them some space. Tony’s hands are resting on Colin’s chest while Colin is practically climbing onto Tony’s lap. Then one hand slides between them, down to Tony’s crotch.

He lets out a shaky groan and whispers, into his best friend’s mouth, “Don’t stop.”

Fuck. I am so done for.

My eyes are glued to them, muscles constricting in their jaws and necks, their abs. The hot flesh of two large, masculine bodies pressing together. The pants and the growls…

I swear to God, I don’t know how I’ll ever be attracted to anything that isn’t this for the rest of my life.

My hand slips between my thighs as I rub out some of the tension, built up and ready to explode.

“Take his dick out,” I whisper, to either of them, I don’t even care.

Colin responds to my command, unzipping Tony’s pants and reaching inside to pull out his erection. It’s full and thick, excited as hell at the prospect of being touched by another guy.

“Fuck,” Colin whimpers into his best friend’s mouth, fisting Tony’s cock. “I want to suck you…”

“Fucking suck me,” Tony purrs.

“Suck on each other,” I whimper. “Jesus Christ, this is so hot.”

They finally break their kiss, hauling air into their lungs, panting like there isn’t enough in the room while Colin runs his lips over Tony’s neck, then down his chest. And Tony watches the whole time.

They might have actually forgotten I’m here, as anything more than a little temptress she-devil of sexual curiosities sitting on their shoulders. But honestly, I don’t care one bit.

This is what I want. I will gladly sit back and rub one out while they explore each other’s manly bodies.

I’ve become an addict already. I’m officially a junkie for bi-curious guys. It happened so fast…

Colin gets to Tony’s dick, eyeing it like this is something he’s been thinking about for a while, since long before my suggestive game was even an idea. He slips the head between his lips, and all three of us groan in unison.

My eyes are bulging out of my skull while I watch my boyfriend getting head from the hottest damn dude I’ve ever seen at this point, fingers circling my clit over my pants. I chomp on my lower lip, writhing into myself as Tony’s fingers slink into Colin’s shaggy, honey-colored hair. His hips flex, pushing deeper into Colin’s mouth while Colin reaches inside his own pants to tug himself, and holy mother of God, I erupt.

I’m seeing stars as I come, like a shimmering glitter rainbow dusting everything in sight. I’ve never come so hard in my entire life, and so fast. I barely even needed to touch myself with this homemade porn in front of me.

And barely a full minute later, Tony is growling, coming in Colin’s mouth while Colin comes in his own hand. It’s the sexiest moment of my entire life.

Until I hear a distinct Irish accent utter, “Christ on a bike, what is this shite?!”

My hazy gaze turns to my father, standing at the bottom of the steps, eyes the size of flying saucers while Tony and Colin scramble off each other.

Busted.

I know I’m in trouble with Dad, but I couldn’t give a teeny tiny fuck about that right now.

I’ve got dick lodged in my brain forever.

There’s a party raging around me, in the strangest setting of all time.

I’m still trying to process the fact that I live here now. I’m trying to process a lot of things that have changed in the last two weeks…

No more wife. Quit my job. Started a new one… As a prison guard in a creepy old run-down prison on an island. Moved into what is clearly a haunted mansion, with a bunch of people I can’t quite get a read on…

And the guy who made me come in my pants.

It’s a main reason for my current state of inebriation. Too much change too fast. Too many new faces, new places… too much stress. I needed a drink, or five, which is the only reason I’m glad to be an attendee of my new roommates’ shindig. Apparently, they do this often, according to Joy.

She’s already one of the more interesting people I’ve ever met. Not only is she drop dead gorgeous, but she just reminds me of an ass-kicking ninja or samurai or something. And that’s not just because she’s Asian. I’d say she reminds me of a superhero, but I think she’d be more inclined to play the villain. Ooh, she’d make a great Catwoman.

These parties are the only reprieve my coworkers get from lives as prison guards on an island miles away from civilization. I’m not even sure how far away we are from the tip of New York, but it’s at least a few miles. I was on a ferry for a bit to get here.

That was it. Just packed up my whole life, sold the condo, gave my notice. And here I am.

I’m still fuzzy on exactly how it happened…

Red splatters in my mind, and I close my eyes tight, shaking away the memory. I take a big gulp of my umpteenth drink, dulling my senses, my coherence. I want to forget about it all, and numbing myself, I think, is the only way.

Lifting my drunk gaze, it settles on the couch across the room… On the other source of my current frustration.

John Chevelle. It was so much easier when he didn’t have a name. When I could keep him as an awkward memory, a dirty little uncomfortable secret I tried for two weeks to forget.

He’s just as huge and overpowering as I remember him from that night, in the hotel in Manhattan. Even more so now, because it’s clear he’s in charge. That asshole Warden is the king, sure, but Velle is like his knight. The one who runs the show behind the scenes, kill or be killed.

Right now, he’s seated on another one of these massive, luxurious leather couches, shirtless and shoeless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and two humans straddling each of his thick thighs.

I was right in my assumptions from the night we met; there were way more tattoos hidden beneath his clothes. A full sleeve on his right arm, scattered ink on the left, and his chest is also decorated, dragging down his abs and disappearing into his pants. Oh, and his nipples are pierced, too. I swear to God, the guy looks like he belongs on Sons of Anarchy. Or something scarier. In all honesty, he sorta makes those dudes look like pussies.

The naked girl on his one side is fingering his hair at the nape of his neck, whispering something in his ear, while the guy on the other side appears to be rubbing his crotch and kissing his neck. That dude in the fishnets… He’s been all over Velle since the moment we got home. I’m guessing that must be his boyfriend.

I have no idea, and I’m trying not to care. What Velle and I shared was short-lived, confusing as all hell, and clearly not meant to fully happen. If that guy he’s with—apparently, his name is Soren, but they call him the Sinner since he’s always on his knees, Joy’s words—is his type, then I have literally no idea what he was trying to do with me that night in the hotel.

Or maybe he doesn’t have a type. I don’t know him at all, but judging from his activities tonight, he seems to just love fucking, without giving much thought to the gender of the person on his cock. I can’t hate on that sort of label-free sex, though it certainly gives me little to no clarity on why he would’ve chosen me, of all people, that night.

I wanna take you deep…

Ride my ass, cowboy.

I try to shake the words out of my brain, but honestly, they’ve been there since I stumbled out of his hotel suite that night. So, yea. Not only has every other part of my life changed, but I’m also now questioning my sexuality. Great.

Thirty’s been a good year so far.

When I allow my eyes to focus on Velle again, he’s looking at me. Our gazes lock and a chill rushes up my spine. I desperately want to look away, but I can’t seem to make it happen. And what’s worse, Velle doesn’t appear particularly excited to be in my presence.

His glare is deep, dark and full of tension. I can do nothing more than blink and sip my drink once more.

There are people dancing all around us. Laughter cuts through the music, bodies stumbling about. Most of my coworkers I’ve met are here right now, either in this room or out in the hallway, and there are also many faces I don’t recognize, here just for the free booze, drugs, and sex. No one’s told me exactly where these folks come from or how they get here…

I’ll have to ask Joy.

Velle leans his head back a bit on the couch, allowing the Sinner’s mouth to trail his throat, his eyes never once leaving mine. My jaw tenses. I’m not sure why, but I’m getting this uncomfortable tightness in my gut, smothering all the way up my chest, like someone’s sitting on me.

Velle abruptly grabs Soren’s throat and pulls him to his lips until they’re kissing, his eyes still open. He’s watching me while making out with that kid.

Muscles tighten all over my body and I huff out of frustration, jumping up from the couch to storm out of the room. I feel eyes on me as I leave, but I ignore them all, swinging into the hallway.

I need to get the fuck away from whatever’s happening in that room, and how uneasy it’s making me.

Because I don’t get it. He’s no one to me…

We don’t know each other. Why would I care what he does?

Stomping through the hall, I stop before I get to my room when I see Joy over by hers, across the way. She’s talking to one guard whose name I can’t quite remember, and a girl I don’t recognize. And she’s laughing, hard, looking like she’s about to double over, hanging on the guy to keep herself up.

She’s changed into some very short shorts and a loose crop top, and I can tell right away she’s braless beneath it. Not that I’m trying to be a creeper or anything, but her body is bangin. I haven’t been able to keep myself from noticing it… My eyes simply won’t let up.

While I’m busy awkwardly staring at her like a weirdo, her face turns to me and she lets out a little squeal, leaving her friends to scamper in my direction.

“Rookie Cookie!” She throws her arms around my shoulders, draping herself on me like a piece of clothing I think I’d very much enjoy trying on.

I clear my throat. “Hey…”

She pulls back and pouts at me. “What’s wrong? Are you not having fun?”

“Um…” I consider how to answer that without getting into the Velle stuff, but before I can say anything she keeps talking.

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” Her eyes sparkle as she reaches into her panties… Literally, she has no pockets, so apparently she stores things directly in her underwear. And she pulls out a small vial.

My brows zip. “What’s that?”

“Sexy sugar.” She giggles, then uncaps it and taps some white dust out onto her hand, snorting it quick. Her head whips back, and she breathes out steady, before aiming a wicked smirk at me. “You’re too hot to frown, Cookie. Here.” She dumps out another tiny mound on her hand and holds it up to me.

I’m sort of taken aback by this. I’m not a drug-doer.

Sure, I smoked a few joints in college, but that’s really it, which I realize is nothing. And yes, this whole inner monologue is making me sound like the most rigid square in partying history. But still…

“I’m a cop,” I grumble at her. “I don’t sniff things…”

“Not even panties?” Joy grins, then bursts out laughing at the look of horror on my face. I can’t help but crack a smile. I like making her laugh, even if it’s at my expense. “Come on, Rook. You said you didn’t want to be boring.”

“I did say that…” I chew on my lower lip while contemplating this move.

It’s just a little bit of drugs. It won’t kill me…

Will it? It could…

No. I’m a cop. I’m well aware that nobody dies from a small bump of what I’m guessing is molly, based on the way Joy’s acting. I hooked up with a girl in college who used to do it on occasion. And let’s just say, it made the hooking up like… really fun.

I hear some light cheers, glancing back toward the living room, where the rest of the party is happening. I can’t see what’s going on in there, but I can only imagine it has something to do with Velle, and those two people he’s probably about to start fucking, right out in the open.

I swallow hard, and without another thought, I lower my face to Joy’s hand, blocking one nostril while the other snorts the powder.

It’s bitter like medicine and it makes me cough as the nasty taste runs down the back of my throat. Joy laughs and licks her hand while warmth floods my neck and face.

I feel suddenly light, as if I could spread my arms like wings and fly far far away. Blinking hard for a moment, I glance around while the air sort of ripples and things start to feel real fuckin nice.

A seductive sensation brushes my neck, and I notice that Joy’s fingers are dancing up my nape, into my hair. I take a deep breath.

“Feel better?” She licks her lips.

I think I nod, but I can’t stop watching her mouth. I’m very aware of how close we’re standing, and I have this calm pleasure settling over me, as if everything will be alright. There are no problems with anything happening anywhere in the general vicinity.

I’m no longer stressed about all the recent changes in my life, my new job, home or coworkers… The bad memories I’ve been intentionally ignoring.

I’m actually pretty damn joyful at the moment.

“Joyful!” A deep voice barks, and I flinch.

Whoa, that was weird.

My face tilts in the direction of the voice, watching carefully as Joy struts over to Velle. He’s leaning up against the wall, whispering to her, his eyes flitting to mine once or twice. Then that guy, Soren, comes traipsing out of the living room, running his fingers along Velle’s bare chest, giving him a very salacious look before sauntering into the next room… which is Velle’s bedroom.

Velle looks after him for just a moment, then returns to Joy. They appear to be having a semi-serious conversation, and now I’m wondering what the hell is happening here. The confusion is fucking with my high. I wish Joy would come back and hang out with me. I like her…

But instead, she turns to me, winks, then follows Velle inside his bedroom. They don’t close the door, but still. It’s very obvious to me in this state that I’m not invited to whatever is happening in there.

And I don’t want to be. Do I?

No. I don’t.

Covering my face with my hands, I rub my eyes. This is all so confusing.

Part of me wants to go back to the party and find a stranger to help distract me from the chaos of my life. But then it reminds me of the last time I tried to do that… Two weeks ago, when I met John Chevelle.

Taking in a deep breath, I exhale slowly, making my way back to my bedroom. I force my eyes away from Velle’s room as I walk past it to mine, but when I get there, the thought of just going in and going to bed makes my skin crawl.

I’m high, and I want something more. I’m still not sure what, but maybe this would be a perfect time to explore my new home, seeing as how I know next to nothing about this place… The Ivory Mansion.

All I know is that it’s owned by the Warden, Manuel Blanco. The man who flipped my world upside down two weeks ago. Subsequently, of course.

But I swallow down those thoughts, because that would most certainly ruin my high. And I maunder the long hallway of our wing.

From what I was told when I arrived, the Ivory Mansion is divided into two parts, and each part is like its own house. Our part, the guards’ quarters, makes up the entire left side of the mansion. It’s complete with its own kitchen, gym, study, ten full bedrooms, four regular bathrooms, and three master bedrooms with attached en suites.

Yea… Basically a mansion within a mansion.

And then there’s the other part… The Warden’s lair, as they call it, which sounds super creepy. Apparently, the Warden’s side of the mansion, on the right, has only six bedrooms and three baths. But he too has his own kitchen and gym, two offices, a library, a sitting room and living room, and an aviary.

A fucking aviary… As in an entire room for birds.

Now, this is all speculation. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, and neither have any of the other guards, except for Velle and Joy. But the guards aren’t allowed on the Warden’s side of the property ever, so it’s shrouded in a lot of mystery, especially amongst the newer guards.

The Warden has hired security to enforce such things, and lots of it. So even though Alabaster Penitentiary is understaffed like a mofo, that doesn’t seem to affect the Warden as far as his own personal entourage goes.

The Ivory Mansion has a staff as well, like maids, chefs, doctors and gardeners… maintenance people. But according to my new roomies, they stick to the right side. We’re responsible for cooking and cleaning for ourselves, though we get prepared meals from the chefs, and maid service from the cleaning crew, within reason.

It’s all very strange. For everything that happened in the last two weeks, I still don’t really know what’s going on here, on this island where I now happen to reside. I mean… A two-mile stretch of land owned by Manuel Blanco, containing the shoddiest prison in history, and one of the most elaborate, beautiful yet mildly terrifying mansions of all time… All hidden away from public knowledge and funded primarily by secret government projects?

It doesn’t even sound real.

I’m beyond curious about the history of Alabaster Isle, and the Ivory Mansion, but I was advised by a few parties on my way here that none of this is any of my business. My business is to work as a prison guard at Alabaster Pen, then to come home and live on the left side of the mansion.

That’s it. We get to go off island once a month, and if I need anything in the interim, I can talk to one of Blanco’s guys about getting it.

Outside of that, answers are given on a need-to-know basis, meaning they don’t need us to know. Without actually spelling it out, I was made to understand that I’m just as stuck here as the prisoners in the Pen. And the thing is, I’m clearly not the only one.

I walk the long hallway, the music dulling the farther I get from our living room. The rooms down here and on the floor below belong to the guards who bunk with each other. I was honestly expecting some dirty looks and snide comments when I got here, about the fact that I get my own room as a newbie, but it doesn’t seem like anyone really cares. It’s as if they’ve made their peace with how things are, and they’re either content with it or they’re just too tired to complain.

Either way, it’s a little depressing.

But I do feel very fortunate to have my own room and bathroom. I guess the guard I replaced had been here a while, since the only others who have their own rooms are the lifers; Velle, Joy, and Kemper. The guy I replaced was Jeffries. I heard he was transferred to some other job by the Warden, though no one knows exactly where.

These are all the details I’ve managed to acquire on my first day here. A few of the guys seem okay. Brenner is a dick, Peters is quiet, Hancock is a partier. Linetti is alright. He showed me around the Pen today. As much as he could, anyway. The place is a fucking maze. I have no idea how I’m going to remember where I’m going tomorrow.

All these thoughts float around my brain while I descend the long, winding staircase. The stairs are wide and made of white marble. It’s crazy how much of this place is made of this same unique stone. I suppose that’s part of the image… The Ivory Mansion.

Because there’s no way it could be made of actual ivory. That’s just not possible.

But the entire exterior is a mixture of what looks to be granite and white marble. I don’t know how big this place actually is, but if I were to guess, I’d say at least two-hundred thousand square-feet. Our half of the mansion is engulfed in trees and forest, with a long driveway protected by a gate. But the Warden’s half sits right at the shore, overlooking the ocean. He has his own driveway too, which we passed to get here, and I heard he has a Rolls Royce and a chauffeur who drives him to and from the prison.

Excessive, right?

On top of that, a yacht, a helipad, and the jet, which is small but still pretty fancy, is used to take us off island for our monthly journeys into Manhattan. Linetti also told me their last trip was two weeks ago, so in only two more weeks, I’ll get to go.

Stopping at the bottom of the steps, I blink into the darkness.

Two weeks ago… I met Velle when he was staying in a hotel for their overnight trip off island.

I shake my head to myself. This is all so crazy. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?

I keep walking through the downstairs landing, turning the corner toward our kitchen. It’s not even that late, but the whole place is sparsely lit. It’s a very eerie atmosphere, glancing around all this old-looking shit. The decor and furniture is all antique and of a gothic nature. Dark colors, velvet upholstery, mahogany and oak. And of course the white… Alabaster everywhere.

There’s one light on in the kitchen, and I pass by to find two people I don’t recognize engaging in a hushed conversation. They glance up when they hear me passing the doorway, giving me some pretty severe looks I ignore while stalking away.

Gazing skyward, it’s as if the ceiling is miles away from my head. Being inside this place makes me feel like an ant. An inconsequential bug whose existence means next to nothing.

I gulp, shoving that thought away as my eyes scan the artwork. Renaissance style oil paintings, chandeliers and black torch lights adorn the walls and ceilings. Passing a few other dark rooms, I approach the second staircase, on the right side of the mansion. Meaning I’ve crossed over into the Warden’s territory.

Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps. There is no noise happening over here whatsoever, and I find myself wondering why he needs a whole side if it’s only him. I believe the hired help have their own quarters outside the mansion. Like a guest house of sorts.

So what does Manuel Blanco do in here all by himself?

My inquisitive detective brain ramps up, running through all the things I know about this man. The things I only learned from my limited interactions with him in the last two weeks, and some very unsatisfying Google searches.

Manuel Blanco, like this island, is also shrouded in mystery.

Gawking up the staircase, I make a quick and possibly stupid decision to climb it. I try to keep quiet as I ascend the steps, my eyes stuck on the dark hallway at the top. I want to know who else is up there…

It can’t just be him.

I only make it about halfway before a shadowy figure appears at the top, walking down the stairs to meet me in the middle.

“Officer Samuels.” I recognize this guy from the day I got here. He was in the car that brought me on the ferry. I don’t know his name. He never said it.

I can do nothing more than blink at him.

“I believe you’ve lost your way.” He nods behind me.

“Uh… So I can’t go up there?” I ask, playing stupid because I have no idea what else to say. I guess I didn’t really think this through.

“Up there,” his eyes flick, “Is not for you.”

Something about the way he says it, and his tone of voice, sends a nervous zing up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight and I remember…

A gunshot. Blood.

Cold cold cold.

I’m turning and darting back down the steps before I can even register it.

Dumbass. Why would you even try to go up there? Why would you go anywhere you know he is?

Rushing back to our side, I stomp the steps fast, reacquainting myself with the music and laughter of the party. With my pulse popping, I go back to the living room and peer inside, observing the girl who was sitting on Velle’s lap earlier, who’s now ass naked and dancing on the table with a bottle of champagne in her hand. There are guys around watching her, a few of the other guards hooking up with girls on the sofa.

I gulp and turn away, some sort of magnetic force pulling me next door instead. Because I’m subconsciously aware that I don’t want what’s in the living room… I want what’s in here.

Velle’s bedroom door is still open a crack. And I know I shouldn’t look inside, but I also don’t think anyone around here cares. So I peer past the corner, just to see if Joy is still in there.

My gut is twisting up in preparation for seeing Joy and Velle hooking up. I’m not sure if they do… I heard they dated way back when, but now they just seem to be friends.

But then she went into his bedroom with him and Soren so… who knows.

When I glance inside the room, I see no sign of Joy. Instead, I get a clear shot of Velle’s bed, and he’s lying on it. With Soren on top of him.

My mouth goes dry, a new sort of tightness gripping me inside.

They’re fucking…

Soren is riding Velle, slowly, in almost a hypnotic sort of rhythm that mesmerizes me for a moment, until I remember that I’m straight and I’ve never watched two guys having sex before.

Swallowing is difficult as I attempt to pry my eyes away from the scene in the room, but it just won’t take. Soren’s still wearing his fishnets, but they’re all ripped up in the necessary places. I can’t really see his face, since his back is to me, but I can certainly see the… verification that Velle is inside him.

A throb in my pants finally pulls my gaze away from the room and I close my eyes, breathing out steadily. I’m just high. It’s the molly that’s making this look so good…

But when my curious eyes slide back up to the bed, I almost fall over.

Velle’s watching me watching him. Again.

I grip the doorway, squeezing it with white knuckles. Velle’s blue eyes stay stuck on mine as he holds Soren’s thighs, helping him move. My breathing goes shallow, heart banging in my chest like a bongo where I stand stock still, unable to fucking leave, which is definitely what I should be doing.

Soren’s moans reach to me, sliding into my ears, rattling around in my brain. Velle’s chest, that plane of tattooed muscle, is moving up and down with his breaths, though he stays quiet. He’s just staring at me, thrusting up into the young man who appears fully enamored with the man beneath him.

Soren’s hands grip Velle’s chest while he swivels his hips.

Velle tugs his lower lip between his teeth.

My dick is stiff and visible through my pants, a fact that’s as confusing as it is embarrassing. I need to go. I can’t even fathom what’s happening to me right now.

Turning away, I march past the room and into my own, closing the door carefully before leaning up against it to inhale deep. I peer down at my crotch, erection pushing into the material of my uniform pants I still never changed out of. Biting my lip, I reach down to adjust it and shiver at the sensation.

The drugs are making me so goddamn needy. For touch, for taste… For pleasure.

Yanking my white t-shirt over my head and tossing it, I strip out of my pants, stepping over to my bed. I can hear them on the other side of the wall, Velle’s bed moving and Soren purring out delicious sounds.

I get into my bed and lie down flat, staring up at the ceiling. Why now?

How could my life have changed so abruptly? Since when am I attracted to men?

Since when do I want to watch guys fucking…?

Since now, apparently.

The noises get louder on the other side of the wall and I turn over, onto my knees to face it. I place my palm up to the wall, feeling the vibrations of Velle’s bed banging against it. I listen closely to Soren moaning, and every once in a while, I hear a deep groan, which is clearly coming from Velle.

It draws my balls up like crazy.

Thrusting into the bed, my eyes close while I bite my lip to keep the whimper in. Then I do it again, humping my bed to match the rhythm of what I’m hearing. I close my eyes tight and I pretend…

I imagine that I’m in that bed too, on the other side of the wall. My heated flesh is searing into theirs, the air around us hazy with lust and pure sexual hunger. I bring my other hand to my dick and make a fist around it, squeezing and stroking, tight. My hips push and I pretend I’m fucking Soren, while Velle comes up behind me and grips my ass with his powerful hands.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” I whisper, so turned on, I know it won’t last long. I’m leaking already.

There’s something about these hidden desires of mine that just make me erupt. I can’t even hold it in anymore.

I hear a gasp, from Soren. “Fuck yes, Daddy!”

I think he’s coming… Confirmed by Velle grumbling. I’m desperate to hear what he’s saying, but I can’t. All I can do is picture him touching Soren’s pale skin, the ink on his hands skating all over while cum shoots from my cock in streams.

I mean, from Soren’s.

My hips move steadier while I moan into my pillow, fucking my fist and using my other hand to grab my own ass as hard as I can.

“Velle…” I hiss.

And it all becomes a dizzying stupor.

Cum bursts from my cock, soaking my hand and my abs and my bed. And I just breathe, pulling in and out, my head spinning.

I see that smirk in my mind, those ocean eyes. That man I don’t even know…

But for some reason, I need to.

Today sucks.

I’m fucking tired, and I’ve been going to great lengths to avoid the rookie. For as massive as this goddamn prison is, it still sometimes feels like we’re on top of each other.

Okay, maybe it just feels like that with Harley, since I’m actively trying to keep away from him.

Last night was weird. I saw him watching me with Soren, and it pumped up my balls like those things you use to blow up an air mattress.

Not that I don’t enjoy myself with Soren, which is the only reason he’s a permanent invitee to our parties. But lately it’s started to feel… different.

I know why. But I don’t want to talk about it.

Anyway, because the universe and the Warden both hate me, Rook’s room just so happens to be on the other side of my wall. Meaning when I’m sleeping now, he’s like two feet away from me, if we’re being technical. I’m thinking of moving my bed. Feng Shui and shit.

It’s not that I care about what happened between us. I don’t. It was a stupid, ridiculous thing I shouldn’t have done in the first place, which just goes to show I need to remain in control and not let myself get carried away in my secret wants.

I suppose that’s what happens when you work amongst violent degenerates and only get out into civilization once a month. It turns you into this sort of wild animal, and you forget everything you thought you knew, about yourself and what’s best for you.

At this point, I’m not convinced I know the real John Chevelle anymore. Or that he even still exists…

I think this new monster choked him out long ago.

On top of all that bullshit, now I’m standing in front of a cell with blood overflowing from beneath the bars like a goddamn tidal wave. I can’t help but rub my temples over and fucking over.

As much as I usually love being right, this is kind of my fault. And it needs to not be.

“You fucking worthless waste of human life,” I growl, rage bubbling up inside me as the scent of copper fills my nostrils. I hate the smell of blood…

It reminds me of stuff I don’t care to remember.

“Sorry…” the motherfuckin psycho croons from where he’s lying on the bottom bunk, his blood-covered shoes dangling off the edge. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

“You know, I can’t guarantee the Warden won’t toss you into Shark Bay for inconveniencing me like this,” I mutter while looking over the unconscious form on the ground.

His name is Ivan Wilkerson. Inmate #97. He’d only been here for four days.

“Do you think the Warden cares about you that much?” Darcey turns his face to look at me through the bars. There’s blood spatter on the lenses of his glasses. “That’s cute.”

My jaw is clenching so hard it’s about to snap off. “Whatever you used to do this, point to it. Right the fuck now, inmate. My patience has completely dissolved for these games of yours.”

He doesn’t look even the slightest bit perturbed by my barking at him as he slouches over and points toward the bottom of his bunk bed. Right next to where his former cellmate is lying dead after being bludgeoned to death.

#97’s face is all fucked up. It looks like Darcey might’ve tried carving him—his usual MO—but didn’t have the proper tools, so he just scraped his face all up with a dull piece of metal.

I rub my eyes again. This is too much work for a Friday. Where’s the consideration??

“Get the fuck up,” I pull my gun from my holster and cock it, nodding toward the far wall.

Darcey does what I say, but he does it extremely slow. It’s insanely irritating and I’m two seconds away from just shooting him.

But of course, I can’t.

He’s The Carver. And Manuel Blanco is very fucking aware of his presence here at Alabaster Penitentiary.

Felix Darcey, Inmate #89, is as high-profile as they come. All of our inmates usually have a reputation of some sort, since that’s the nature of this place, but Darcey is the first active serial killer we’ve ever had. We’re rife with killers, obviously, though not all of our inmates are vicious sociopaths. But Darcey is a unique case.

The problem is that he knows it. He’s well aware he can get away with the bullshit he pulls because we can’t kill him. But if I were him, I’d be careful.

There are worse things than death, after all.

When his preppy ass has his forehead and palms planted on the far wall, I enter his cell, which is specifically locked via the control room and a double lock that only Joy and I have keys to. Stepping inside, I try to mind the blood because these are my favorite boots and I really don’t feel like cleaning them, stomping up to him and grabbing his arms forcefully. I cuff his wrists and shackle his ankles, then I pat him down.

He has nothing on him. Turning back to the murder weapon, I go to examine it, finding nothing more than a piece of scrap metal. It looks like he bent it off his bunk bed.

Great. Just fucking great.

Darcey wasn’t supposed to have a cellmate, for this exact reason. He’s had this cell to himself the entire three months he’s been here up until four days ago when we put Ivan in with him. The reason being that Darcey had been begging and pleading for a cellmate, whining twenty-four-seven that he needed human contact to survive.

It’s not my job to cater to these animals, so I was all set to ignore his bellyaching. But then, like a true manipulative narcissist, he stopped eating, started acting all zoned out… being a real emo bitch. The Warden told me to handle it, so I did what I thought might cheer him up.

I mean… I wasn’t wrong.

“Do you have any idea how fucking annoying this is?” I breathe, mostly to myself since I don’t think The Carver cares how much his killing is inconveniencing me. But really, he should. Darcey stays quiet, leaning up against the wall as I stand and turn back to him. “What’s he? Number thirty-two? Thirty-three?”

He blinks behind his blood-stained glasses, long dark eyelashes fluttering. “Thirty-six.” He says it contently, with a slight curve to his lips.

I can do nothing more than cock my head. “You’ll regret this, inmate. And if you don’t comprehend that sort of thing then just know, you fucked up royally. Human suffering is something we specialize in here at Alabaster Pen.”

The dude shows no sign that he’s even processing what I just said. A real fucking sociopath. The kind they write books about, make documentaries on.

Too bad the world thinks he’s dead.

Picking up my walkie, I call down to solitary. “Kemper?”

“Copy,” his grumbly voice answers immediately.

“Get up to Darcey’s cell. Now.”

“Ten-four.”

Five minutes later, up stomps the ray of fucking sunshine, skidding to a halt outside the cell, his eyes widening. “What the fuck happened here? Oh shit, is that Wilkerson??”

“Inmate #97,” I correct him, to which he gives me a look. “Don’t worry about him, he’s fine. Just bring this sorry sack of shit down to solitary. And make sure he’s settled.” I peek at Darcey once more. “He’s gonna be there a while.”

Kemper nods, grabbing Darcey by the arm and dragging him along in the direction of solitary confinement, which is located a level below general population. Once they’re out of sight, I look back to the dead asshole on the ground, shaking my head.

The world won’t miss Ivan Wilkerson, that’s for sure. Everyone outside of this prison and a few government officials thinks he’s dead, anyway. But when he was alive, he spent years brutally raping underage kids, girls and boys. His most recent victim, twelve-year-old Kyle Hanson, actually died from injuries sustained during the attack.

Governor Russo had enough, and he called his old pal, Manuel Blanco.

Still, let’s not act like that’s the reason Darcey did this. He’s a murderous lunatic, whether the people he’s killing are also scumbags or not.

And now I have to figure out how to tell the Warden about this.

My stomach twists up like a pretzel and an icy chill sweeps through me. Biting on my lower lip, I pace around the body for a minute to think.

Bracing myself for the many ways he could react to this news…

My nerves are already through the roof and I’m not even near his office yet. Chances are he’ll catch on fast, what with me moving Darcey. My best bet is to get to him first before he finds out on his own. Damage control.

Stalking out of the cell in the direction of the West wing, I radio Joy. “Hey… we have a situation. Are you clear?”

She comes back right away. “Yea, clear. What’s up?”

“Darcey killed Wilkerson.”

This time it takes her a second. “Fuck.”

“Yea.”

“You going upstairs?”

I swallow hard. “Yea…” Closing my eyes, I stop walking for a moment, leaning up against the nearest wall. “Can you get down there and make sure it’s secure? I don’t want anyone stumbling across the body until I find out what he wants me to do.”

“Ten-four.”

Squeezing my eyes shut harder, I bang my head back against the wall a few times, giving myself a moment to freak out a little. On the outside, nothing shows. I’m as cool as a damn cucumber.

But inside I’m cracking.

Fuck… I can’t do this. Not again.

Memories come swirling to the forefront of my brain, but I push them back down. I don’t have time for this shit. Every second I waste panicking is a second he’s waiting for me…

I walk for a while, through corridors that run parallel to gen-pop, then I rush up a set of stairs. This part of the prison, the West wing, is the only section with windows. The only part that’s not entirely disgusting and run-down.

Go figure this is where his office is.

When I reach the far end of the corridor, I approach the door quietly, forcing myself to breathe in and out a few times to steady my raging heart rate. Then I knock.

I can hear him muttering something behind the door before he barks, “Come in.”

Opening the door, I take a few steps into the center of the room, stopping in front of his large oak desk. There’s a huge window directly behind where he’s sitting, overlooking the ocean and overcast skies.

But I can’t focus on any of it right now, because Manuel Blanco is zipping up his fly.

My brows knit together while I stare, wondering if he was really jerking off in here. It’s possible, and even more so that he’d tell me to come in while he was doing it. Just another one of his tactics, I’m sure.

But then I hear shuffling beneath his desk, and it becomes super clear to me that there’s someone under there.

Someone who was just sucking him off before I walked in…

My teeth grind together while I force myself not to react or ask any questions. Yet he can still read my facial expression immediately, because he says, “Never you mind what’s happening in here, Officer.” Amusement glitters in his dark eyes. “How can I help you?”

I gulp before answering, “Wilkerson’s dead. Darcey.”

The Warden stares at me blankly for a moment before leaning back in his chair. Every muscle in my body is tightening all over the place while I stand still and wait.

“Do you know what I’m going to say, Johnathan?” His head cocks to the side. My lips part, but then I snap them shut. “Ivan Wilkerson was a waste of space, yes, but the fact remains. No one can know about this. Do you understand?”

I nod slowly.

“So you’ll have to take care of it,” he goes on. “Yourself.”

I feel like I could collapse in this moment. I’m so fucking angry, yet somehow guilt is the emotion climbing my gut like heartburn.

“I don’t want to do it again…” I whisper, loathing the child-like vulnerability in my tone.

But I can’t help it. Any time I’m near him, I’m reminded that I’m broken.

“But you must, Johnathan,” he murmurs, tone deep and certain, charcoal black eyes holding onto mine. “You’re the only one I can trust to do so.”

I’m screaming inside. But none of it breaks the surface.

I stay still, and quiet.

The Warden straightens in his seat and scoots forward. I’m frozen in place while he brings his zipper back down, hidden partially by the desk, reaching underneath as if he’s pulling someone’s mouth back onto him.

My skin is hot and crawling all over, like I’m made of fire ants. He just blinks at me while a soft hiss leaves his lips. And then I hear a sound of unmistakable… suction.

My fingers are twitching at my sides. Everything happening inside me is conflicting. I’m desperate to run out of this room, but I can’t. I can’t tear my eyes from his and I hate it.

I hate how much I’m burning.

“I know you’ll handle it, Johnathan,” his voice rumbles up at me. “Because you’re strong, and capable. You’re just what I need, you know that, right?”

Suffocation slinks between my ribs as I nod for him. Like a robot.

Like a pet.

Like his fucking slave.

“Good boy,” he hums.

My body reacts, a flush rising in my face as his lips twitch into a rather sinister curve.

“Will that be all, Officer?” He gives me a pointed look before his eyes fall to his desk, and what’s happening under it.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble. Then I turn and walk as steadily as I can on shaky legs out of his office, closing the door behind me.

Pressure builds up in my skull, giving me an instant migraine as I stomp through the hall and down the stairs, back to the cell.

My body wants to crumble. I want to fall to my knees and cry or scream or punch something until my knuckles are raw and bloody.

But I can’t. I can’t lose control.

I can’t let go, ever.

Because that’s exactly what he wants.

I remember the smell.

It was a distinct odor, one very hard to describe. The only word that comes close is death.

It smelled like death.

Death and chemicals.

My muscles ached, and the cold air stung the sweat lining my skin. I’d been digging for nearly forty-five minutes by the time it was finally deep enough. And I still had to hoist myself out of the cold, wet earth, which in this environment is mostly sand and rock after a certain point.

Then, all by my damn self, I had to drag the stiff corpse, wrapped in an old sheet, into the grave, cover it in lye, and bury it.

The whole process took about two hours, and even though it was mid-January, I was drenched in sweat. I actually got sick for three days afterward because of it.

That was two years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. The day Parker Freeman died of pneumonia and the Warden made me get rid of him.

Fitting, since right now, I’m doing the exact same thing, only with Ivan fucking Wilkerson.

We covered up Freeman’s death, telling the concerned inmates he’d been airlifted to a hospital for treatment.

Yea, that never happened. Manuel Blanco isn’t much for wasting our limited resources on the prisoners. And he’s even more vehemently against anyone finding out what really goes on here. Hence why I’ve been tasked with covering up Wilkerson’s death.

People talk on Alabaster Isle, naturally, since really the only way to pass the time is to talk shit, especially for the prisoners. But with no proof, i.e. a body, what can come of it?

Nothing.

Interestingly enough, it’s winter yet again when I’m doing this. Digging this goddamn hole and burying this bloody nuisance. I’ll have to pop some zinc when I get back inside, take a hot shower. It’s bad enough my shift ended twenty minutes ago and I’m still shoveling bullshit.

I just hate that I’m the only one who can do this… That I always have to handle it.

But I also understand it. And I love it… in a way.

Does it make sense at all? No. But this person I’ve become here, I both admire the fuck out of him and can’t stand his ass, simultaneously. The Warden’s fucking puppet… And for what? For some shit that happened almost thirteen goddamn years ago?

Closing my eyes, I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. I can’t think like that. I’m surviving here. I’m making shit fucking happen. I’m running the show. And really, where would I be if I wasn’t here?

If I didn’t have Manuel Blanco…?

By the time I’m done, I’m literally about to collapse. Joy handled all the shift change shit for me, so I’m able to just jump into a leftover SUV and drive myself home. Dragging my tired ass up the eight hundred steps, I just barely make it to my bedroom without crashing to my knees. I’m halfway through stripping before I realize I have company.

“Oh shit… Sorry,” the rookie stutters, jumping up from the chair in my room, looking everywhere but at my body as I stand confused outside my bathroom in my boxers.

“Whacha doin in my room, Rook?” I ask on an exhausted sigh. I’m too tired to even act tough right now.

“I was waiting for you…” he mumbles, shifting his weight. “We need to talk.”

“Don’t think that’s necessary.” I turn toward the bathroom once more, but his hand on my arm stops me.

He pulls it back fast, concern lining his deep green eyes. “Jesus, Velle. You’re freezing…”

“Wanna warm me up?” I grunt, in my default wise-ass mode. But the look of sheer awkwardness on his face at my remark reminds me that shit between us is weird enough as it is without me running my mouth. “Look, there’s only one thing you need to know being here. So listen up, because I’m about to drop some knowledge.”

For as unsure as he appears, he simply stares at me, awaiting my words.

I lean in a bit and whisper, “Nothing outside of this island matters. Whatever happened, or didn’t, that night… it’s irrelevant. This isn’t New York City, or even fucking America, anymore. This is Alabaster Isle and here, you do what the fuck I say. Got it?”

Harley looks like he’s fighting with himself, part of him wanting to just obey, because it’s his nature, the other part in desperate need of a resolution. He seems like even more of a control freak than me.

“Got it,” he eventually hums. But when I turn away from him to go take my much-needed shower, he assaults my back with more damn words. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for leaving. That night…” I glare him with frustration burning in my eyes at his blatant disregard for what the fuck I just said. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“No, you should have,” I retort and his forehead creases. “You were right to take off. Nothing about this ever would have worked anyway.” I motion between us. Now he looks hurt. Honestly, I kind of like it. “You see, I do what the fuck I want, when the fuck I want. Because I run this place. But you… You’re just a straight-laced, rigid as fuck cop who wouldn’t even know what to do with someone like me.”

He’s fucking stunned. I can see it all over his face. The momentary humiliation swiftly turns to rage and then indignation as he steps forward, closing the distance between us. “And how the fuck would you know that? You don’t know anything about me.”

“Trust me, Officer… I’ve known enough guys just like you to know it’s a mistake to even try.” My eyes bore into his.

“Then why did you?” His arms fold over his chest, stretching the cotton of his white t-shirt in a way I refuse to notice. “Why’d you even pick me up that night?”

My gaze narrows. “Because you’re hot as fuck.”

His cheeks flush and I witness him swallow, as if he liked that comment more than he wants to acknowledge. Then his brow arches. “That’s it?”

I lift my shoulder in a bored shrug. “That’s it.”

I won’t say I like how much greener his eyes get when he’s pissed, but it’s really hard not to focus on. It’s like his irises are filled with clovers.

He’s quiet for a moment, just glaring at me with part insecurity, part incredulity, before he says, “I don’t buy it. If that were true, then what about…” His voice cuts out and my brows lift in question. Well? Go ahead, newbie. Spit it the fuck out. “What about what you wanted me to do?” I witness his Adam’s apple bob in his throat again and my dick jolts. “To you…”

My jaw tightens as does my fist. “That’s none of your concern anymore. I was… drunk. And I thought you were cool. But you’re not, so… whatever.”

Now he appears thoroughly mystified, and I’m kicking myself for even letting this conversation go where it has. It’s him… his damn puppy dog eyes and sharp, midwestern jaw. Fucking perfect body, all hard everywhere…

It’s distracting.

“Well, like I said… I’m sorry I left,” he huffs, then turns to leave my room.

And I watch him go, even though I sorta don’t want him to. But there’s nothing I can do about it.

He looks good leaving… They always do, which is why I’m not supposed to want guys like him anymore.

It’s always me standing around alone in the end.

It’s the middle of the night when I hear clunky footsteps in my bedroom.

There’s only one asshole suicidal enough to come into my room at night, so I simply groan and cover my head with my pillow. “What do you want?”

He slinks into my bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of his giant body while he smooshes up to me. “I need you.”

Sighing, I uncover my head and spin to face him. “What’s wrong? Your groupies aren’t around?”

Velle takes my hand in his and holds it up to his chest. “I’m being serious, Cherry. I’m… craving it.”

The seriousness on his face and the growly tone of his voice awakens my vagina. “And you can’t do it to yourself?”

“It’s not the same,” he scoots closer until I can feel the warmth of his skin, muscles, tats and piercings all on display since he’s wearing only boxers. “I need you.”

“Alright, enough with the begging.” I grin, then he grins. And his is really nice to look at. “I suppose I could help you out…”

“Are you saying you don’t want it?” He rumbles, that voice like sex for my ears as his hips push into mine. He’s already hard, not fully but enough that I can feel it.

And I’m weakened instantly. I can’t resist the impeccable charms of John Chevelle, but mostly his unequivocally perfect dick.

He tugs my tank top over my head, immediately going for my tits with no further talk needed. His tongue circles my nipples, the steel bar teasing the fuck out of my flesh until I’m trembling. Already…

Jesus, I hate how much my body wants him. It’s not even fair.

Velle is just so… damn fucking amazing at sex. Everything about him is built for every part of it, with men, women, it makes no difference. He’s a literal sex machine, like a robot or an alien, sent here for the specific purpose of pissing humans off, then getting them off, both in ways they never imagined.

In seconds, his fingers are in my panties, sliding through the slit of my pussy, massaging my arousal all over the place.

“You’re so wet for me, Cherry-bomb,” he murmurs on my tits. “You want me to get you off first?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. I like when it builds.”

He chuckles, the vibrating into me. “You like to edge?”

“Shut up,” I hiss, pushing him until he’s on his back, and I’m straddling his hips. “I knew you’d become addicted to this.” I rub his chest with my fingers, teasing the barbells in his nipples as he licks his lips. Then I lean in, “Big scary officer likes to get fucked…”

His eyes flutter shut, and he breathes out slowly, pressing his head back into my pillow. I run my mouth down his chest, licking through all the lines of delicious muscle that make him up. It’s purely animalistic between us. When we fuck, which isn’t all that often—maybe like once a month, depending on what’s going on—we focus purely on making each other feel good.

But for Velle… well, let’s just say he needs something he hasn’t been getting. It’s like a secret addiction for him at this point.

My mouth moves down his torso while I pull his boxer briefs down to reveal his stunning erection, which flops out onto his abs. I have to take a moment to just appreciate it for what it is… A masterpiece.

Long, thick, proportionate… pierced. Seriously, It’s like the most fun thing to play with in the world.

And so I lower my lips to it, just for a moment, because I love watching his eyes darken while my tongue teases the metal barbell beneath his crown. Sucking it into my mouth, I flick and flick until he groans and his head drops back again.

“Jesus…” He fingers my hair. “Suck it like you missed it.”

I do. I suck him for a few minutes, throating his dick until I can feel him tightening up before moving onto his balls. Velle spreads his legs to make room for me, and I look up at him.

“We’ve never done it this way.” My brow quirks a bit, remembering last time.

I can see him remembering, too. “Will it be weird? Like… face to face?”

“Why would that be weird?” I grin. “You’ve fucked me like that.”

He purses his lips for a second before muttering, “Right…” His eyes roll back while my mouth moves lower still, licking him everywhere. “You can do whatever you want to me, Cherry. I need it all.”

My hands run up his muscular thighs, kneading and caressing him because I know he likes it. I’m already crazy warm and wound up between my legs from how this turns me on. But I like to ignore it. I like to feel this burn and let it ride until I can’t hold on for one more second. It’s my thing.

Velle has his hidden desires and I have mine. I think we all do, and that’s sort of the point. What we like behind closed doors makes us who we are on the other side.

I leave Velle to go for the nightstand, taking out the necessary tools. I have lube, and this apparatus I only use with him. I actually got it for him, just like he’s gotten me things over the years. It’s kind of like a running joke, us constantly buying each other sex toys, although we certainly get good use out of them.

When I bring everything onto the bed, his eyes widen and he gives me a nervous look, though they’re also round with excitement.

I bite my lip and hop back over him, running my wetness along his shaft. “This is what you want, right? For it to feel real…”

He swallows hard, chest moving with heavy breaths as he nods. “Mhm…”

“Good.” I reach over and grab the strap-on, harnessing it to myself. “Because this ain’t pegging, baby. You’re getting fucked.”

He blinks, then bites his lip, eyes dropping to the dildo part of it while I lube it up good. “It’s… big.”

“Not as big as you,” I shrug.

“True…”

“You can’t be nervous…” I squint at him. “I know for a fact you have a bigger one you use on yourself.”

“Yea, but that’s different.” He chews on his lower lip. “That’s me doing it.”

“You don’t trust me?” I pout.

He grabs my hips, large fingers gliding up and down my skin. “Of course I do.”

“Then stop being a baby and let me fuck you,” I whisper while I lean over him, rubbing my fake dick on his real one.

He lets out an eager little noise that drives me absolutely fucking crazy. Velle is the ultimate control freak. Getting him to this point of secret vulnerability is the biggest turn-on for me. Because yes, I’ve watched Velle fuck a million times—we all have—and yes, it’s always hot.

But him getting fucked is an entirely different thing. Something only I get to see.

It started with my fingers, then graduated to some smaller dildos. But now, we’re to the big guns, the realistic ones. Regardless, I’m here for it.

We take this journey of sexual exploration together, after all.

Velle has the perfect body for stuff like this, too. It’s no secret I’ve always been a fan of the male form, so getting to touch him everywhere is also just really fucking thrilling for me.

Like grabbing his plump ass and spreading him open, my fingers dancing on his erection while I tease him with the head of the dildo.

His large hand comes down to cup himself, and I smack it away. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

He lifts both of his arms and holds onto the headboard. “You might have to.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, positioning him enough to get my dick up to his asshole. I’ve pegged him from behind before, but this is an entirely unique experience. I get to stare at his huge cock the whole time, watching it flinch on his abs while the muscles in his body constrict.

God… My clit is already buzzing beneath the strap-on.

Velle’s legs are spread wide while he awaits my first push. And I use my hands to keep him open for me while I nudge up to his hole. I like to go slow, not really to make sure he’s comfortable because, let’s be honest, he can handle it. But more to build the anticipation. I know it drives him mad.

Finally, I give the dildo a nice shove, the curve of the head slipping inside him.

“Fuuuck…” he groans quietly, eyes closed, head back, looking all levels of beautiful at my mercy.

I guide inside him further, letting go of the dildo and taking over with my hips. It’s all the arousal I need to just watch and know I’m controlling this. I could definitely come without anything else.

Gripping Velle’s thighs, I thrust into him more, watching the slicked plastic enter him deeper and deeper while he trembles.

“Oh God, holy fuck…” he grips the sheets at his sides. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna come I’m gonna come.”

“Velle, hold out,” I demand. “Jesus, it’s been two seconds.”

His face turns as he mumbles fuck over and over into the pillow.

“You want me to put the cock ring on you?” I breathe with a nice hard thrust, watching his dick stretch and pulse, all shiny and engorged. It’s fucking hot.

He shakes his head a little, glancing back down at where I’m now building an easy rhythm. “That’s… fucking amazing. It feels so fucking good…”

“Mmm good,” I purr, sliding right into the role of his Domme top or whatever you’d want to call it, moving between his legs, pushing and pulling while I aim for his prostate.

I have an inkling as to where it is, I just need to find it…

“There,” he gasps with precum leaking onto his abs. “There there, right there.”

Letting a moan slip, I hold his waist, digging my fingers in while I fuck him, as deep as the seven-inch dildo will go. I might have to get a longer one for next time…

Velle’s hands are now on my tits, cupping and squeezing them, running a palm up to my throat and gripping just enough for me to whine out a hoarse noise. We’re sweating through the sheets, the sounds of us breathing and whispering in the dark, bouncing off the walls.

The strap-on fits me well, and it really stays in place, which is good because my fucking gets harder and harder every time I see Velle’s dick move between us.

“Fuck me, baby,” he growls as a large hand slaps down on my ass to hold me as deep as possible inside him. “Fuck me so fucking hard.”

“I love fucking you hard,” I mewl, dropping my head onto his chest.

My muscles are straining all over. This shit is not easy. I don’t know how guys do it, because as in shape as I am, I’m about to fall down.

But my hips keep going, working my dick in him, the sounds of his groans coiling me up unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

“I’m gonna come, Cherry,” he whimpers, then he pulls my face up so I have to look at him. “You’re making me… come.”

We watch each other while I feel his dick shooting out streams of cum, pulsing it all over himself and me. We’re sliding together with his orgasm between us, lips hovering over each other’s while we pant. I keep grinding into him, chasing my own orgasm, building up with every stroke.

“Pull out,” he rasps, holding my neck, “And let me give you what you need.”

I nod frantically and do as he says, drawing the dildo out of him slowly. I barely have time to sit back on my knees before he’s ripping the harness off me, positioning me on top of him. He grabs his cock and guides it inside me, getting me seated with all his many inches deep within my walls.

And it only takes one minute of him working me on top of him before I’m exploding into a dizzying orgasm that rocks me down to my foundation. I’m trying not to scream out loud, but I can’t even control my volume at this point.

Words are just spilling out of me, like oh fuck, and I’m coming so hard, and my God your dick is fuckin magic.

Nothing he hasn’t heard before.

By the time we’re both done breaking down, I’m slumped on his chest, my cum dripping all over his crotch and his cum drying on both of our stomachs.

We’re quiet for a while, just breathing, the cool air of my bedroom stinging our warm, sweaty skin. Eventually Velle shifts, moving me onto my side while he rolls to face me.

“That was hot.” He grins, and I can’t help the giggle that erupts.

“It was. Almost worth me still being awake at four in the morning.” I roll my eyes at him, and he chuckles.

“Sorry… I couldn’t sleep.” His face goes serious for a second.

“Was it the Wilkerson thing?” I ask, hesitantly, since I know he doesn’t talk feelings and even asking will run the risk of scaring him away.

He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out gradually, his blue gaze going to the ceiling. “That… and other things.”

I desperately want to know what’s going on. What happened to Wilkerson’s body, and if he’s okay…

If it was another Freeman situation.

Just thinking about the shit the Warden makes him do stirs up a rage inside me, stronger than many other things I push down. But it’s different for Velle. He’s been chugging Manuel Blanco’s Kool-Aid for years, and it’s to the point where I can’t tell if he truly loves this shit, or he’s just so deep into it he can’t see his way out.

But rather than talking about the stuff that will stress him out, I brush his dark hair back with my fingers and ask, “You wanna take a shower?”

He smirks and places a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Lead the way, Cherry-bomb.”

As little sleep as I ended up getting last night, I actually feel pretty damn good.

Sex with Velle will do that to you, I suppose.

After we showered, he ended up crashing in my bed, which he’s definitely done before. I don’t think anyone noticed him leaving my room in the morning, but then again, they’d never speak a word of it if they had.

It’s widely understood that Velle and I run Alabaster Isle. The Warden is in charge, but we’re the unofficial Duke and Duchess of this shithole.

I guess if nothing else, I can take pride in that.

Because of the lack of sleep, however, I had to skip my morning workout, and now I’m edgy. Working out is something I enjoy doing. I love to run, kickbox, lift. Just about anything active, though my ultimate hobby is Taekwondo.

I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, having learned from my uncle, Han. And believe it or not, I’m still able to practice sparring to this day, which is what I’m about to do.

I check my watch. Only five minutes left of this breakfast shift. Glancing right, I watch Rook as he stares off into space. Something’s up with him. Sure, I don’t know the guy well. It’s only his fourth day working here, but still, he seems like a fun, sweet, lighthearted person. And yet right now, I can feel his sour mood coming off him in waves.

It has to have something to do with Velle. The two of them have been dancing around each other since the rookie started, and when they do interact, the tension between them is palpable. And not being able to get a straight answer out of Velle… well, that’s evidence on its own of something bizarre behind the scenes.

I snap my fingers in front of Rook’s face, and he jumps. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” He runs his fingers through his blonde hair. “I’m still just getting used to this. It’s a big change…”

I nod. “You always wanted to be a cop?”

“Ever since I was a kid,” he tells me. “My dad was a cop back home in Fargo, and I looked up to him, ya know?”

“Wait, you’re actually from Fargo?” I gasp while he stares at me. “As in Fargo, North Dakota… Like the movie?!”

A small grin tugs at his lips. “Yea. Everyone says that, by the way. They ask me if my dad knew Marge Gunderson.”

“That’s awesome, man,” I laugh. “I love that movie. The show is amazing, too.”

“I’ve only seen up to season two,” he admits.

“We should watch it together,” I say, and he smiles, nodding in agreement. “You don’t have that accent, though. Like Fair-goo.”

He bursts out laughing. “My mom does. That’s exactly how she sounds.”

“Aww, that’s so cute.” I rest my head on the wall, gazing up at him like the adorable little morsel he is. “You get along well with your parents?”

He shrugs. “Yea, they’re great. Loving and all…” His eyes dart to the floor for a moment and my forehead lines.

“But…?” I add, and he glances back up at me.

“It’s nothing,” he sighs, forcing a smile.

Interesting… Seems like he’s hiding something.

It might be one of those midwestern things. They’re overly polite, like Canadians. Maybe because they’re so close to our neighbors from the north. It’s like they refuse to be rude or speak ill of anyone. Pretty much the opposite of my loud-mouthed Bostonian upbringing.

In Boston we tell everyone exactly where they can shove it.

I’d love to keep this conversation going, but it’s time to bring these assholes back to their cells, at which point I can take my workout break. Finally.

Rook and I work with Hancock and Peters, corralling the inmates back to their cells. Rook and I take flank.

“Come on, maggots,” I growl at the table where Luthor, Kang, Ren, and O’Malley are now standing.

“You’re lovely. Has anyone ever told you that?” Ren inserts his usual brand of condescension, though I can’t help but notice how his eyes are all over Rook.

Gonna have to watch that. The rookie is fresh meat.

“Move.” I shove Ren forward, Luthor following behind him, polite and quiet as ever. Kang sticks close to me.

“We going downstairs?” He asks, in an almost pleading tone.

I know he was afraid I’d refuse him rec time after what happened the other day. I thought about it, but I don’t believe that shit was all his fault. Plus, I need him for sparring.

“Yea.” I let my lack of enthusiasm be known the same way he’s letting his abundance of enthusiasm be known with the little pop-n-lock dance move he’s doing while we exit the cafeteria. “Alright, enough,” I grin, pushing him through the double-doors behind the rest of them. “It’s just us today, though.”

Kang nods, but I can see the unease on his face. Usually I let him invite his pals with us, and I’m sure he feels bad about them losing their only opportunity for recreational activity. But that’s what happens when someone finds a cell phone…

I gotta lock this shit up.

Velle already knows I’m going downstairs with Kang, so I have Rook proceed with the others to get the inmates back into their cells in gen-pop while I bring Kang in the opposite direction, following the long, descending hallways into the basement.

The area we use as a rec room is technically at the same level as solitary, or at least close to it, but it’s more west. Really, it’s just a giant space made of all concrete, just like the rest of the prison, with a basketball hoop, some gym equipment, and a locker room I wouldn’t go in for a thousand dollars.

Originally, the Warden had every intention of allowing inmates to come down here for exercise. And we did for a few years when I first started. But when the funding started vanishing, the budget for rec equipment was the first to be cut. That and it became a punishment to take away more and more, to the point where now inmates get next to nothing and are forced to deal with it.

Pretty fucked up, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I try not to let it weigh on me.

I do what I can for these inmates, secretly. Because even though I know they’re violent sociopaths, they’re still human beings. No one’s innocent in this world. Some people are worse than others, but does that mean they don’t deserve to at least toss a ball now and then? That remains to be seen, I guess.

Kang and I get to the rec room, immediately rushing toward the boxing area. There are bags set up, some whack ass gloves, tape… a bunch of shit. Usually for Taekwondo all you’d need is a proper dobok, but obviously we don’t have that. So we just tape up our knuckles and strip down to our pants. Well, I have a sports bra on.

Kang’s touched my titties before, but he’s never seen them.

Yes, I’ve hooked up with him. We’ve never fucked, but sometimes I let him eat my pussy, because he misses doing it and he’s damn good at it, too. Typically, the wager is when he beats me, he eats me. Rhyming makes things fun. It’s rare, but it does happen on occasion.

Once we’re done stretching out, we get into position and go for it. Kang strikes first, as he tends to, and I block him. Then I go for a kick, connecting, though he’s pretty spry, moving back, then advancing.

“Tired?” He sneers, coming at me with rapid hands.

I block him, all but one which he takes with a grunt. “I’d watch the attitude, inmate. After that shit you pulled the other day…”

Kick kick kick.

Kang’s brows zip together. “I told you I was sorry about that.”

“Yea, but the thing is, I know it wasn’t yours,” I grumble through heavy breaths from the exertion. I come at him with my hands and he dodges it, left, right, left. “Just tell me who.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he says faintly, kicking my shin.

It hurts, but I’d never admit it.

“Your funeral,” I shrug. Then I spin to kick high, connecting with the side of his head.

“Goddamnit,” he huffs through a chuckle.

He likes this. I do too. It’s fun to have a hobby I can still practice.

So many things from my old life have changed, and I’ve had so much taken from me… I find myself desperately clinging to anything from my past worth saving. Maybe that’s why I give Kang passes so often. He’s a nice enough guy, quietly dangerous, like so many are. But he’s the only person I can share this with.

We keep going for minutes on end, sweating and panting, striking, kicking, blocking. It’s a great stress reliever, and when I beat his ass and get him on the ground, I can’t help but grin. Though it’s long gone by the time we’re picking up and heading back.

Because this is just another distraction in the end.

And I can’t help but remember the day I came home from my last hyeong match…

I like to keep busy.

My mother used to always tell me when I was younger that idle hands are the devil’s playground. But she’d say it in Korean, and it sounded sort of ominous. But also pretty legit.

She doesn’t say it anymore because there’s no need to. No hands in our household are idle, that’s for sure.

I’m going to Suffolk Business School during the day and practicing my Taekwondo in the evenings and on weekends. Mom takes care of the house and works at Han’s restaurant.

And Dad, well…

He’s the definition of active.

My father, Finn Jameson, goes by the street name Finny the Kid. He’s a key player in the Irish Mob here in Boston, and by key player, I mean he still spits on the floor when someone mentions Whitey Bulger.

Yea. It’s that serious.

Growing up with Finn as a father was fine for me. I learned, from a young age, that the best way to get ahead in life is to utilize your greatest skills. And Dad’s greatest skills are coercion and intimidation.

Well, that and beating people who talk. Maybe that would be considered repercussion?

Either way, our palace on Mass Ave has always been a revolving door of crazy Irish dudes. It’s normal for us, and the way I always looked at it is if Mom is okay with it, then so am I.

Truth be told, I think part of the reason my mother fell in love with my father is because of how layered he is as a man. Scary when he needs to be, and then a romantic when the mood calls for it. But above all else, he would do anything for his family.

People like Finn Jameson have loyalty in their marrow. It’s part of the lifestyle. I have to respect that, especially because it’s reinforced valuable lessons for me over the years…

Always look out for family first, trust no outsiders, and you are your most valuable asset.

Stomping through the front door of our home, sweaty and exhausted, I fling my backpack and kick off my sneakers. Yes, I’m tired but I’m also proud. I kicked ass today at my kwan. It was a sure-thing, which is why I didn’t really mind that Mom and Dad didn’t show up.

They come to the important stuff, but these sorts of guaranteed wins I don’t mind dominating on my own.

Still, I’m jittering in excitement to tell Mom about how I dropped my opponent with a hook kick. It was pretty badass.

Stammering into the kitchen, I rush to the fridge and grab a can of Cherry Coke. It’s my reward when I fuck shit up, which I definitely did today.

I crack it open and take a big, satisfying sip, glancing over the marble island at the burly form, standing there, indifferent.

“You gonna ask me how it went?” I show him a small smirk before taking another gulp from the can.

The guy is emotionless, as usual. His name is Terry McFadden. One of my father’s many associates.

I roll my eyes at his silence. “I won. Next week I’ll fight the regional champion.”

These henchmen of my father’s aren’t paid to react to things, but if he were, I think he’d look impressed.

The sound of the front door opening excites me, and I rush toward it, unable to smother my grin when I see my father hanging his cap on the stand by the door.

When he spots me, he lets a smile show through, one that’s reserved especially for me.

My father is a ruthless man. I’m aware of it, and it’s something I’ve known about for as long as I can remember. But being his only child, I also know just how big his heart is.

My uncles call it a fault. They say he’s the emotional one of the family, and I suppose I can understand that. I don’t wear emotions on my sleeve, personally, but that’s not to say I think it’s bad.

“Aye, cailin,” Dad greets me, stepping over to wrap his arm around my back. “Do I need to ask ye how it went today?”

“Nope,” I grin, and he lets out a proud chuckle.

“Good. Didn’t think so.” He winks at me, and we walk together toward the kitchen. “Yer mother home?”

“No,” I shrug. “She must be at the restaurant.”

My father makes a face, but is distracted by his man, McFadden, in the kitchen, who launches into some spiel about business. I can’t help but notice that my father looks tired. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than ever, which makes sense since he’s been working himself to the bone.

My parents don’t talk to me about the extent of my father’s work, even though I’m an adult and old enough to Google things, or to recognize the Boston PD parked outside our home from time to time. My parents like to keep me in the dark about the family business, my mother especially, since crime never ran in hers.

The Yeun’s always made an honest living, which is why Mom still insists on working at her brother’s restaurant when she definitely doesn’t need to. It’s a cultural thing, and I happen to be made up of two of the harder-working ones.

“Dad,” I call to my father, though he’s still speaking to his man, and he seems stressed. I want to distract him from it. To make him smile again… “Dad, I was thinking this weekend we could go to the Cape house.”

He glances at me and nods, though his attention is still on work, and also his phone, which is ringing incessantly in his pocket.

“Dad…” I call to him again, but he holds his hand up, motioning one-minute as he answers the call.

“Yea,” he says, grumbly tone and Irish accent present in even one word.

But then he goes silent.

The person on the other end of the line must be speaking, but my father’s face has gone still. He’s naturally pale, yet all the color has drained from his complexion. His gaze goes far off for a moment, before he snaps out of it and a fury unlike anything I’ve seen before burns in his eyes.

“You listen here, you Colombian preck,” my father seethes into the phone. But before he can continue with his threat, he pulls it away from his ear, checking the screen as if the person hung up on him.

He peers at his man, and they have some sort of silent conversation while I’m just standing here in our kitchen, cherry cola can in hand, wondering what the fuck is going on.

“Dad…?” My voice creaks, dread rising in my gut.

I have no idea why, but I can feel that something is wrong.

Then my father storms out of the room. He goes straight for the study, McFadden hot on his tail, and me not far behind. Rushing toward his gun case, he whips it open and grabs his signature rifle, a Thompson automatic, pulling it out and checking the mag.

My adrenaline is making me shiver, every muscle in my body tense while I watch him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Dad, what’s going on?!” I demand in a voice shaky with nerves.

My father, Finny the Kid, gives me a brief look of pure panic, in which his confidence wavers and he gives away more fear than I’ve ever known him to possess.

He cocks his weapon and mutters, “Yer mother… She’s been taken.”

Welp, it’s official.

I’ve been working at Alabaster Penitentiary for three weeks.

Honestly, the time has gone by super quick, which makes sense, since this place is insane and I’ve spent the last three weeks just trying to keep my head above water.

There’s so much that makes this place feel like its own planet. They do things differently here than just about anywhere else, and coming from the NYPD, I had to unlearn a lot of shit that’s been ingrained in me for quite some time.

Not to mention never really having a day off, only interacting with the same small group of people every day, being cut off from society… No bodegas or Grubhub. It’s rough, man.

That and learning to disregard human suffering. That was a biggie, since I’ve always wanted to be an advocate for the people. It’s the main reason I became a cop. Well, that and my father was one, so…

But here, I have to ignore inmates being beaten, starved, and basically driven crazy from lack of activity.

One of our assignments in the academy was to visit Rikers Island. And let’s just say, that place is a resort spa compared to Alabaster Penitentiary.

Right now, for example, we’re standing outside the doors to the showers, waiting for the last group of the day to finish up. It’s just after noon, time for the first lunch rotation, so Velle and Joy are doing that, meaning I’m stuck with Jasper and Peters. Not that they’re bad guys, but we haven’t bonded much.

My favorites are Linetti and Hancock. And Joy, duh. She’s just perfect, and she’s actually become a great friend of mine, even in such a short time. I’m not the best at making friends, usually. I’m a bit of an introvert, but Joy is just easy to talk to. She’s funny as hell in this dry, sarcastic kind of way, and when you chat with her, it feels like shooting the shit with one of the guys.

She’s a casually awesome person. Unlike her counterpart who seems to make a habit out of ostracizing me in front of everyone.

Things with Velle are complicated. I wish I could try to talk to him again, but he made it clear that night in his bedroom that he has no interest in trying to squash the beef between us. And why would he? He’s in charge. He doesn’t need to rectify tension with someone like me, who he thinks he knows based on one stupid interaction during a purge.

That’s what the guards call our monthly trips off-island. Our purge. Because it’s basically a free-for-all.

We went last week. Our group piled into the Warden’s jet and flew into LaGuardia, then SUVs picked us up and drove us into Manhattan, at which point everyone scattered like roaches when you turn the lights on.

I stuck with Joy, trying my damndest to act like watching Velle hightail it in the direction of the nearest, most depraved secret sex club necessary to pick up supplies and get his dick wet didn’t make my stomach clench with confusing jealousy.

Joy, being the friend she is, took me to Lucky Strike where we bowled and played pool all night, eating as much greasy food as possible while drinking ourselves stupid. We stayed at the Four Seasons—separate rooms, much to my chagrin—and the next morning, the group had breakfast before heading back to the jet.

So that’s what happens monthly. For me it was just a typical fun night out in the city, but I can see how it could be used to get your rocks off seven ways to Sunday, especially if you’ve been living on Alabaster Isle for years.

Hancock slips around the corner to the showers and shouts two-minute warning while Peters is talking to someone just out of my view. I have to point out how loud it is here. There really aren’t that many inmates at all, and there’s never a point where more than about twenty-five of them are in a room at the same time. But still, all you hear is chatter, laughing, yelling, arguing… fucking.

It’s been an adjustment. Being around this much testosterone wasn’t much of a change, since the force is eighty percent men. But being around male criminals who spend an exorbitant amount of time either screwing each other, or the guards… Yea. That was a bit of a shock to my system.

I mean, I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that I find Velle super attractive, but it’s hard for me to determine if it’s because I also like guys, or because Velle is just such a magnetic presence, there’s no possible way not to be attracted to him. And for as much of a hard-ass as he is here, you can tell a few guys harbor a secret lust for him, as evident at the parties when officers will stop what they’re doing to watch Velle hook up with guests.

It happens a lot. Not every night, but these partygoers—who I found out are brought over by ferry to come here, do drugs and get fucked as a form of entertainment—nine times out of ten, come to see Velle. Or Joy.

But apart from the tension with Velle, I’ve been walking around here for three weeks now feeling like a circus animal on display.

All the prisoners are dangerous. That’s a given. But the one name I’ve heard from every single guard I’ve spoken with, as a warning of the inmate who could unarguably ruin me, was one Warren Xavier.

Aka Ren. Who happens to be walking toward me right now.

He’s still shirtless, wiping himself with a towel as he approaches the exit to the showers.

“Mmm… nothing like lukewarm water in March to start your day.” He winks at me, fingers combing through his short dark hair. There isn’t much of it, since all inmates are required to have their heads shaved regularly, but it seems to be growing out a bit more than others.

I squint at him, seeing right through his display. “Get dressed, #48. Make it snappy.”

“You know, I like the nickname they gave you,” Ren says, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing the wet towel on the floor next to the bin. “Rook. It fits you. Usually, I prefer real names to nicknames, but yours is good.”

I don’t engage with him. I’ve been ignoring his attempts at making small talk over the past couple weeks, under the advisement of my colleagues. Apparently, Ren is great with manipulation, and I just don’t have time for that kind of nonsense. I’m trying to adapt and get by here.

“I heard your first name is Harley,” he keeps going, leaning against the wall. “Is that true? Because Harley Samuels is also kinda sexy.”

He bites down on what appears to be a very full-looking lower lip, baby blue eyes shining as he blinks at me.

My head cocks. “Is that the best you can do?”

That gets him. His forehead creases in confusion.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be this infamous seducterer. Alabaster Pen’s own resident George Clooney.” He releases a wide grin. “But you seem more like a lame frat boy trying to pick up someone who’s too smart for you.”

Ren moves closer to me while the other guards file inmates out of the showers to bring them back to their cells. I refuse to even consider how this little flirting game is making me feel, but there are definite flutters happening in my gut.

“I like you, Harley.” He smirks, running his fingers up his torso enough to lift his shirt a bit, revealing, once again, the definition in his abs.

I can’t say I wasn’t impressed when I saw him shirtless. But that’s something we won’t talk about right now…

“And you know what I think?” He goes on. “I think you’ve always been curious about what it would feel like.”

I gulp, unwittingly falling right into his trap. “What what would feel like?”

“Being with a guy,” he whispers, fingers now moving onto the shirt of my uniform.

I snap out of it fast and grab his arm with force, spinning him until his front is pressed into the wall. He gasps.

“It’s Officer Samuels to you, inmate,” I growl in his ear. “And if you touch me again, you’ll be eating cockroaches for lunch in solitary, is that clear?”

“Mmm… yes, sir.” He presses his ass back into me.

Ignoring the burn from even such brief friction, I rip him off the wall and give him a hard shove. “Move, #48. Back to your cell.”

I keep my distance while we walk the inmates back to general population and deposit them in their cells. Slamming the bars between Ren and me, I ignore him when he says, “You know where to find me… When the curiosity wins out.”

Stomping away, I’m actually grinding my teeth. I can’t believe how damn good he is at getting under people’s skin. It’s almost ridiculous. For the shit I was talking a minute ago, he really lives up to his reputation.

And the thought won’t leave my brain as I march toward the cafeteria, where I’m due next, to help with lunch. Velle’s hand on my cock made me come in my pants… I wonder what would happen if I let a guy suck my dick?

I’d come. Obviously. A mouth’s a mouth, right? And I’ve definitely heard that guys give better head, since they know what feels good…

I blink hard and shake the thought away. This is insane. Why the hell is this happening to me now?

I know why… It’s Velle’s fault. If it weren’t for him, I never would have even considered hooking up with a man.

Keep telling yourself that.

When I get to the cafeteria, Hancock and Peters are already there, which means I’m late. I’m not sure how it happened… I was distracted by my thoughts and I must have taken a longer route.

Velle glares in my direction and I try to avoid it, shuffling off to the side of the double-door entrance, checking my watch. I’m hoping I can just slide by without becoming the brunt of his frustrations… until I feel him approaching me.

He’s like a tornado, I swear. An unstoppable force of nature that will suck you in and destroy you if it should so desire.

“Officer Samuels.” He stops right in front of me as I look up slowly to find him with folded arms and a displeased glower on his face. “Something more important than work demanding your attention?”

I’m a deer in headlights with his blue eyes just rippling at me like high freaking tide. I shake my head subtly and murmur, “No. I… got lost.”

His eyebrow cocks. One of them. Like The Rock. “You got lost?”

“Yes.” I nod.

He doesn’t believe me. That much is clear, as is his obvious need to fuck with me today. He must be in a mood.

“So three weeks wasn’t enough time for you to learn, at the very least, your way from the showers to the cafeteria?” The look on his face is nothing if not indignant, and it’s certainly throwing me for a loop. I didn’t expect him to be coming at me like this today.

He tends to ignore me. Sometimes he breaks my balls a little, but he does that to everyone. Sort of.

“I’m sorry…” I mutter. I’m unable to help how it comes out a little like a question, because I don’t know what the hell he wants me to say.

I got it wrong. And now he’s simmering at me. I witness his jaw clench, the sight of which captivates me a little. I like his angles. He’s very… sharp.

“I’m sorry, Officer…?” I try that instead.

“You know what, Samuels? I think you’ve misunderstood how things work here,” he starts, speaking loud enough that now all the other guards are watching us, as are the inmates. It’s officially silent in the room while everyone stares, which is highly embarrassing. “I need you to perceive this work environment for what it is.” A small curve tugs at his lips before he barks, “Turn your ass around, Officer. The showers need cleaning.”

Confusion lines my forehead. “What?”

“Did I stutter?” His head tilts.

“You can’t be serious…”

Flames shoot at me through his eyes as he leans in. “You wanna test that theory, cowboy?”

My muscles tense all over as rage builds in my limbs. Asshole.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

My mouth opens, but when I glance behind him at the other guards and inmates, everyone is gaping with wide, nervous eyes. It’s clear in this moment that John Chevelle could very much make my life a living hell. And as much as I don’t want to clean the showers—actually, the thought is repulsive—I don’t want to see what happens if I try stepping to him.

The thing is, I’ve never been afraid of men. They’re humans, just like me. There’s no reason to fear them. But when it comes to Velle, I have this bizarre desire to bend to him, to fall in line. When he glares at me like this, blue eyes shimmering with an unspoken dare for me to protest so he can unleash, I’m just another wolf bowing to the Alpha.

I can’t help myself. It doesn’t feel right any other way, which is sort of bizarre. And then not, since I’ve seen all my coworkers, save for Joy, doing the exact same thing.

So part of working at Alabaster Pen is letting John Chevelle boss you around…?

I think I’m okay with that.

“Fine,” I grumble while I move in closer to him, letting him know I’m not backing down just because I’m doing what he says.

He lets a little smirk out as I brush past, walking to the doors to leave. That is until I’m stopped by the sound of his deep voice at my back. “Just one more thing, Officer Samuels…”

Gritting my teeth, I turn and give him an expectant look. “What’s that?”

“I’m gonna need a yes, sir.” His eyes are glistening with some sort of power trip, a control I can tell is like an addiction to him.

It’s a game, and it’s also not. This is something he needs… And I’m kind of dying to know why.

Straightening up, I feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me like weights as I grunt, “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Harley,” he says in a whisper just for me, looking pleased in a sadistic sort of way.

I turn and leave the cafeteria as fast as possible, storming off all the while seething.

What’s really up with this guy, anyway?? He’s like a pitbull with a bone. He’s damn vicious with the power he wields.

There’s got to be something behind it, but it’s not my job to figure that shit out. I’m no psychiatrist. I’m a cop.

We’re supposed to be on the same side here. Instead, he spends his time fucking with me, and why? Because I left him out of my own sheer humiliation?

He said nothing that happened between us that night matters anymore, yet he’s picking on me specifically, like he’s still pissed about it. This is some real high school shit, and the more I think about it while I’m walking, the more my fury is rising inside me, bubbling and bubbling…

My limbs are stiff as I reach the corridor that leads in two directions… The showers to the right, or gen-pop to the left.

And for reasons I’m not sure I could ever explain, I go left.

I saunter over to the row I just came from not fifteen-minutes ago. And I creep up to the bars of a cell on the right.

I’m only standing there for a moment before the guy on the inside glances up from where he’s sitting on the floor, sketching something on a piece of paper.

“Well well well…” Ren murmurs, then tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “Back so soon?”

My jaw is beyond tight, but I don’t want to think about it as I press on the door to his cell. It won’t open. My face swings upward to the camera in the ceiling’s corner, giving it a severe look until I hear the click, pushing once more to open it.

I’ve abandoned all rational thinking. I’m aware of it, yet I step inside the cell, closing it hard behind me. I’m not supposed to be in here. I know it, and the guys in the control room clearly know it.

If Velle finds out I’m here and not in the showers cleaning, I can’t imagine the sort of hellfire he’ll rain down on me.

Maybe that’s part of what keeps me going.

I stomp over to where Ren’s sitting, and he gazes up at me. He goes to stand but pauses. “Should I stay down here?”

It’s annoying me that he already knows what I want. It’s bothering me to no end, yet my cock is stiffening up like crazy in anticipation of what I know is to come.

He scrambles onto his knees, but before he can do anything else, I reach down and grab him by the throat, standing over him with my legs parted. I push him back against his bunk until his back connects with it and I feel him swallow beneath my palm.

“No more talking,” I growl, quietly, terrified that someone’s going to walk by while I’m doing this.

And also kind of praying for it.

I’m fucked in the head. Something is seriously wrong with me.

No time to identify that shit, though. Instead, I just use my left hand to unzip my pants and take them, with my boxers, down just enough to pull my dick out.

Ren’s eyes light up and he bites down on his lower lip again, eyeing my cock like it’s a feast.

“Jesus…” I know with everything inside me this is a bad idea, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

Ren’s shimmering blue gaze turns up to mine. The color of his irises is very different from Velle’s. Velle’s eyes look like the ocean beneath the sun, whereas Ren’s are the sky.

Opposites.

“Don’t be afraid to go hard, Officer.” His chest moves up and down with his breaths, almost as strong as my own. “And if I call you someone else’s name, just go with it.”

I’m about to bark at him again for talking, but before I can he parts his lips and sucks the head of my cock between them, tongue caressing the underside until I flinch.

A raspy moan escapes me, and his eyes flick to mine while I bite my lip, trying to keep quiet.

Ren wastes no time sucking me deeper into his mouth, tongue swirling as he does. He starts out slow, like he’s building up to something. Little does he know, I’m already going out of my goddamn mind.

I’m getting head from a guy. A man is sucking my dick right now…

Is this really what I want?

His fingers reach up to tug on my balls and I whimper.

Yes. Yes yes yes, it’s what I want. It’s all I fucking want.

“Fuck, that feels good.” I push my hips forward to surge into his throat while gripping the back of his neck.

He lets a rumble go on my cock and it feels sublime. So I do it again, thrusting deeper and deeper into his throat, forcing my cock until he swallows on it. His throat actually tightens on my head and my eyes roll back in my skull.

I groan, a little louder this time, forgetting where I am, lost in the sensation. Ren’s mouth is lethal. It’s so warm and wet, and the sucking he does… Jesus Christ, the sucking. This is the best blow job of my life, hands down.

My fingers slide up into his hair, gripping it tight. There’s not much of it, and for a very brief moment it freaks me out. I’m suddenly very aware that a man has my dick in his mouth. And the fact that I’ve never allowed myself to want such a thing throws me off.

I gasp for air in a moment of panic. I haven’t come to terms with this yet.

Do I like guys? Am I… gay?

Glancing down at the head bobbing up and down on my erection—so hard it’s about to snap off—I think I can say with some level of certainty that at the very least I’m bisexual. Because goddamn… The feeling, the look of it, everything he’s doing is out of this world.

I hold his head harder, with both hands, fucking his face steadily. His head moves back a bit with my thrusts, but there are little whines coming out of him which I take to mean he likes it. That and when I peek down, he’s rubbing his own dick through his pants.

“You like that?” I tilt his chin so he has to look up at me. “You love cock, don’t you?”

He nods a little, with spit flowing from the corner of his mouth. He’s slobbering on my dick like the most dedicated of professionals. I know for a fact he loves cock, and right now he loves mine.

“Choke on it.” I fuck his face harder, rougher, the sounds of his panting when he can, outside of the slurping suction, ringing through the cell. “You’re gonna make me come…”

He moans around my dick, rubbing himself more frantically, gobbling me up so good I’m sweating.

“Swallow it all, inmate,” I demand while the orgasm looms.

His eyes meet mine once more and the look in them is glistening, dizzy with lust. Fuck, in this moment, I want to come down his throat more than I want to breathe.

And then it happens. I reach my climax and begin spilling into his mouth.

His because he’s a guy. And he just made me come.

And come and come and fucking come.

I keep my grunts as quiet as possible, sucking in air while the world spins and I finally stop pulsing. And when I release Ren’s head and he slides his mouth up my tired cock, I look down and notice the wet spot on his pants.

“Fuck yes…” He lets out a sated purr, slumping back against the bunk until he almost curls up into a ball. “You taste so good, Lex.”

I give him a bemused look, but he seems to have completely forgotten I’m here. His hands are running all over himself, slowly, like he’s nothing but pure sensation. It’s odd, but I also kind of get it. I feel like I could do the same thing…

This entire experience was a revelation.

It was the moment. The one I never allowed myself to have with Velle. The one that flips my switch and sheds light on things I’ve been suppressing all my life…

I’m bisexual. I like guys.

And while that’s fascinating, there’s a worrying thought looming, crowding my mind… I’m just like Ren, in this moment. I’m also thinking about someone else…

Someone who hates me.

Johnathan fucking Chevelle.

Can I tell you a secret?

I wasn’t always this awesome.

I know, hard to believe, right? But alas, when I was younger, I was still searching for confidence in myself. I actually didn’t come out as pansexual until sort of recently. It would’ve happened sooner, maybe even in my teens, but there were a few stalling factors. Most importantly of which was the incident with my high school best friend.

Isn’t that always the way it goes? Boy likes girls. Boy also likes boys. Boy falls for the straight best friend who’s pretty much his brother, makes a move and scares the shit out of said best friend, thus ruining the friendship for the rest of ever.

Yea. That’s what happened. Tale as old as time.

It was beyond embarrassing when it happened. And not only that, it hurt. Like someone had sliced me open at the stomach and started ripping stuff out of me.

My best friend’s name was Brett. He was into sports and things like that, while I was the emo kid who got tattoos and piercings for my sixteenth birthday. But we were friends anyway. We’d grown up together, on Staten Island.

If you know anything about the magic of Staten Island, the main premise is when you’re from there, it never leaves you. If you’re born and raised on Staten Island, it’s part of you for life. But the other thing is that it can sometimes be… let’s say, not the most open or accepting place.

See, I knew I liked Brett, from an early age. About twelve. But I would never admit it, to myself or anyone else. There were only two out gay kids in our whole school, and they weren’t treated great. Not terribly, but by no means were they popular, and to a dumb teenager, shit like that matters.

So I kept them a secret, my homosexual tendencies. It was fine for the time being, but by the time senior year rolled around, it became insufferable to hide how I felt, and spending time with my best friend grew excruciating. All I wanted was to kiss him… To at least try it. But I knew he wouldn’t reciprocate, since he was always going on and on about girls, the way the rest of the boys were.

And I did too, of course. Because it was okay to do so. The part that wasn’t okay was the going on and on about other boys, namely my best friend. And the fact that it was sort of forbidden just made me want it all the more.

I’m sure you can sense where this is going…

One night I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I needed to try it, and to my hormonal teenage brain, it needed to be tried with Brett. Rather than finding a boy who actually liked other boys, which would’ve been the much smarter option in hindsight, I made a move on my best friend.

Needless to say, he didn’t take it well.

He freaked out, called me a fag and left my house, never to return.

After that, he pretended I didn’t exist for the rest of senior year. He even ended up going to college out of state. As if I planned to follow him around and attempt to relive the most mortifying experience of my life just for the fun of it. Idiot.

Who knows, I might still be salty over it to this day. We had actually been planning to go to college together at SUNY, but he dipped out. Because of a stupid mistake, he erased fifteen years of friendship.

That experience, paired with a few other instances afterward with closeted guys, scarred me for life. And I vowed then and there, after the tenth goddamn time, that I would never fall for a straight guy again. For my own good.

That right there is why Harley Samuels is a problem.

I mean, I’m not one to out anybody. And maybe Harley has thought about being with a guy before. But that’s still too far back in the process. I’m not interested in being a dirty secret—been there, done that. Plus, I have enough of my own. And two wrongs don’t make a right, despite how fun it can be to play with.

I’m also not here to help anyone out of the closet either. I don’t have that kind of time.

Really, I don’t have the time or the patience for relationships, and Harley just seems like the kind of guy who gets attached. I mean, for fuck’s sake, he married his college sweetheart. We’re just too different.

The funniest part of all this, however, is that even though I’m preaching my goddamn gospel right now, I deliberately want to disobey. And I want to do it with Rook.

I want him. Big time. And it’s fucking torturous.

Maybe I’m just drunk…

We’re out on purge right now. Yet another monthly getaway into Manhattan. And Kemper, of all people, suggested we come to this club. He never usually comes out with us, since he spends purges with his wife. But I guess this time she’s unavailable, who knows—who cares—so he wanted to come out and get drunk with us. And he picked this club, of all the clubs in Manhattan.

There are billions of them. And yet we’re here. Here!

I used to work here, that’s why I’m being so weird. I was a bouncer for years at this lovely establishment called Americana. And I actually liked it. But the employment ended rather suddenly, and that I can’t get into right now.

I’m focusing on getting waste-faced while eyeing samples of candy I could devour later. We have a VIP table in the back. It’s dark, and the music is loud. The drugs are flowing.

Typical scene. I’m fuzzy and it’s good. This is what I want.

I love the unfamiliar faces. Being on the damn island for over a decade gets so suffocating sometimes. I don’t admit it much, but that’s how I feel, which is why purge is so necessary. As much as we let loose at home, it’s not the same. We’re still trapped.

My jaw clenches and I push the thought away. No… It’s not the same.

We’re not like them.

In fact, tonight might be a great opportunity to attempt my experiment again… The one I tried with Rook, and failed at miserably.

The thought alone sends a chill up my spine like a rush of endorphins. I want it so bad, it’s crazy. I’ve been craving this for a while, in secret…

Looking around, I see Kemper glued to his phone. The same guy who insisted we come to this club to rage, as he so ridiculously put it. Now he’s scrolling.

Suddenly, he stands up, tucking his phone away as he grabs his coat and storms off. I watch him weave through the crowd, not in the direction of the bathrooms, but toward the exit. He’s legit leaving.

I shake my head, bringing my glass to my lips. It’s been a while, but I still know one of the bartenders here—Jen. We used to fuck. Anyway, she makes a great Caipirinha, which is what I have now. These and mojitos are my favorite drinks. I like rum and lime together.

That’s not the point. I’m getting off-topic again.

I peek at Joy, watching her face line with concern at the fact that her bestie Kemper just jumped up and took off without a word. And then, like the wonderful friend she is, she pulls her phone out; I imagine texting him to make sure he’s okay. It reminds me that I haven’t seen Rook in a while…

Maybe he’s with someone right now. Maybe he’s—

I swallow hard and ignore that thought because I don’t care. I don’t.

Joy’s sitting on Jasper’s lap, his hands gripping her hips possessively while he talks to someone at his right. I don’t know their name or anything, but they’re quite beautiful. Long hair, full lips, angled jaw.

Mmm… Might have to distract Jasper and take over with that one.

But then I close my eyes. Why is that always my default? Slipping into the Daddy role so easily…

I don’t want it. I mean, I do, but I don’t. It makes no sense, and I’m confused.

For once I want to be the one who gets tossed around.

That’s what I should be looking for, and my increasingly blurred vision starts slinking around, looking for someone big. And strong. Someone who won’t expect me to be in control. Just this once… Just for one night.

I get up and leave our table, maneuvering my way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Everyone is dressed in their finest club attire, touching each other. Laughing, sipping, grinding, spilling drinks. It’s a clusterfuck, but I’m used to it. I’ve been in the clubs since before I was even technically old enough.

I’ve always loved New York City. It’s a vibrant place, full of life. A never-ending party. I would’ve lived here forever if I could have.

Until one night changed everything…

Not thinking about that, I keep moving through all the people, faces and bodies blending as I head for the bathrooms. I need a bump to wake me up. I’m feeling a little off.

Before I can get to the corridor where they are, though, I see the one person I’ve been actively trying to avoid for weeks now…

He’s off toward the back of the dance floor, sort of swaying to the music. His blonde hair is tousled about, button-down fitting his bulk the way mine does… tightly. Sleeves rolled up, showing off his vein-game while the thumb on his left hand rubs at his ring finger. I’m guessing it’s some kind of nervous tick, reminding himself he no longer has a ring there. It’s interesting. I’m mesmerized by the movement while I stand, only about ten feet from where he is.

The bass thumps through my body as I glance up, watching his face while he wanders over to me. My insides are doing strange things; things I don’t understand. It feels like my heart is thudding more than it should, my stomach flopping about. It makes no sense, because I don’t like him. I don’t want to… I can’t.

I don’t want to be reacting this way as he inches up to my front, standing there, staring like he assumed he’d think of something to say when he got here, but having no such luck.

And the even more fucked up part is that I’m at a loss for words, too. I’ve been spending so much time convincing myself he’s nothing to me, I barely even realized how much him being around affects me… on a chemical level.

I can’t control it and I hate that.

He finally says something, but it’s so loud that I can’t really hear him over the music. I shrug, motioning so, and he leans in, his chest bumping mine as his lips brush my ear. “Are you having fun?”

His breath is warm, and it gives me chills I try desperately to cover up, putting space between us.

“Not really,” I grumble, staying just close enough that he can hear me over the music.

His face pulls into a look of concern, and hurt. Something about it doesn’t sit right in my gut.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks, coming in closer again. But this time when I go to back away, he slides a hand onto my lower back and holds me to him.

I freeze. Because I have no idea what’s happening.

“Stay put and talk to me, Velle,” he speaks by my ear. It’s good… at least he won’t see the unease on my face right now; the heat I feel rising up my neck. “Please.”

“What do you want from me, Rook?” I growl through a clenched jaw.

His hand is still on my lower back and it’s… firm. He’s strong, and he’s holding us flush on the dancefloor. It might look like we’re dancing slowly to an outsider.

The whole concept makes me question what the fuck I’m really doing right now.

“I want you to tell me why you hate me.” His tone is pleading, voice rough and soft together, like the way he’s touching me. Hard yet needy, with his muscle brushing my own.

My lips part, but it still takes a moment for the words to come out. “I don’t… hate you.”

I want you. And I shouldn’t.

“Then what?” His breath brushes the skin of my neck until I’m struggling not to squirm. “I know you don’t want to talk about that night…”

“If anyone shouldn’t want to talk about that night it’s you, quick draw,” I hiss at him.

This time he backs up, enough that I can see his eyes, though his hand remains firmly planted on my waist. His green eyes look much darker in this light, doing him no justice because there’s really nothing like the color of his irises. That evergreen…

And in this moment, there’s a discernible heat in them. Like a furious arousal, something I’m all too familiar with. That’s probably how I recognize it so easily.

“I think you should take that experience as a compliment.” He blinks at me.

I purse my lips. “Oh, should I?”

“Yea.” He nods. “You made me feel something I…” He stops—literally just cuts out.

Sucking in a breath, I murmur, “Thing is, I don’t do feelings, Rook. Maybe that’s a foreign concept to you Midwesterners, but it shouldn’t be. ‘Cause cowboys don’t do feelings either, do they?”

“I’m not a cowboy.” He lets a small grin slip. “I’ve been in New York for eight years.”

I shrug. “So? You went from wrangling cattle to wrangling junkies. Congrats. I’m really happy for you.”

It’s clear he’s trying to smother his amusement as he says, “Vivid imagination on you.”

“You just look like a cowboy, is the thing. Clean-cut, and that body…” I absentmindedly reach out to touch his jaw.

Immediately I know I’ve made a mistake because I love the way it feels under my fingers, and even more, I love the way his pupils dilate when I touch him. My breathing shallows, and I force myself not to swallow since he’ll totally see it and know I’m gulping over this bubble of tension gobbling us up.

I try backing up again, and this time he puts his other hand on my waist, tugging our hips together. “Stop running,” he demands, delicately, like even when he’s being firm, he’s polite about it.

I like it, and I hate that I do.

“I’m not doing this.” I run my fingers through my hair, brushing it behind my ear.

“What? You don’t want to dance with me?” His eyes sparkle at the idea.

Now I’m really puzzled. “And you do?”

“Maybe.” His wide gaze is the last thing I see before he leans his face in again, resting it against mine as he sways us a bit to the easy beat of the song that’s playing.

I find my hands going to his chest, palms on his pectorals. Even though I’d planned on using them to push him away, it’s not really working that way. Instead, I’m just standing in his arms, shivering when he slides one hand up my back, the other remaining firmly planted just above my ass. Some twisted part of me is dying for him to reach down and grab it like a fistful.

The heat we make together is like a great burn, both of us giving off too much warmth. I’m sweating beneath my clothes. I can only imagine how hot it’d be if we did this without the material in the way…

No… No no no. Why am I letting this happen? Stop it. Stop it now.

“Harley, I can’t…” My lips brush his neck as his stubbled cheek grazes my own.

“I know you want me,” he whispers in my ear, my cock throbbing between us. “I can feel it.”

“That means nothing,” I grunt petulantly. “My dick’s a traitor. Bene-dick Arnold. That’s his name.”

Rook laughs, shaking me with the vibration. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard trying not to smile, I taste blood.

“Stop fighting me,” he hums. “If you bring me to your room again, I’ll stay. I promise…”

I’m fucking dying… Seriously, I’m so hot I’m about to combust, and my balls are actually tingling with the thoughts currently bounding through my brain. Rook could give me what I need…

Could he keep a secret, like Joy does?

I blink hard, throwing the idea away like trash because that’s what it is. I can’t trust him… He’s too uncertain. He’s too much like Brett.

And I don’t want him to get hurt.

“It’s more complicated than that, cowboy.” I force myself out of his grip. “You’re too sweet for me.”

He gives me a look, rejection doused in his own stubbornness. “You think you know so much about me, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Whatever you say,” I sigh, ready to leave or die trying.

But before I can turn away, he grabs my wrist. “You’ll come to me, Velle… I know you will. And when you do, I’ll give you everything.”

I can do nothing more than stare at him with my eyes practically bulging as he turns away from me. Irritation fizzles in my veins as I watch him go—again—wondering how I keep ending up in this stupid fucking situation. Staring at his ass while he leaves me. Goddammit…

I want to smash someone in the face with brass knuckles as I turn to leave the dance floor, finding Joy over at the entrance to the restroom corridor, gawking at me. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s giving me a look, one that means she saw that little performance just now.

Rolling my eyes, I dart away from her, although I know she’s following me. I stomp through the club, ignoring everything until I get outside. I’m eager to run the hell away from this damn place, but instead I turn to Joy, watching as she flirts with some guy for two cigarettes, lighting them both, then handing me one.

“Alright,” she rasps on an exhale of smoke. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you and Rook.”

“Noth—”

“Don’t say nothing.” She holds up her hand in my face. “Don’t lie to me, Johnathan. We don’t lie to each other, remember? It’s the code.”

I stare at her for a moment, taking a drag. She’s right, and it’s fucking annoying.

Conceding, I sigh, “I know. You’re right. I’m not necessarily lying, though. Nothing’s happening now…”

“But you know him.” She calls me out with those damn golden eyes. “Tell me.”

Sighing out harder this time, I tell her, “I met him a couple months ago during a purge. Two weeks before he came to Alabaster. Picked him up at a bar.”

I stop speaking, but she’s not having it. “And?”

“And nothing.” I puff the cigarette again. “I wanted to hook up with him, it didn’t work out and he took off. That’s it. An epic love story cut down in its prime,” I mutter with sarcasm dripping from my tone.

She huffs out a chuckle. “Okay, I guess I get it now.” She shakes her head.

“Get what?” My gaze narrows. “There’s nothing to get. We never happened, and we never will. The end.”

“He left you.” She smirks. “You have abandonment issues, Lucky. It’s just a fact.”

“I do not,” I scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not, though. It’s where your need for control comes from. You hate it, yet you’re addicted to it.” She drags from the cigarette again. “You have daddy issues, too.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” I mutter through a laugh. “You’re no shrink, Cherry.”

“No shit! Then I could be making some real money.”

We both go quiet for a moment before she sidles up and leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her close to me, wondering why it’s so easy for me to do this with her, but no one else.

Maybe I do have abandonment issues… And regardless of everything else, Joy’s been the most constant factor in my life. She’s been by my side longer than anyone else…

Except him.

Glancing up at the building before us, I remember leaving my shift at this very club twelve years ago…

It’s been a long damn night.

I’m wired, as usual, as I leave Americana, hopping into my Acura and driving all the way back to Staten Island. This car is the first nice thing I’ve actually bought for myself, which is sad since I’m twenty-six. I’m at the point in my life where most of my friends from high school are posting pictures of their new houses, weddings, and babies on Facebook.

And I’m single, working until five in the morning in Manhattan, partying just as hard as the assholes I have to eject from the club on a nightly basis.

It is sad. Sad for those boring motherfuckers on Facebook.

Honestly, much to my mother’s dismay, I have no earthly desire to settle down. I’ve never wanted to live that mundane lifestyle. Not since the shithead formerly known as my father left us when I was six. Ever since then, I haven’t seen the point in starting a family or settling down.

The only family I’ll ever need is my mom.

She’s the other reason I don’t really buy things. I’ve been supporting her since I was old enough to hold a job.

Tammy Chevelle is what you’d call permanently broken. She never quite recovered from the shithead leaving. She turned to booze when I was a kid, and when that wouldn’t cut it anymore, she moved onto some darker shit.

We’ve tried it all over the years… Rehabs, programs, therapists, and detoxes. You name it, I made the attempt at it. And to her credit, Ma’s had some stints with sobriety. But it never usually lasts more than a year or so.

She always goes back.

I don’t like to sound cynical… After all, my mother is dying in front of my eyes. If anyone’s drowning in goddamned empathy, it’s me. But I just don’t know what else to do. I’m at a loss.

She also feels guilty, about keeping me shackled. I’m rooted to Staten Island, to our home and the bills I pay. To her.

But I can’t let her feel like that. It’s not her fault she’s an addict. It’s a disease. Regardless of where it came from, it’s kept her tied up for years.

I’ve lost count of all the ideas she’s had since I was a kid. Businesses she’s wanted to open, jobs she’s wanted to get. But they’re always just that… Dreams. Puffs of smoke in a mirror I’m not fully convinced she can even see.

I’m here to stay, and honestly, I’m okay with it. As long as she knows she’s the only person I’d do this for.

The drive home isn’t bad since it’s early. But pulling into my driveway, I immediately know something is wrong.

I slam the car into park and barely turn the engine off before I’m jumping out to run up the front steps. The screen door is closed, but the front door behind it is open, which is something you just don’t do around here. And there’s a shoe on the steps. It’s my mother’s, I already know.

Dashing inside, my heart racing out of my chest, I look in every room for any sign of her.

“Ma? Where are you? Are you alright??” I call out.

I can’t find her downstairs, so I rush up the steps to the second floor, checking in her bedroom first. It’s empty. Panic is lancing me from the inside as I notice the bathroom light is on and the door is open a crack. Approaching it slowly, I’m goddamn terrified of what I might see in here, lightheadedness overcoming me.

When I push the door open, I find my mother on the floor.

That’s all I know before I scramble to her, dropping to my knees. “Ma?! Ma, are you alright?” I grab her and pull her up, looking her over.

She’s obviously high, but that’s not the problem. Her eye makeup is everywhere, face red, and one cheek puffed up. Looking over her body, I see scrapes all over her arms and legs, bruises already forming in certain spots.

“Mom.” I shake her a little, trying to perk her up. She sniffles and gurgles, trying to speak to me. It’s then that I notice her mouth is all swollen and bloody… like she was hit in the face. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

She’s not answering me, just mumbling incoherently.

“Ma, I’m gonna call the police,” I tell her firmly, knowing that always snaps her out of it.

It does, a little, but she still can’t really articulate anything. What I can make out is her muttering No over and over again. And pressing her legs together.

I gulp hard and painfully, like swallowing down a cocktail of razor blades. My entire body stiffens while I brush matted hair away from her face with my fingers.

“No no please…” she mewls, feeling so goddamn frail in my arms.

Pressure builds behind my eyes. “Mom… What did they do to you?” I swallow and swallow and swallow over the bile that’s trying to rise in my throat, with something hot and tight, coming up my chest.

It’s wrath. The purest, most blinding anger.

“Those fuckhead dealers did this, didn’t they?” I mumble through a clenched jaw. “They did this to you…?”

She finally spins a bit in my arms, hugging onto my waist as tight as she can with barely any strength.

And she cries.

She cries for a while, just sobbing into my chest while I hold her, rocking her as much as I can, an unbearable and suffocating rage slinking through each and every strand of muscle in my body.

I can tell. I just know.

Before I even get any confirmation from her, before she eventually concedes to my demands that we call the EMTs, and she goes to the hospital, I’m aware of what happened.

The doctor in the emergency room tells me what they found, hesitantly, since my anger is so thick it’s radiating from me like a goddamn pheromone.

The exact term he uses is signs of brutal trauma to the uterus.

Once I’m sure Mom is secure in the hospital bed, I run to the restroom and throw up harder than I ever have before.

She stays overnight, and I stay with her. I don’t bother her to speak about anything. She just needs to rest. She also has a fractured cheekbone.

Fucking scumfucks.

They’ll pay.

The next day, the doctor deems her fit to come home, refusing her any pain medication other than Tylenol, which I appreciate, and making sure I’m loaded up on pamphlets for addiction treatment options.

Been there, done that, doc.

We come home and when Mom is asleep and secure, I go to the police station. Just to see if there’s anything they can do. Of course, there isn’t.

Not only do the cops on Staten Island know all about my mother’s habits, they told me she’d have to press charges or file a formal complaint. And what they didn’t say, which I inferred myself, is that when it comes to her drug dealer, it really wouldn’t accomplish anything more than potentially prompting retaliation.

The facts are clear as I make my way home, calling into work to let them know I’ve had a family emergency…

There’s only one way to make this right. And it’s up to me.

Blood for blood.

Motherfucker, what is that noise?!

“Hey, quit the banging!” I grumble out loud, as if to yell at someone. Until I realize the rapid throbbing is actually coming from my own temples.

Rubbing my face, I try swallowing but my throat is bone-dry. My brain feels like it was doused in brandy and then set on fire like goddamn cherries jubilee.

“Fuck me, I’m so hungover,” I croak while attempting to stretch out my legs.

My foot hits something, and suddenly water is pouring on me.

I scream, then shush myself because too loud. The water is flowing right in my damn face as I scramble up to turn off the shower.

Yes, apparently, I fell asleep in the bathtub of the hotel suite. Would’ve been a funny little anecdote if I hadn’t just bathed myself while fully clothed.

Easing myself over the edge of the tub, I crawl on the floor, probably resembling that scraggly bitch from The Ring. It takes me extreme effort to stand up and without thinking, I stumble from the bathroom into the living room area.

I’m really trying to shake it off, though I’ll admit I’m definitely more awake now that I’ve been drenched in cold water.

Then I hear an unmistakable voice laugh, “What the hell happened to you?!”

Glancing up, I find Rook standing in the kitchen, arranging plates of food all over the counters. He’s grinning at me, looking like a true morning wood fantasy, shirtless and dressed only in gray sweatpants…

More delicious than all that food.

“What are you doing?” My voice grates in my throat as I rush to the fridge for water.

“I ordered breakfast,” he tells me, turning to pour coffee into a mug. “Figured you could use it. You were out pretty late last night. Or, this morning.”

“Where’d you disappear to, anyway?”

I can’t even think about how much being near him is warming my lady parts right now. If I don’t chug this entire bottle of water, I might literally die of dehydration. When the bottle’s empty, I take the mug of coffee he’s handing to me, letting the smell alone give me a boost.

Rook chuckles. “I just came back here. Watched porn and jerked off.”

My eyes dart to him, and he grins, dimples on full display. I’ve noticed he does this a lot. He has this innocent farm boy smile that makes it incredibly difficult to tell if he’s fucking with you or not. I happen to find it immensely attractive.

Because there’s something about cocky boys that just stirs me up. Even more so when they act sweet, but every once in a while their alpha comes out. Rawr.

“How is that image somehow hotter than if you’d picked someone up?” I giggle, twirling my hair around my finger. Until I pull a face because it’s a tangled mess and I’m making more knots.

Rook gives me a look, a dark one. A sorta sexy one… And suddenly, I don’t know what to do with myself. Because he looks like that and I look like the swamp thing.

“Why are you wet?” He breathes, the sound of his voice registering between my thighs. A deep and curious whisper.

I bite my lip, the smell of him mixed with maple syrup awakening two kinds of hungers in my lady parts. “Because you look like that,” I mutter, then shake myself out of it. “Oh, you meant why am I dripping all over the floor?” Rook grins and nods. “I took a shower.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

His forehead creases in confusion but before he can say anything, the door to the adjoining room swings open and Velle stomps in, looking every bit like the big beast he is, also wearing only gray sweatpants.

What, did they have a sale on these at the Dress Like a Hot Guy warehouse??

Velle’s dark hair is all mussed up, flipped over, making him look exceptionally model-like. But a model for a tattoo or motorcycle magazine, what with all the ink, piercings, and muscles overpowering the room.

“Smelled bacon,” Velle mumbles, his eyes barely open as he brushes past Rook and me, going for a plate.

We’re both staring at him, kind of ogling and also wondering who in the hell just walks in like this and starts eating someone else’s food. Velle, that’s who.

He’s already stuffing his face before he turns to Rook and murmurs, “Is this cool?”

Rook’s lips curve as he nods. “Yea. Of course.”

“Good,” Velle says, “‘Cause I was gonna eat it, regardless.”

I press my lips together. Rook glances at me, unable to contain his amusement as we both burst into laughter. Velle looks at us like we’re insane.

“You can eat it any time you want, Lucky.” I wink at him. “No matter what we say.”

That comment flips Rook’s face serious. He blinks a few times at Velle, cheeks turning pink as he mutters, “Um… I’m gonna go shower.”

He stomps away from us, Velle and me watching him go. My brows zip together at his sudden weirdness. But then I shake my head, because it’s not sudden at all. The tension between him and Velle is practically a living thing. Any time they’re near each other, you can feel it sucking air out of the room. And after what Velle told me last night, it’s making a little more sense.

Glancing at my ex, I see him salivating over the sight of Rook in his sweats before he disappears into the en suite, aka my bedroom. When Velle stops lusting after Rook’s booty, his eyes creep back to mine. I lift my brow at him.

“Shut up,” he grunts, proceeding to eat most of the food.

An hour, two pancakes, and a cup of coffee later, I feel slightly more human. I also showered properly and made myself come, which was helpful since I didn’t get laid last night. I barely remember what happened, but I do recall persuading Velle not to leave right away. At which point, we got blasted, and I think I danced on our table at the club.

Velle did eventually sneak off to hook up with someone, though I’m not sure who. That said, there’s a pretty strong perfume smell coming from his room. I asked him if he got a hooker, but he just picked me up and body slammed me onto the couch. That’s not an answer.

He and Rook are still dancing around each other, especially when we all pile into the SUVs, driving us back to LaGuardia once again. Jasper called shotgun so they’re stuck sitting together in the second row, with Peters awkwardly between them, looking so green I wish I had a puke-bag to give him.

And I’m in the third row with Kemper, who’s staring out the window. I can feel the pensiveness coming off him in waves, so I give him a little nudge with my elbow. He turns to face me.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, knowing he won’t want to talk about anything with Velle nearby.

As expected, he just nods.

“What was up with Nikki?” I keep going, fishing for him to open up a little. I know he wants to, though he probably won’t let himself. He’s a quiet guy, and he has stuff going on.

Stuff he doesn’t talk about.

“She had some networking event she forgot about,” he mutters, turning back to the window, his knee bouncing repeatedly.

“Bummer,” I reply, and he peeks at me once more, giving me a look. I know what it means. There’s no need to elaborate.

He’s not necessarily upset at the prospect of not seeing his wife for another few weeks.

“Well, you missed us getting weird last night in the club,” I tell him. I see a small smirk on his lips, and it makes me smile. He doesn’t smile anywhere near enough, and it’s sorta depressing.

He used to be much less surly. But over the last few years, he’s been falling into a pit. I can empathize, but I just wish I could help. He’s my friend, probably the best friend I have aside from Velle. And I’ve known him for so long. I care about his wellbeing.

“Velle, trade seats with me,” Peters grumbles. “Please, man.”

“No,” Velle barks, prompting Rook to peer over Peters at him. Velle ignores the look.

“I need to be near an open window,” Peters pleads. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“If you puke on me, you die,” Velle growls. “I’m not sitting in the middle like some backseat Betty.”

Rook bursts out laughing, and I snort. Even Kemper lets a little chuckle slip.

“What does that even mean?” Rook huffs. “Peters, here. Switch with me. I don’t mind sitting in the middle.”

“No,” Velle keeps going, fully serious. “I don’t want to sit next to you.”

“Why not?” Rook seethes. “Do I have cooties or something?”

Velle sneers, “Yea. Actually, you do.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to mind when you—”

“Alright! Shut the fuck up, rookie. No one wants to hear your goddamn voice anymore. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.” Velle crawls over Peters’ lap, grunting, “Move!” At him until he gets up and they uncoordinatedly swap seats.

Me and Kemper are just watching in amusement as Velle settles into the middle seat, so big I’m sure the driver can’t see out the rearview mirror anymore. His face is aimed forward, refusing to look at Rook, even though Rook is watching him, lips quirking as he inches closer to Velle.

“Stop touching me,” Velle hisses. Rook just chuckles it off.

Kemper looks at me and finally gives me a smile. Then he glances down at his phone, typing out a text. Ten seconds later my phone chimes and I open the new message.

Kemp: Looks like Daddy’s met his match

I laugh quietly and nod, both of us giggling together.

“What’s so funny back there?” Velle snaps.

“Nothing,” I sigh, reaching forward to rub his shoulders.

He’s tense as fuck, and I know why. It’s because he’s next to Rook and he likes it.

I swear to God, can I sign up for text alerts?? I need to be informed the moment these two finally give in and start hooking up. I’d give a month’s pay to watch that shit. I call furniture breaking and potential injuries, there’s so much tension.

The drive to LaGuardia isn’t bad, and by the time we’re all settled on the jet and it’s in the air, most of us are asleep. I purposely sit with Kemper so I can watch his iPad with him, and Velle’s in the seat across from us, trying his hardest to ignore a sleeping Rook whose head is falling closer and closer to Velle’s shoulder.

I think it’s the cutest thing ever. I’m shipping them. I kind of feel like Rook is exactly what Velle needs… Though it’d probably be doomed to fail before it even started.

Velle’s been voted least likely to settle down, by me. And I don’t want Rook to get hurt.

Forty-five minutes later, we’re all shuffling through the front door of the mansion, heading upstairs to get ready for work. It’s the only time Velle and I will work in the evening, when we’re relieving the other officers of duty so they can go purge. We have to do it in shifts since we can’t all leave the prison unattended. We make it work in only two groups, the drawback being that Velle and I have to work late.

I don’t necessarily mind it. It’s not ideal, but then none of this is.

“Hurry the fuck up getting ready!” Velle barks loud enough that everyone upstairs can hear him. “Warden needs us there in ten. Emergency meeting.”

Rook gives me a confused look, but I just pull him up the rest of the steps, shoving him toward his room. An emergency meeting will happen for only one of two reasons:

One, more funding issues.

Or two, we’re getting a new inmate.

Lined up and still, I’m curious as hell.

The Warden is on the phone at the other side of the room, and we’re all just standing here, waiting to find out what the crap is going on. I hate that he makes us do this dance every time.

He’s such a fucking prick. He could easily just tell Velle what’s happening and have him relay the message. But no. Instead, he needs to parade around in front of us, like it’s really exciting that we’re either losing more money or getting some new, dangerous asshole to look after like a problem dog.

Dickhead.

We don’t take in new inmates that often, but it does happen. Some months are busier than others, but let’s just put it this way; in twelve years of operation, Alabaster Penitentiary has only seen one-hundred inmates.

Yet no matter what, we always have to play up the Warden’s image. It’s fucking sickening, and it takes every ounce of my strength not to spit in his face sometimes.

He finally twirls, waltzing back toward us in his tailored suit that probably cost more than everything in my closet, muttering, “Yes. Perfect. Thank you, Governor,” into the phone before hanging up.

He scans the wall of guards before him with dark eyes and says, “Inmate #101 is on his way.”

Collectively we nod, bracing ourselves because this means we’ll all need to be on today. I’m suddenly jealous as fuck of the assholes going off-island tonight. They don’t have to do the whole Alabaster Pen production for whoever this new sorry sack is.

“There was a bank robbery yesterday in Brooklyn,” the Warden goes on. “The Governor’s niece was killed.”

Most of our eyes go wide. Wasn’t expecting that…

“Naturally, he’s beside himself,” he keeps speaking. “Grieving and in need of something a bit more… final for this young man than regular prison. So here we are.” He pauses once more, and I glance at Velle. His eyes don’t leave the Warden. “The subject in question’s name is Dascha Reznikov.”

Movement catches my eye and in my peripheral, I see Kemper’s fingers twitching at his sides.

“Officer Chevelle will get the file and share any needed information with you all,” the Warden says. “Apparently, the kid’s been robbing banks all over the state for years, but this is the first known murder. He was arrested a few hours ago, so he’ll be to us in a few more. Public phase. And remember, this boy is dangerous.” The Warden’s eyes seem to be zeroing in on a very fidgety Kemper. “He’s unstable, and not only that, he has pissed off the wrong person. He is to be treated as a high-profile inmate.”

The Warden storms off toward the door, barking, “Get ready! I’ll see you all in a few hours,” before leaving us.

Velle sighs out loud, then adds his own command, “Jasper, Linetti, you’re on intake.”

“Oh fuck me,” Linetti whines, immediately straightening and shutting the fuck up when Velle shoots him an icy glare.

“The rest of you, get ready for the welcome wagon,” he goes on. “If you’re on purge tonight, you won’t be leaving until #101 is settled. Everyone clear?”

I can tell the guys who are supposed to be going home and getting ready to go out have a lot they’d like to say, but they don’t dare. The only words anyone utters are, “Ten-four,” as everyone disperses.

Kemper is the only one still standing in the same spot, tapping his fingers together over and over while he stares at the wall. I inch up to him, giving him worried eyes. “You alright?”

He’s still just staring blankly at nothing while he shakes his head. “Um… I don’t know.”

“What happened?” I place my hand on his shoulder and it seems to snap him out of it for a moment.

His dark blue eyes jump down to mine, brows zipping together as if he doesn’t even know where to begin.

Even if he was going to say something, which he probably wasn’t, he’s interrupted by Velle stomping over with Rook on his tail.

“#101’s going in with #35,” Velle says, then glances between Rook and me. “You two will bring him down.”

“Luthor?” Rook asks, clearly still memorizing all the inmate numbers.

“Yes, newbie.” Velle rolls his eyes. “I’ll radio when he gets here.”

Then he storms away.

Rook watches him go, turning back to us when he’s gone. “Luthor’s been alone, right?”

I nod. “For about six months. Ren’s been alone longer.”

Rook’s forehead lines. I can tell he wants me to elaborate, but I’m too busy staring at Kemper. He’s chewing on his lower lip, gaze zoned in on the floor this time.

“What the hell is going on with you?” I demand.

He stays quiet for another moment before muttering, “I don’t think I can do this…”

Then he leaves without another word. I have no clue what his issue is, but I don’t have time to care right now. We all need to get settled for this shift before #101 gets here.

“Come on.” I grab Rook, taking him for a walk. “You’re up.”

“What do you mean?” He asks as we head toward gen-pop.

“I want you to show me how we prep for new inmates.” I give him a sweet smile, to which he grumbles out of annoyance.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It is.” I motion with my hand. “Lead the way, Cookie.”

After that, Rook and I go to check Luthor’s cell, making sure the bottom bunk has a mattress and pillow on it. That’s the extent of preparing for a new inmate as far as supplies go. Next, we do checks on the rest of the inmates, making sure everyone is in line. We do this on every shift change regardless, but it’s important to make sure there’s no funny business happening when a new inmate arrives. Especially one the Warden considers high-profile.

“So this Reznikov kid is high-profile because he killed the Governor’s niece,” Rook questions while we work, though it seems like more of a statement than anything.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the Warden and Governor Russo are like this.” I twist my index and middle finger.

“Russo’s father was involved or something, right?” Rook glances at me. “At least that’s what I heard…”

I shush him, my eyes darting to the cameras. I’m still not fully convinced Blanco doesn’t have this place bugged, along with the cameras he uses to watch us constantly. Not just the inmates’ privacies impeded on in this place.

Rook rolls his eyes. “Fine, can you at least tell me what happened to Luthor’s other cellmate? Is he the one who died?”

I shiver and shake my head. “No, that was Ren’s last cellmate, Freeman. We don’t talk about that. But Luthor’s been here for a while, in case you haven’t noticed. He’s had a few cellmates, and the last one, Landon, ended up being sent downstairs to the East. He… lost it.”

He squints at me. “Lost it how?”

“That’s not important right now.” I shove him to keep us moving. “What is important is making sure all these assholes are on their best behavior tonight. New inmates coming in usually riles them up a bit, as you’ve seen.”

Rook nods, going quiet while we finish our checks. But when we’re heading back upstairs, he stops me.

“So we really don’t give the new inmates anything to get settled? No supplies whatsoever…”

“Rookie, you’re gonna need to get it together,” I huff.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I just mean… There’s no commissary here. Yet they all have stuff. Not a lot,” he pauses, “But enough that they clearly got it from somewhere.”

“Look, I’m only going to say this once.” I get all serious on him, turning so I can glare into his mossy eyes. “Do not get sucked into trading sexual favors with inmates. I know it seems like it happens a lot, and it does. But I’m just saying, it’s a slippery slope. It’s not something you want to deal with, especially with your… Velle situation.”

The look on his face makes me want to pinch his cheeks. I can tell the stuff with Velle is throwing him for a loop, especially if he’s always considered himself to be straight.

Velle’s a blunt force. The poor Rookie probably doesn’t even know what hit him.

“Does Velle hook up with inmates…?” He asks, quietly, like he’s unsure of whether he wants to know the answer.

“First of all, Velle hooks up with everyone.” I smirk. “You know that. But he’s allowed to, because he’s Velle. I know it seems weird, but you need to be on board with it. That said, he’s particular. He doesn’t want the Warden finding out what he does.”

Rook gulps visibly. “Did something happen between them? Velle and the Warden…?”

Unease appears in my stomach, spreading quickly up to my chest. I simply shake my head and turn away. “That, my little Cookie, we definitely can’t talk about.”

Something is up with Kemper.

The Warden made him do the head shaving for our newest Alabaster Pen resident, Dascha Reznikov. Also known as Dash, according to his file.

I’ve never seen Kemper look the way he did for each ticking second that Dash was in the same shared space. It was strange to witness, and as soon as the Warden left us to get on with the import, Kemper practically leapt out of the room like it was about to explode.

It’s all I can think about on my way back from gen-pop. We just deposited Dash in the cell where he’ll spend the rest of his days. I can’t help feeling the slightest inkling of guilt… Maybe not guilt, since this definitely isn’t my doing. Maybe empathy?

The kid is young; twenty-five. Not as young as his cellmate, but still…

To be rotting in this crypt for the rest of his life seems excessive. But then what do I know? I’m the one working here, caught under the thumb of a sociopath who should be behind these bars with the rest of the degenerates rather than running the place.

My mind slips and slides around memories I’d rather not relive while I try to force them away, wishing I could just go home and curl up into a ball. Not in that fucking mansion either… I mean my real home.

“Hey.” A grumbly voice pulls me out of my reverie, and I glance up to find Kemper stalking toward me. He looks to Rook at my side, who’s been so quiet I forgot he was even there. “Can I borrow Joy for a sec?”

Rook glances at me, then nods. “Sure.”

He proceeds around the corner toward the cafeteria, leaving me alone with Kemper, whose demeanor I could only describe as unsettled.

“What is wrong with you today?” I hum, trying to keep it down, since his eyes are darting all over the place like he’s waiting for someone to attack him any moment. “Why were you freaking out in there?”

“Joy.” He grabs my shoulders, the wideness in his eyes making mine go a mirroring round. “I’m leaving.”

He’s out of breath and it’s curling a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach. “Huh?”

“I just quit.” The look on his face alarming; part clear exhilaration, part dread.

“What do you mean you quit??” I gasp. “How is that even possible?”

“I can’t stay here.” He rakes fingers through his golden hair. “It hasn’t been working for a long time, and now… with…” He stops and gulps visibly. “I can’t do it. I told the Warden to do his worst, but he can’t keep me here anymore. Not now.”

My mind is racing. There are so many things I want to say, so much I want to ask him. But now I understand his jitteriness. If he just quit for real, then he’ll have a very limited opportunity to get his shit and get the hell out of here.

“Kel…” I murmur as inexplicable pressure builds behind my eyes.

Don’t go.

I don’t want to lose you…

But I can’t say any of that. Because I know if the roles were reversed, I’d be jumping ship as fast and possible, too. At least, I think I would.

This shit is so frustrating.

“I’m going to miss you, Joyful.” He gives me an uneasy smile. He looks tired, and I feel bad. He’s been dealing with his inner stuff for so long, and I guess leaving here and trying to make it work with his wife is what he wants. It seems sudden, but who am I to judge?

I don’t know shit about relationships.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy.” I launch myself at him, hugging hard and trying not to let the emotions bubble over.

I don’t cry. It rarely happens. But in this case… I’m losing Kellan Kemper.

I know once he walks out that door, I’ll never see him again.

“Can we at least stay in touch?” I sniffle, pulling back and running my fingers along his jaw.

He nods. “Of course.” He bites his lip and glances at the ground for a moment. “There’s one more thing, though…” His eyes lift to mine, and he looks distraught; guilty and confused. It’s not the face of someone comforted in his decision. “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” I tell him softly.

“I need you to watch out for him.” He almost chokes on his words. My brows knit together. “Dascha. Can you make sure he’s okay? Please?”

I’m statue still. I have no idea where this is coming from.

My head tilts. “Do you… know him?”

“Not really… no,” he mumbles, then covers his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t get into it right now, but I just… I need your help, Joy. Please, just do me this favor? Make sure he has whatever he needs. I’ll send money for it… for anything. Get him the best stuff and I’ll pay for it.” His words are coming out frantic, and then finally he stops and breathes out hard. “Please, Joy…”

“Kel, that’s…” My voice dissolves. Who is this kid to you? But I can’t ask. I can’t say anything other than, “Okay. Yes, I’ll do it. Whatever you need.”

He exhales even harder this time and drops his forehead onto my shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I know this is a lot to ask.”

“I can handle it.” I rub his back. “I’ll handle it.”

He lifts his face again, eyes shimmering. “No Velle.”

“Of course.” I nod, fully serious.

Keeping secrets from Velle isn’t something I enjoy doing, but if I have to I will. The Warden… he’ll know. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Whatever is tying Kemper to this new inmate—to Dascha Reznikov—it’s going to stay between us. He’s one of my only friends, and if this is important to him, then I’ll do anything I can to make it happen.

“Thank you,” he rushes out, kissing my cheek. “Love you, babe.”

“I love you too, Kel.” I pout at him. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

He gives me a look of pained amusement. Kellan Kemper is deep into his denial, and it makes my heart ache to think of what he’ll do to stuff his true self down.

But then opportunities to get off this island don’t come around often. He’s taking his and I have to be supportive of that.

“Take care of Dascha for me,” he whispers, then he turns and leaves, waving at me before darting back up the hallway.

Leaving. He’s leaving.

I stand there in silence for a moment, just staring. I can’t even process this…

Kemper’s out. After ten years here, he’s free. Though for him, I’m not sure how free that will truly be. I can only hope he figures his shit out with Nikki… I really hope that for him. He deserves happiness.

And Dascha Reznikov… What’s his part in all this?

There’s no way Kemper knows him. Right? How would that even be possible…?

Dash didn’t look like he recognized Kemper when they brought him in. He just looked nervous. Scared.

My chest is tight as I rub my eyes. I’ll make sure the kid’s alright, as much as I can, anyway. Sometimes even I can’t keep the wolves from pouncing.

My face twists upward, and I glare at the camera in the corner, aimed right at me.

How I got here:

My father was crumbling.

It’s a painful thing to witness, someone as powerful, as dangerous as Finn Jameson falling apart. It’s something you don’t expect to see, and at the time, in an already awful situation, it made things all the more stressful.

My mother had been kidnapped twenty-four hours earlier. And from the moment Dad got the call—he still wouldn’t tell me exactly who from—our house had been packed to the brim. Every single one of my father’s associates was on-call during this time, coming in and out of our home, talking on their phones, brewing pot after pot of coffee to help with the lack of sleep.

My uncle Han had been there too, for a bit, but he had to leave. Because he couldn’t stop blaming my father for the predicament we all found ourselves in.

As much as I sort of agreed with my uncle, the reminder of it was unnecessary. My father already blamed himself plenty without the addition of mutterings in Korean driving him deeper and deeper into the abyss of his loathing and self-hatred.

And me? Well, I was just taking it all in.

Watching the movements of each and every Irish prick my father had working on the case, listening to their conversations while trying to pick apart the Gaelic when they were trying to be sneaky. But mostly, I was watching my father.

Watching him turn into a useless creature, driven insane by the idea that he could lose the love of his life; the only thing, aside from me, that made his existence on this miserable planet worth anything.

It was just reinforcing my childhood credo; love makes you stupid.

Love makes you weak.

Falling in love is just leverage someone can hold over your head.

At roughly twenty-six hours missing, they received another call. This time my dad put it on speaker so everyone could hear while his tech people attempted to do something, who knows what.

The man on the phone had no discernible accent to speak of, though I remember my father mentioning something about a Colombian. But this man didn’t sound Hispanic at all. He definitely wasn’t from Boston either. He barely even sounded like he was from this time period.

The precise diction and words used made him sound educated at the very least, but more so, it made him sound older. Distinguished.

In summation, too smart for my hot-headed father.

From what I’d gathered in all the conversations on which I’d been eavesdropping, verified by the man on the phone, my father’s business had infringed on something this man’s crew was doing at the port. My guess was drugs, because it seemed obvious, but who knew. Maybe guns.

Either way, the taking of my mother was retribution. It was restitution for whatever my father had done… For what he’d usurped from this man.

And it was the finality, in his words and in his tone, that sat heavy in my stomach like a brick.

They weren’t blackmailing my father. There would be no option for payout.

They were keeping Jeon Jameson.

With the end of that warning call, my father erupted.

It had been his men who’d convinced him yesterday that hunting this kidnapper down, guns blazing, wasn’t the best of ideas. They’d been able to keep my father in the house until that very moment.

But it wasn’t seeming like a possibility anymore.

Dad picked up a glass dish from the mantle and threw it against the wall in a loud roar, smashing it and sending shards all over the room.

Everyone was silent as my father growled, “That’s it. We’re going to war.”

He stormed through the house, barking orders at everyone, telling them to get ready. To prepare. He told them that come tomorrow, they would take this fight North.

I sank down onto a chair in the living room, my heart racing in my chest.

Any time North Boston was involved, it was never good.

My father, in his rage, was going to get my mother killed.

And so in that moment, I knew there was only one thing I could do.

It was time to use myself as an asset.

That night, I listened outside the door to my father’s office. I picked up every piece of information from his men, about where they were planning to go tomorrow.

And then I went myself.

It was just after midnight when I arrived at the warehouse in East Boston. Apparently, the involvement of the Italians was pure speculation on their part, based on where some of this rival crew had been seen. Really, they were in fact Colombian, like my father had originally said. And they were keeping their work near the ports.

East Boston was pretty slummy at the time, not that it’s any better now, but there were a lot of spaces for illegal activity, especially with the ports right there. Importing and exporting drugs and other contraband was the most lucrative part of my father’s business.

He and my mother always tried keeping these facts from me, but I’m not stupid. I never was, so I already had a decent idea of what I was walking into when I strutted up to a heavily guarded entrance with nothing but my good intentions.

The two large men in front of the door towered over me, machine guns strapped to their backs. My eyes didn’t need to dart left or right to make out the other men with guns guarding the sides. I’d already seen them.

None of them said anything. They simply stared at me, waiting for me to spit it out and tell them what I wanted.

I said, “My name is Joy Jameson. You have my mother.”

To their credit, the men were clearly trying to act impassive, but I noticed their eyes darting to one another briefly. I’m sure something like this had never happened to them before.

One of them held up a finger to me, as if to say one sec. Then he picked up his cell phone, one of those walkie-talkie type ones, and spoke Spanish into it. He probably assumed I didn’t understand Spanish, which was a foolish assumption.

He told the person on the other end that a surprise had been delivered for the boss. Then he stepped aside, opened the door to the warehouse and motioned for me to go inside.

I did, slowly, though my adrenaline was fiercely jacked up, which was making it difficult for me to focus. But I had to try. I needed to remain calm.

Another giant man escorted me through the warehouse, filled with large crates and forklifts moving them around. We walked for a while, into the very back until we reached another door.

He knocked on it twice, at which point it opened, a new scary-looking man peering through directly at me. He stared at me for a moment before taking me by the arm and dragging me inside.

He was forceful, and it was irritating to me, so by the time we arrived at wherever the hell he was taking me, I yanked myself out of his grip, shooting him a seething glare.

“And who do we have here?” A familiar voice asked, my eyes sliding over to a man leaning up against a desk.

The voice was familiar because it was obviously that of the man from the phone call earlier. And as I looked him over, I realized the appearance of him greatly matched the strangeness of his spoken word.

He was very tall, apparent even while leaning, and slim, dressed in a tailored and visibly expensive suit. His skin was quite pale and although he didn’t appear to be more than maybe thirty or forty years old, his hair was white. And I’m talking a bright white, like an Albino, though his complexion didn’t fit the bill for that. His eyes were immensely dark, almost black. It was impossible to tell where his pupils ended and the irises began.

Snapping myself out of it, I folded my arms over my chest in an attempt to seem confident and unenthused. “I’m Finn Jameson’s daughter. My name is Joy.”

“Joy,” he said with a tilt of the head and a curl to his lips. “Beautiful name. What can I do for you, young Jameson?”

“Cut the act,” I forced myself to project. “You know why I’m here. You have my mother. And you’re going to let her go.”

He inched back a bit, as if astonished by my audacity, then folded his arms over his chest to mirror my stance. “Really now? Is that what I’m going to do?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

The man gazed at me for many uneasy moments—uneasy for me because I had absolutely no idea what was going through his head—before letting out a slow exhale and standing up. He waltzed in front of me with his hands behind his back as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am, Joy Jameson?”

My jaw clenched as I shook my head. I was at a disadvantage, that much was clear.

He paused, glancing at me from the side. “You came here by yourself, didn’t you? Your father doesn’t know what you’re doing…”

That time I nodded, hesitantly. But it was true.

The man turned to face me, unleashing an amused look that could be considered a smile… Maybe to someone who’s never seen one before.

Then he clasped his hands together. “My name is Manuel Blanco, young one. But you can call me The Ivory.”

In that moment, I gulped. I’d never heard of him before, but just the way he was introducing himself, with a nickname like that, it was like I was speaking with a Bond villain.

“Your father took something from me,” he went on, now striding right up to me. “Something that was mine by right. Unintentional on his part? Perhaps. But one should always familiarize themselves with the history behind all business ventures. I won’t bore you with the details, but your mother is mine now. Plain and simple. And unfortunately for you, young one, simply walking in here and demanding her freedom does nothing to even the score.”

My eyelashes fluttered while my heart leapt into my ribs, mind sifting through anything and everything possible I could say or do to get my mother back. I went there intending to talk some sense into the man, but from what I’d gathered in only a few short moments, this wasn’t just about business. And Manuel Blanco wasn’t one to be reasoned with.

He was a ruthless man of action.

And so I suggested the only other thing I could think of, the only thing that could save my mother.

A trade.

“Take me,” I muttered with my fists balled at my sides.

Blanco appeared stunned for a split second, his brow cocking as he breathed something of a laugh. “Pardon?”

“Take me,” I repeated. “In exchange for my mother. Let her go and take me in her place.”

The Ivory’s dark eyes simmered on my face for many generous seconds before he asked, “What would I want with you, Joy Jameson?”

“I can work for you,” I sighed.

Laughter came from all around me as Blanco’s men chortled, finding this idea hilarious. But The Ivory stood completely serious, his eyes never once leaving mine. When the men realized he wasn’t laughing along, they all quickly shut up.

“Work… for me,” he hummed, bringing long fingers to his jaw. “What do you have to offer, young one?”

“Myself,” I told him with full certainty in my gaze. Then I flicked my eyes to one of his men, the one who was too forceful when bringing me in here.

Blanco gave me a subtle nod, and I turned, strolling over to the large man, coming at him rather swiftly. He looked nervously to Blanco, who nodded at him as if to say go ahead and rough her up.

The man still appeared uneasy, but he reached for me quick. I blocked his hand with mine. His face scrunched up in anger and confusion as he tried again. And I blocked him once more.

After that, he unleashed, coming for me over and over, attempting to grab or hit me, and I blocked him every time, striking him in between, in his face, chest, and sides.

Blanco’s other men began murmuring, then their murmurs turned to cheers. But Blanco himself stayed completely still, just watching me studiously.

The man wore out fast, and I used it as my moment to advance on him, striking and kicking until he fell to his knees, shouting, “Alright! Alright! Jesus, I give up…”

I made sure to give him a nice tap on the cheek before turning back to Blanco, his men applauding for me.

The Ivory’s gaze was narrowed in my direction. The room became eerily silent for a while until he finally spoke again.

“I think I may have a job for you, Joy Jameson. But one thing you must understand is, when I own you, I own you forever. I will become your God, young one. Do you understand? This choice you’re making, to save your family… It’s final.”

The weight of it all sat on my shoulders in that moment. But there was nothing else I could do.

Mom and Dad are the only people I will ever sacrifice myself for.

And so I nodded, and said, “I want to see her first. To make sure she’s alright.”

“That can be arranged.” Blanco nodded curtly.

I exhaled and straightened up. “Then I’m yours.”

Gripping my headboard with my right hand, I use it as leverage for my upper body as the left squeezes his hip. He has a normally pale complexion, but right now, he’s all pink from where my fingers have been digging in. His ass is reddening up too from my pelvis smacking into it on each fierce thrust.

“Harder, Daddy…” Soren groans with his face buried in the pillows.

While the sight of my body disappearing inside his is very fucking nice, I still have to close my eyes. I have to focus because for some reason, right now, it’s not working. None of it is.

We’ve been at this for almost an hour, no end in sight. I’ve never had this issue with Soren… or with anyone for that matter. And that’s not to say I bust quick, since that’s not the case at all, but usually I can at least feel it coming. I usually have to keep pushing it away in order to go all night.

Right now, my orgasm is lost in the Bermuda Triangle.

Behind my eyes, I try picturing some stuff that might get me there. That fuckhot new prisoner pops into my thoughts and my nuts ache at the memory of him kneeing me in them earlier. I let out a growl at the thought of him rotting in solitary right now for that move. The balls on that Russian bitch, I swear…

He’s been with us for five seconds, and he’s already starting problems. What is it with the high-profile inmates that just makes them such a pain in my ass? He is immensely hot, though… Almost unbelievably so, which is the only reason I considered getting a blowie from him in the showers. Now I’m glad I didn’t.

He might’ve bitten my dick off.

Okay, these thoughts are in no way bringing me closer to the finish line.

I know what the problem is… It’s been clouding up my head for a while now, so much so that it’s ruining my favorite kinds of fucking with guys like Soren, or that girl I picked up the other night during the purge.

I want to lose control…

Soren’s moans fill my brain until I’m dizzy and tired. I want what he’s getting…

Reaching beneath us, I grip his cock and stroke him to match my thrusts. He’s wearing a cock ring, since he never comes first. It’s his thing, and usually it’s mine too. But right now, I’m peeling it off him, because I need him to finish.

I need to end this.

His whimpers pick up, and I can tell he’s close, which is good. I’m about to do something I never imagined I’d have to do in my life…

I’m gonna fake it.

“I want you to come with me, Sin,” I rumble from above him, holding his balls while I pound into his ass over and over. Hard, deep, rough.

It feels good, but coming seems like such an abstract idea right now. Like my cum is somewhere else entirely, hiding.

“I’m gonna come for you, Daddy,” he purrs. “Come in my ass… please…”

Squeezing my eyes shut even tighter, frustration and anger weave through my muscles while I pump into him. “I’m gonna fill you up, sweetness.”

“Yes yes yes…” he whines, and I feel him stiffening.

“You ready for my load deep in your tight little ass?” The filth is exiting my mouth through I clenched jaw. That’s how irritated I am at this nonsense.

“Yesss…” he gasps.

And just as I can tell he’s about to release, I put on the performance of a lifetime. Grumbling and groaning, telling him I’m coming coming coming, even though I’m not.

Not even close.

Soren’s dick erupts into my hand and while he’s fizzling down from the high of his very real orgasm, I pull out of him and subtly stroke his asshole with his cum. To make it seem like my own.

I’m a sick puppy, I know.

Sitting back on my knees, I let out a strong breath. What in the fuck is wrong with me?? Is this really what it’s come to… Faking orgasms like some housewife?

I don’t want it to be like this. I love fucking way too much.

I’d love to blame Rook, but he’s only partially responsible for my head being all fogged up lately. The truth is, my normal way of doing things has been boring me for a while now.

It’s like my body is betraying me. Going against who I am and what I’m supposed to be.

Stumbling off the bed, I go to the bathroom and bring back a washcloth to clean Soren up. Another way to ensure he doesn’t pick up on anything. I think I faked it well enough, though my cock is still rock-solid and each second that passes is ticking me closer and closer to blue ball hell.

“You want me in the guest room?” Soren’s sated voice rasps as he stretches out. I tilt my head, wondering why he’d ask me that. It’s rare that I kick him out after sex, though he did sort of just read my mind. “You seem a little distant tonight…”

“I’m fine,” I grunt, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before picking up his clothes and tossing them at him. “But yea, guest room would be cool.”

He doesn’t react at all. Simply gets up and dresses, using the restroom before leaving my bedroom, door closed on his way out. Soren knows what this is all about. We’ve been fucking for quite some time. Actually, he’s probably one of the few people I’ve fucked consistently over the years, aside from Joy, a couple of the girls who come around… Hancock begs me to put it in his ass every now and again.

Sex here is such an integral part of the way we survive, which definitely helped with my own sense of personal freedom and acceptance.

Seems like a good thing, right?

Then tell me why I’m suddenly so damn sick of it all…

The games, the obligations… The control.

I want to give it up. I’m dying to…

Which is why the moment I hear the door to the guest room close up the hall, a mischievous thrill zaps me in the loins. Rushing to my bed, I climb back in and this time I go for the bottom drawer of my nightstand. The one where I keep my favorite stuff.

I’m so keyed up and tense, the aching in my balls becoming steadily more uncomfortable, sneaking up on the pain inflicted by Reznikov earlier in the showers. I seriously hope his ass is uncomfortable right now.

Rifling through the drawer, I’m barely paying attention to its contents as I pull out a black dildo Joy got me a couple months ago. It’s the biggest one I have… still not as big as I think I’d like it. The thought sends a buzz to my nuts, my cock full and begging for release. If only I could just jerk off right now, I’d be done and sleeping in two minutes. But no… My head won’t let me.

It wants to pretend, to imagine. To continue lusting after things I’ve never truly had, not in the way I want them. Things I’m starting to think I may never get.

The thought is excruciating, and it forces me out of my blue-ball-fog long enough to notice that something’s missing from my drawer. Something bigger than the dildo in my hand.

I squint at the drawer before rifling, moving stuff around. But it’s not there. It’s gone.

Where the fuck is my fleshlight??

I barely ever use it, so it’s always in the same spot in this drawer. And now it’s missing, which is quite odd.

My brain is running through all the possible opportunities for a sex toy to go missing in this place when I hear a sound. A distinctly deep groan coming from nearby…

My face tilts slowly toward the wall. The one I share with Rook.

Blinking, I hold my breath to listen, face inching closer. It’s quiet for several seconds, but then I hear it again. Another masculine hum, soft yet clearly loud enough that I’m hearing it through the wall. Honestly, the walls in this place are old as hell and paper thin. It’s never been a surprise that we can hear each other through them.

Rook’s moans turn my eyes back down to the sex drawer once more. My gaze narrows.

There’s no way…

He wouldn’t…

Would he?

Suddenly, I’m more intrigued than I have been in a long while. I crawl onto my bed on my hands and knees, getting as close to the wall as possible while listening to the sounds he’s making. I don’t hear anyone else, nor do I hear the bed moving or anything to indicate he’s not alone.

I’m positive he’s jerking it, and now I’m desperate to know if he’s using my fleshlight as he does. Did he steal my sex toy and stuff his dick inside of it?

If so, why is that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my brain?

“Rook,” I talk to the wall, placing my palm flat on it, unable to miss the hesitation in my own voice. “Did you steal that from my goddamn drawer, you perverted little monster?”

I hear nothing for a moment, no sounds whatsoever.

Resting my forehead on the wall, my eyes fall shut.

Until another groan snaps them back open. And he rumbles, “It feels so good…”

I shiver, almost violently, pressing myself into the goddamn wall, wishing it would disappear.

“I love being inside… where your dick has been…” he tells me in a breathless tone, the wall muffling most of the nuances in his voice I’m dying to hear.

Biting my lip, I slide back down onto the bed, grabbing the lube in my shaky hands, pouring some all over the black dildo. I stroke it in my fist, up and down, methodically, imagining…

Just imagining. Pretending.

I rub it against my erection and it feels good. It’s harder than a real dick, but not too bad. I like the realistic ones…

My breathing is heavy while I listen to Rook, fucking my fleshlight on the other side of our shared bedroom wall. I slide the dildo down to my balls before dragging it back.

“I wish I could see what you look like right now…” he murmurs to me and I freeze.

Swallowing all the excess saliva in my mouth, my head shakes a little. “You’ll just have to use your imagination, rookie.”

“I’m already doing that…” he says and my cock throbs.

I’m reeling, ignited while talking to this asshole through my bedroom wall, more than in a fucking hour with Soren. Pressing the head of the dildo up to my ass, a purr leaves my lips. It seems too quiet for him to hear, but he rumbles out something that sounds like fuck just after, so maybe he heard…

“I… I want you like that,” I whisper to the wall, all the gruff in my voice just getting raspier when I force the dildo to break my threshold. A whine escapes my lips and I drop my face into the pillow, taking more… Deeper. “Fuck, I want it…”

“Velle… Come over here,” Rook pleads in a deliciously deprived tone, commanding in his begging. It turns me on so much, precum is leaking from my cock as the dildo makes it halfway inside. “Please… Please please. Come here and let me do it for you.”

Shaking my head, I bite the pillow, shuddering when I reach my prostate. “Just pretend, Rook. Pretend I’m there…”

He groans, and I can see him behind my closed eyes, fucking that stupid toy. Lying on his back, all the muscles he’s crafted on display, abs quivering while he strokes his big dick in and out of the plastic and silicone.

And then I picture him behind me… Gripping me with those large, powerful hands. The ones that held me close to him the other night in the club. Spreading my ass open while plunging his long, thick cock inside me. Deep deep deep where I want him, where I’m desperate to feel the real thing. Skin and veins and the curve of a smooth, fat tip.

I’m going out of my mind with need while I work my hand behind myself, trying to reach as best I can, to get it hard with rapid flicks, like what he’d do with his hips. It’s not the same, and as good as this feels, there’s a fraction, a sliver of dissatisfaction. Because it’s not the real thing, and that’s what I want.

I want cock. In my ass.

I want a man’s hand to push me down on the bed, to tie me up to the headboard. I want him to bite me and spank me and make it hurt good. To fucking torture my body with pleasure until I can’t stop myself from exploding.

The way I do to others… That’s what I want done to me.

And I can’t ever seem to fucking get it.

“Can you feel me…?” Rook grumbles at me through the wall, hoarse and as tight all over as I am, I can hear it. “Do you feel me, Velle?”

“Yes,” I whimper, fucking myself rougher, thrusting my hips into the bed as I go. “Yes, I feel you. Harder.”

“Jesus Christ… I want you to come, Velle,” he says like it’s pure necessity. Like he needs it, rather than wants it.

“Make me.” My eyes roll back as I tease my prostate with the dildo.

“You didn’t come with the Sinner, did you?” He hums and I pause, wobbling. “He’s not what you want…”

“Stop running your mouth, rookie,” I growl. “I’ll lose my wood.”

“No, you won’t. You want it too bad,” he pants, audibly making himself feel really fucking good. The way I want him to feel when he’s up to his nuts in me. “You could have it, you know? All you’d have to do is get that sexy ass up and come over here…”

“Fuck you…” I hiss, grabbing onto a bar of my headboard with my left hand while the right keeps working.

I’m about to collapse, all my muscles straining as the pressure builds and builds. I shove the dildo base-deep into myself and it’s not fucking enough.

I want it real. Real real real, that’s what I need.

It still feels good, though. A hundred times better than my cock grinding into the bed. I know I can come without jerking it, just from getting fucked, like a hurricane of pleasure. I can only imagine what it would be like if I got fucked for real…

“Velle, God, that’s good…” Rook keeps going, talking me up to the edge from behind the damn wall. “You feel so fucking good…”

“Come in me,” I whimper, then clear my throat. “Come with me.”

“Almost there, baby.”

“Me too…” I let out a rumble, my knees giving out as I fall flat onto my stomach, not giving a single fuck while the dildo moves in and out. I’m pounding it into myself as much as I can, harder and harder until I can feel myself going cross-eyed. Gripping the headboard with white knuckles.

“I want to see you… I wanna… touch you…” Rook’s voice grates, his harsh breaths audible as he nears his own orgasm. “I want to watch you come for me.”

I’m right the fuck there myself. The universe is flipped upside down as his voice echoes.

“Touch me… tease me… fuck me… Harley, fuck me, I’m coming.” I snap in half like a twig and my dick starts shooting off, cum spurting out everywhere while I mumble all sorts of things.

I have no idea what I’m saying. I’m just saying it all…

“Yes, baby. That’s it…” Rook is gasping and grunting, sounding like he’s milking himself dry. “God, yes, take my cum. Take it all…”

I’m fucking purring, vibrating in sheer blinding revelation. I have no clue where that even came from, or how I could’ve possibly come so hard with him, when I just spent an hour fucking without even the slightest prospect of orgasm.

This one just picked me up and flung me around the room like a ragdoll.

Stick a fork in me, man. I’m done.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually I pick myself up a bit, on very shaky arms, tugging the dildo out of myself. Trembling, I look down to see cum everywhere. Jesus…

I’m prepared to just ignore Rook and pretend this never happened until I hear him humming through the wall. Or maybe singing?

Yea, he’s singing.

A disturbed grin sweeps over my lips as I crawl up to the wall and put my ear near it.

“One of these nights…” he sings in a deep, growly, sexified voice, a hint of a chuckle to it.

“What the hell are you doing over there?” I ask him like he’s insane.

“It’s my favorite song,” he sighs. “It reminds me of you now.”

My forehead lines. “Why?”

I hear him laugh quietly, but he doesn’t answer me.

It’s all I can think about while I’m stripping the comforter off my bed and cleaning everything up.

“One of these nights…” I sing to myself in the shower, the way he was singing it. I huff and shake my head, washing my hair and rinsing.

When I come out of the shower, I waltz into my bedroom in my towel, my eyes narrowing when I see the fleshlight on my nightstand. I peer at my bedroom door, stepping over to it. It’s unlocked… I could’ve sworn I locked it.

I wander slowly to the nightstand, picking up the toy. Biting my lip, I immediately realize he didn’t clean it…

His cum is inside.

A tremor moves through my stomach, into my balls. I don’t know why I’m so turned on… so fascinated by him just using the thing, then giving it back to me with his load still inside. But it gives me the chills, flutters in my chest.

Maybe he’s not as sweet and innocent as he seems.

“Dammit,” I grumble to myself.

Maybe he’s perfect for me. And I’m completely fucked.

Only minutes later, I fall into a satisfied sleep, humming about one of these nights.

I pass Brenner when I get to solitary.

The dude looks exhausted. He’s had help covering Kemper’s shifts since that asshole quit with no goddamn notice whatsoever, but still. Before, it was him and Kemper pulling most, with Jasper and Peters stepping in when necessary. Now we’re a man down. And not just any man…

For all the shit I gave him, Kemper was good at his job. I mean, he’d better be, having been here for almost ten goddamn years. Me, him and Joy practically started this shit.

Wanna know what I got for a goodbye? “Try not to be too big of an asshole, asshole.”

It actually made me laugh.

Peters is great because he rarely complains, but I can tell he’s already on edge about working so many shifts in solitary. Solitary sucks ass. Not only does it turn the inmates into total ghouls, but it kind of does the same thing to us. Brenner is a dude to watch out for. He’s a shifty prick, and I’ve never really trusted him.

I’m not sure that I trust any of them, though I keep my eye on some more than others. We’re all here for a reason, and I know most of theirs. Perks of being in charge, I guess.

I get the burden of information.

Outside of Darcey’s cell, I peer through the small window. He’s on the cot, over in the corner, and he looks like he’s carving something into the wall. With what, I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll have to pat him down good.

I use my keys to unlock the door, and he’s instantly perked up, though when he glances at me, he’s squinting, most likely from being in the dark for so long. He’s looking pretty scraggly, to be honest. Exactly how you’d imagine someone who’s been living in a hole for weeks to look. The guys have been feeding him on and off, bringing him up to the showers on occasion and whatnot. I would’ve much rather had him rotting in here, but I didn’t want to hear it from the Warden.

Now that he’s being moved, I guess I’m responsible for cleaning him up. Yay.

“On your feet, inmate,” I rumble at him, pulling cuffs and shackles off my holster.

Darcey reluctantly stands up and faces the wall. I cuff his hands quick, then spend a while patting him down. I find nothing, so I ask, “What were you using to carve that?” Nodding at the wall.

“A rock,” he sighs, as if he barely has the energy to communicate. “It’s on the floor behind the bed.”

I glare at him for a moment before bending to shackle his ankles, checking underneath his bed. Sure enough, there’s a small, relatively sharp piece of concrete under there. It probably fell off the wall or the ceiling. Reaching under, I grab and pocket it before muttering, “Let’s go,” dragging him out of the dark, mildewy cell.

I yank him along, through the corridor leading to the East wing. And unlike pretty much every other inmate, Darcey stays completely silent. He rarely ever asks questions when we cart him around. He usually just checks out his surroundings, observing.

He’s an oddball, to say the least. But then I guess most serial murderers are, especially the ones who take a switchblade to the faces of their victims post-mortem.

Through a few more doorways and we’re officially in the East, passing by rows of cells much different from the rest of the prison. These are designed like those of a mental institution. That’s a really nice way of describing the East wing, actually. It’s more like an old, run-down asylum for the criminally insane, similar to where they performed the first lobotomies and electroshock therapy.

The East wing wasn’t even a thing until Alabaster Pen was about five years old. It used to be sort of empty down here, until the Warden started getting more calls, and we needed to expand. But rather than just adding more regular cells, he decided he wanted a specific area of the prison dedicated to experimentation.

I’m not even kidding. It’s some real Dr. Mengele type shit.

If we’re being fully transparent, even I don’t know much of what goes on down here. I try not to come here much. It’s guarded by its own control room, and everything that happens in these cells is heavily monitored by the Warden himself.

I prefer it that way. I have my hands full with gen-pop and solitary. Creepy as hell “doctors” and instruments used for God knows what are definitely above my pay grade.

Do I ever wonder what truly happens down here? Sure. But wondering and actually finding out are two different things.

Bringing Darcey to the showers, I shove him until he stumbles, pulling my Glock off my holster.

His chin lifts all over the room. “I didn’t even know there were showers down here.”

“None of your concern, inmate.” I step over to him. “I’m taking the cuffs off your hands. No funny business.”

I do so, then I hand him the keys to the shackles. Without further instruction, he removes them from his ankles and leaves everything on the floor.

I lean up against the opposite wall. “Strip.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen The Carver look nervous. It’s hilarious to witness, because it just reminds me that no matter what he’s done, he’s still a nerdy kid in his twenties who prefers not to get naked in front of strangers. I force myself not to react, but it’s tough stifling my chuckles.

Still, despite how uneasy he looks, he doesn’t ask questions, nor does he put up any kind of a fight. He never does. It makes him seem passive as hell, which I’m assuming is a cover.

Darcey lifts his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes—we had to clean his damn sneakers for him after that shit he pulled with Wilkerson, rest in pieces, which is another reason I’m going to enjoy this—then he steps out of his pants and boxers, leaving him stark naked in nothing but his Buddy Holly glasses and his hands cupping the goods.

My eyes linger on his clothes for a moment, before I look up at his face. “It’s shower time, inmate. I’m only going to say this once, and I need you to really hear me because I hate repeating myself…”

I give him a look, waiting for him to acknowledge what I just said while I walk over to the sink, yanking on the handle of the cabinet beneath it.

Darcey is watching me intently, eventually nodding subtly. But I still don’t continue until he says the words. “Okay, I get it. I’m listening.”

“If you try anything, and I mean anything, I will shoot you in the face,” I tell him, eyes locked, conveying how serious I am. He blinks. “Do you understand?”

He nods again. “Yes.”

“Good.” I smirk. Then I reach inside the space beneath the sink, pulling out the hose.

“Wait…” he stutters, but I’m ignoring him. “Why… Why can’t I just use the showers?”

“Aww, I’m offended, inmate.” I peek at him in between twisting the nob to turn the water on. I don’t even need to put my hand under it to know it’s ice cold. “You think I can’t get you clean enough?”

I can see the rage in his eyes, jaw tensing as I lift my Glock in my right hand, the hose in my left.

And I start spraying him.

“Jesus fuck!” He growls when the water hits him, hands going up to try and block himself somehow.

I can’t help but chuckle a little. It’s funny. Because I’m a twisted fuck, we know this.

Grabbing a new bar of soap from under the sink, I whip it at him. It hits him in the shoulder with a thud and he grunts. “Wash up, inmate. I don’t have all day.”

He doesn’t argue, or continue fighting it, but he definitely has a scathing glare aimed right in my direction while he lathers himself up under the spray of freezing cold water. I’m not an animal or anything, but I can’t help noticing that he has a nice dick. Even when it’s cold. Impressive.

“Turn,” I command, and he does, allowing me to hose off his back.

I can see his goosebumps from several feet away. It’s making me shiver.

He has a nice butt, too.

“Alright, sweet ass,” I laugh, kinking the hose. “We’re all done. That wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“Taunting a serial killer is a bold move…” he shivers under his breath, wiping water from his eyes beneath his glasses.

My lips curl. “Come here and say that, princess.” I fake a kiss and watch him seethe for a moment before tossing him a towel and a fresh jumpsuit. “Get dressed. I’m bringing you to your new residence.”

I can tell he probably wants to ask a question, but he still doesn’t. He simply dries off and gets dressed, cuffing and shackling himself before I even need to ask. The kid’s good, I won’t lie.

After that, I take him back to the row of cells. We pass the padded ones, and I catch him peeking inside the tiny windows, to see if anyone’s in there. But I just keep dragging him.

There are people in there. But again, they’re not my responsibility.

I’ve been instructed to deposit him in one of the examination rooms, which is basically a room complete with nothing more than an exam chair, like what you’d find at a doctor’s office. Only it has shackles on it to strap the inmate, or patient, down. There are some drawers and cabinets in there, heavily locked of course. And plexiglass windows on either side of the door, so you can see inside.

There aren’t many of these rooms, since we rarely need more than three at a time before depositing the inmate somewhere else. But as we’re walking to the room on the end, the one Darcey will be in, we pass O’Malley. He’s been here for a couple of days now, per the Warden’s request.

He’s not necessarily a high-profile inmate, but he’s been with us for a while and has shown probably the least remorse for his crimes out of everyone. I guess that caught the Warden’s attention because he decided it was time his doctors went in on Kieran O’Malley.

Darcey rubbernecks when we pass the Irish prick, putting on the brakes a bit. I give him a look, because last I checked they weren’t friends. I don’t even think they know each other.

“Move, asshole.” I kick his leg and he fumbles but continues gaping at the room with O’Malley in it.

The Irishman is sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, completely oblivious to everything around him. It actually looks like he’s trying to rip his hair out, but there isn’t enough for him to grab.

“He’s in here?” Darcey whispers, blinking at O’Malley’s room until I have to physically shove him up to the door of the next room in line; his.

“Yea, so what?” I grumble, tapping on the door for a second before opening it and pushing Darcey inside. “You got a crush on him or something?” I chuckle at my own joke, but Darcey is just staring at me. More like glaring, and I have no clue what that look means. I just roll my eyes and unfasten his cuffs and shackles, strapping it all back on my holster. “Look, #89, I don’t care about your comforts, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re in here now. I’d try to get some rest while you can. Because as soon as they show up… well, let’s just say, you’re in it for the long haul.”

Darcey just stands there fidgeting around, staring at the wall that separates him and O’Malley. It reminds me of the wall between Rook and me the other night…

I quickly shake that thought away.

Leaving the cell, and The Carver, alone to stew in whatever the hell his problem is, I make my way back to the main corridor. And when I use my keys to unlock the last door, I push it open and almost smash right into the chest of Manuel Blanco.

My eyes dart up fast and I swallow, straightening as my blinking becomes rapid. “Uh, sir… I didn’t um…” I clear my throat, forcing myself to get it together. “Darcey’s in his exam room. He’s all set…”

The Warden gives me a subtle grin, his hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. I flinch. Then he uses it to guide me off to the side. He stands very close, crowding me, his dark eyes resting on mine.

I can’t breathe.

“We have someone new joining our little family, Officer.” His grin widens.

Staring at him, I can’t help how small I feel in his presence, even though we’re pretty much the same height. He might have an inch on me… But I’m definitely bulkier than he is. And yet he always makes me feel like a scared, lonely child.

Registering his words, I let out a breath. “Oh… a replacement for Kemper? That’s great, sir. Because we’re really stretching thin now that he’s gone—”

The Warden’s jaw tenses visibly at my mention of Kemper. “No. Not a new guard. That won’t be in the budget just yet, I’m afraid.”

My stomach falls in disappointment, but I try not to let it show on my face. “Oh… Then who’s coming?”

“A new doctor,” he tells me. “A very important one. He’s a renowned psychiatrist, and he’s coming in specifically to observe my special pet, Felix Darcey.”

I think I can feel my right eye twitching as I stare back at him in shock for at least five seconds before mumbling, “He’s… volunteering his services?”

The Warden cocks his head. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” He lets out a small chuckle. It feels immensely condescending.

And now I’m pinching the bridge of my nose. “So… we can’t afford to replace Kemper… We can barely afford to fix the server glitches—both of which are an actual priority to keeping this place running—but we have the budget to bring in some asshole doctor to study The Carver? Who even is this guy? And who cares about how fucked up Darcey is?? We need help—”

“Johnathan.” His long fingers come up to my jaw and he gradually glides them down to my chin, his black eyes now set directly on my lips. I’m as still as stone. The only thing moving on me is my heart, leaping like it’s trying to escape. “Are you worried? Are you incapable of handling these tasks I’ve given you? Because I thought you were strong enough for this…”

Gulping, my shivering lips part. “No, I am. I am strong enough, but I just thought—”

“I don’t need you to think, Johnathan,” he interrupts me again, eyes firmer than his voice as he keeps speaking. “I just need you to handle these things for me. You said you could.”

“I can,” I jump in, confidence I’m not feeling at all somehow easing itself out in my tone. “I can, I swear.”

He gives me an appraising look for a moment, staring at something I can’t fathom. He’s observing someone I don’t even know when he looks at me like this.

His thumb slides along my lower lip before he takes his hand away, showing me a pleased smile. “Good boy.” Then he turns and starts fucking leaving, barking at me over his shoulder, as he always does, “Get the team ready for the good doctor! He’ll be here in about a week.”

About… He never gives specific amounts of time either.

He’s fucking with you, my brain tells me. He’s manipulating you, idiot. Stand up.

DO SOMETHING.

But I don’t.

My body ignores it, and I nod at him, cracking my knuckles and stomping off to go handle business.

Like the good guard dog I am.

“Go slower,” I growl, holding his head to guide him.

He takes my criticism and slowly pulls his mouth up my erection, slipping his tongue beneath the head. The way he does that… Jesus. It makes my toes curl in my boots.

I’ll have to remember that move.

Ren’s sucking me off in his cell again. I know, I know. It’s a bad idea. We established that last time. But this time, it’s purely for research purposes.

He asked me to get him alone with Dash, the new kid, yesterday so he could give him a proxy job. That’s Ren-speak for him blowing someone while pretending they’re Luthor. Apparently, he does it all the time. Which got me thinking…

First of all, I’ve never seen someone love sucking dick and getting fucked as much as Ren. He has a healthy mix of guards and inmates coming and going from his cell all day every day, and no one says anything, I’m guessing because he pays them in his exquisite blowjobs.

I mean, I can understand loving to get fucked, especially if it feels as good as everyone makes it seem. But my experiences with receiving head, from everyone but Ren, have always been more of an abysmal enthusiasm. Paula certainly didn’t take to it like a fish gulping water the way this dude does. And that made me think that maybe it’s fun, if you do it to someone you’re really into.

Second of all, I may have overheard Dash getting the life sucked out of him by Ren, and that kid, despite the vibe I got from him, came in here with minimal interest in the same sex. #101 was all sorts of protesting at first, but once Ren got his magic lips around his dick, he fell right down the same rabbit hole I did.

And so the overall takeaway was that studying Ren’s blowing techniques could be helpful in my pursuit of a certain surly, domineering asshole.

I wanna learn how to blow Velle’s mind through his dick. In my mouth.

“You know… I need some new ink for tattooing,” Ren mumbles, moving his warm mouth down to my balls. His eyes flit up to mine and I’m already watching him closely. He sucks them between his lips and I quiver.

“Fuck… Whatever you want,” I tell him absentmindedly on an exhale, fingers sliding into his dark hair. “You can have anything, just don’t stop.”

Ren’s lips form a knowing smirk as he goes back to my dick, sucking hard and steady, his tongue cradling the underside as he slurps until I’m practically falling back into the wall.

See? How does he do that??

He’s good.

It takes him only another two minutes before I’m coming furiously down his throat, my head swirling with all these ideas. All these tactics I could use, if and when I eventually get Velle to come into my goddamn room.

After what happened a few nights ago, I’m feeling marginally confident. The only thing that could stop him would be his stubbornness. And there’s a lot of that, so I guess we’ll see.

I’ve been craving him hard, and that night, when I stole his sex toy and fucked it while imagining him beneath me, and he surprised the fuck out of me by joining in, I wanted to bulldoze that goddamn wall down. It was active work not sprinting into his room, to fucking show him why he needs to stop hiding behind the wall between us.

There’s something in John Chevelle that’s forcing him to keep us apart. He says it’s because he thinks we’re incompatible, but that’s just an excuse. Like Soren is more his type?? I call bullshit.

He’s burying something, some reason why he thinks we could never work, and unfortunately for me and my developing addiction to his growly ass, it’s something he needs to figure out on his own. That’s why in the club I told him he’d come to me eventually. Because I need to wait for him to finally break down the wall.

I’m praying it happens that way… That he doesn’t allow this pride to keep him on the other side of it forever.

I’m zipped back up and unruffled when Ren finally awakens from his post-orgasm high and acknowledges that I’m the one standing next to him, not Lex Luthor Deon. He blinks up at me, raking fingers through his hair as he stands.

“So… the ink.” He leans up against his bunk bed.

“I got you,” I tell him while adjusting my holster.

“Thanks,” he sighs.

My eyes flick to his. “You need anything else?” Then I glance around his cell, which he has all to himself. He seems to be doing just fine as far as supplies go.

“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” he murmurs, and his tone grows suddenly serious. His eyes are stuck on his shoes, though he appears deep in his thoughts.

From what I’ve gathered, Ren has strong feelings for Luthor, but they’re not exactly reciprocated. I try not to get involved in inmate drama, because there’s kind of a lot of it, and I’m not supposed to care what they’re doing as long as none of it breaks any rules. But Ren seems like an okay guy. He’s every bit the manipulator everyone made him out to be, but that doesn’t make him a bad person. He actually seems… pretty lonely.

Using sex as a crutch is a common enough coping mechanism, and around here it’s the most popular way of dealing with any and all situations, for inmates and guards alike. I definitely get it. I mean, you’re trapped on an island. Fucking is certainly the most entertaining way to spend your abundance of time.

Breathing out hard, I shake my head. “Take care of yourself, #48.”

I go to leave, but before I can get to the cell door, I hear him say, “Unrequited love sucks, Harley. Be careful.”

I turn my face to glower at him over my shoulder. He’s already not paying attention to me anymore, wandering over to his table of tattooing supplies and picking at them. I’d love to come back at him with some witty response, but I’ve got nothing.

I have no clue how he even knows what’s going on with me… But I need to keep this at least marginally professional. I’m already fucking up by letting him blow me in exchange for goods. It’s pretty damn common in this place, but I sort of hoped I could hold out at least a little while longer before I fell prey to the temptation.

I can’t let the liar get into my head.

Leaving Ren’s cell, I walk the row, feeling the camera on me. Mickey, the short guy who works the main control room, gives me strange looks when I pass him in the halls, and I know he’s judging me for hooking up with Ren. I think he judges everyone for what we do with the inmates, which is probably why Joy’s the only person he talks to.

To my knowledge, she’s the only guard who doesn’t hook up with inmates. At least, I think she is… For as cool as she is, Joy certainly has her own secrets. I still don’t know why she’s here, or why Velle is either for that matter.

But I can’t ask them… You can’t expect the truth when you refuse to give it in return.

Checking my watch, I find that it’s about time to go home. We did breakfast then showers today to shake things up. The Warden has Velle set up weird schedules for the inmates, different groups at different times, so they don’t get used to anything. It’s pretty messed up, actually. Rehabilitative prisons are supposed to give inmates a sense of structure, whereas this place thrives on making them uncomfortable. It’s like a very subtle, dull form of torture.

I head back toward the break room to see if Joy needs help with anything. But as I’m walking up through the last corridor, I come face to face with Mr. Stubborn himself.

His blue eyes are deep and shimmery, like an ocean, though the look he’s giving me with them is one more like a wicked tsunami than a leisurely swim. I could drown in them, I’m certain.

I slow down as we approach each other. Well, actually my legs do it on their own because my brain knows I want to stop and talk to him. But he’s reacting differently.

He stalks up to me, but rather than stopping, he sort of brushes past me like he doesn’t notice me at all, though I know he does because he was looking right at me. It throws me off so much I seriously consider that maybe I turned invisible in the last two minutes.

The rejection I feel at wanting Velle when he doesn’t feel the same stings something fierce in this moment. Regardless of what the fuck he’s going through, this game is sinking my stomach and I hate it. I’ve never really felt unwanted like this before. And coming from the first man I’ve ever been attracted to, with all these new thoughts and feelings flooding my head… It’s a bit much.

“Hey,” I call out, fully halted in place as I turn around.

My voice stops him too, but he doesn’t turn. “Yes, Officer?” He peeks over his shoulder at me. “Is there something you need? I’m kind of busy.”

I’m so fucking frozen. I swear, I must look every bit like the dumb ditz I feel like, just gaping at him with wide eyes, trying to think of what to say, and fast before he leaves.

“Um… no. I don’t need anything…” The words jumble from my lips, and now I’m kicking myself because I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to talk to a guy I’m interested in because I’ve never been interested in a guy before.

Velle’s brow arches and his body spins to face me. The way he looks in that uniform is mind-boggling. Plus, I can smell him from here… crisp, masculine, and mouthwatering, like some sort of cologne or soap… I’m not even sure. But it smells fantastic.

It’s then that I snap out of it a little. Why does it matter that he’s a guy? It shouldn’t, right?

If I want to talk to him because I’m attracted to him, shouldn’t I go about it the same way I would with a woman?

Like with Joy…

We flirt, and it’s fun. I should be able to do the same with Velle. They’re both equally intimidating, after all. If I can flirt with Joy, then I suppose…

Forcing my legs to pick back up, I casually step closer to him. What I don’t expect is the nervous look in his ocean eyes as I approach.

“Are you going to keep pretending I don’t exist?” I come up to about a foot of space between us.

He blinks at me, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. I’ve always thought man-buns were douchey until Velle. He makes it look sexy as fuck. I think he makes most things look sexy as fuck, but his hair is just one of those features that adds to his appearance. It’s only chin-length, and when it’s down he’s constantly tucking it behind his ears. He puts it up for work, but an occasional piece will come loose… And I’ve found my fingers will twitch a little with the desire to push it back for him.

Then again, he might bite my finger off if I try.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rook,” he huffs, not sounding as exasperated as I think he was going for. “We’re working. No time for nonsense.”

“So talking to me is nonsense?” I fold my arms over my chest.

“This whole conversation is nonsense,” he growls at me, gaze narrowing.

My muscles tense, with nerves, irritation… arousal. All things that shouldn’t go together, but where Velle’s concerned it’s like a cocktail I can’t seem to stop sipping.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Officer Chevelle?” I inch closer to him, carefully, like he’s a scorpion that could sting me at any moment.

His eyes fall to my lips for a split second. One point in my favor.

“If I needed your help, I would ask for it.” His voice rumbles, breathier than usual as his face hovers over mine. “Now, I suggest you get back to work, or I’ll have no problem switching your shift to keep you here all night.”

Then he pushes back and turns, storming up the hall and out the door before I can even process what just happened.

My head is swimming as I leave, sifting through all the ways I could have acted so much cooler just now. I hate that he has me second-guessing myself all the time. It’s exhausting.

I never used to have this problem. I was married for a while, and with that relationship bred a long-term comfort. A sort of relaxation, where neither of us exactly cared what we were doing together. I suppose that was sign number one that things weren’t working. But I was too busy being a cop to see how badly my marriage sucked ass.

Before that, when I dated girls in high school and college, it was all pretty superficial. I didn’t have to do much to get dates and most of my connections were purely physical.

It’s physical with Velle, sure. My attraction to him feels super chemical at times… Primal in a way. Like it’s a part of me and there’s nothing I could ever do to thwart it. Yet the way he acts around me, it’s like he’s assuming us fooling around would come with a marriage license.

Am I giving off some kind of monogamous vibe? Does he think I’m incapable of casual sex?

Am I??

I have no idea, but this is all stressing me the hell out. Most of all, I’m confused. Confused at how he can want so badly from me in the dark, with the wall between us, but when I’m standing in front of him, he acts like he hates me. I don’t get it…

It’s a game, and I don’t know the rules.

I’m buried in my thoughts, and when I push open a door, I almost smash Joy in the face with it.

“I’m so sorry.” I grasp her by the arms and look her over, practically jittering with remorse. “Are you alright? Did it hit you?”

“Calm down, rookie,” she mutters through a chuckle. “I’m fine. Jeez, what’s with you?”

My fingers comb through my hair. “Nothing, I’m just… ready to get the hell out of here.”

“Same, man. I’m burnt the hell out,” she sighs. “I can’t wait to blow off some steam tonight. It’s been a long week…”

“It has.”

As I’m nodding, I notice that we’re still standing really close, and I’m holding her to me. She gazes at me, amber eyes glistening in a way that hypnotizes me for a second. Until I release her and clear my throat.

What the hell is wrong with me today?? Now I’m making moves on two of my coworkers? I need help.

“Come on, Cookie.” Joy nudges me. “Let’s go finish our rounds so we can blow this shithole.”

Sounds fuckin great.

By the time we’re finishing up with dinner, the music is already bumping upstairs.

Jasper, Hancock, Joy, and I ate together—enchiladas. They were actually pretty good. The chefs here feed us well, I’m guessing since the Warden lives here too, so we eat what he eats. And why would he choose anything but the best for himself?

Heading upstairs to join the rest of the party, Jasper and Joy are whispering back and forth. Flirting, as they do. She seems to have a casual thing going with him, and sometimes Hancock, too. And I get it. They’re both good-looking.

Now that I’ve been here a couple of months, I’m getting to know people a bit better. Some are quieter than others, but they all like to fuck and party just the same, being that it’s our only outlet on this island.

And now that I’m apparently allowing myself to look at men in a sexually appraising way, it’s amazing how differently I see them. Jasper is tall and built, Peters is a bit short, shorter than me, but even more muscular and kind of gorgeous. Hancock is the slimmer one, and he has these bright blue eyes, like Ren’s, only somehow lighter.

That dude who quit, the married one… Kemper. He was by far the hottest, similar to Velle with all the tattoos and the muscles. He was quiet, though. A hard nut to crack, I suppose.

There are others I tend not to check out, like Linetti and Brenner, and the dudes who work in the control rooms. I suppose none of them are my type, though I barely even know what that means.

Still, not one of these guys holds a candle to the head asshole in charge. Jonathan Chevelle is on a whole other playing field… I suppose that’s why he gets away with all he does. His sex appeal is more than just exterior. It’s his whole vibe… Dominant, mysterious, charismatic. He’s got it all in spades.

Actually, so does Joy. Between the two of them, they’re an unstoppable web of sex appeal on this island. One I’m not sure I can keep from getting tangled in.

The rest of us meander back up to the third floor and everyone goes to the living room to mingle. The party is in full effect, music going, drinks flowing, lights dimmed. And before I can even look left and right, there are drugs in my face.

“Get high with me,” Hancock murmurs, handing me a mirror with lines on it. I take it, reluctantly, and he uses a bill to snort one, wiping his nose afterward. “That’s good shit.”

I barely have to glance at it to know it’s coke. And as much as I’d rather not, I say fuck it and do a line.

Because nothing really fucking matters anyway, right?

I’m instantly all pepped, my heart rate jumping and everything suddenly becoming clear and… fast. I find myself looking around for Velle, but I don’t see him anywhere. Is he in his room? Is he with someone?

That’s a dumb question. Of course he’s with someone. He’s Velle. He fucks every night, barely even caring with whom.

Ignoring my Velle-obsession, I allow Hancock to pull me over to the couch where I see Joy and Jasper continuing their little flirting game. Hancock falls onto the couch and yanks me until I tumble, almost onto his lap. He mutters something I can’t understand. I’m too busy scooting over to Joy.

She tilts her face to mine, smile lighting right up as her eyes fall to my mouth. “Hey, Cookie. You feeling good?”

I nod. Because yea. I feel great. And Hancock is giggling at my side, touching my leg. It’s… interesting. But not bad.

I turn to look at him, wondering briefly if I could hook up with him. He’s cute, and he seems game for whatever. I wonder…

“So, Rook…” He leans in closer so we can talk over the loud music. “Have you gotten into any of the goods?” My brows zip together, and he chuckles. His hand slides further up my thigh… “The prisoners. Have you sampled any yet? I mean, Ren’s a given. But that new kid… He’s got some nice lips.”

“He’s been in solitary,” Jasper jumps into our conversation. “Maybe Brenner’s tried him.”

“You guys should be careful with that kid,” Joy mumbles. “He’s not a toy.”

“Awww… Jamesy!” Hancock laughs, leaning over me to take her chin between his fingers. “You jealous because he clearly wants dick over slit?”

“I will break your fucking hand,” Joy says, fully serious and without the slightest hint of amusement.

It makes me laugh.

Hancock comes back to me, whispering in my ear, “What about us? What Velle doesn’t know won’t hurt him…”

More confusion lines my brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” he starts, watching his finger run up to my groin, then back down, “You’re hot enough that I’d risk him finding out. Just for a taste…”

Now his eyes are on my mouth, but I can barely focus on how warm it’s making me. I’m lost.

“Why would we need to hide it from Velle?” I ask, thoughts a’swirling.

Hancock’s blue gaze slides up to mine, and he gives me a look. “Because he owns us, precious. Don’t you know that by now?”

“That makes no sense,” I mumble. “You guys hook up with each other. With the guests…” My eyes flit about the room. “It’s happening all around us right now.”

Hancock lets out a small chuckle and brings his fingers to my jaw. “Yea, but you’re new meat. He’s gonna eat you until he’s full, and then the rest of us can sample the scraps.”

I can’t help the look of appall on my face, which makes him laugh. I glance at Joy and she’s just watching me carefully, no discernible emotion on her face.

“Is that true?” I gasp at her.

She shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Well, I don’t know how I feel about that.

It’s a bit offensive to think about being seen as some fucktoy. At the same time, I can’t help the chill of elation that runs through me at the idea of Velle wanting me in any sort of sense. Seriously, my crush is that bad.

But the facts at hand cause me to shake my head. “Yea, well that’s not gonna happen with us. Trust me, Velle wants nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that he hates you in some sense,” Hancock goes on. “He hates everyone. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. I’ve seen the way he watches you. It’s like he wants to tear you apart with his teeth.” He glances up at Jasper and Joy. “Love that look.”

Jasper nods. And Joy is still just sitting quietly.

Now my stomach is really full of flutters. I know on some level that Velle does want me, but my insecurities have been taking over from all the rejection. The other night, when I listened to him touching himself for me, it was visceral. He can deny it all he wants, but I can feel how badly he wants to continue what we started that night in the hotel.

“Anyway…” Hancock scoots in closer, his warm breath brushing my neck. “Like I said, you’re mouthwatering. Worth the potential punishments from Daddy.”

His hand slides up my chest, fingers dancing on my muscles until I’m panting a little. Then they crawl up my neck, grasping my jaw as his gaze zeroes in on my mouth. And I’m watching his mouth, too. It’s inching up to mine…

Closer closer closer.

Am I going to kiss a guy? Is this really going to happen??

I’m sort of dying to see how it feels…

I allow my eyelids to flutter closed, Hancock’s mouth hovering over my own. I’m still as a stone, just waiting…

“Looks like it’s about to get steamy in here.” A familiar gruff voice snaps my eyes open quick, causing me to almost fall backward into Joy. I peer up at Velle, who’s standing before us with a fairly evil smirk resting on his lips. “I’m offended I wasn’t invited.”

“We thought you were preoccupied,” Hancock stutters, inching away from me.

“Well, I was. There’s some scandalous shit going on in the library right now,” Velle says before plopping down on the couch next to Hancock. “But I’d much rather be up here with you guys… Watching the rookie pop his gay cherry.”

Hancock looks awkwardly between Velle and me, while our gazes stay locked. Velle’s eyes are laced with a quiet animosity of sorts, making me even twitchier than the line of coke.

“I enjoy it so very much when you boys put on a show,” Velle goes on, turning to Hancock. He curls his fingers around the man’s throat, leaning over his face. “You want some new dick, baby?”

I can see that Hancock is wavering, likely unsure of what exactly Velle has in mind. But he doesn’t necessarily have a choice, a worrying thought. He nods slowly.

“Good.” Velle grins, then presses a quick kiss on Hancock’s lips. “Jasper, you’re up.”

It’s shocking how fast both of their faces fall.

Hancock’s head shakes. “No… I don’t think—”

“That’s not a good idea,” Jasper finishes the thought with wide eyes.

My brow furrows as I look to Joy. She’s grinning like she’s watching a live soap opera.

What the hell is going on with these two??

“I know, I know,” Velle sighs. “You’ve been dancing around it for a while. But tonight we’re gonna test it out. See if there’s any solid chemistry between you two.” His grin goes wicked as his head cocks. “And then you’ll know for sure.”

Jasper and Hancock share a look. I’m not sure what they’re thinking, but they seem to be communicating telepathically. I’d never noticed before right now, but there is definitely some palpable tension between them.

Velle doesn’t wait for them to get onboard, he simply pushes Hancock, nodding at me and Joy to move. We both do, standing up and coming over to sit by him while Jasper and Hancock scoot in together on the couch.

“Make it a good show, boys,” Velle demands, his tone quiet and calculating while rife with sexual dominance. It’s hot as hell, and a little scary. “Performance is key here.”

He sounds deviant; a master to his slaves. I can’t deny how hard it’s making me.

Hancock and Jasper are still awkwardly shifting next to one another, but I can tell they want it. I’m not sure what kind of history these two guys have, but clearly Velle senses something more than the rest of us. He’s like the puppet master.

Not much more hesitating happens before they’re touching slowly. Jasper takes his shirt off, then removes Hancock’s, their breathing becoming audibly heavier. When my face pivots, I see most of the party looking on, watching eagerly while smoke billows in the air, already warm with sex. The atmosphere in here is as salacious as it could be. Actually, a few other groups of people are hooking up across the room while they watch.

Velle leans across me to Joy and whispers, “Go grab us some toys.”

She immediately stands up and scampers off, I’m guessing to his bedroom. Hancock grabs Jasper’s face and kisses him, and I can’t ignore the tight burning in my stomach at the sight.

That was going to be me… But Velle stopped it. Is it because he wants me for himself?

Turning my gaze in his direction, I find him observing the guys, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Then he peeks at me, a simmering heat in his deep blue eyes.

My lips part like I want to say something to him, but I have no clue what. I don’t really know what’s going on here… All I know is that I’m turned on like crazy and I want to touch him.

I want to see how it feels to have what he refuses to give me.

“You can look at me like that all you want, Rook,” he whispers, moving his face up to mine. “You already hypnotized me once with those sex eyes of yours. It won’t happen again.”

“You sure about that?” I mumble, staring hungrily his mouth.

He hums, still watching me while he reaches for a glass on the table. He takes a large gulp of something, liquor from the smell of it, then he nudges it up to my lips.

“Drink,” he gives a gentle command, tilting the glass.

And without even a second thought, I part my lips and accept the drink he’s giving me. He pours the liquid into my mouth, so close he’s practically on top of me while he gapes, starved. My throat moves as I swallow and it catches his attention, as does the small dribble of liquor that falls from my lip.

He takes the glass back and before I can process it, he leans in and swipes my lip with his tongue, catching the flavor of the drink. The steel barbell grazes my mouth, causing a hard twitch in my pants as my cock throbs from the sensation.

I can’t even help but veer in, needing him to give me more of that mouth, that tongue right now. I’m fucking desperate for it.

But of course he pulls away, refusing to kiss me, though his hand is gripping my thigh hard. I know he wants more, too… I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the stiffness of his muscles as he denies himself.

Maybe he likes it… The feeling of not giving in. Like sexual sadism or something…

Either way, now I can’t tear my eyes from his mouth, thinking about that tongue ring and how it would feel… all over the place.

Joy returns as Velle is setting down the empty glass. She’s wearing a devious little smirk while she sits next to me, handing something to Velle. I notice his eyes light up with amusement and when I manage to extract my own, I glance down to find the object in his hand is something pretty familiar.

The fleshlight.

Velle gives me a look, swiping his lower lip with his tongue, before glancing at Joy. “What about you?”

Joy holds up what appears to be a vibrating dildo of some kind, her focus on Jasper and Hancock. I almost forgot they were there for a second, although the sounds of them hooking up are now the soundtrack to what’s happening on this side of the couch.

Jasper is guiding Hancock’s mouth down onto his dick while Hancock grinds his hips into the couch.

I’m distracted from the scene when I hear Velle’s belt unbuckling. He stuffs his hand into his pants, palming himself while he peers at me. “How does it look, rookie?”

A small whimper brings my attention to Joy, who has her shorts off and the vibrator between her thighs. I swallow hard, wide eyes now stuck on her.

Joy’s pussy is right there. Oh my God…

“Mmm…” Velle’s rumble drags me back to him, where he has his dick in the fleshlight.

Whatever is happening in this room, I’m all about it.

Seriously, I am surrounded by sex. It’s literally everywhere, like an orgy, and my eyes can’t decide where they want to be more.

Watching as Jasper flips Hancock over and starts eating his ass out, I maneuver myself around my raging erection, straining in my pants. I’m bummed that I didn’t get to see Velle’s dick before he stuffed it inside that thing. Still, I can’t look away as he fucks it. I’m… beyond impressed.

Impressed isn’t even the right word. I’m ravenous.

I’ve never looked at another man’s dick and thought yum before, but right now I want Velle’s in my throat. Bad.

I’m burning alive as I slope to Velle’s ear and whisper, “Let me. Please…”

His face angles to mine, gaze hooded as he bites his lip. Then he lets go of the toy, leaning back and giving me a look that I think says, go for it.

Without further thought, I grab the fleshlight and begin working it on him, slowly, building the strokes the way I imagine feels good. The way I know feels good, based on how it felt when I used it the other night.

Velle releases a growly sound, his head falling back as he lifts his shirt enough to reveal all kinds of sexy lines of muscle and dark ink. God, his body is mouthwatering. I think I could lick that V-shape for hours and hours.

A smaller, feminine hand reaches over and unbuttons my jeans, unzipping them. My eyes jump to Joy, vibrator inside herself, looking like the most tempting thing ever. It’s mesmerizing, being in between the two of them. Joy’s femininity and Velle’s masculinity, both so fucking hot and fully verifying my bisexuality in this moment. I don’t even know where to look, watching Joy as her back arches, or watching Velle as his chest heaves, long cock filling up the toy in my hand.

And then of course there’s the live-action porn happening in front of us; Jasper in between Hancock’s legs, his dick plunging deep into the other man’s ass.

Fuck, I can’t breathe. I’m about to combust. I need some relief.

Just then, Joy’s hand slinks inside my pants and boxers to pull my cock out. I shift my hips enough to help her, balls drawing up like crazy at the feeling of her soft fingers on my shaft. She gives it a quick tug but stops suddenly.

Glancing at Velle, I find him leering, something scalding and dangerous in his eyes.

I go for my dick with my free hand, but Velle growls, “Don’t even think about it.”

A soft whimper leaves my lips. “Why not?”

“You just watch,” he demands. “Watch us get off and then you can come.”

“Fuck…” I whine, my balls already suffering with the need to do something.

There’s so much going on all around me, and I want a piece.

But I have to listen to him. Because he’s in charge.

I keep moving the toy, helping Velle fuck it while watching Jasper take Hancock for a ride on his dick, occasionally peeking at Joy. I love the sight of her fucking herself with that toy. She’s graceful as she does it. And of course she comes first, but she keeps going.

I love that about the female orgasm. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.

I also love feeling Velle sway into me as his breathing picks up. He’s not even watching Jasper and Hancock anymore, his eyes are stuck on my hand, working his cock inside the toy.

“Does it feel good?” I rumble to him and he purrs. “Do you wish my cum was still inside?”

He doesn’t answer me, but now he’s staring at my erection, which is stretched shiny, aggressively hard on my abs, flinching with need. There’s actually precum dripping from the tip from how goddamn turned on I am, and how much I want something. Anything.

“You loved having my cum in there, didn’t you?” I breathe by his ear. “Did you taste some?”

“Rook…” he mumbles, and his hand lifts. It skates across my skin, brushing between my thighs, almost gently, a tender trail down to my balls. He whispers so only I can hear, “I’m gonna… come.”

I keep stroking him, watching his abs constrict as he grumbles and whimpers, smooshing his face into my side while he comes into the toy, his fingers teasing my nuts until my dick starts to throb. He’s breathing out hard, rubbing my balls over and over while we watch cum erupt from Hancock’s dick, shooting out onto his abs.

Jasper leans down over him and captures his lips, mumbling something while it looks like he begins to climax himself. Coming inside the other man’s ass…

Fuck… Jesus…

And somehow, against all rationale, an orgasm sneaks up on me.

Cum spurts from my cock onto my abs, with nothing more than Velle’s hand massaging my balls. I watch it happening, breathing heavily, panting and humming while the world tilts.

Velle’s fingers trail up into my cum, swirling it around on my abs. Then he lifts his fingers to my mouth. And I part my lips, allowing him to press them inside so I can taste myself.

Our eyes locked the whole time.

The flavor is sort of what I’d expect, but seeing his blue irises glisten is what I want. It’s what I need more than anything.

I have no motherloving clue what just happened in this room. But Joy curling into my right side, while Velle rests on my left… It’s a better high than any drug could ever provide.

Some days blend together.

Some days are bleak. Meaningless.

Others are so overflowing with drama it feels like a movie.

The thing is, around here, you’ll never know what kind of day you’re going to have. You just wake up and put on your uniform, going into it expecting the worst. Best-case scenario, mundane monotony until your shift ends, where you go home and drown yourself in sex and substances, hoping to numb the suffocation. To distract from the fact that you’re trapped, and there’s nothing you can do to break free.

I’m standing in the caf, leaning against the far wall by the doors. My usual spot. Holster heavy with weapons on my waist. I’m used to that, too. Being armed.

I learned to shoot at an early age, because of my father. I’m no stranger to guns… To having to pull them on people. It’s a way of life.

The noise is minimal. Just miscellaneous chatter. It’s usually pretty loud around here, and that’s another thing that fades into the background of my subconscious.

Noise. Screaming, shouting, laughing… banging and clanging, chains and doors and all that clank clank clank. It’s been a part of my life for so long sometimes I hear it even when I’m at home.

I hear these sounds when I close my eyes at night, and again, the only way to dull it away is to get fucked up.

I don’t like relying on substances for sleep. I don’t like relying on anything for anything. As far as I’m concerned, I should be able to take care of everything I need on my own. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, after all.

But it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.

I glance across the room. Rook is walking, making rounds to check on the inmates while they eat their breakfast. Making sure no one’s acting up.

It seems to be a quiet day. No nonsense.

No excitement.

Nothing.

Rook’s eyes lift to mine, and when he sees me watching him, they dart away. I think he’s blushing as he wanders the room, trying to keep his face serious.

I want to laugh. He’s such a nugget, I swear to God.

He saw my vagina a couple nights ago. I touched his dick. I guess to someone like Rook, that means we crossed a line of sorts. And maybe we did…

Thing is, I’m obviously attracted to him. How could you not be? He’s gorgeous, and sweet. Kind, and funny in an oblivious kind of way, like he’s not even trying to be charming. Blissfully unaware of his allure. Very different from Velle.

And not to mention that whole thing… His attraction to Velle is his most attractive quality.

I know, I’m weird. I get that, and I’ve made my peace with it. But at this point, I want to watch Rook and Velle together more than I even want to hook up with either of them.

I’ve had opportunities to hook up with the rookie. He’s into me and we flirt. It’s fun, and I’m sure hooking up with him would be very refreshing. But there’s this voice in the back of my mind… The same voice that started talking to me when I was in high school, the one that drove me to convince my boyfriend to make out with his best friend while I watched.

And it’s telling me the same thing now.

Part of me wonders why I’m so enthralled at the idea of watching people fuck, more than physically doing it myself. Do I have a voyeur fetish? Or am I incapable of letting myself get close enough?

It’s not that I don’t hook up, I do. A lot. Velle and I fuck on the regular. Jasper has a really good dick, and I’ve been known to join him and his guests. It’s fun, but most of all, it’s casual. And something about the rookie feels very un-casual.

I’m not sure why… He’s coming out of a marriage, and he’s never alluded to wanting a new relationship. It’s not him, it’s me. I feel like that, and I just can’t figure out why.

I know, though, based on the way he looks at me, that he’s attracted. And even looking at him now, watching him as he pretends not to keep peeking at me from across the room, I can’t help but remember how it felt to touch his dick.

It’s a really nice dick. No… Nice isn’t enough. It’s marvelous. Something to marvel at.

And still, the most satisfying part of the other night was nestling up to him after I made myself come a bunch of times, with Velle on his other side. The three of us together, sated from watching two hot guys drill into each other. That’s what felt right.

Is that weird? Does it make sense??

I’m sure none of this does, and maybe I’m just tired but it seems unnecessary to even think about it. Casual is all we can do here, and if it can’t be just sex, then it can’t be. Period.

There’s no point in trying. I made a vow, after all.

Rook’s journey around the room is finished as he steps up to where I’m standing, and I glance at my watch. Ten more minutes.

“Those eggs look thoroughly disgusting,” Rook sighs as he leans up on the wall by my side. “I’m surprised they don’t get sick more often.”

“Their bodies get used to it fast,” I tell him.

We stand in silence for a few moments, eyeing the inmates as they sit at their tables, eating and chatting. Still pretty quiet.

Across the room, Ren’s gaze lifts from where he’s sitting next to Luthor and Kang, lingering on Rook for a moment before he goes back to his food.

“Cover me when we get them back?” Rook asks me suddenly and I peer at him. “I just need five minutes.”

A sly smirk tugs at my lips while I shake my head. “Bad idea…”

“It’s not that,” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair. “I have some shit to drop off for him. I have to do it while Velle’s not around.”

I roll to face him, my expression growing slightly serious. “If you think he doesn’t know, you’re tripping. He knows everything. The Warden tells him everything, too. Even if he doesn’t catch it himself.”

Rook looks momentarily nervous, but he just shrugs. “I made a deal. If he wants to come at me, he can. Won’t be any different from how much he already tortures me…”

“Uh, yes it will,” I grunt. “Right now, he’s trying to deal with his attraction to you, and he’s fucking up at it. But if he gets pissed at you rather than himself, it’ll be a very different situation.”

“Okay. I get that.” He nods. “But at this point, I don’t really care. He’s going to react how he wants to, regardless.”

I narrow my gaze at him. “You like pissing him off, don’t you?”

His eyes stay on his boots and he refuses to look at me, doing a petulant little shoulder lift that makes me laugh. A subtle grin tugs at his lips. “It’s the only way to get a reaction out of him.”

“Jesus… You guys are certifiable.” I roll my eyes through a chuckle.

He glares at me. “You’re just as bad.”

“Me?!” I gasp and he nods.

“Yea.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Tell me, Joyful, how often does he sneak into your room?”

I smirk. “Why? You jealous?”

That comment clearly gets to him, but he forces himself not to react. “I’m just saying, if pressing his buttons is the way to get him to crack just a little… then I’ll take my licks as they come.”

“Brave boy.” My eyes fall away.

I can’t get in the middle of the two of them, and to be honest, I don’t want to. I’d much rather watch it all unfold from afar, which is clearly my default preference.

A loud smack snaps us out of our conversation. My hand flies to my Glock like a reflex as I stomp over to where #55, this big asshole named Percy Gage, is standing over #21, Jim Mason.

Mason’s been here a long time, so we don’t get much hassle out of him. A lot of the attention-hungry pricks like Gage fuck with him on purpose because of it, which is obviously what’s happening now.

“Answer me, old man.” Gage leans down, getting in Mason’s face.

Mason has little reaction. He simply drifts his face upward to look at Gage, expressionless, dead eyes gaping at him. Gage is waiting for some words he’s not getting, and it’s clearly riling him up.

And then Mason spits in Gage’s face.

Shit gets much louder after that.

Gage launches himself at Mason, tackling him to the ground while a few other inmates begin chanting for a fight, jumping up and barking nonsense, banging on the tables. The rest of them just stay seated, not fazed in the slightest by the outburst, since it happens all the time.

I knew today was too quiet.

Peters and Jasper calm everyone else down while Rook and I pull Gage off Mason and cuff him.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that, #55?” I growl, squeezing the cuffs all the way, making sure they bite. I want him in pain for inconveniencing me.

“Fuck that old asshole! He’s dead!” Gage roars.

One glance at Rook and we’re on the same page.

Rook elbows him in the gut, hard, causing him to drop to his knees.

“Fall in line, inmate,” Rook says calmly.

I won’t lie, that dampened my panties a tad.

“I’m bringing his stupid ass to solitary,” I tell Rook, hauling Gage up while he grumbles in discomfort.

“You need backup?” He asks. The seriousness painted on his face reminds me he’s a cop.

“I’m good,” I huff. “Go handle your business.” My eyes dart to the table where Ren, Luthor, and Kang are just sitting there, eating like nothing is going on.

I don’t wait to see Rook’s reaction before I’m dragging #55 along, bringing him on the long trek to solitary.

“Come on, Joy,” Gage pleads once he knows we’re far enough away that the other inmates won’t hear him. “This is fucked up. He started it!”

“Really?” My eyes shift. “Even if I were to believe that, which I never would, aren’t you like forty? He started it is something children say.” Gage mumbles under his breath and I ignore him, walking his big, dopey ass through the long corridors. “Take responsibility for yourself.”

Almost ten minutes later, we get to solitary and I pull my keys off my holster, opening the first cell in the row and shoving Gage inside. I remove his cuffs and lock him away, ignoring him as he curses my name from behind the large door. Dumbass.

I’m about to turn back in the direction of gen-pop when I hear something that stops me. Peering down the hall, I listen closely over the sounds of Gage pounding on his cell door, but I can’t make it out.

Wandering toward the noises, the closer I get, I realize there are voices coming from inside one of the cells at the end. It takes me only a moment to figure out that a guard is in there, talking to an inmate. Approaching slowly, I peek inside the small plexiglass window on the door and my eyes widen.

It’s Brenner. He’s crowding an inmate, and when he moves enough that I can see who it is, muscles tighten all over my body.

Dash.

Brenner is pushing himself into #101, and the inmate is struggling against him. Holding my breath to eavesdrop, I hear Brenner whispering.

“On your knees, #101,” He tries shoving Dash down by his shoulder, but Dash resists. “We’re gonna put that irresistible mouth of yours to work…”

“Fuck you, fag,” Dash growls. “Come near me and I’ll bite your dick off.”

Then, while I’m still trying to process what I’m seeing, Brenner pulls the Taser off his holster and presses it up to Dash’s neck.

In a split second, he lets loose, and Dash drops to his knees, twitching, slumped between the wall and Brenner’s large body.

“There you go, inmate.” Brenner quickly unbuckles his belt and pants, which snaps me into action.

Rage is surging inside me as I rip my keys off my holster and unlock the cell door, whipping it open so hard it actually bangs against the opposite wall.

Brenner startles, turning to face me while I stomp into the cell, my eyes falling to Dash who’s on the floor, curled up in a ball and mumbling nonsense.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” I stalk forward until I’m up in Brenner’s face. He’s taller than me by a couple inches, but I don’t give a fuck.

I’m fucking pissed. Enraged.

Sure, this shit happens here, I know it does. I’ve seen worse without intervening.

But this is Dascha Reznikov. I’m responsible for him. I promised Kemper I’d watch out for the kid, and I take my promises very seriously.

So far all I’ve had to do is leave him a toothbrush, but I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The vultures in this place have been circling Dash since the moment he set foot in the Pen and I suppose I get it.

I can’t keep him out of solitary, but I refuse, I refuse to let this big prick abuse him. Whether I understand Kemper’s reasoning is irrelevant. I gave him my word, and my word is my bond.

“Jesus, Joy,” Brenner huffs. “What the fuck??”

“Yea, what the fuck is right.” I shove him on the chest, enough that he stumbles back. “Don’t ever fucking touch him again.”

He has the nerve to grin and let out this little smug asshole chuckle. “Since when are you protecting inmates? Velle tried the same shit a few fucking days ago!”

“I’m not talking about Velle, I’m talking about you,” I seethe. “This inmate is off limits, do you understand?”

The look he’s giving me is one of part shock and part stubborn anger. I can see him considering what I’ve said for a moment. But ultimately, he chooses to be a fuckface and steps to me again.

“And what if I say no?” He rumbles down at me.

“Your funeral.” I shrug before launching the heel of my hand at his nose.

He lets out a groan when I connect, hands flying to his face. That move causes the eyes to water up like crazy, which is why I always follow it up with a knee to the balls.

“Fuck!” He roars, dropping like a sack of shit onto the floor.

But I don’t stop there. Because I need him to learn the error of his ways.

I need him to comprehend what he did wrong and correct himself.

My boot connects with his face a few times as I kick him until he starts blocking. Then I go for his gut, kicking and kicking as he curls up further, grunting with each hit to his ribs.

“You will not touch this inmate again, Officer,” I growl out of breath. “Do you under-fucking-stand?”

“Yes! Jesus, yes…” he croaks, spitting blood onto the floor.

I exhale heavy. “Good.” I finish him off with a final kick to the head.

It knocks him out cold.

When I glance at Dash, he’s backed up on his little cot mattress, staring at the floor. It doesn’t look like he’s processing what’s going on here. My brow furrows as I stare at him. He’s not even blinking.

“Dash?” I whisper, leaning in. I snap my fingers in front of his face.

No response. He’s out of it.

I’m a bit concerned, but then I don’t know what his issues are, and clearly, he has a few. Right now, I just need to get this raping fucker out of his cell. Unfortunately, he’s passed the hell out, and I won’t be able to move him far.

Dragging Brenner’s unconscious body out of Dash’s cell, I leave him in the hall. When I come back to Dash, he’s still in the exact same spot; still dazedly staring at nothing.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” I tell him quietly. “You’ve got someone watching out for you.”

And I don’t mean me.

Leaving the cell, I lock it and stomp back toward the cafeteria. On my way, I pick up my walkie.

“Velle, you copy?” I say over the radio.

“What’s up, Cherry?” My partner’s voice comes over the device.

I hesitate for only a second before I tell him, “Your officer is unconscious in solitary. You might wanna come get him.”

No response at first. He’s quiet for seconds on end before he finally mutters, “Ten-four.”

I can’t help but grin while I crack my knuckles beneath my leather gauntlets.

I know I’m not supposed to be doing what I’m doing.

And it’s not that I give a flying fuck about what the Warden would say. Yes, he still has me by the metaphorical balls, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid of what he can do. Or rather, what he will do to the people I care about if he thinks said people are somehow involved. Which is why I care more about hiding this secret from Velle than from anyone else.

I’m being sneaky.

There are no cameras in solitary row, so bringing all that food to Dash earlier was easy enough. By the time I’d gotten there, Velle had already retrieved Brenner, picked him up and dusted him off. Basically, he just gave him an ice pack and told him to get over it. Now Brenner’s walking around with the makings of a black eye and a real salty look about him.

If he thinks I give a fuck about that, he’s got another thing coming.

No, the main sneakiness is happening now, as I’m creeping into Luthor and Dash’s cell. It’s late, and my shift is almost over, but I need to do this before I go.

I move as quietly as possible, taking the supplies and stuffing them underneath #101’s pillow before turning to bolt. Luthor’s due back from dinner any moment and I can’t have him seeing me, as it would bring forth a myriad of questions requiring explanations I’m not at liberty to give. It would open me up for more blackmail, which I despise.

As it is, I rarely get stuff for inmates. I’ve done it for Luthor and Kang before, but only when I’ve felt it totally necessary. Like at Christmas, I’ll bring them Little Debbie’s cakes. I gave Kang an iPod last year, and the thing is still going strong.

Outside of that, though, I keep myself from partaking in the sex-for-goods trade that goes on here. And I do it for Velle.

It’s complicated, but I know Velle takes the brunt of all the Warden’s frustrations. I don’t even want to think about it right now, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from that prick’s brutal repercussions, or I’ll die trying.

The only person I’d risk it for is Kemper, which is the only reason I’m doing this. He asked me to get Dash toiletries and boxers, so I did. For whatever reason, Kemper wants Dascha comfortable, and now it’s my job to make that happen.

Leaving gen-pop, I head back toward the break room to get ready for closing duties. I’m tired as fuck today, and I can’t wait to go home and relax. I might even take a bubble bath or whatever when I get there.

I can do girly things. Don’t judge me.

Around the corner, I bump into Mickey from the control room. He gives me an odd look, and I cock my head. “Hi, Mickey. Ready to go home?”

He nods slowly but says nothing. It’s strange, the way he’s staring at me. Like he knows something.

Like he saw something.

And of course, he did. He sees everything. It’s part of working in the control rooms. They have to be watching our every moves in this place, opening the doors right when we need them, locking them immediately when we’re done. It’s the only way this shit works, in gen-pop and in the East. The only place it doesn’t happen that way is in solitary.

But Mickey is the chief operator for gen-pop. Which means he knows what I just did… what I just left in Dash’s cell.

“You know, Mickey… we get along. Right?” I step in closer to him until he has to back up.

“Yes,” he answers hesitantly.

He’s a small guy, so he has to look up at me when we talk, especially when we’re this close. I’m sort of towering over him.

“Right. Good.” I grin. “So I think it goes without saying that we should be able to share private matters… Secrets, inside jokes, things like that. You catch my drift, Mick?”

I witness him swallow. And he doesn’t respond. Just keeps gaping at me.

“But if Velle were to find out about these inside secretes between us, I think he’d be unhappy,” I go on, walking into him some more, until he backs up into the wall, startling himself. “And when Velle’s unhappy, I’m unhappy. And when I’m unhappy, I find the source of my unhappiness… and I end it.”

My tone is still casual, though the look in my eyes is not, and I think Mickey is definitely reading it.

“You picking up what I’m putting down… Mick?” I hover over him, my right hand casually falling to my Glock.

His eyes dart down to it and then back up to mine before he nods frantically. “Yes. Yea, of course, Joy. I’m with you.”

“That’s good to hear, Mickey.” I give him a little tap on the jaw with my knuckles. “I’m glad we’re such good friends.”

Winking at him, I turn away to finish my shift.

Just another day in Alabaster fuckin Pen.

It’s so damn quiet in here. I think that’s been the biggest adjustment, living in this house.

New York City is loud. When I’m at work, in Alabaster Pen, I’m surrounded by sounds. That I’m used to. Driving around all day in the squad car, working overnight shifts. Seeing crazy shit, dealing with lying sociopaths. It’s all part of being a cop in the city.

But coming home to this creepy old mansion to live with all these different personalities… It’s weird. It still feels off, even after I’ve been here for months now.

Sure, my roommates are loud. The parties can get a little noisy, but even when they rage, there’s something unmistakably silent about the atmosphere.

This mansion feels like a library, or a museum. Dark and cold. It’s always cold, even on the sunnier days, as if there’s air conditioning running all day every day, when there isn’t.

It’s not even that it’s completely silent, but it’s this eerie quiet that absorbs you, with the ocean as a backdrop. You can always hear it, the ocean. You think it’d be relaxing, but it kind of just reminds me we’re stranded.

That’s probably why I’m wandering around downstairs at two in the morning. I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to involve myself in what my roommates are doing. Sometimes I just like keeping to myself. It’s the one thing I miss about my marriage; the quiet nights in. I guess that was the problem with our boring relationship… It became nothing but those.

But still, even on our most relaxed evenings here in the Ivory Mansion, it’s a minefield of mind games.

What ever happened to Netflix and chill??

Wow, you sound lame. That’s probably why Velle thinks you’re incapable of anything casual.

My thoughts taper as I walk through the first floor, between the two staircases. I’ve crossed the threshold and now I’m on the Warden’s side. I’m not sure why I keep creeping over here, but it’s drawing me in. There’s something strange about this place that I just can’t let go of.

When I approach the Warden’s downstairs study, I hear voices, hushed and obviously meant to be in confidence. Naturally, I can’t force myself to stay away and I tiptoe closer, hanging just outside the room to eavesdrop. But I still can’t make out the words.

The voices sound relatively familiar, though…

I decide to peek around the corner and snoop because why the hell not, right? I’m a cop. Former cop. I like to investigate things.

It’s so dark down here. The only lights are few and far between, and they’re so dim they barely do anything. Slinking into the room, I keep myself hidden behind a bookshelf while I look around. The furniture in here is old, but obviously very expensive. Just like in the rest of the house.

Dark. Dark dark dark, that’s the only word to describe this place.

“Don’t make me regret letting you come over here,” a voice rasps.

I recognize it immediately as the Warden.

Another deep voice starts, “I’m—” But then it cuts out, leaving only silence.

My brow furrows as I try to inch closer to where they are, hidden in another part of the room just out of sight. But before I can get there, Manuel Blanco pops up right in front of me.

I jump so hard my back slams into the shelf behind me and everything rattles.

“Jesus,” I breathe, slapping my hand over my heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I scared the shit out of you?” He asks in an unamused tone, with an almost invisible eyebrow quirking to showcase his displeasure. “You’re the one trespassing, Officer Samuels. What can I do for you?”

I keep trying to peek over to where the other person is hiding from sight. I’m dying to know who’s over there. But the Warden moves to block me from seeing anything.

“I, uh… was looking for you,” I lie. It’s obvious, too. “I wanted to ask you about this doctor who’s coming… The psychiatrist.”

“Yes,” the Warden crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for me to elaborate. He knows I’m making this up as I go and he’s fucking with me.

I swallow hard. “I was just wondering if his qualifications are similar to those of your East wing doctors, or if he’s actually a licensed physician.”

I’m trying my hardest to come off confident here, but I’m shaking a lot.

Blanco’s head cocks. He stares at me in silence for a while before uttering, “He has a PhD from Johns Hopkins. Is that qualified enough for you?”

My brows lift and I nod. “Yea, that’s great.” His lips curve. “Is he going to study any other inmates, or just The Carver?”

“Who do you mean?” He inches closer to me. I feel trapped and small beneath his presence, even though he’s not necessarily a visibly strong man. I’ve got muscle on him in pounds, but there’s something about his aura that’s overpowering to say the least. “Are you referring to Warren Xavier?”

At his mention of Ren’s name, my muscles stiffen.

I’m not a dumbass. I know the Warden is well aware of everything that happens here, in the Pen and in this mansion. I just didn’t expect him to actually confront me about it. And now that it’s happening, I’m kind of stuck.

“I can’t imagine I’m the first to say this to you, but on the off-chance I am, I’d like for you to really hear me, Harley.” He speaks in an even tone; clear, concise. Warning. “Warren Xavier is not the inmate whose trap you want to fall into. He is one of the most fantastic cases of pathological liars I’ve ever witnessed. And trust me, we have examined him quite a bit over the years. Polygraphs, alternative therapies… It’s not an exaggeration.”

When he pauses, I part my lips as if to interject. But he places his index finger over my mouth to stop me. “I’m not here to babysit. That’s Officer Chevelle’s job. I would simply like to inform you that if anything you do during your private visits to Warren’s cell in any way jeopardize Alabaster Penitentiary or my work, it will be the end of you. And might I remind you that you being here was me letting you off easy.” His eyes are like obsidian stones as they bore into my own. “Next time you fuck with me, Harley, it won’t turn out this pleasant.”

His long fingers skate down to my throat and he grips it for a moment, holding me still. I honestly feel like I could waste this asshole if I wasn’t hypnotized by those goddamn eyes and the look in them. It feels like he’s put a spell on me, some hold I just can’t break, which has nothing to do with physical strength.

His face hovers over mine and he whispers, “Go.”

Then he backs up just enough to shoo me out of his study, sending me scampering off into the darkness of the house with my head spinning.

“Clear!” Velle barks too close to my face and I cringe.

He turns and storms away, leaving me in the cell alone to close the door. All damn day I’ve been finding myself chasing him like a lost, distracted puppy while he orders me around. This has become the dynamic of our relationship. We never discuss any of the physical things that have happened between us. We pretend like they don’t exist.

We live together and work together, and he yells at me constantly. And while it’s definitely not ideal, I find myself migrating toward him, flocking to him like I’m a bird and he’s my warmer climate. It’s completely ridiculous, but for some reason, I’d rather work my entire shift by his side, with him barking at me, than work in content silence with someone else.

Right now, we’re doing checks. I like when I get to do them with Velle and Joy, but Joy is downstairs having her rec time with her little Pen Boy Posse. That’s what I call Luthor, Ren, Kang, and now Dash, apparently. I think it’s funny. She just stares blankly at me when I say it.

In the next cell, I have #66 and #72 up against the wall, patting them down while Velle tosses their shit all over the place, ransacking for dangerous contraband, like drugs or weapons. Or really just whatever he feels these prisoners are unworthy of having.

These guys have nothing on their person, but apparently, Velle found something he doesn’t like underneath the mattress of the top bunk because he stomps over to where we’re standing with something in his hand.

He shoves me out of the way and begins crowding them. “You have something to say to me, inmates?”

These guys are two of the quieter prisoners, just from my own personal experiences with them, so they’re not even trying to act tough. They look terrified. To be honest, even the biggest, scariest inmates are afraid of Velle. Actually, the only ones who seem to regularly give him the business are Ren, Darcey, and now Dash, although Dash has been in solitary a lot since he arrived, so maybe he’s easing up.

Velle continues to glare at the prisoners before lifting his hand to reveal an object I’ve come to know as an Alabaster Pen shiv.

See, in regular prisons, inmates would use supplies to create sharp weapons known as shivs. Toothbrushes are the most common, sometimes forks or spoons depending on the quality of plastic. The point—LOL—is that state and federal prisons have much more on the premises which can be turned into such things.

But here, at Alcatraz from hell, we don’t give inmates any of those items. If an inmate has acquired something like a toothbrush, it’s pretty much gold. The last thing they’d want to do is ruin it by turning it into a weapon.

But what they do have access to here, in abundance, is concrete. Most of the building is made of it, and because this place is literally falling apart, sometimes chunks fall from the ceiling, or they can be scraped out of the corners. Inmates will collect the larger ones and sort of whittle them down a bit to make them sharp.

Not the most reliable weapons, since a lot of times they’ll fall apart while you’re stabbing someone, but I guess that’s the risk these assholes are willing to take to injure each other.

“One of you is going to tell me whose this is,” Velle growls. “You have three seconds. If I don’t get an answer in three goddamn seconds, you’re both spending your summer in solitary. Go.”

“It’s his!” #72 gasps, pretty much the moment the last word leaves Velle’s lips.

His cellmate looks offended as hell. “Fuck you, dick!”

Velle’s lips twist into a smirk. “Thanks for being so cooperative.”

Then he stabs the jagged piece of stone into #72’s shoulder.

“Ahh! Fuck!” The prisoner groans, turning to Velle over his now bleeding shoulder. “Why’d you stab me??”

“Because snitches get stitches.” He grins. “Or in your case, superglue.”

Velle spins and leaves the cell without another word.

My eyes are wide as I stagger out behind him, closing the door. I follow him up the row and out the door to a small connecting corridor. He’s still power-walking, but I just can’t…

I grab his arm to stop him. “What the hell was that??”

He comes to a halt and turns to face me, eyes flitting to where I’m holding onto his bicep. I drop it fast. “What was what?”

He says it in such a casually bored way I almost feel like I imagined that whole thing just now. He does that a lot.

“You just… stabbed that inmate.” An uncontrollable chuckle comes out with my words.

I really don’t mean to laugh… I know it’s not funny, but I can’t help myself.

Jesus, this place is corrupting me.

Velle looks like he’s trying to crush his own amusement as he steps forward into me. “You wanna be next, Officer?” I bite my lip and shake my head, gazing into his eyes, deep like the waters surrounding us. “Good. Then shut the fuck up and stop questioning me so we can get back to work.”

“I wasn’t questioning you, I just…” My voice dissolves when I realize he’s staring at my mouth. Like staring at it, in a lusting sort of way…

It’s blazing me up all over. I can’t breathe, and my clothes are suffocating.

“You…” he inches over me even more until I back up into the wall, “Are infuriating me, Samuels.”

“I have no control over that,” I whisper, preparing myself for his lips to crash into mine.

I’m praying for it, trying to manifest it with all my might. Dying for it. I have been for weeks and I know he has too, but he’s so damn stubborn he won’t let himself break. He’s been worse than ever to me, and I don’t know if I can do this fucking dance any longer.

Velle’s jaw ticks visibly. He looks angry as fuck, and now I’m not sure if it’s just because he refuses to give into his want, or if there’s some other reason.

I’m sure there is… Something is holding him back, but I’m frustratingly unaware of what it is.

He smacks his palm flat against the concrete by my head, hard enough that I flinch. “You do have control over it, though. You know exactly what you’re doing…”

Confused, my lips part, but before I can respond, his radio goes off.

“Velle, get down here.” It’s Joy. “Bring back-up.”

Velle’s gaze lingers on mine for just a moment longer before he blinks heavily, then backs up. He takes his radio off his holster and speaks into it, “Copy.” Then he tugs his lip between his teeth for a split second before rumbling at me, “Let’s go.”

He winds back in the direction we came, and I have to peel myself off the wall to scurry after him.

That was fucking intense.

It’s always intense between us, I’m realizing that now. Since the moment I met John Chevelle, he’s flipped me upside down. It’s like he took away my gravity and now I’m just floating around him in orbit, reaching… trying to catch him and hang on for dear life.

It takes a while to get down to the basement. I think it’s technically further away than solitary, but I’m still not even sure. This entire place is a hodgepodge of identical concrete hallways. I still have a hard time finding my way around.

When we finally reach the rec room and storm inside, we find Joy looking beyond pissed, glaring down at Dash who’s in cuffs, knuckles dripping with blood. Luthor and Kang are standing there frozen solid with pale faces, gawking at Ren, who’s literally rolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

His face is all bloody, looks like his lip is split and it’s running into his mouth, making his teeth all red while he cackles, out loud, like a maniac. Velle and I glance at each other, sharing the same telepathic thought. What in the actual fuck happened down here??

Velle moves first, going to Ren. He drops onto his knees and restrains Ren, holding him down on the ground. Ren’s squirming all over the place beneath him, laughing and laughing, so hard he’s gasping for air, coughing as he chokes on blood.

“Jesus…” I mutter, peering at Joy. “What the hell happened to him?”

“This one happened,” she sighs and points at Dash.

“I didn’t… I didn’t…” Dash stutters. Honestly, the kid looks scared.

He thinks he broke Ren… From what I understand, it’s not that easy.

I can’t help but notice the immense worry on Luthor’s face. He’s squeezing his hand into a fist over and over at his side while Velle tries to get control of Ren.

Velle turns to me over his shoulder and barks, “Get him the fuck out of here.” Clearly meaning Dash. Then he gives Ren a light smack on the cheek. “Focus, #48. Snap the fuck out of it!”

I’m hesitating as I grab Dash by his arm and haul him to his feet. I hate to admit it, but I’m a little worried about Ren, too. I’ve never seen him freak out like this.

Joy cuffs Luthor and Kang, muttering, “Come on, inmates. Back upstairs.”

“Now, Officer Samuels,” Velle growls at me once more.

Obeying his command, I tug Dash along, dragging him to keep up as we head toward solitary. The only problem is that I really don’t know how to get there from here.

“Fuck…” I mumble to myself when we come to a fork in the hall.

“I didn’t mean to…” Dash whispers. My gaze at him narrows.

His eyes are wide, but there doesn’t seem to be anything happening behind them. He has this blank look on his face, perplexing as it is worrying. It reaffirms something I’ve been noticing more and more with every day I work here…

This place is more like an asylum than a goddamn prison.

The inmates are fucked in the head, and when I shuffle Dash to the right, pulling him down a hallway and through a new door, I realize I’ve unwittingly brought him to the exact place where such points are examined.

The East wing.

“God dammit.” I stop to look around. “This isn’t right. Fuck, if Velle finds out I brought you here, he’s gonna be pissed.”

Something about what I said snaps Dash out of his little trance a bit. Not much, he still seems dazed and his pupils are huge, but now he’s actually looking around, blinking in awe at his surroundings.

“The East wing…” He inches away from me.

I tug him back. “Cut the shit, #101, or you’ll end up down here like O’Malley. From what I understand, it’ll make your trips to solitary feel like a vacation in Cabo.”

“Or Tulum…” he mumbles.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shake my head. “Come on, inmate. We gotta—”

A noise distracts me. Voices, coming from up the corridor just out of sight.

The second my grip on Dash’s arm loosens, he takes off.

Before I can even process what’s happening, he’s zipping around the corner, sprinting away from me.

“Fuck!” I scold myself, chasing after him.

I push open the door around the corner, only to find a hallway that splits in three different directions. And Dash is nowhere to be found. I am so fucked.

Gulping, I keep walking, my heart in my goddamn throat. My adrenaline is jacked so high I’m shaking. If I lose an inmate, I’ll be dead. This isn’t a place where they fire you when you fuck up. The Warden will literally slit my throat from ear to ear. He’s threatened as much before.

Marching up the hall as quietly as I can, I choose a door. I don’t see Dash, and as I stalk up the corridor, I realize this one must connect to the other hallway, because the sounds of people walking are still nearby. I try to jog as lightly as I can to avoid them, but just before I get to the next door, I hear that familiar voice call my name.

“Officer Samuels,” the Warden says, and I turn, hesitantly. “What are you doing down here?”

“Just checking on something for Velle. Officer Chevelle,” I lie through my damn teeth, forcing myself not to shake like a leaf as his black eyes appraise me.

At his right stands one of the East wing control room guards, Steve. I nod at him. He doesn’t react.

“Alright then,” the Warden finally murmurs, then picks back up walking with Steve, continuing their conversation.

Letting out the strongest, quietest breath of relief ever, I can’t help but overhear him talking.

“My counselors haven’t really gotten anywhere, but I’m confident he will. I want to ensure he has everything he needs, is that clear? Whatever he wants to help with his research, he shall have. No matter how… unorthodox.”

The door closes behind them and I snap myself out of it, continuing on with my frantic search for Dash. If the Warden finds him before I do, I’m finished.

My body will disappear like the others.

The next door I try brings me to the corridor with all the examination rooms. I think that’s what they call them… I never come down here, and I know next to nothing about it. And just from looking inside each of these rooms, I think I’d prefer it that way.

Doctor’s exam chairs with shackles, tray tables full of strange antique surgical tools… This place is fucked.

But most of these examination rooms appear to be empty. I don’t see anyone inside, and what’s worse, I don’t see Dash anywhere. Passing by one of the last rooms, though, I stop short and reverse.

It’s Darcey. He’s in the room, in a straitjacket, curled up on the exam chair. His head is sort of lolling off to the side, brown hair hanging in his eyes over the black-framed glasses. He appears tormented and weak, which I’m sure he is, having been down here for a couple of weeks.

He’s not looking at me, though he must hear me because he says, “Back so soon?” A small grin covers his lips as his head finally manages to tilt in my direction. Then it falls off. “Oh…”

“You saw Reznikov?” I bark, as quietly as I can manage, though I’m really starting to freak out now. “Which way did he go?”

Darcey stays silent. He actually presses his lips together like he’s making sure he doesn’t accidentally speak words to me.

I squint at him. “Answer me, #89. Where the fuck is Reznikov?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shrugs, though I can see a smug little smirk forming on his mouth. It’s irritating to me that the kid is so good-looking, considering he’s a cold-blooded murderer.

The least he could do is be ugly.

I reach for my Glock, cocking my brow at him. But he calls my bluff. “You gonna shoot me? Before I even get to meet the new fancy doctor?” He shrugs. “Okay.”

I growl and slam my fist against the plexiglass window, storming off up the hall. It’s no use. He won’t tell me shit. He has loyalty to #101, like they’re friends or something, though I’m not sure how that would even happen.

A scream catches my ear and I freeze. Turning in the direction I think it came from, I stalk the halls, trying my hardest to follow the sound. I hope to God it’s not Reznikov because if he’s in some kind of trouble then I’m definitely fucked. But if not, maybe he heard the scream and is going toward it, too.

Another scream bellows. I’m getting closer. The stomping of my boots in these halls is loud as hell and I’m struggling to keep quiet, but I also need to move fast. The cameras are watching me, every step, every move I make down here. They can see it all…

I’m so so so FUCKED.

Pushing open a new door, I peer down the row of padded cells. Gotcha, motherfucker!

Sure enough, Dash is down there, in front of one of the cells, peeking in through the small square window. That seems to be where all the screaming is coming from.

Rushing to him as stealthily as I can, I reach the cell, glancing inside the window over Dash’s shoulder.

Kieran O’Malley is in there. The Warden’s doctors are attaching electrodes to his temples. Jesus Christ…

I have no choice but to cut my appall short, though, especially when I see O’Malley’s eyes widen at us. He’s mouthing something to Dash, likely trying to warn him that I’m right behind him, since Dash clearly hasn’t realized it.

This time I don’t give him another opportunity to run off. I grab him around the waist and practically lift him up, carrying him out of the row and through a doorway to an empty corridor. He’s squirming all around in my grip, but to my surprise, it doesn’t feel like he’s fighting me. He’s mumbling things to himself, not making a lick of fucking sense, twitching about as if he’s having some sort of episode.

Once I’m sure we’re out of sight of the East wing cameras, I put him down and grab his face in my hand, forcing him to look at me. “Reznikov! Calm the fuck down.”

But he just won’t… Or he can’t. He’s panicking, out of breath and shivering so hard his teeth are chattering.

So I do the first thing that comes to mind. I take out my Glock and I whack him over the head with the butt, knocking him out cold.

He slumps against the wall, and I hold him up, lifting him over my shoulder once more.

Okay, relax.

Just breathe.

It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

I’m pacing. Around and around, ripping my hair at the strands.

I deposited Dash in the cell in solitary, the one with the cot, where Darcey used to stay. I figured since I knocked him out, the least I could do is let him sleep it off on an actual bed rather than on the floor. He’ll probably be groggy when he wakes up, but chances are he’d be like that regardless since there’s clearly something very wrong with him.

The kid was having some type of nervous panic attack. At least I can count on the fact that he’s not right in the head to protect me from him potentially spilling the beans about what happened… About our little accidental field trip to the East wing.

Maybe he won’t remember what he saw down there…

“Fuck…” I scrape a hand down my face.

Dash isn’t even the real problem here. The cameras saw us. They saw everything.

How the fuck am I going to explain that to the Warden? Or to Velle??

I’m not sure why I’m more worried about Velle finding out than the Warden, but I am. I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do when he finds out…

The door to the locker room I’m in flings open and I jump, relief flooding me when I see it’s Joy.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” She gapes at me. “And why did you text me 911? You know that means emergency, right?”

“It is an emergency.” I grab her by the shoulders. “Joy… I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

She immediately looks frustrated. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is with all you assholes today? Can’t we just do our jobs and shut the fuck up??”

“This is serious,” I whisper-shout at her. “Velle’s gonna kick my ass. Then the Warden’s gonna murder me.”

She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “What happened?”

“I was bringing Dash to solitary, and I got lost,” I mutter in between chewing nervously on my lower lip. “He… sorta got away from me.”

Joy’s eyes widen, then harden. She’s pissed.

She straightens up like she’s about to run out the door, but I hold her in place. “I got him back, it’s fine. I mean, he’s fine. He’s in solitary.”

She relaxes, eyes closing as she exhales a stream of relief.

“But you know… the cameras,” I go on, swallowing hard over my rampant nerves. “They saw everything.”

Joy nods slowly. “Okay… it’s not the end of the world. We can fix this. But first…” She pauses and slaps me across the face.

“Jesus!” I clutch my stinging cheek, glaring at her. “Not necessary.”

“Uh, yes. It was,” she hisses. “You can’t let shit like this happen, rookie! Do you have any idea what will happen to Velle??”

My forehead lines in confusion. “Happen to Velle? Why him?” Joy’s face drops, and she looks away, nervously, like she wasn’t supposed to say that. But now that it’s in my head, it’s all I can think about. “What would happen to him…?”

“Nothing. Forget that for right now,” she grumbles. “I’m gonna have to go talk to the East wing controllers. Hopefully, I can smooth this over somehow.”

“You think you can?” My mind is whirling through all this shit and my heart has been galloping for an hour now.

It takes her a moment, but eventually she nods. “Yea. I think we can keep this a secret.”

I breathe out hard, and I’m not sure what comes over me, but I pull Joy into my arms.

She’s stiff for a second, but I don’t even care. I just keep hugging her, holding her close to me until she relaxes into it and circles my waist with her arms.

“I’m so out of my element here,” I whisper into the crook of her neck.

I feel the weight of a million emotions crushing my shoulders. Things I haven’t thought about since I’ve been here. Things I haven’t dealt with.

Blood splatters behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut hard and hug Joy harder.

She rubs my back in calming circles. “It’s okay, Rook. You’re okay.”

“I… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell her honestly, because it’s true. She’s the only friend I have in the entire world right now.

She’s the only person I can trust, a constant presence of calm and settling, when everything else feels like it’s spinning out.

I’m not holding Joy Jameson… She’s holding me.

This is stupid.

I’m stupid.

Why am I even doing this?

I should just leave…

The obsessive inner monologue of someone who knows better… That’s what you’re getting right now.

I’m standing, in the dark, outside Rook’s bedroom.

Like a fucking weirdo.

It’s fine, you can judge me. I’m sure as hell judging myself right about now.

It’s almost three in the morning and there’s a storm raging outside. Which means I can’t sleep. Storms on this island are crazy, since we’re in the middle of the ocean. The house is loud, and it makes noises. Not scary noises. I’m not a child. But it is off-putting.

And I totally should be asleep right now, since I have to be on tomorrow morning. The new doctor is arriving, and I’ve been instructed to join the Warden on their little Alabaster Pen tour. He’s making us bring the guy all over the island tomorrow like it’s goddamn Jurassic Park, and I’m already not in the mood.

This tropical storm is anticipated to hit us for at least another week, meaning it’s very gray and rainy. The winds have been whipping, sleet hitting the windows sideways. Some of the guys like it. I know Joy does. She thinks storms are sexy. I guess I can see where she’s coming from, but they mostly just stress me out now, knowing what I know…

And to top it off, I’m fucking pissed at Rook.

I suppose I’ve been consistently pissed at him since we met, though I’d never admit it out loud. But now I’m also fucking infuriated over the fact that his dick’s been in Ren’s mouth.

I’ve been trying to stuff down the jealousy, because it’s entirely irrational. We’ve all hooked up with Ren. He’s like the Cyclone at Coney Island; a ride everyone has to try at least once. A rite of passage for any man with a pulse here on Alabaster Isle. But for some reason, it still stings.

Rook was all sorts of straight-guy rigid when I met him. He was the same way when he started at A.P. But now he’s like in love with Ren and it’s pissing me the fuck off.

I guess that’s why I’m pacing outside his bedroom door right now. Because I want to go in there and punch him in his stupid, gorgeous, confusing face.

So much about him frustrates me. His newfound sexual fluidity, his willingness to do literally whatever I say, his dimples, the way he always comes downstairs in the mornings fresh out of the shower and in nothing but gray sweatpants, forcing me to acknowledge how fucking perfect his body is… All those lickable lines just begging to be traced with a tongue. Preferably mine because then I could tease him with my piercing and see if he likes it…

I blink hard. Okay… getting off topic.

But the thing that frustrates me about him the most is the way he grins at me sometimes and hums that fucking song… It’s this cockiness he possesses, like he just knows I’ll come to him, begging and pleading like I was that night in the hotel.

And the worst, most infuriating part of it all is that he’s fucking right.

Here I am, traipsing around the hallway half-naked outside his bedroom, begging myself for the courage to go inside. He even leaves the door unlocked for me. I know it because this isn’t the first time I’ve done this, and last time I actually turned the knob.

It’s like he’s in charge, not me. And I hate how much I love it.

I want to give in so badly. This is all I’ve been thinking about, craving for so long. Someone to take control of me…

Rook did it without even trying. And yet I refuse to give in.

I can’t. I know it’s a bad idea. There are too many layers to this thing… Too much he doesn’t know. Too much at stake.

Giving in to him could be the end of me. But God dammit, it would feel so fucking good to let go.

Stepping up to the door, I press the tip of my index finger to it. Are you thinking about me in there? Are you dreaming of me, cowboy…?

“What are you doing?”

The voice startles the shit out of me, and I practically leap out of my skin. Turning around fast, my heart thudding in my chest, I breathe out slowly as Joy crosses her arms, giving me that damn smug smirk.

“Nothing,” I mutter, quietly, since it’s the middle of the night and I really don’t want anyone else to catch me outside Rook’s room.

“Oh my God, you smitten little kitten!” She whispers, reaching out to walk her fingers up my chest. “It’s adorable how much you want him.”

“That’s conjecture.” I squint at her. “I thought I heard something in there, and I was just making sure he wasn’t like… dying. Or something.”

Joy sighs and rolls her eyes, as if I’m greatly testing her patience. “Lucky, what is so very wrong about you admitting you want to bone the new guy? Seriously. What’s the problem? He’s obviously obsessed with you. And you guys would be super cute together.”

Her grin goes wide, and I fake a gag.

“I’m not trying to be cute with anyone, fuckface. I can’t do that.”

“Well, why can’t you at least hook up with him, then?” Her brow lifts in an accusing manner. “We all know you want to.”

“What’s it to you, anyway?” I scowl. “Are you the official Alabaster Isle matchmaker or something?”

“Maybe I am.” She shrugs.

“He wants you, Joyful,” I mumble, an odd tickle happening in the pit of my stomach. “And you two could actually be together.”

“False. I don’t do relationships.”

“Oh, and I do??”

She glares at me. “What if he wants it to be casual? What’s your excuse then?”

Chewing the inside of my cheek, my gaze goes to the floor. Maybe I can’t do that either…

I stay silent for a moment, and when I look back up at her, the seriousness is painted on her face. There’s pity in her amber eyes, and I hate it.

I don’t like that look. I don’t need anyone’s goddamn pity.

I’m fucking fine.

“Wanna fuck?” My eyes flick toward my bedroom.

Joy stares at me for a moment, saying so much without words, it actually chokes the air right out of my lungs. I feel claustrophobic, the world closing in on me, everything getting heavier and tighter. My hands are clammy, fingers twitching as I hide how badly I’m trying not to freak out.

What am I doing here…? This is all so fucked.

Why does it have to be like this??

But then Joy takes my hand. She laces our fingers and nods. “Yea. Let’s go forget.”

Breathing becomes a little easier, and I nod as she tugs me to my bedroom. “Let’s forget together, Cherry.”

I’m watching the rain fall. It’s collecting in a pretty big puddle from an overflowing sewer drain. We’re at the back entrance, the one that leads into the East wing. It seems like this side of the prison is lower than the front. Or maybe it’s just sinking.

That’s something I don’t want to think about right now.

My gaze travels skyward, to the guard tower. It’s blocked by a few trees, but still visible from right here. A useless old run-down structure. There hasn’t been anyone manning it for months.

We’re too understaffed. We don’t even have a body available to put up there. And yet we’re standing here, waiting for some unnecessary prick who’s probably eating more than half of our annual budget…

“Don’t look so stressed,” the Warden says at my right.

I have to fight not to roll my eyes. Instead, I just stand still next to him, posted up in my usual stance. I can feel his dark gaze on me, but I purposely keep staring straight ahead.

“This will be a good thing for us,” he says, firm yet quietly assuring. The tone he uses when we’re alone.

Us. I’m not sure I believe him… I know I shouldn’t. But some part of me, the part he has twisted around his finger, finds comfort in what he says.

And I lean in, just a hair closer. To hold on to that.

The black SUV pulls up and parks. The Warden’s guy, Kent, gets out and opens an umbrella, then rounds the vehicle and opens the back door. He holds it over the stranger in a beige trench coat as he gets out and walks all of five fucking feet to the entrance where we’re standing.

Really? I peer at the Warden in my peripheral. Was the umbrella completely necessary for that?

“Welcome.” The Warden grins at the man in the long coat, extending his hand. “It’s so good to have you.”

They shake and the Warden motions to me. “Doctor, this is my second in command, Officer John Chevelle. Officer, meet Dr. Lemuel Love.”

My brow quirks. “Dr. Love…?”

The Doctor stares at me blankly, and I stare back at him.

This is him…? Doctor Love??

“You heard correct,” he speaks, his voice deep, tone blasé with a professional air about him.

He’s not what I expected, though I’m not even sure what I expected. He’s as tall as me, chocolate complexion, impeccable dreadlocks tied back in a half-ponytail of sorts. Perfectly manicured facial hair. Eyes that are somehow bright in their darkness. He doesn’t look like a Dr. Love.

Honestly, Dr. Love reminds me of that Kiss song… Like the nickname a weird old pervert who used to be a roadie for Motley Crue gives himself.

The Warden, unamused at my loss of manners, clears his throat loudly by my side and I snap out of it, extending my hand to shake that of the good doctor.

“Good to have you,” I mutter, repeating the Warden’s words since I really have no clue what else to say.

“Shall we?” The Warden asks, though he doesn’t wait for anyone to respond before turning and waltzing inside, assuming we’ll follow him, which we do.

As we all wander the corridors, the Warden asks me to explain security protocols to Dr. Love. I tell him about the entrances and exits, the security systems, keys and whatnot.

“It’s our understanding that you’ll be spending most of your time here in the East wing,” I say, unable to keep from glancing at the Warden. “If for whatever reason you need to visit general population or solitary, I’d strongly recommend you have myself or Officer Jameson accompany you.”

“And why is that?” Dr. Love asks. He asks it studiously, devoid of any emotion or apparent interest. It’s almost like he asked the question just to ask it.

This guy is really strange. I’m already getting a vibe.

“It’s best for security,” I tell him. “We move inmates around in shifts, and I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the middle of anything.”

“Would the inmates feel intimidated?” He asks softly. “Or would you?”

I stop walking for a second. “What the hell does that even mean—”

“Officer,” the Warden interrupts me, pinning with me a stern look that says heel. “Dr. Love is allowed free rein of Alabaster Penitentiary. He will spend most of his time in the East, but if he chooses to move about, then he shall do just that.”

My blood is fucking boiling right now. I think there’s actual steam coming out of my ears.

We pick back up walking, but Dr. Love leans in closer to me and whispers, “I’ll be sure to check with you if I need anything.”

My jaw clenches as I peer at him. “I’d appreciate that… Doctor.”

Next, our tour brings us to the East wing’s control room. When we open the door, we find Joy in there, talking to the guys on duty, Steve and Kenny.

Joy glances up at us, appearing only mildly surprised.

“Ah, Officer Jameson,” the Warden says. “I’m glad you’re here. Meet Dr. Love.” He introduces them and they shake hands. I can see on Joy’s face that she too is amused by the name. “Officer Jameson is another high-ranking member of our team. She’s been with us almost as long as Officer Chevelle has.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it is just like living in a fairy tale.” Joy grins with sarcasm oozing from her tone.

I glare at her, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the smile away, while the Warden is giving her his most unenthusiastic grimace.

“Lovely to meet you, Officer Jameson,” Dr. Love says in his monotone. “Are you the only female guard?”

Joy nods. “Affirmative.”

“Do you enjoy that fact?” His eyes lock on her.

Joy’s brows zip together as she gawks at him like he’s a total whack job. Seems like an accurate assessment so far. Yup. This guy’s weird as fuck.

The Warden changes the subject quickly. “Steve here has already been instructed to ensure his crew knows you’ll be operating out of the East wing. I’ve taken the liberty of setting up an office for you. Would you like a tour?”

“Yes.” That’s all he says.

Yes. Like a robot.

We spend the next few hours showing Dr. Love around the East wing. He has an office he’ll be using specifically for his own work, and apparently, for therapy sessions with Darcey. He hasn’t met his newest patient yet. I can only imagine how that will go…

As we’re wrapping up, I take Dr. Love aside, to give him the run-down on The Carver.

“I know you’ve seen his file already, researched him in the media… But I assure you, there’s much more to Felix Darcey than you see on paper,” I tell him. “And I’m speaking strictly in terms of protocol. He needs to be treated with maximum security measures at all times. He’s highly dangerous.”

“Officer, I appreciate your assistance,” the Doctor says, turning his reflective gaze on me. “However, I was brought here under the guise that Felix Darcey was mine, to deal with as I see fit.”

“That’s true, but I also have my men and the rest of these inmates to think about,” I shoot back, forcing myself not to explode. It’s difficult.

“Duly noted,” Dr. Love mutters, dismissing me by opening the case file and sifting through papers, twisting away as he does.

My teeth grind together, fist forming at my side. Why are doctors such self-righteous ass-hats??

I need to get away from all these fucks before I become the murderer. Checking my watch, I see that it’s time for lunch. I’m surprised at how much I’d rather be upstairs herding inmates like cattle than down here dealing with this nonsense.

The Warden already left. It’s just me, Steve, and Dr. Love here. No time like the present to end this stupid fucking show.

“You have my number if you need anything.” I pass by Dr. Love, making a beeline for the door to get the hell out of here. Unfortunately, his robot voice stops me.

“Actually, Officer, there’s one thing you can do for me before you go.” I spin slowly, radiating frustration, then raise my brows at him in wait. “Bring Felix to me.”

All my muscles are constricting everywhere, and I have a strong urge to crack my neck. I want to bash this asshole in the face already. I wasn’t pleased about him showing up to begin with, and now he’s ordering me around like a common peasant.

Only one asshole on this island does that.

My gaze darts to Steve and he looks a bit terrified. “I should be getting back…” he mumbles and slinks out the door past me, practically scurrying away.

Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm myself down, I leave the room with rage swimming in my veins. I take the hallways from Love’s office to the East wing row. Darcey’s in a padded cell. And as I approach it, I hear weeping.

I glance through the window of the cell right before Darcey’s at O’Malley. He’s on the floor in a straitjacket, just bawling his eyes out.

He looks like boiled shit. Eyes all red, hair a mess, burn marks on his temples, from the electricity, I’m guessing…

I can do nothing more than blink. Then force myself forward, to Darcey’s cell.

“Against the wall, inmate,” I bark through, using my keys to unlock the door.

Inside, Darcey is leaning against the wall, the one that separates his cell from O’Malley’s. He’s resting his head on it, looking exhausted. He’s in a straitjacket as well so I don’t need to cuff his hands. Still, I shackle his ankles for good measure and mutter, “Walk.”

Dragging him along at a pace that’s only serving to further irritate me, we wander the halls in silence. Well, not total silence. I can still hear O’Malley sobbing until we make it through the door at the end. And then of course there are the clunks of my footsteps and the clinks of the chains.

Still, we don’t speak. I can always count on Darcey to stay quiet, which is appreciated. I hate the inmates who squawk at me the entire time I’m lugging them around.

Through the next hallway we walk, approaching Dr. Love’s new office. I open the door to reveal the Doctor, still sifting through the files, his back to us. When he hears us enter, he turns, eyes locking on his new patient.

I remove Darcey’s shackles. “I’ll be right outside.”

“No need, Officer,” Dr. Love asserts, deep gaze not once leaving The Carver. “I’ll take it from here.”

“That’s a hard no.” I stand firm. “Someone still needs to get him back to his cell when you’re done.”

“I’ll call up for someone,” he says insistently.

Is this guy fucking serious??

“I’ll be right outside,” I repeat in a growl, leaving the room with the slam of the door behind me.

I post up outside his office and remind myself to breathe. I’ve been on edge for weeks now and this shit is bubbling over. I’m in no mood to be tested by anyone, let alone this new prick, who doesn’t seem to comprehend that we’re in a maximum security prison surrounded by the most dangerous criminals in the country, not at a fucking courthouse or central booking. Jesus, even in those places they rarely leave doctors or lawyers unattended with vicious murderers.

I check my watch again while I wait. Lunch is happening in gen-pop. I wanted to be there for it…

I wanted to be there for Ren’s group, just to see how he reacts around Rook. Even if I didn’t have solid proof of the secret blowing that’s been going on, I’d be able to tell from how much they look at each other. It makes my stomach bunch up into knots of stress and unease. I hate it. Even more so because I’m not a jealous person. Well, not really…

Okay, maybe I am. But I don’t have to experience it often since I’m in charge. I get to call the shots on what these people do, and it gives me the power, the control I’m made to hold.

I can’t give that up, no matter how good I know it would feel.

I shift in place, wondering how much longer this will take. I’ve already been standing out here for twenty-minutes. And I hear absolute silence through the door. It doesn’t even sound like they’re speaking in there.

This is a waste of everyone’s time. The Carver is a sociopath. Open and shut case. What more does Dr. Dickwad need to find out? And why the fuck does the Warden care??

Tapping my foot in annoyance, I hear movement behind the door. And then it opens, Dr. Love peering through at me. “All set.”

I’m wearing my displeasure on my face as I come back in and shackle Darcey’s ankles, tugging him by the arm. He doesn’t seem to want to leave the office, his spectacled gaze staying curiously on Dr. Love as I yank him along.

All I get from the Doctor is a thank you, Officer, as we leave, and he immediately goes back to his files.

I bring Darcey back to the row, unable to resist while we walk. “So… Good first meeting with your new bestie?”

Darcey stays quiet for a few steps, seeming even more distracted than he usually does when we cart him around. “What’s his name again?”

I squint at him, giving him a look like he’s crazy. “He didn’t tell you his name?” Darcey shakes his head. “It’s Dr. Love. Dr. Lemuel Love, Ph-fuckin-D.”

“Dr. Love…” Darcey scoffs, shaking his head at nothing.

“I know, right?” I hum with a curl of my lips. I can’t get over that fucking name.

I do like when people’s names don’t fit them, though…

I get Darcey into his cell and unshackled. Before I leave, he looks like he’s going to say something, but I slam the cell door in his face.

I need to get upstairs before I miss Ren’s lunch group. I’m really not sure why I want to torture myself, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m trying to catch someone in the act of something…

And maybe I will. Maybe if I stay out of sight, Rook will think the coast is clear to sneak into Ren’s cell again.

The thought has me racing back to gen-pop. Once I get there, I move straight to the caf, ignoring everyone who tries to talk to me on the way. At the double-doors, I snoop around the corner into the room, my eyes instantly going to the table at the far-end of the room, where Ren and his little groupies usually sit. Sure enough, there he is, dark hair all tousled about while he grins at something Luthor is saying, sky-blue eyes rounded with his sheer yearning for the kid.

He’s been vying for Luthor’s attention since he got here, about four years ago. From what I can tell, Luthor’s the only person who hasn’t fallen into Ren’s trap over the years. I heard even the new kid, Dash, got sucked in already. Pun intended.

When Ren first got here, it was a trip. We’d never had an inmate go so buck wild before. His behavior was out of control, in a lot of ways. And most of the time, it was my job to try and rein him in.

I still remember the most fun punishment I ever doled out to an inmate… There was this device. It was supposed to keep him in line, but it kind of made him even more insatiable.

Running my thumb over my lower lip, I get lost in the slideshow of those memories flooding my mind. I haven’t hooked up with Ren in a while at this point, as more of a point of pride than anything else. Because if I recall correctly, he is a very fun fuck.

The thought turns sour, however, when I see Rook walking the room, doing his patrol. Ren’s eyes linger on Rook’s ass as he passes, and it fills my limbs with rage, heavy like wet cement. Maybe they’ve fucked… Maybe they’re actively fucking.

My jaw clamps so hard my teeth are damn-near about to shatter. I loathe the idea of Rook being with Ren. With anyone, really.

Anyone who isn’t me.

Shaking it off, I watch the table of inmates. And my brow raises.

Because Ren’s is not the only gaze lingering on my officer.

Dash is pretending to pay attention to the conversation they’re having, but I can see him looking at Rook. I can see his eyes wandering, taking in the sight of how goddamn well Rook’s uniform fits, on his wide chest, long arms… in the crotch. Yes, I witness #101’s eyes scoping out Rook’s dick.

Now that I’ve seen it, I know how big it is, so I understand the premise of the bulge in his pants. That dick is so fucking sweet… Long and thick, with the prettiest, fattest tip. Watching it come was unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

And it looks like Dash is having a similar reaction. I blink through suspicious anger blurring my vision.

It can’t be… Can it??

Has Rook been hooking up with #101, too? That would be fucked. Fucked as fuck.

But the other day when we did checks, we found all sorts of crazy contraband in Dash’s possession. It struck me as odd at the time, since I haven’t seen Dash with anyone. He’s been spending a lot of time in solitary, but I overheard Brenner talking about how #101 is untouchable.

At first, I thought maybe he meant that Dash was mine… But I have no interest in trying with him again. We’ve come to an understanding about him attacking my balls in the showers. Maybe the reason he was so pliable with me was because he’s been fucking my man this whole time.

My man… What the hell is wrong with me?

Dash is rocking Calvin Klein boxers. He somehow got a toothbrush without my assistance, and not only that, he smells so fresh and so clean, meaning he’s got some prime toiletries going on. How the fuck is he getting all that stuff??

Who’s giving it to him? Is it Rook?

My madness is rising fast, like kerosene being sprayed onto an already blazing fire. I can feel it thrumming, my pulse banging in my head while all these fucked up images plague me.

My possessiveness over Rook might seem absurd, but fuck it. I don’t even care.

He’s mine and if I can’t have him, no one can. Especially not that little Russian bitch.

A loud boom of thunder rumbles the building, and some inmates cheer. Glancing around, I take a deep inhale. This tropical storm is getting heavy. I just know we’re going to lose power any day now. I keep telling the Warden over and over that it’s a concern…

The back-up generators aren’t indestructible. If both get wiped out, we’ll be in a world of trouble.

When my eyes slide back to Dash’s table, I find Rook talking to the guys. Ren says something, that cocky smirk covering his lips while Luthor rolls his eyes. They all chuckle and then Dash says something… I wish I could fucking hear it, but I’m too far away.

Regardless, I’ve seen all I need to. Rook’s lips curve into a small grin at #101. And my stomach tumbles. I clutch my fist at my side, the lights flickering around us.

If I find out those two are hooking up, this won’t end well. For anyone.

I feel strange.

I’m calm, but also restless, my heart jack-hammering behind my ribs. You’re not supposed to be this anxious right after you come.

But the orgasm I just had wasn’t a climax, that I know. Sure, in the moment it felt wonderful. But it was laced with all sorts of fucked up shit. Like a ripe, juicy piece of fruit surrounded by thorns.

I can still feel Velle’s forceful grip on my cock, the warmth of him setting me ablaze while he ground himself into my ass, jerking me off into #101’s mouth.

The mouth catching my cum was just lovely. But if we’re being honest, it was all Velle that had me erupting like a long-dormant volcano. The dirty words he breathed in my ear, hushed and filthy as he licked and sucked at it, teasing me the way his fingers teased my balls.

How can his touch unravel me like that? I’m still confounded by it and it’s been months. Since that first night in the hotel room, all he’s had to do is talk to me in his gruff, growly voice. He barely lays a hand on me and I explode into a swirling revelation of color and light. Pleasure unrivaled by any other.

It’s him… It has to be. It’s the only explanation.

And I need more.

Dash was quiet the whole walk downstairs. Honestly, I feel bad. He seems like a nice kid, just misunderstood. And it was all my fault for even entertaining the shit he tried to pull in that hallway. I should’ve just moved it along, especially knowing Velle was so close.

Maybe on some level I wanted him to find us…

As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s making some serious sense. I’ve been trying to get a rise out of Velle since I started working here, pleading for interaction with him, anything to sate my obsession. Tonight, I got it. So technically the plan worked…

I should be thanking Dash.

Instead, he’s in a wet, musty solitary cell with no power, even in the halls. Really though, he had to know pulling that shit would get him sent back. The rumor is that he likes solitary… It might be true.

I handed him off to Linetti who’s working overnight in solitary tonight with Peters. All he has is a flashlight and some candles. It’s fucked up…

This place is a thousand times creepier with limited power, in the middle of an intense storm, audible winds whistling, thunder pounding outside. I’m sure there’s crazy lightning but we can’t see it from inside. No windows.

Back up in gen-pop, the lights are dim, but at least they’re on. Our shift is ending, and I couldn’t be gladder for that. I want to get the hell out of here and try to deal with Velle.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like he wants any part of it. He’s already back to ignoring me as we all finish up and get ready to go home. I feel for the guys working overnight tonight, but word is the Warden is off-island. So at least they don’t have to worry about him coming down on them while they work with no goddamn power.

The tension between Velle and me is palpable during the ride back to the mansion. He won’t even look at me, and I can feel Joy’s troubled and inquisitive gaze lingering on us as we all file into the house, Velle darting upstairs and away from us as fast as his legs will carry him.

“What the fuck is up with—” Joy starts, but then a loud rumble of thunder shakes the house.

And the power goes out.

“Great,” I hear Hancock muttering as we all try to flick light switches and lamps.

“Is there a fuse box anywhere?” I ask, looking around while my eyes adjust. Dark in this place is really fucking dark. “Or a generator?”

“I think there’s a genny but I have no idea where it is…” Jasper sighs.

“Velle knows,” Joy tells us.

Everyone looks at one another. Then they look at me.

“What…?” I grumble.

“You’re up, Rook,” Jasper says pointedly.

I huff. “Why me?”

“None of us are going to talk to him right now,” Hancock says. “He’s in a mood… And chances are it’s your fault. So have fun with that.”

My mouth falls open in potential protest.

I look to Joy, and she shrugs. “Good luck, Cookie.”

“You guys are pussies…” I mutter, heading toward the stairs, my fingers raking through my wet hair.

“Let us know how that works out for you!” Hancock shouts up at me and a bunch of them laugh.

It’s not that I’m afraid of Velle. I’m not… What I’m nervous about is his reaction to what we just did, only about an hour ago. He threw some pretty hefty accusations at me while he was jerking me off. Turns out he’s well aware I’ve been letting Ren drain my dick, and not only that, he thinks I’ve been the one supplying Dash with all his fancy shit.

The Ren stuff is obviously true, but it was only those two times, purely exploratory. And I never touched Dash before tonight.

I’m not sure if Velle believes me though…

My fingers are twitching as I wander up to his bedroom door, surrounded by pitch blackness. It’s closed, so I take a deep breath and knock three times.

Leaning in, I listen, but I hear nothing.

“Velle?” I knock again. “The guys said you know where the generator is… Or how to get it started.” Still nothing. “Are you there?”

I press my palm down flat on the door, waiting with my heart in my throat. I don’t hear a shower, though it’s incredibly difficult to hear anything other than my blood rushing in my ears.

He hates me. He’s never going to speak to me again.

“Velle, please…” I whisper, forehead dropping onto the smooth wood. “Talk to me.”

Finally, I hear something. Footsteps.

I move back just in time as he whips open the door, fiery blue eyes aimed right at me through the crack. “Not a good time, rookie.”

“Okay…” I mumble. “But the generator…”

“Fuck the generator,” he growls, then turns, stalking away from me.

But he left the door open, so I creep into the room, closing it softly behind me. Glancing around, I notice that he’s lit some candles. They’re the only source of light in the room, which isn’t much. The dull glow, the sounds of rain hitting the house, and thunder… The quiet fury of the man standing across the room.

I can feel it all.

I make a choice to wander over to where he’s stripping out of his uniform, tossing the wet shirt on a chair, then lifting his white undershirt over his head. Momentarily distracted by all the ink, my eyes take in the sight of his chest and abs, muscle in excess, curves and divots everywhere, the barbells through his nipples glinting when he turns to face me. I blink myself out of my trance, forcing my eyes up to his.

Then he unbuckles his belt. Unzips his pants.

I swallow. “You know I wasn’t lying before… right?”

He gives me a severe look, like he seriously wants to argue. But his chest moves on a heavy exhale and he says, “Yea. I know.”

Relief hits me. I’m not sure why it matters so much that he believes me, but weight leaves my shoulders.

That is, until he says, “But it doesn’t matter.”

My brow furrows. “Why the hell not?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you, Rook?” Then he shoves his pants down his legs, kicking them away. “This won’t work.” He motions between us. “There’s no possible way it could. So there’s no point… to any of it.”

I force my eyes away from how his black boxer briefs hug his perfect ass. Seriously… what man has an ass like that? It’s so plump and round… Like a peach, waiting for me to bite a chunk out of it.

“That’s bullshit,” I rumble at him, stepping closer until only a couple of feet separate us. I can smell him, that masculine scent of his mixed with the ocean rain. He smells like the storm, if the storm was a person I desperately wanted to pin down and taste. “You’re making excuses because you’re afraid to let yourself give in.”

His eyes narrow into slits, frustration etching them. “You think so?”

“I know so.” I move in closer still, watching his Adam’s apple dip in his throat when I approach. Bringing my face up to his, I whisper, “You wanna know why I let Ren suck my dick?”

“Because you were eager to see if you liked a guy’s lips wrapped around your cock?” His voice vibrates from him into me and I shiver.

I shake my head. “No. I knew I’d like that based on how I reacted to you in the hotel that night.”

Something softens in his gaze, only a bit. But it gives me just enough courage to reach out and trail my fingers along his side. I hear his breath hitch as I do, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of listening to.

“So tell me why, then,” Velle breathes, still refusing to face me fully, though I can feel him leaning in closer.

I can feel him giving up the fight, and it sends a steady throb to my balls.

“I wanted to watch how he did it.” My fingers slink down to the waistband of his boxers. “I needed to know what to do to you… when you finally let me.”

A low gasp flees his lips and my eyes are already on them, watching them quiver while his resolve bends and snaps, the wall between us crumbling before my eyes as he turns to me.

“I… I don’t…” he tries, hushed, as if he’s still afraid someone else will hear him; someone else will find him vulnerable in this moment. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” I tell him, I command, in a voice velvety and just for him. Dominant enough to make him hear me, while still soft enough to coerce him into dropping his guard. “No one else is here, John.” His eyes lift to mine. There’s a war waging in them, but I think I can see him surrendering. “It’s just us.”

“Us…” They fall to my lips. I lick them and he hums, “Just us.”

I keep playing with the band of his boxers with my left hand while the right slides up his chest, touching his soft skin, warm for me, and up his throat.

Then I hold his jaw, firmly, hovering over his mouth with my own. “Do you want it?”

He nods fast, chest fluttering with uneven breaths. “Please…”

My cock throbs in my pants, it aches and lurches, so full of blood already I’m dizzy. “You beg so good, Officer.”

The last thing I hear is his whimper before my mouth hits his.

It’s tender at first, hesitant, testing the waters because this is my first time kissing a man, and I was never sure exactly how it would feel.

It feels like I’m outside the gates of heaven, just waiting to be let in.

We press together then part, mine sealing over his plump lower lip while I suck just a bit. Just enough for him to moan quietly into my mouth. I do the same to the top, then he sucks mine and we moan together.

“Fuck…” I breathe him deep, fingers sliding back into his hair, gripping it hard in my fist. “Let me in, Velle.”

He trembles and takes hold of my shirt, pulling me closer and opening wider. I slide my tongue inside, meeting his. Losing all semblance of reality.

When our tongues touch, a frenzy sets in. I become desperate, voracious, growling into his mouth to devour him, licking and sucking and tasting everywhere. God, he tastes phenomenal. Sweet and tart, like sugar bourbon and lemon. He’s a flavor I’ll never get enough of.

“Rook,” he sighs while his shaky fingers work on the buttons of my uniform shirt. “Please…”

I have no idea what he’s begging for, but whatever it is, I want to give it to him. I’ll give him anything he wants with no quarrel or qualm.

I just want to satisfy him. I want to push him onto the bed and eat him alive.

So that’s what I do. I give him a shove until he stumbles backward, plopping down onto his bed. Then I kick his legs apart so I can stand in between them, removing my shirt while keeping our heated gazes locked.

The look on his face alone is enough to get me there. He’s finally dropping the anger, dropping the act… Giving up his control.

The thing is, I know it’s a part of him, in a sense. But I feel how much it strangles him. He wears his need for control like an anchor; like a curse. I’m not sure why, but if I can give him even the slightest bit of reprieve from what he carries, if I can ease his mind even just right now, then that’s enough for me.

I hope it’s enough for him, too.

I rid myself of my button-down, then I pull my t-shirt over my head, tossing it and going immediately for the pants. Velle is just staring up at me, watching with wide blue eyes, his fingers digging into the bed on either side of his hips. Biting my lip, I kick off my boots and take my pants down, removing my socks, too. But I keep the boxers on. Because I want him to take them off, if that’s what he wants.

Falling to my knees, my heart is racing inside me, so aggressively I’m shaking. In between Velle’s legs, my hands glide up his thighs, feeling the muscle and hair there, stuff I never thought I’d allow myself to want.

I think I’ve always wanted it, on some level. But it was buried; hidden. The other part of myself I never knew about until I met John Chevelle.

Lusting after the outline of his erection in his boxers, I almost have to slurp my tongue back into my mouth while I reach for the waistband, tugging them down until his long dick springs out. I suck in a breath.

Holy… fucking… piercing.

My eyes widen as I gawk at the barbell through the underside of his crown. Then they glide up to his face. He’s flushed as he bites his lip.

Jesus Christ. Who is this person, and what has he done with Officer Chevelle??

This whole nervous, eager side of his is such a goddamn turn-on I’m actually writhing into the edge of his bed to get some friction on my dick. I pull his boxers down more, then say fuck it and remove them fully, tossing them aside, all the while drooling the most perfect dick I’ve ever seen.

A dick I need to touch more than anything else in the world.

“That looks… delicious.” I inch closer.

It moves. It literally jerks, maybe at my words, maybe in anticipation of whatever he thinks I’m going to do. Either way, it’s fucking fascinating, and I peer back up at him to witness the glinting in his ocean eyes.

“Please let me be the first dick in your mouth,” he whispers. He sounds so needy, my balls are throbbing.

My head nods absentmindedly while I wedge myself between his thighs, hands reaching up to touch the steel in his nipples. He gasps, leaning back. My mouth waters as I move closer to his cock, to a feast I’ve been dreaming of having for months now.

But before I can start, I grab him by the nape of his neck. His eyes go round as I yank him to me, pulling his mouth to mine. He leans down to where I’m kneeling and allows me to take his mouth once more, sucking his lips and teasing his tongue with my own. His breaths and pants send me soaring while I hold his jaw, feeling it flex in my hands, stubbled and cut like stone. Sexy as fuck.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” I tell him, raspy with need.

“M-me too.” He quakes, hands exploring my shoulders and chest. “You taste the way I thought you would…”

“What do I taste like?” I ask quietly, with our mouths still connected, licking, flicking, sucking in between our words.

“Like farm boy and honey,” he says with a small grin.

I can’t help the breathless chuckle that escapes me, one of my hands drifting back down him. “Well then, you taste like the city boy I was never supposed to have…”

My fingers curl around his erection and he whimpers into my mouth. “Jesus Christ, fuck me…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I hum, eyes falling to his big dick in my hand.

I can’t believe I’m stroking a cock that isn’t my own… It feels sublime, having him hard and pulsing in my palm. Mesmerizing.

I kiss down his throat, releasing him so he can lean back again while I drag my lips along his chest. I’m awed at how turned on I am by his body. I can’t stop pressing kisses on his tattoos, nipping at the curves of his pectoral muscles before sucking a nipple between my lips.

His cock jerks in my hand, and I rumble. I suck harder, flicking the barbell with my tongue before moving over to the other. It’s no different from what I would do to a woman’s nipples, I guess. Except that these are Velle’s, and they’re pierced, which must somehow make this feel really good for him, because he’s trembling, shifting his hips to help me stroke his dick in my hand.

I find myself watching the head of his cock push through my fist, the piercing beneath it tempting me. So I leave his nipples wet with my saliva and lick lines through his abs, and the V-muscles in his pelvis.

Then I slide my tongue over the piercing in his cock, prompting a rugged groan from his throat.

My eyes meet his. “That feels good?”

He nods frantically. “Yes… please more.”

I swipe the steel with my tongue again and this time I feel precum twinging from my own head. This is marvelous… touching a dick with my tongue. Breaths are flying in and out of my lungs while I lick and lick, like a lollipop, sliding the full, fat tip into my mouth.

“God… God, fuck…” His head drops back, one hand gripping the comforter while the other reaches for my neck. “This isn’t your first time.”

I can’t help but grin a little, moving my mouth down further and sucking him hard, until I taste salt. When I come back up, I murmur, “It is. And like I said, you can thank Ren for teaching me what to do.” He glares down at me, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded. “The jealousy paid off, hm?”

His lips part, but I don’t let him answer before I’m sucking him back in, deeper this time. I get a strangled moan while he grips my hair, hard, but I like it. It fuels me, prompting me to suck him deeper still. I’m trying to avoid teeth, but he’s very thick. And yet he doesn’t seem to mind a little scrape, as he’s already rocking into me, practically wrapping his legs around me to keep me close.

When I get to halfway, his fat head pushes down the back of my throat and I gag. It’s not bad, but it just sparks determination in me. I grip his hips with my hands, holding him still while I suck his dick steady, using my tongue on the underside the way Ren does. And the next time I feel the piercing on the back of my throat, I ignore it and try swallowing. It sort of hurts, but a hum escapes me and Velle whimpers. I like that noise… a lot.

I let my saliva lubricate what I’m doing, dribbling, my jaw growing sore already from his girth. But I don’t even care. This is amazing. I have no choice but to rub my own erection while I go to town on Velle’s big, juicy dick.

I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be… Pleasuring him with my mouth while he whines and purrs my name.

“Harley… you feel so fucking good, baby.”

Those words, they echo in my brain as his thick cock stiffens between my lips.

I’m absolutely loving this… Sucking Velle off. On my knees with him in my throat. I’m barely even gagging anymore, I’m just hypnotized… Unleashed and unfettered.

I’m burning all over, loins aching for a release while I get him to his. My curious fingers move down between his legs and he spreads them wider. I touch his balls, rubbing up on his heaviness while my head spins through all the things I want to do to him. Then I swipe them over his taint, between the crack of his ass.

“Harley,” he mewls, pulling me by the nape of my neck, lying fully on his back now, legs spread wide, offering his ass up to me. “Harley, I’m gonna come soon…”

I want to talk to him… I want to tell him all the dirty, devious thoughts running through my head. But then I also have no desire to take my mouth off his dick until I’ve sucked out every bit of his orgasm.

I’m desperate to taste his cum. I need to drink him down.

So I keep teasing him with my fingers, sucking and sucking, sliding my mouth up and down every inch of his erection while my fingertips dance over his asshole. If I had lube right now, there’d be nothing to stop me from pressing inside him. But I’ve got nothing more than the river of my saliva running down his balls. It’s enough to tease him, enough for the tip of my finger to breach his tight hole, barely.

“Guuhhh…” he groans, tightening all over. My head bobs on his cock, more and more and more, finger making it knuckle-deep in his warm ass before he starts to tremor. “I’m… coming…”

The second the word leaves his lips, I feel a shot of thick liquid hit the back of my throat. It almost makes me gag, but I ignore it, keeping him deep while his load pours into my mouth. Spurts of his cum decorate my tongue and I swallow it immediately, gulping him down, sucking while he hums, in hopes I’ll drag every last drop from him.

His salty flavor lingers while I get it all, listening to the quiet cries leaving his lips, resting my cheek on his pelvis as his fingers twist in my hair, grasping and keeping me close.

Like he’s trying to make sure I can’t leave. As if there’s anywhere I’d rather be than right the fuck here.

Fuck… yes…

My cock twitches in my hand while I rub it through my boxers, fondling my balls. I’m as high as a kite, we both are. It’s clear that we’re just floating together, light as air. It doesn’t even occur to me that my mouth is still latched onto his cock for minutes, until I feel it softening on my tongue.

I finally peel myself off of him, removing my hand from his ass while he catches his breath. A long, contented sigh leaves his lips as he gazes down at me, and I up at him. I can’t even help staring at him like he’s a Greek god or some sort of ethereal being. He just looks that way.

Part angel, part demon.

The most worrisome part of looking at him right now, though, is how magnetized I feel. Crawling over him, I go to his lips like I don’t have a choice in the world, instantly clasping his face to kiss him hard. Forcefully soft, delivering myself to him.

The power shift between us is confusing as hell. One minute he’s in charge and the next I am. It’s overwhelming, but I like it. I like the current that runs between us, like the lightning zapping outside his bedroom window.

My hips grind into his, my erection stiff and aching as I writhe against him, kissing his lips fierce until I’m dizzy. He slides his hands down my lower back into my boxers, holding me and pushing me down to grind on him.

“That was… the best head I’ve ever gotten,” he rumbles into my mouth. It sounds like there’s some vague amusement in his tone, but when I pull my lips back and glance down at him, all I see is wonder shining in his deep blue eyes.

“Your dick isn’t an easy one to lose blowjob virginity on.” My lips quirk. “It’s massive.”

“You managed pretty fucking well.” He tugs his lower lip between his teeth, eyes drifting to my mouth. “Can I help you with this?” He pushes my boxers down until my cock flops out onto his abs where his hand reaches for it, fingers brushing lightly before they curl around my shaft.

“Two hand jobs in one night?” I grin and he chuckles. We’re still rocking together, like we can’t stop moving into one another, rubbing flesh like we’re trying to start a fire.

“I was thinking more like… tit for tat.” He touches his tongue to his top teeth.

Another piercing I’m desperate to try. Fuck me, this guy is built for sex.

No words needed, he shifts as I kick my boxers off all the way and raise onto my knees once more, this time straddling his shoulders. He wastes absolutely no time nuzzling my balls with his lips, licking and licking them like an ice cream cone.

I shudder. “Jesus, Velle… your mouth.”

“You like it?” He purrs, the barbell in his tongue teasing the fuck out of my nuts before it moves up.

“I love it.” I reach for his head, holding his hair while he licks lines up and down my dick.

When the steel flicks the underside of my head, my dick flinches, hard.

“Mmm… push into my mouth,” he begs, holding my thighs. “Please.”

“You want this cock in your throat?” I grunt, aiming my dick into his pouty lips and thrusting. He groans and I groan back, thrusting in deeper. “Fuck me, that’s so good.”

I keep moving with his mouth, fucking it, warm and wet, sucking me so good I’m going cross-eyed. He’s just as good as Ren. Better, even. Because he’s Velle, and I’ve wanted nothing shy of everything we’re doing right now for fucking months.

I’ve been wanting him, and now I’m coming undone.

I keep fucking his face, stroking my dick in and out, deeper and deeper, riding that tongue ring and letting it give me chills. Velle is dazed, but his eyes stay with mine the whole time, drunk on what we’re doing; on how much he’s been dying to give in to me.

“Suck, baby,” I growl at him and he whines, mouth full, damn near overflowing. “Suck suck suck.”

His wide chest is moving beneath me, breaths uneven. His large hands caress me all over while he holds me in place, swallowing on my cock, his throat constricting to drive me wild.

I grip his hair and his jaw, holding him still while I watch him take my dick deep, eyes watering. “You’ve wanted this just as bad as me, haven’t you?”

He nods, one hand leaving my hips. I glance behind me to find him stroking himself.

“You wanna come again?” I breathe. He nods once more. “You look so goddamn good like this, baby. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

That gets him. His eyelids droop and he moans on my cock, the vibrations easing me right up to the edge.

He growls something on my dick, and I already know what it is…

“You begging me…?” I fuck his throat deeper, rougher. His eyes roll back. “You can have all the cum you want, baby.”

His hand works faster and faster on himself, pumping his cock while I abuse his throat, stuffing my dick down until I snap.

“Fuuuck…” I groan, falling forward.

I hold myself up by my hands, the orgasm washing over me. My skin sheets with tingles while I come and come onto Velle’s tongue, flooding his mouth. And he gulps it down, throat adjusting as he swallows for me.

Keeping his eyes on mine the whole time.

“That’s it, Velle. Swallow all this cum,” I rumble incoherently, barely even recognizing my own voice.

I pull back a bit while my dick is still pulsing, letting it hit his lips. Apparently, that’s what sets him off.

“Fuck me, Harley, Jesus…” he croaks, voice hoarse from the dick that just exploded in his throat.

I feel warm liquid splatter on my lower back, and I whimper, turning to watch his dick shoot out more cum. My fervent lust at the sight is captivating.

It looks… so fucking good.

“Come more for me, baby,” I rasp, all hazy, my head drifting up to the ceiling, weightless. “Keep coming. Shoot it all over me…”

Velle whines and whimpers, breathing like he can’t get oxygen into his lungs fast enough. And then I slide down him, our lower halves both falling off the bed onto the floor. But I couldn’t give the tiniest fuck right now.

I just need…

“Your lips,” I plead, fingering his jaw and pulling him. “Kiss me…”

He does. And I taste myself on his mouth, mingling with him in mine. It’s us together, savory and sweet, deep, deep running fire. I’m at the center of the earth, burning in delight. Marveling in it… the sensation of shifting, on a tectonic level.

That’s what Velle is for me. The ultimate revelation.

Minutes later, we’re fully on the floor, lying naked, side by side. Legs tangled, hands on each other’s chests. Just touching. Just savoring…

Because we both know this won’t last. He won’t let it.

“This doesn’t leave this room.” He blinks at me. “You know that, right?”

Told ya.

Reluctantly, I nod. “I know.” We stare at each other in silence for another moment. “Everyone’s going to wonder why I disappeared, though.”

His brow lines. “No… Harley, they can know we hooked up. I don’t care about that. What doesn’t leave this room is this. Us.”

I can’t help but gulp. “You do feel it, then…”

His jaw tightens visibly. “I just can’t… I can’t do any of that. Nothing that happened in here can happen anywhere outside of here.”

I’m befuddled. I just can’t comprehend why he feels like he needs to put on this show. Does that mean his entire personality, the dominant control freak thing, is all an act?

“Does this mean you’re still gonna be an asshole to me?” I trace a line of ink on his neck.

“I’m an asshole to everyone,” he mutters. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Not to Joy…”

His voice rumbles into me, “That’s different.”

“Why?” I can’t stop myself from asking these questions. From digging deeper into him. I want to get closer to his center, to figure him out. “Because she’s your ex?”

“She’s more than that.” Something serious flashes in his eyes. “She’s my partner.”

“Do you guys still hook up?” I shift my hips, dragging my cock along his. It isn’t fully hard, but definitely getting there, just from being near him like this. Touch and taste and sight.

His lips curl at the corner. “You jealous, Rook?” I roll my eyes and he chuckles. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, you know. We all have. You like her…”

“Does that make you jealous?” I smirk, taking both of his hands in mine and pinning them above his head.

“I think we’ve established that I’m jealous as fuck.” He goes breathless. “But… you could hook up with her. If you wanted to…” The look I’m giving him must convey my confusion at his words because he hums another soft laugh. “I just mean, like, you deserve someone good. Joy’s as good as it gets.”

“Are you pushing me away already?” I murmur, angst gripping my chest. “We just hooked up.”

“Remember, you pushed first, cowboy,” he says on a raspy breath.

“Yea, and I’ve been chasing you ever since.”

“I’m not one to be caught.”

I’m so confused… by all of this.

“I mean, Joy’s hot. Of course.” I shrug. “But I like you…” Leaning down, I drop a tender kiss on his lips. It feels so good it makes me hum.

But when I pull back, he’s giving me a concerned look.

“What’s wrong?” I let go of his hands, needing his arms wrapped around me right now.

I don’t know why… I’m not a chick. It’s not like I need cuddling after sex. But with Velle, I just feel like every second I’m not attached to him, he’s drifting further and further away.

And because I’m fucking right, he doesn’t hold me. Instead, he squirms beneath me. “I need to get up… Go check on the generators.”

I glare down at him for a moment, before nodding and rolling off. He dashes into his bathroom and comes out with a wet washcloth, tossing it at me. He redresses immediately, wasting no time building that wall right back up. I can see it happening.

I don’t know why I’m upset. I knew this would happen. It’s a given with Velle. He said it himself… He can’t.

Can’t what, I’m still not even sure. But it’s something imprisoning him. Something with roots.

I get cleaned up and redressed, finding myself lingering near him, shifting my weight. He stalks past me toward the door, but he stops when he gets there, turning over his shoulder.

That one look… It shows me more vulnerability than I got during this whole interaction.

His brows zip together, and he just pleads with me, with his beautiful blue eyes… For understanding, I think.

I nod and walk up to him. I want to kiss him; I want to touch him and beg him to stay right the fuck here, with me. But I can’t do that…

So instead I just tuck his hair behind his ear.

And then I leave. Again.

“Hello?”

I’m out of breath from rushing somewhere private to take the call. We’re in the second group of showers right now, but when I see this number on my phone screen, there’s no ignoring it.

“Hi, my love,” the sweet, serene voice of Jeon Jameson croons at me over the line.

The emotions I get just from hearing her are so conflicting they make me itch. It’s like a shot of dopamine, the warm and fuzzies immediately transporting me back to Boston.

Back to our home on Mass Ave. Sitting with her in the living room while she reads to me from whatever book she’s on. Or standing by her side in the kitchen, chatting while she cooks.

The knowledge that I’m not there, and likely never will be again, hits me hard. Like a roundhouse kick to the gut. And the pain I feel at that reality hurts. It aches in my chest, reminding me of my reality. Of where I stand…

In a dungeon.

“Hi, Mom.” I lean up against the wall with my phone to my ear. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today. Is everything alright?”

“As well as it could be…” she replies, leaving it all unsaid. The anger, the regret and the uncertainty, it stays buried within her tone. “I know we weren’t due for a call for another couple of weeks, but I just wanted to hear your voice.”

My eyes close tight, head banging gently against the wall that’s holding me up. “That’s great, Mom. I’m so glad to hear yours. How’s Dad?”

“He’s well. We just got back from Belfast, actually. Last night.”

“Oh, right.” I manage a small smile. “Three weeks! How was it?”

“It was good,” Mom says calmly. She’s always this way. The polar opposite of my father. “Lovely seeing the family. Your father needed it…”

I gulp, unable to help how my forehead lines, an incessant migraine coming on.

It’s been over a decade and my father still struggles with having to give up his business, and the disappointment from his family, his crew. He was ostracized a lot in the beginning, but they forgave.

Thing is, in Boston… and in Norn’, they’ll never forget.

Rage fills me slowly, seeping into my inner crevices, and my fingers dig into the wall. Manuel Blanco ruined my life. He ruined my father’s life.

A life of crime could be seen as a less than reputable way to provide for your family, I suppose, but I never cared about that, and neither did my family. My father was one of the most respected men in Boston, his efforts carrying overseas to his home country.

And then Manuel Blanco showed up and destroyed it all.

He left my father’s business in shambles, stole his daughter. And ever since, Finn Jameson has had to swallow his pride—a fucking mouthful for someone like him—and fall in line, for fear that The Ivory would harm his family.

Me.

I’d like to think I don’t fear the Warden… Truly, I don’t, but it’s very complicated now. This web he’s weaved is tangled, on purpose. That’s why he does this…

Keeps us all tied up in his evil.

Changing the subject before I break my nails off in the concrete behind me, I ask, “How’s Han? The restaurant still doing well?”

My mother is quiet for a moment. I pull the phone away to make sure we’re still connected, since the service in this place is shoddy at best.

“Mom?”

“Yes, I’m here, Joy. Sorry…” She sighs. “The restaurant is alright. There have been unexpected… issues.”

I tense. “What kinds of issues? Money?”

“No, no, business is fine,” she tells me, sounding hesitant, which on my mother is more alarming than on most other people.

“Then what?”

She lets out an audible breath. “We’ve had visitors…”

Tension grips my jaw, my hand curling to a fist. She doesn’t need to elaborate. I already know exactly what she means.

That fucking prick… I swear to God.

“I’ll handle it,” I growl, staring straight ahead.

“No. No, Joy. Absolutely not,” Mom protests. “I didn’t tell you in hopes you’d confront him about it. There’s nothing we can do. Just leave it alone, please.”

“Mom, he can’t keep getting away with this shit,” I whisper, glancing around the corner nearest me, to make sure no one’s nearby. The corridor is empty, but still, I keep my voice low in case he does bug this place. “It’s been twelve years, and he’s still fucking with us, even after everything I’ve given him! Enough is enough.”

“You sound just like your father,” she mutters. It’s not necessarily a compliment.

“It’s true.”

Mom exhales in my ear. “What are you going to do, Joy? Hm? Storm up to him and make demands? You know how he responds to that.”

My teeth grind harder. She has a point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Manuel Blanco has gotten away with too much for too long. He already has me chained to his empire for the foreseeable future… What more does he want?

Fucking with my uncle’s business is a low blow. The Ivory is a businessman, though he’s much more twisted than he lets on. Still, I need to find out his reasoning for this shit so I can try to eradicate the unnecessary torment.

“I understand, Mom.” I force myself to relax. Closing my eyes, I pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I won’t do anything foolish.”

I’m not sure she believes me, but regardless, she says, “Good. Thank you.”

“Just be careful when you’re there,” I tell her. “Han, too. Maybe have one of Dad’s guys hang around for security.”

“Terry’s been there on occasion,” she mumbles. “Your father is trying to keep himself calm, but you know it’s difficult.”

“Believe me, I know,” I say with a slight chuckle. My father, the hot-head.

“Enough about that,” Mom says on a breath. “How are you? You’ve been taking care of yourself?”

I nod though she can’t see me. “Yea, I’m hanging in.”

“Settling down a bit, I hope…”

My lips curl and I roll my eyes. “Oh yea. I’m living domestic bliss here in Dracula’s castle.”

Mom lets a giggle slip which broadens my grin. “How’s Jonathan?”

“He’s… he’s trying.” Thoughts of Velle churn in my mind.

How stressed he’s been lately. Him pushing Rook away…

He’s definitely trying, but I’m not sure if it’s working.

“He needs a good woman in his life,” Mom interrupts my worrisome thoughts with that prying Mom tone, quietly pushing her agenda.

I can’t help but laugh. “Mom, Velle is allergic to relationships, you know that. He’s actively trying to purge himself of Rook, and it clearly isn’t working.”

“Well, maybe he needs the both of you, then,” she chirps.

I shake my head. “Yea… maybe.”

Speak of the devils, Rook’s voice calling me over the walkie interrupts our conversation.

“Mom, I gotta run,” I tell her, regretfully. I wish we could talk for hours. “I’ll call you in two weeks, as promised.”

“Sounds good, Joy.” She doesn’t sound like she wants to let me go either. But unfortunately, nothing can be done.

I’m lucky I even get to speak with my parents once a month. Some of the others aren’t so fortunate…

“I love you, Mom.” My words come out hard, holding in all the emotions. Locking them up and throwing away the key. “Stay safe.”

“You too, jeulgeoun,” she says quietly. Joyful.

Sighing, I hang up the call and tuck my phone away, praying for the strength not to do the murderous things rushing through my brain.

I’ve been here for so damn long, a slave to The Ivory in order to protect my family, and yet it’s never enough.

It won’t be… Until he’s gone.

I push myself off the wall and stalk back toward the showers to help Rook and the guys. The storm ended early this morning and all the power came back on. The sun is out for the first time in weeks, and it’s quite the sight.

A new day, frozen in time.

I’m distracted while we hustle the next two groups in and out of the showers, unable to get my mind off the conversation with my mother. The sinking truth of my situation weighs heavily on my back. The most fucked up part is that it’s been like this for eleven years, and it still happens.

Nothing has gotten better. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

“Hey.” Rook elbows me on our way out of Luthor’s cell. The door clangs closed behind me and I peek at him. “Everything okay? You seem off.”

With his mossy green eyes stuck to mine, I really feel the kinship I have with him in this moment. Rook is such a comforting presence. He has truth-seeking eyes, and a shoulder made for leaning on. As much as I think he’s still keeping a lot of his certainties close to his chest, we’ve become good friends.

I can confide in him. Maybe it’ll invite him to open up himself…

“I just got off the phone with my mom before,” I tell him while we walk, side by side. “I miss her and my dad so much…”

He gives me a little purse of his lips. “I get that. I miss my mom, too.”

“What about your dad?” My head tilts in his direction. I witness him swallow.

“I miss him… in sort of a different way,” he tells me, his gaze staying straight ahead.

“Is your dad one of those steely, reserved farmer guys?” I ask with a small grin.

That gets him, and he releases one of his cowboy smiles, dimples for days, then huffs a laugh. “Yea, kind of. Except he’s not a farmer. He was a cop. Retired Police Chief, actually.”

“That’s hot,” I mumble, and he elbows me again, harder this time, until I chuckle.

“My father is a good man,” he sighs. “But you’re right, he’s definitely stoic. Not very affectionate. Not always very… accepting…”

We turn a corner, approaching the breakroom. “So you mean he might not approve of your new boyfriend?”

There’s some amusement on his face at my joke, but the truth in my question lines his eyes. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t be bringing Velle home for dinner. Even if I could…”

“Fuck that,” I grumble while we enter the room, going straight for the fridge. “Who cares what your dad thinks? Parents aren’t always right.” Rook nods, deep in his thoughts while I remove our lunches and bring them to the table. “Would your mom approve?”

“She might.” He shrugs as we sit, opening our bags and pulling out sandwiches. “I never thought about it until I got here.”

I crack open my can of cherry cola. “Is that true?”

His eyes shift to me and I squint at him. “I’m not sure…” I give him a look and he rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe I did. On occasion… But it was abstract. I think I noticed guys before, but I always told myself it was for other reasons.”

“Like casually admiring the way they look without it being sexual?” I take a sip.

“Yea. Exactly.” He picks at his food.

I nod. “Makes sense. Your experience with Velle was like the match that lit the fuse. And now…” I lean in closer to his ear and whisper, “Kaboom!”

He grins and I chuckle, taking another sip of my drink. His eyes fall. “Is that why Velle calls you Cherry? Because you love Cherry Coke?”

I scoff. “Cherry is actually short for Cherry-bomb. He’s been calling me that since we first met. We watched that movie The Runaways together and made out like teenagers listening to the song.” I pause and tug my lip between my teeth at the memory. “Good times.” When I peer over at Rook, he’s staring at me, looking sort of fascinated. “There are other reasons…”

“Tell me.” His eyes sparkle in anticipation.

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head and poke him on the nose. “Not until you tell me what happened last night.” His forehead scrunches as if he doesn’t know what I’m referring to, but his creamy complexion is getting a nice flush, rising up his neck to his cheeks, which tells me most of what I need to know. “You guys finally hooked up, didn’t you?”

He bites his lip and glances at the table, ripping a piece off his sandwich and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Don’t hold out on me, Cookie!” I gasp, turning in my seat to face him fully. “I need all the details. Did you get Lucky?? Get it?” My grin widens at the adorable look on his face.

“I still don’t know why you call him that either,” he mumbles.

“If you have to ask, you haven’t fooled around with him nearly enough,” I chuckle.

“Joy,” he scolds me, though he’s clearly trying to smother his giddiness. “No one’s supposed to know about me and him…” Then his forehead lines. “I mean, I guess they can know we hooked up, but not the extent of it…? I’m still confused about the whole thing.”

I nod and rub his back in calming motions. “If Velle shows you himself… behind closed doors… then that’s exactly where it needs to stay. It has to be like that, unfortunately.”

Rook’s shoulders slump. “It’s not like I’m saying I need a relationship or anything.”

“It’s not about that.” I shrug, taking a bite of my hummus wrap.

“Then I really don’t get it. Would it be the end of the world if someone found out he’s not as… dominant as he comes off?”

I blink at him, wanting to say more, but knowing I can’t. “It’s not about that either.”

“I’m so fucking lost,” he mutters, a contemplative air suddenly surrounding him. “I’ve been here for months and I still have no clue what goes on in this place.”

“Months is nothing here, Rook.” My head lolls. “See me after ten years.”

The sheer hopelessness on his face at that comment sends my heart sliding down into my gut. Suffocation wraps itself around my insides.

I need a distraction. Anything.

“Tell me what happened last night,” I plead. “The censored version, if you must.”

Rook appears as if he just wants to lie down. It’s exactly how I feel, but he humors me and tells me all about what happened in the corridor with Velle and Dash. Then he tells me about his first time giving a blowie, and I won’t lie, it makes me quite damp below the waist.

“And now he’s back to ignoring me,” Rook sighs at the end of his story. He gulps from his water bottle. “I’m dying to see him again, but I have to wait for him to come to me.”

“I’m sure he will,” I encourage, imagining how positively wonderful it would be to sneak into Rook’s room and find him and Velle exploring.

Rook is clearly dying to pop his bisexual cherry, and I’m well aware of how desperate Velle is to let go of his Daddy reins. In secret, of course.

They need each other. And I need to watch.

“I hope so.” Rook’s fingers tap on the table. “I’ll give him whatever he wants. And I can definitely keep a secret…”

My eyes dart to him for a moment. I know he can. He’s still lying about why he’s here, that much is obvious. I am absolutely not buying that he chose to give up his whole life and turn himself over to The Ivory because he was bored.

I call serious bullshit.

Hoping it’ll get him to open up more, and maybe let go of that ridiculous story, I ask, “Have I told you why I’m here?”

His face turns to mine, eyes wide. “No. You haven’t.”

Glancing around quickly, just to make sure we’re alone, I scoot in closer. “Manuel Blanco kidnapped my mother.”

Rook looks sufficiently shocked. His mouth even falls open, though he says nothing.

I keep going, “I told you about my father… How he was a high seat in Southie…” Rook nods. “Well, as it turns out, Manuel Blanco’s adoptive father had collected a bunch of ports for the Colombian cartel back in the seventies. El Paso, Miami, San Jose, Brooklyn… and East Boston. My father claims he had no knowledge of it, which could be true. I mean, his seat was passed on to him by his father, and it’s likely he just pretended not to know about it. The Colombians used to handle strictly exporting to the U.S. None of the leaders here in the States expected them to infringe on these so-called properties…”

I glance at my lap and shake my head. “Anyway, the seaport was my father’s responsibility. He was in charge over there, and I guess when The Ivory showed up, he brushed him off. Makes sense… Sounds like something my father would do. So Blanco retaliated. He took my mother as retribution, and he planned on keeping her.”

“For what?” Rook’s voice is soft, quiet and yet sort of grungy. As if he’s intrigued, but also pretty pissed off.

I shrug. “Who knows. Nothing good, that’s for sure. My father was hellbent on starting a war when it happened, but I knew better. The first casualties would be my mother, and myself. I didn’t need to know Manuel Blanco personally to know he’d go for the heart first… Family. He’d already kidnapped my mother. So I did the only thing I could think of… the only thing I could to save my family…”

“You sacrificed yourself,” Rook mumbles. I nod.

“I volunteered to work for him. Showed him what I could do. And this was twelve years ago, so you can imagine what he saw. Nothing but potential. Like with Velle… only a little different.” I can’t help but gulp at that thought.

“You know why Velle is here…?” He asks, though it comes out more like a statement.

“I do,” I answer hesitantly.

His gaze narrows. “But you won’t tell me.”

“It’s not my story to tell.” My shoulder lifts.

“You know damn well he’ll never tell me,” Rook grumbles. “It’s like pulling teeth trying to get him to open up, about anything.”

“He has his reasons.” I shake my head. “So now you know my story… Not much different from the others.” Rook’s face goes still, eyes shifting between us. “Every single guard on Alabaster Isle is here against their true will, for one reason or another. We’re all trapped… except you.”

My gaze bores into him, trying to draw the truth out of him. The way he’s looking at me now, I know he wants to. Whatever secret he’s holding onto, it’s weighing on him. He doesn’t want it.

Rook’s lips part, as if he’s going to tell me the truth, but then the sounds of clunking footsteps cause them to snap shut.

Our eyes dart to the doorway as Velle storms in, looking every bit as stressed and irritable as ever. His eyes land on us for just a moment, but he quickly looks elsewhere, stalking to the fridge and opening it for a bottle of water.

The room is quiet while Velle chugs his drink, all of us looking at different things. I’m watching Rook, Rook’s watching Velle, Velle’s watching the wall. It’s mesmerizing to me how tension can spike like this so fast. As soon as the two of them come into the same shared space, it’s like the laws of physics shift and you can feel the air.

Leave it to the rookie to break first. “Hey.”

Velle’s eyes flit to him, then to me. Then to him again, and finally back to the wall. “Sup.”

Rook rolls his eyes. “How are you today, Officer Chevelle?”

“Fine…” Velle grunts, this low, raucous tone that gives me chills.

“Yea you are.” Rook smirks and wiggles his brows. When Velle scowls at him like he’s deranged, he lets out a breathy laugh. “Sorry. I had to.”

“Are you always this…” Velle’s voice trails, and Rook jumps in.

“Awesome?” He grins.

“Annoying.” Velle aims a pretty fiery glare at the rookie who is, as always, completely unfazed.

“Tell you what,” Rook hums, standing up from his seat and moving over to Velle. “Why don’t you save the grievances for later?” He steps right in front of Velle and leans his face in closer. “I’d love to hear more about how annoying I am… Say, my room at midnight?”

“I hate you,” Velle whispers, chest moving visibly with unsteady breaths as his gaze falls to Rook’s mouth. His words don’t sound at all as threatening as I’m sure he meant them to.

I can’t help biting the smirk on my lips, leaning back and crossing my arms to watch the show. This is so hot.

“You hated me so bad last night, huh?” Rook hooks his finger into Velle’s belt loop and tugs him.

At first, Velle goes, some sort of dire need in his eyes as they round, almost nervously. I’ve only ever seen him like this a handful of times. And it’s never been something he lets other people witness.

He immediately covers it up by yanking himself away from the rookie, jaw visibly ticking. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Officer.”

“It’s not a game, Velle,” Rook says, purposefully quiet. He’s making sure no one else overhears. But unfortunately, it’s not good enough for Velle.

“You’re right,” he growls. “It’s not. It’s serious. Back the fuck up before I lose my shit.”

Rook huffs out a frustrated sound, fingers running through his hair. “What the fuck is the problem?? I don’t get it…”

Velle’s pained gaze lifts to the camera at the entrance of the break room. It’s aimed right at them.

“Harley… please,” he whispers, much less aggrieved and more anxious.

I bite the inside of my cheek, my fist clenching as my eyes fling to the camera. Fucking bullshit.

I’m guessing Rook realizes that Velle begging over something like this means it’s serious. And even though he doesn’t know why, he chooses to leave Velle alone, stepping back.

Shaking his head, he stomps over to me and sits back down. “Well, you know where to find me…” Rook goes back to his lunch, and now I can feel the disappointment, the confusion rippling from him where he sits.

Glancing up at Velle, I see him look at me for a second, in between watching Harley. I feel awful.

For as trapped in this place as we all are, Velle’s situation is infinitely worse than the rest of ours.

He tosses his empty water bottle at the trash can, not getting it in, the plastic scattering to the floor as he stomps out of the room fast. Leaving us both with the sober, humming air.

After a few moments, I interrupt the silence. “Why are you really here, Harley?”

Rook doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t say a word, though I can tell he’s registering the veracity between us.

He’s not here by choice. No one is. It doesn’t make sense.

And yet he doesn’t answer me. He simply stands up and throws away his trash, walking slowly to exit the breakroom. He stops in the doorway and calls over his shoulder, “You coming?”

I’m rooted to the chair for seconds, the magnitude of this reality still heavier than pounds of concrete. We’re made up of our secrets, after all. They’ve built us just the same as our truths have.

So I stand up, carrying the burden on my back as we go finish our shift.

Because we have to.

Why am I over here?

Why do I keep doing this to myself…?

Standing in the darkness, I lean up against a bookcase. My eyes close and behind my eyelids, I visualize some place better.

I’m not even sure where I’d go if I could. I don’t know if I’d go anywhere…

Alabaster Isle has been my home for a very long time. I don’t remember what life is like anywhere but here.

It’s quiet all around me. I’m far enough from the music of the party happening in our living room that it sounds like a vague whisper down here. Mostly right now it’s just my pulse, pumping in my head, drowning out the internal voice telling me to leave.

Pushing myself back against the shelf, I take in a deep breath, expelling it slowly while my fingers trace the books. My blood pressure has been through the roof lately…

I’ve been on edge since the day Harley arrived at Alabaster Pen. I recognize it, and yet I refuse to truly acknowledge how much he’s been affecting me.

I don’t feel like myself around him… And I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.

Footsteps cause my heart to jump, a chill zipping up my spine. The clack clack clack of dress shoes on a marble floor tighten my stomach, all the way up to my chest. My teeth are almost chattering, but I force myself to get it together.

Breathe, idiot.

I see a figure step into my vision, shadowed by the lack of light. It glides through the room, taking a seat in a big leather chair, directly across from where I’m standing. My eyes stick to it, and I’m frozen.

I can’t move. I just stand, still, staring as he sits back, takes out a cigar and lights it.

He takes a few puffs, the smoke swirling in the air, the scent oddly fitting for this ominous library we’re in. The red ember of the tip is the only thing truly visible in this dark room, moving up to his face for each drag, then back down to the armrest.

I wouldn’t be able to see his eyes if I tried, but I know he’s watching me. Gazing at me… Not surprised in the slightest that I’m here.

My limbs tremble as I straighten up, blinking at the form slumped in his giant chair like a bored king on his throne, awaiting entertainment from his servant.

His pet.

He lifts his left hand and curls a long finger, beckoning for me to come closer. I swallow, my throat dry and tight, stepping forward, just an inch. His head cocks, as if to say, Come, my pet. I won’t bite…

But it’s a lie. Of course, he will. That’s the point, isn’t it?

My heart is leaping behind my ribs, and I think the reason is that it knows with absolute certainty that this is bad. It’s telling me, with adrenaline and heated shame, that I need to leave this room.

Go back upstairs.

Go to Harley.

A rough shiver grips me from the inside while I walk closer to the chair. Once I’m halfway there, at the center of the room, some light from the hallway catches his face. And I see his smirk.

Self-assured and certain. Without any doubt that he has me, claws sunk deep enough that I can’t possibly rid myself of them.

Just like that first night…

It snaps me out of it. I blink hard and shake myself, my gaze sticking to the floor as I dart away.

I turn and leave the room without making eye contact, basically jogging through the house toward our staircase. I take the steps two at a time, breathless when I finally reach the top.

Rushing toward my bedroom, I stop short. In front of Rook’s.

My head turns and I stare at his door, chewing on my lower lip. In there… That’s where I want to be, let’s be real. The other night… the blow job.

I could bite my fist right now, holy explosive orgasm.

That virgin mouth was unlike anything I’ve experienced before. As angry as I was at first, finding out Rook had let Ren blow him, I’m seriously considering a fruit basket for #48 as a thank you. Rook said he was studying Ren’s moves when they were together, but honestly, I don’t remember even Ren being that good.

Maybe it was just knowing the rookie wanted me to be his first…

I know the feeling.

Releasing a long breath, I reach for the door handle. Am I really going to do this??

He was being a little too brazen in the break room today. I can’t have stuff like that… I can’t have it anywhere he might see…

But that doesn’t change the fact that I want it. It doesn’t stop me from craving the guy like he’s a drug… cigarettes, booze, or a really good dessert. And if we’re being totally transparent here, the head was phenomenal, but what really did me in were his lips on mine.

I haven’t been kissed like that in a long, long time. It made my head spin.

I want more of it. Whatever’s waiting for me in this bedroom… It’s gotta be better than what’s downstairs in that library.

So even knowing with every bit of certainty I have that this is a bad idea, I turn the handle to his bedroom door and push it open.

Stepping inside, I’m immediately on edge, glancing around the dimly lit room in search of him.

Harley.

I spot him lying on his bed, hands behind his head on the pillow. His gaze is on mine instantly and I gulp, mouth filling with saliva.

His eyes leave me long enough to flick to his nightstand. Then he murmurs, “You’re late.”

I look at the clock by his bed. It’s twelve-fifteen.

I would’ve been here sooner if I wasn’t—

Shaking that thought away, I wander over to his bed, approaching as he sits up, scooting toward the edge. But instead of stopping, I crawl right onto it, over him. I grasp his jaw and I don’t fucking think.

I just do.

My lips press to his and I shudder. He hums, wasting no time accepting my kiss, giving it back to me, harder and deeper. His fingers go into my hair right away, holding me in place so he can devour me.

I’m fast dizzy. My head is twirling, and I trill to him, sucking on his lower lip like it’s something delicious I need to savor until I’ve had my fill. He’s doing me the same damn way and I love it…

It could be only this and I think I’d be totally satisfied.

“Your taste…” he breathes into my mouth, leaning back so I can straddle him. “I’m obsessed with it.”

My cock jerks between us while I writhe into him, his stubble in my palm and his tongue in my mouth. I’m free falling into the feel of him, his big, thick body made of muscle, like mine. My hands run all over his front, cherishing this. How large he is…

Rook flips me and before I know what’s happening, he’s on top, and I’m fucking melting.

This is what I’ve been wanting. This. This this this, all of it.

My legs spread like an instinct and he pushes his hips down into mine, hard. Through his sweats, his cock grinds into my own, long, thick and firm. It has my dick weeping already.

“You’ve been playing with me, Officer…” he rumbles on my lips, the sounds of our eager breaths echoing throughout the room. My hips rise to seek his and he presses down again until I grunt. “Denying me on purpose. Torturing me…”

Our kiss breaks, his swollen lips hovering over mine. “Not on purpose,” is all I can say. But he just kisses me again, biting and nipping, capturing my mouth like it belongs to him now.

There’s no turning back.

“I get it.” He reaches down to grab the hem of my t-shirt, lifting as his fingers trace the lines of my abs. “I won’t tell you I’m okay with it, because I’m not. But I won’t push you to tell me what’s going on…” He pauses, forehead dropping to mine while we pant, the heat between us already stifling as it magnifies. “I just want this. I want you, John. So bad I can’t even think about anything else.”

“I want you too,” I tell him, truthfully. Because I do.

I’ve wanted him since the moment I laid eyes on him, in that hotel bar, scowling into his glass like he could see himself drowning in it.

I’ve been trying to stay away, because I know this can only end one way… The way everything always ends. In tears, bloodshed, or death. There are no happy endings, not here.

Not on this rock.

But even knowing that as deeply as I do, the rookie is still mine. He’s here to give me what I need.

“You want me, baby?” He rumbles, voice deep, tone so purely sexual, my cock is aching between us.

“No.” I peer up at him, lust drunk and flushed. His head tilts. “I need you.”

“Velle…” he sighs, then goes for my lips once more, sucking and biting until it hurts. I gasp and he groans, ripping at my shirt while I hold on to his ass, keeping him between my legs so I can rub myself on him. “I told you… I knew you’d come to me.” Then he pulls back enough for me to see his green eyes, shimmering as he smirks. “One of these nights.”

I can’t help but scowl at him, forcing myself not to smile while he grins, so clearly proud of himself. Then he tears my shirt up over my head, tossing it away, going for my pants.

Leaning my head back into the pillow, my eyes droop shut in sheer bliss. This feels so fucking good. More than good… It’s feels right, like I’ve finally found something to settle me.

His smell is all around me in his sheets, that masculine, heady scent like sweet treats and men’s soap. It smells like Harley. Dimpled country boy with an angled jaw and greener than green eyes. Perfect.

The man whose hands are currently tearing off my pants because they’re standing in the way of what he wants. Lifting my hips, I let him make me naked, biting my lip while I watch him slither out of his own.

His cock is rigid and dripping from the head as he crawls back over me, sucking my lower lip firmly, biting it once more. My dick jerks between us at the pain, trembling fingers coming up to his solid chest. Our eyes meet when he looks down at me, and I see some of my blood on his lip. I lick my own, tasting the copper.

“Fuck…” I grip his pecs, dragging my fingertips through the light dusting of blonde hair on his chest.

He’s such a man… God, it’s driving me wild already.

He has this devious look in his eyes, the hungriest, most carnal look anyone’s ever given me, and it sends chills all over my body, my nipples hard like pebbles with steel barbells through them. I’m not sure how he reads my thoughts, but he presses one more kiss on my tender lip, then drags his hot mouth down my jaw and my throat.

His tongue dances over my Adam’s apple. “Is this what should have happened that night? In the hotel…”

His gaze meets mine and we lock in an explosion of blue meets green before he sucks on the stubbled flesh of my throat, nipping me until I flinch, my dick most of all. He hums, then does it again, sucking and biting me while my fingertips dance on his muscled shoulders.

“It’s hotter now, I think…” I’m breathless. “Because you made me wait for it.”

He chuckles, grinding his hardened cock into mine. His dick is big, very big… pretty much the same size as mine, only it matches his complexion. Where I’m sort of darker caramel, he’s like butterscotch, his long, perfect cock the same, with a blush pink crown on top that I could suck for hours. It’s like seventh fucking heaven brushing against my own, that fat tip caressing my piercing.

“This feels so good,” he mumbles into my neck, moving my arms to take my hands in his. He links our fingers and then presses my hands into the bed, pinning them down as his hooded gaze comes back. “Touching your dick with mine.”

“Could you come like this?” I ask, curious.

This is why playing with straight boys is dangerous… Because everything feels like it’s forbidden, and it turns me up to maximum arousal. Seriously, my balls are tight as fuck right now.

Rook nods, tugging his lower lip between his teeth and pressing himself down on me again until I groan. “You’re so hard. And your balls feel amazing on mine.”

His eyes slide in between us, and he lifts a bit, wrapping his fist around both of our erections together. The way he’s looking at them, it’s like he’s thrilled. I suppose he is, never having done anything like this before. His hand works up our lengths, slowly, then back down, rumbling as he does.

“That’s nice,” he growls, tightening his grip.

A pearl of precum shimmers at my tip and he catches it with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” My chest moves rapidly while I watch him suck my flavor.

“You’re delicious, Velle.” He leans back down to me, licking my lower lip. “Give me that tongue ring.”

I immediately stick my tongue out to meet his, no hesitations whatsoever. I fall so easily into obeying him. It’s promising as fuck.

I’m done being Daddy for tonight.

Rook licks my tongue, slurping it into his mouth while he kisses me, exploring the barbell. I’m coming the fuck undone, spreading wide like a needy slut. Even the thought has me clenching.

“Daddy me,” I whimper when he pulls away, sweeping air into his lungs.

His eyes peel open and he gazes down at me, his hips never once stopping their rippling movements, feeding that friction our hardened dicks make together. “That’s how you want it…” It was probably meant to be a question, but it’s not. We both know the answer.

“Take control of me, Harley,” I beg with my eyes and breathy tone. “Inside this room only, you’re in charge. Do whatever you want with me… please. I’m yours.”

Rook’s eyes droop shut, and he lets out a low hum. When he reopens them, the evergreen is darker than I’ve seen it before. “I told you I would give you everything. I meant it. I’m yours too, Velle. But you are definitely mine. That’s a fact.” I nod quickly. He drops another kiss on my lips, then whispers, “And I’m going to take my time using you, until I get every last drop.”

The mewl that escapes me would be embarrassing if I weren’t already going against everything I’ve built up over the past decade—for good reason.

I’ve never bottomed before… in anything real. The other times I’ve let go of my control weren’t like this. This is Harley Samuels. He will give me all of himself. And I have no problem handing myself right the fuck over in exchange.

Rook’s lips move down me once more, this time not stopping until my nipple is in his mouth. My fingers twitch in between his, where he’s still pinning them at our sides. I want to touch him, desperately, and I think that’s why he’s holding me down. To ache me in my desire.

His tongue circles my nipple a bunch of times before sucking at it almost viciously. My back arches and he pushes me down with his body weight, biting and tugging the steel until I’m whining like a needy thing.

“You like my mouth on you, Officer?” He moves to the other nipple, assaulting it with his mouth just the same.

“Yes.” I squirm beneath the heat of his heavily muscled naked form. “Yes yes yes.”

“Good,” he sighs, then begins licking lines through the sinews in my torso. “Because you’re going to get it… everywhere.”

He glances up at me, showing me a wicked smirk before kissing and biting all over the lines in my pelvis. He purposely avoids my cock, lips caressing my inner thighs and my balls. I’m fucking trembling, my dick standing up straight, heavy and flinching with each pass of his soft lips.

Rook hums, breaths warm on my skin. “Your dick is trying to jump into my mouth.” His lips twist as he looks up at me, eyes glittering. “Should we give him a little kiss?”

“Yes.” I nod fast. “Please.”

“Fuck… you know I love when you beg me, baby.” He’s hoarse with arousal.

It’s the sexiest damn sound I’ve ever heard. I could probably get off with him just whispering hushed, dirty words in my ear.

His hands have left mine, sliding down my sides to my thighs, gripping them hard as he licks a line up my erection. An uncontrollable whimper breaks from me while his tongue teases the piercing in my cock, my hands flying to his hair.

He slurps my tip into his mouth and sucks on it like candy until my eyes roll back in my head. But just as I’m about to start pushing his mouth further down, he pops off.

“Why…?” I peek down at him.

He’s giving me an admonishing look. “Who’s in charge here, Velle? You… or me?”

“You are.” I gulp.

He glares at me for a moment, many lascivious thoughts glinting in his eyes. Then he moves back. “We’re gonna have to tie you up. Since you clearly don’t know how to act right now.”

My dick reacts to that idea, and Rook glances at it, mouth quirking in amusement. But he smothers it and peers up at his headboard before crawling off the bed and wandering, naked, to his closet.

And I just watch him the whole time, in severe appreciation for his body. It’s fucking perfect, every line, every cluster of muscle crafted immaculately. And his fresh, virgin skin, completely unmarked. Not a tattoo in sight. It’s sort of astonishing. It’s rare to find a guy around here without tattoos.

Rook pulls it off. It fits his midwestern cowboy look.

“Remind me to get you a Stetson and a lasso for your birthday,” I rumble as he comes back to the bed.

He grins down at me, kneeling by my side. “Would that turn you on?”

“At this point I think you could wear full clown makeup and still turn me on,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

But his amusement disappears as he holds up a set of handcuffs.

My mouth goes dry. “Goddamn…”

“Yea,” he breathes. And without another word, he straddles me.

He fastens the cuffs to my wrists, around the bar of his headboard, making them tight enough that they pinch. The pain registers in my groin, beneath where he’s sitting on top of me, completely naked.

Our dicks looks great together. Different, and yet they match. And when he’s on top of me, they can’t help but hug each other. Like best friends leaning into some experimenting.

With my arms stretched above my head, I’m at his mercy, and I love it way too much. Rook scoots off me and moves in between my legs, pushing them further apart forcefully with his hands on my thighs. A breath of excitement flees my lips and his eyes, which were previously gliding all over my body, come back up to mine. He keeps them there while he sinks down.

His hands lift me, and with a firm grip on my ass, he spreads my cheeks open.

“Fuck,” the word bursts from my lips as my face heats like an oven.

My heart is thumping while I watch him, wedged in between where my legs are spread-eagle, examining my asshole.

“I’ve never done this before.” He peeks back up. “Obviously.”

“A-are you gonna… lick me?” My breathing is truly out of control.

“No.” He bites his lip. “I’m gonna eat you alive.”

And then he goes in. Presses his face into my ass and explodes my goddamn brain.

A strangled noise erupts from my throat, hips lifting to him while he circles my asshole with his tongue, fluttering over it gently. He kisses, and sucks, and I swear to God the sound alone has my cock leaking onto my abs.

I’ve had my ass eaten a few times. Usually Joy likes to give me a little licky lick when we do the nasty, but this seems to be one entirely different experience. Rook is eating the fuck out of my ass right now, using his whole mouth to straight up feast on me.

“God…” he mumbles into me. “God fucking damn, this is hot.”

“Uh-huh,” I gasp, hands clenching to fists above the cuffs while I writhe up to his mouth.

I can feel myself relaxing for him, opening for him. Fucking needing him inside me more than I need to breathe.

“You have such a sweet little hole, baby,” he growls and I’m fucking crumbling.

His tongue is punishing, sneaking inside me and flicking about, fucking me like it’s something that’s even capable of doing so.

“Your tongue…” My voice cracks and I groan. “Fuck, your whole tongue is in my ass.”

“Mhmm…” He holds me open wide with his strong hands, saliva making me all gushy.

“I wanna do it to you.” I force my eyes to stay open so I can watch him eating me out like a fucking fiend. It’s a sight to behold, man. “I wanna do you like this.”

He pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You can. When I say so.”

I shiver as he climbs over me, hands on either side of my torso, his face aligning with mine. His eyelids are drooping like he’s drunk, breathing heavily as he watches my lips.

And then he kisses me. Hard. No asking, no hesitating. He just does it, taking my lips and sinking his tongue between them.

He kisses me sloppy, on purpose, giving me all of his mouth that was just buried deep in my ass, driving me fucking nuts.

I kiss him back wildly, tasting myself on his lips and not giving one single fuck. The cruder, the dirtier, the better at this point. Rook is giving me exactly what I need, what I crave.

When he finally pulls back, I’m dazed as hell, my toes digging into the bed in anticipation of his next move.

He pauses for a beat to look at me. Mild shame and humiliation heat my face, but it does absolutely nothing to curb my arousal. In fact, it makes my dick pulse even more, nuts all drawn up and needy. I’m trussed up, at his disposal.

“Are you mine to play with?” He asks, running his hands down my thighs to my calves. He lifts and pushes on them so that I bend my knees, my ass even more… accessible. Then he smooshes himself into me, his erection resting between my ass cheeks.

I’m dying.

“Yes,” I pant. “Take everything from me, Harley. Use me the fuck up.”

“God, I wanna fuck you.” His hands move all over me, touching my arms, my chest, my abs. His palm runs over my cock and I whimper, wrapping my legs around him.

“Please fuck me,” I beg in a breath.

“You want this cock in you…?” He growls. “Deep.”

“So deep,” I purr, squirming into him.

“You wanna feel me all the way inside?” His pink lips brush over mine.

I nod. “I need it. I need your cock, Harley, please.”

“Mmm… have you ever had dick in you before, Velle?” His darkened gaze seeps into me.

“Not a real one,” I tell him quietly with heated cheeks.

He hums again, blinking slowly. “That night, when you heard me through this wall… What were you doing to yourself in there?” He nods at the wall that separates our two bedrooms.

“I… I was f-fucking myself,” I stutter. “With a dildo. Pretending… wishing it was you.”

He groans, dropping his face into the crook of my neck, licking and biting me while he murmurs, “How big was it?”

I mumble, “Nowhere near as big as you.”

Rook pulls back to look down at me. He blinks over dark eyes, gazing at me hungrily as he tugs his lip between his teeth, before murmuring, “I don’t have any lube.”

I don’t know how to respond to that statement… I have plenty of lube in my room, but I don’t think we can leave right now.

I glance at his nightstand. “Lotion. Use that.”

I nod over to it, and he looks. There’s a bottle of lotion on his nightstand. He appears momentarily unsure, which reminds me he’s never had sex with a man before, promptly sending a chill of arousal through my extremities. I’ve never actively craved being someone’s first before. But with Rook, it’s entirely necessary.

“Improvise, baby,” I hum.

He forces himself up—it seems like he really doesn’t want to peel off—and gets the bottle. Bringing it back, he squeezes some out into his palm. The scent is instantly recognizable.

“Is that cocoa butter?” I can’t help my grin.

He lets a little smile out, dimple in his right cheek looking fucking lickable. I want to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of it.

“It makes my skin smooth,” he tells me, about the lotion. He strokes it onto the many inches of his erection. And I watch, mouth watering.

What a great dick. Seriously… It’s so fucking pretty.

But then a small frisson of unease slips through me. That might hurt…

And the apprehension instantly morphs into excitement. Nervous anticipation.

“You really wanna know how it feels, don’t you?” He murmurs, and I tear my hungry gaze away from where he’s lotioning his cock. “To have a real dick inside you.”

“That’s the whole reason I picked you up that night, smart ass.” I smirk.

He squirts some more lotion onto his fingers and swipes them between my ass cheeks. I clench like an instinct. “Don’t get sassy with me, Officer. You’re cuffed up like my toy right now.”

I bite my lip. “Yes, sir. I apologize, Officer Samuels.”

“Mmm…” He keeps swirling his slick fingers between my cheeks, pressing one exploratory digit inside me. I gasp. “You’re gonna find out how it feels to have a real dick in your tight ass.” I whimper as he pushes it deeper, stroking in and out slowly. “And I’m gonna find out how it feels to fuck a man…” He shoves another finger inside and I hum, taking it, despite the burn, my body growing accustomed to him instantly. “My superior Officer.”

He smirks and then does a little scissor thing with his fingers, causing me to let out a raspy whine. He stretches me slowly, giving me a third finger, his eyes stuck below my waist to watch while he gets me ready for his girth.

“This looks insane,” he mumbles, fascination in his tone. “Your ass is so snug. I can’t wait to put every inch of my cock in here.”

“I need it,” I plead, lightheaded and sweating through the sheets already.

When he pulls his hand back, I miss the fullness. But something tells me it’ll be replaced in spades very soon.

Rook pushes my legs open wider, kneeling in between them while taking his cock in his hand, aiming it up to me. He holds onto my right leg tightly, keeping it around his waist as he nudges up to my asshole.

“I need to watch your dick while I push into your sweet ass,” he says in a hoarse murmur, sparkling green eyes stuck on my dick where it flinches on my abs while he pushes.

I’m so keyed up, it’s work trying to relax enough to take him in. But I’m ready to welcome his body into mine. I’ve been wanting this for so long, I really hope I don’t bust the second he makes it inside.

“Relax that tight little hole, baby,” he commands, and when I do, the head slips in. “Ah… that’s… good… Sweet Jesus.”

He glides in more, another inch and I’m seeing goddamn stars. Barely two inches inside me and I’m soaring the cosmos. Never coming down. “Holy… fuck.”

“Velle, my God…” He gives me a nice shove. We both groan out loud. “You’re so goddamn tight. Your ass is swallowing my cock.”

“Guuhhh,” is all I can reply. I don’t even know if I said it.

I have no idea what’s coming out of my mouth. I don’t even know where I am. I might very well be on Mars. In a bed on another planet with Rook, and his giant, perfect dick sliding deeper and deeper into my ass.

He’s staring at my erection while feeding me inches, giving me every last one until he bottoms out. My dick has never been harder, stretched almost painfully and bobbing every time he moves.

“God, that looks good,” he growls, eyes now locked on where we’re joined. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“I’m… fuck me.” I can’t speak coherent sentences right now.

Rook lets out a breathy chuckle, then pulls back just a little, dragging a moan from deep within my throat, prompting me to bite my lip to shut myself up. Then he lurches back in, slowly driving into my prostate. Precum leaks onto my abs.

“That’s what I wanted to see.” He drops onto his hands and knees, hovering over me while he begins to move.

He slides out more, then thrusts back in, starting out easy, building a rhythm. The fact that I have a real dick in me is at the forefront of my consciousness. It’s so very different from a dildo. So fucking spectacular I can’t even fathom it.

The feeling of his slick skin inside mine, ass gripping him while he fucks me is… Indescribable.

“Velle, baby, look at me,” he pleads, though still demanding in his dominance. I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed.

I open them and gaze up at him, lips parted while breaths escape me on each of his overpowering thrusts. Lifting a hand, he brushes my hair back and holds my jaw, eyes falling to my mouth. His hips thrust, working his big cock in me while our eyes lock, watching one another, sharp pants flowing between us.

It’s deep, this connection. As much as he’s picking up the pace, savagely pumping into me, it still feels like so much more than just animal fucking.

It’s that too, of course it is. Rook’s pelvis is smacking against my ass, making obscenely loud and obvious sounds, like that of his my headboard slamming into the wall.

And yet when he kisses me, it’s soft. Cherishing.

His kiss is a comfort on some deep level I can’t even understand. As is the feeling of him fucking the breath out of me.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” He croons into my mouth, our sweaty chests gliding together while he dives deep, lashing my prostate over and over, the precum flowing from my cock soaking the both of us. “You wanted me to fuck you deep?”

“Yes.” My voice, like my breathing and my heartbeat, is erratic. I can barely even produce words while he’s stealing all my oxygen like this. I have exactly zero edge left, and I don’t give one single fuck as I whisper, “Ride my ass deep, cowboy.”

He lets out an animal noise, rumbling with lips curved at my words. “Take this big cock, Officer. You’ve been praying for me to ride your tight ass, haven’t you? Break you in…”

“Yes!” I sob, yanking on my cuffs, damn near ready to rip them apart. I want to touch him so bad, but this… This feels better. It feels dirtier.

I’m tied up like his sex slave. Here just for him to use me…

Rook’s thrusts become violently hard. I’ve adjusted to him easy enough, since I’ve been fucking myself stupid with dildos for a while now. But the closest I’ve ever gotten to this is Joy and the strap-on.

Rook is showing me no mercy.

He’s going at me rough, stroking as deep as our bodies will allow, and hard enough that my ass cheeks are going numb from the pounding. And I’m going to come any minute.

The orgasm is winding, and I’m about to snap.

Just then, Rook sort of shifts me, turning me onto my side a bit. He holds my legs apart wide, still fucking me, though not as deep at this angle. But it feels even better, because now he seems to be just living on my prostate.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck…” I cry up at him, gazing with tired eyes that want to close.

When I feel a sharp bite on my ass cheek, they go wide.

Rook spanked me. He fucking spanked me. And he does it again before I can even process what’s happening.

My cheek is stinging and already deep pink as he goes again, slapping my ass, hard enough that it definitely hurts, and makes a loud thwack noise, ringing through the room.

“Goddamn,” he growls. “Every time I hit you, your ass clamps like a fist on my cock.” He smacks me again and I groan, hole clenching on him, just like he said.

The pain is whirring up with the pleasure, like ingredients in a blender, until they’re the same thing. He keeps going, hitting me and fucking me, matching his thrusts with a whack on my beaten ass until I tighten so hard I think he might not even be able to move.

“I’m gonna come…” My eyes tear up from the sting, and the sensation, and the mind-numbing thrill of him plunging his perfect cock into my body. His dick stretches me wide, head brushing my prostate for one last lick as I explode. “Holy fuck, I’m… coming!”

We both force ourselves to watch my dick erupt, streams of cum throbbing out, my balls aching through the most intense release of my life.

My skull has cracked open, and my brain is flying all around the room. I can’t tell if I’m numb, or so full of pleasure it’s completely overtaking all the nerves I have. Either way, it’s the most freeing thing I’ve ever experienced. There’s about a gallon of cum dripping all over my chest and abs, onto Rook’s bed as he turns me back, resting my sore ass on the blanket, all the while still riding me out.

His dick somehow feels even thicker now, even harder, practically ripping me apart while he pushes back in to balls deep. Almost deeper than that, like he’s trying to get his whole body inside me. Then he drops his lips to mine and murmurs, in the most erotic tone I’ve ever heard, “I’m coming in your ass, baby.”

I can’t help the sounds escaping me while he groans and grumbles, emptying his load deep in my body. I feel it happening and it’s so fucking good I can’t fathom it. I don’t know how or why, but I have no choice but to clench on his cock, desperate to keep him in me.

“Take all my cum, Officer gorgeous.” His words are all breath as his strokes slow and he kisses me, sucking on my lips and mumbling into my mouth about how sweet I am, how good I feel, and how perfect I am at draining his cock.

Seriously, I never knew how remarkable this could feel. This praise he gives, while pouring himself into me… It has me purring like a satisfied house cat.

By the time we’re both done, and time restarts, I feel like a year of my life has passed, and yet I’m more refreshed than ever. It’s like I just spent two days at a spa or some shit.

That was…

“The best sex of my life,” Rook sighs, head resting on my chest while he catches his breath.

I blink up at the ceiling. “Me, too.”

How…?

Is this what I’ve been missing all these years? What I should have been trying to get instead of give?

Or was I waiting for Rook all along?

Is it because of him?

The sudden nagging questions make me itchy to get out of these cuffs. My relaxation seems to wear off quick, and I’m sort of tense. I mean, I’m happy… but that’s kind of the problem.

That didn’t feel like just sex.

Rook pulls out of me slowly, prompting a gasp at the loss. He quickly bends and licks up cum from my abs until I tremble. Then he comes back to my mouth and kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on his tongue.

I love it. I love the possessiveness in his actions. I love how dirty and depraved he is. I love how he keeps that part of himself a secret, too.

We’re sort of the same, him and me. On the outside, he’s a sweet, golden-haired cowboy with dimples like canyons, but behind closed doors, he’s a kinky beast.

My twistedness is worn on the outside. I’m a tatted and pierced dominant asshole… That’s what everyone else sees. But what I keep hidden, what I can only share with people I trust emphatically, is my need for this. To be cuffed up at the hands of someone like me.

The me everyone else sees.

I can count on one hand the people who know the real me.

Rook forces his lips off mine, leaving us both panting. He immediately goes for the keys to the cuffs and releases me, taking my wrists to massage and kiss gently. They’re all raw and red, the sight of which makes me gulp.

Not sure how I’ll explain that…

“Hey.” He cups my jaw in his hand. “You okay?”

I nod fast, though I don’t really feel okay. I don’t know how I feel…

I’m confused.

The tickle of Rook’s cum dripping out of my ass brings my attention back to the sex. We had sex, definitely some level of a first for both of us. It was powerful and raw and mind-altering.

But that stupid, nagging fucking voice in my mind is telling me to downplay it.

It doesn’t need to mean anything else. It can just be what it was. Hot sex.

Nothing more.

“Velle,” Rook sighs and scoots up to lie by my side. I turn to face him, feeling a whole myriad of things I refuse to acknowledge when I look into the garden of his eyes. He reaches out to brush my hair back with his fingers and I flinch. “What is it? Can’t you just tell me…?”

The look he’s giving me is a bit too pitiful for my liking. It brings an uneasy twisting into my gut.

“Rook, I told you it couldn’t leave this room,” I grunt, struggling to shut myself down. “I told you that.”

“Okay.” He nods. “I get it. But can’t I have two minutes with you after fucking for the first time to lie here and feel good… before you have to check back in as Officer Chevelle?”

I blink at him. “I’m sorry…” My jaw clenches, biting out pressure in my head. I have no idea why I’m doing this…

I think I’m tired, and all I want is to lie here with him. But I can’t. It won’t work, and it’ll get us both in trouble. I don’t want him to get hurt…

“I don’t want you to apologize,” he says with understanding eyes. “I just want you to stay with me. Feel this, baby… The good stuff between us. It’s really fucking good.”

I swallow hard. “It is good…”

And that’s the problem.

He leans in and kisses my lower lip again, softly. All I can smell is him, us. Sex and chocolate, from the cocoa butter. It’s intoxicating.

Why do I have to leave? Why can’t I just have this…?

“I hope you know tonight was the best night of my existence,” I tell him, being fucking honest, though I despise the regret that sinks into my confession. I don’t want to regret telling him the truth.

His green eyes glisten at me as he lets a smile out. “Mine, too.”

Our heads rest on the pillow, and we stare at each other for a few quiet moments. Breathing, lost in one another’s irises, a blanket of calm settling over our naked bodies to shield us from reality and the things I don’t want to face.

But after a while, the feel of dried cum all over me gets to be too much.

“Come shower with me,” he demands in that Rook way. Like he’s asking, pleading, and telling all at once. “Let me clean you up.”

My lips part, though I can’t speak. I’m inclined to say yes, because what’s the harm, right? I’m already in here.

Giving him a little nod, he grins and presses a quick kiss to my lips, before rolling off the bed. When I sit up, I wince. My body’s feeling the aftereffects of the rough sex and spanking, and I truly love it. I would never admit that I like this, but I do. I don’t want to have to be in control all the time…

Can’t I just give it up every once in a while?

Rook is strutting toward his bathroom naked, and I can’t help but grin while I ogle him, rubbing my lower lip with my thumb. I seem to have turned completely smitten, which is worrying. It was supposed to just be the sex… Not all this other riffraff.

The sound of my phone pinging in my pants pocket on the floor freezes me solid. I feel the blood drain from my face, and all the good vibes I was just bathing in have fucking evaporated.

The clock says it’s just after one in the morning. There’s only one person who would text me at this hour.

Quivers rack my limbs while I bend to rifle hastily through my pants. Pulling out my phone, I check the new text.

Come here now.

My brows zip together, and unease fills me. Guilt and shame and anger. Disappointment… All of it. Everything I don’t want to feel right now, ruining the high of amazing sex with Rook.

Fucking ruined.

Seething to myself, I get up and start dressing, in just my pants. I’ll have to go shower in my room real quick…

Rook peeks out from the en suite, grin still resting comfortably on his lips. “Water’s warm—” But then his face drops when he sees me hustling into my clothes. “Where are you going?”

“I have to leave,” I rush the words out, heading for the door.

He jumps out of the bathroom and darts in front of the bedroom door, blocking my exit. “Whoa whoa… why?? I thought you were going to stay. At least to shower…”

“Can’t,” I grunt, attempting to maneuver around him. “I have to go, Rook. Fucking move.”

“No.” He stands his ground. “Tell me why.”

“Back the fuck up, rookie, or I’ll have to waste you.” I glare at him, showing him with my eyes that I’m not kidding.

I fucking loathe this. I hate it so bad my stomach is churning. But I also know I don’t have much time.

I have to go.

“Hit me if you want to,” he hisses. “I’m not moving until you fucking tell me why. Tell me what’s pulling you out of this room right the fuck now, at one-thirty in the morning!”

“Lower your voice,” I growl. “Nothing is pulling me out. I’m leaving because I want to. I don’t want to stay with you. End of story.”

The look in his eyes hacks me apart. I think I’m actually losing blood, and limbs and fucking organs.

“That’s bullshit,” he whispers. “You want to stay, I know you do.”

I force a roll of my eyes, which are watering more and more with each second of this torture. The pressure behind their sockets is too much. I shove him out of the way so he doesn’t see. So he can’t tell how much I despise what I’m doing. “Thanks for the fuck, Rook.”

He lets me push him aside, and I open the door, slinking out of his bedroom into the hall. I stomp next door into my bedroom, and I don’t miss the sound of his door slamming as I close mine. It makes me cringe.

Backing up against my door, I’m fighting to catch my breath. My heart is so heavy it’s in my stomach and I’m practically hyperventilating, gripping the door behind me while I try to breathe. My eyes squeeze closed, tears sneaking behind them.

Everything inside me feels rotten, diseased. None of this is right.

He’s good… he’s so fucking good, and that was my biggest mistake. Thinking I could have someone like him.

I’m fucking trapped in this.

I can’t escape it.

I can’t have anything good, and I can’t let go of control. Not ever.

I deserve this.

While I’m sputtering for air, my phone chimes again. I pull it out of my pocket with shaky hands.

Now means now, Jonathan.

How I got here:

It was easier than I thought it’d be.

Of course, I didn’t expect it to take tons of effort. No more than a few texts and a couple of evenings in the car, just watching. Considering how often this all goes down, I knew it could be done, and I knew I was more than capable of doing it.

And still I was impressed with how easily I was able to get them there.

During the last week, while my mother was recovering from the attack, I’d swiped her phone and copied down a few numbers. I did my research, called in a few favors until I found the necessary parties.

And then I watched.

The prick drove a black BMW M3. I made myself familiar with it, and I proceeded to follow him around. For three nights, I tailed that scumbag all over the boroughs, taking in his schedule, learning his habits. Honestly, it made me realize that I kind of have a knack for this shit.

I’d considered that I could have been a P.I., as a differing career choice. But then every time I saw his weaselly rapist face, my blood would boil; it would run so hot I almost couldn’t see straight. My vision would blur, and I would grip the steering wheel of my Acura so hard my knuckles would go numb, pleading with myself to stay in the car.

Stay put, I would say to myself. Not yet.

Be patient.

From watching him, I found he kept a gun in his car. Clip separate, I’m guessing in case he got caught. He didn’t carry it on his person.

I also discovered, verified by my mother, that he had a partner of sorts. And that asshole was just as culpable. He was a witness. Didn’t actively participate in the brutality inflicted on my flesh and blood, but in my eyes, he was still complicit.

Guilty by association.

They had a tendency to meet in the same few locations. Low-key selling spots, like the Burger King on Hylan, The Home Depot on Targee, the mall parking lot next to Outback Steakhouse. I even found out some of their drop locations, most of which were in Brooklyn.

But the most important was a pick-up spot at a warehouse adjacent to the Ikea in Red Hook. I followed them there three times. And in the words of someone house-hunting on one of those HGTV shows, I fell in love with the location.

It was ideally nondescript, quiet and set back. Dark, sparsely frequented. Let’s just say it was clear why they chose to pick up large quantities of drugs there.

It was the perfect spot for some illegal activities.

The perfect spot indeed.

The last time I borrowed my mom’s phone was to text him. The responsible party. According to her phone, his name was Jose. Not sure if it really was, but it hardly matters now.

In the text, I told him I wanted to meet him somewhere off Staten Island to talk about what had happened, knowing full well that they would choose the warehouse in Red Hook, hoping to lure my mother into a trap.

I’m sure they had every intention of killing her if she showed up. But that wasn’t what happened.

True to his habits, I watched Jose leave his BMW, sans handgun. He and his friend, who’s name I still don’t know to this day, wandered to their usual spot. He pulled out his phone and started texting, I’m guessing alerting my mother that he was there. But I’d already blocked his number in her phone, so she wouldn’t be receiving that text.

I took one last look around before I exited my Acura, which was parked across the road in the Ikea parking lot. I walked toward their location, calmer than I had been in weeks. My right hand stayed in my pocket. I was practically skipping, whistling fucking Dixie.

My adrenaline had brought me to a strange level of serenity, the fury I knew I possessed simmering just beneath the surface.

I kept my steps light, kept myself quiet as I approached him and his friend. And when I got close enough, I called out, “You Jose?”

They turned to face me, looking confused and immediately on alert. “The fuck are you?”

“Tammy Chevelle sent me,” I mumbled, and before they could even process my words, I swung.

I hit the friend first, to get him out of the way. My brass knuckles caught his left temple, and he fell to the ground immediately. I kicked him once in the gut for good measure before launching my heavy fist at Jose’s face.

He tried ducking, but I still caught him in the forehead. And with the brass knuckles, it disoriented him. He stumbled, and I pounced, tackling him to the ground and sending blow after blow to his face.

Having a lot of weight on him, I was able to hold him down, kneeling on his arms and hitting his jaw, his nose, his eyes. Bones crunched beneath the brass on my fingers, the sounds of it still somehow sneaking into my ears over the loud blood rushing inside me like a waterfall.

Jose’s face was already swollen and bloody, but I wasn’t done with him yet. Still, I needed to check on his little buddy, who was scrambling to his feet.

Nope.

“Where you going, pal?” I growled, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down.

I wailed on his face the same way I had Jose’s, squeezing his throat so hard in my left hand, I thought I may have crushed his windpipe. Blood was just pouring from his nose and mouth as I bashed him over and fucking over.

And then things got hazy.

I rose to my feet, dizzy and vibrating as I brought my boot down on his face.

Again. And again. And again.

By the time I’d snapped out of it, I couldn’t recognize his face anymore. I couldn’t recognize the form as a face anymore, or a head, for that matter. There was so much blood on my boot, it was dripping red and I could practically taste it.

Metallic and copper swam in the air.

There was a moment, one brief spark when I felt something that could have been identified as remorse. But as I glanced at Jose, lying by the body formerly known as his friend, and I saw the sheer terror on his face, it was snuffed out.

It vanished like Houdini, with a poof.

“You’re scared,” I muttered, voice barely audible.

Jose was trembling, crying, sniveling. Snot mixing up with the blood on his face, the smell of urine joining the rest of the unpleasant scents. He’d pissed himself.

I lifted my bloody boot and stepped down on his torso, holding him in place, not that he was really trying to escape.

“My mother, Tammy… she was scared,” I said in a blank tone. Devoid of emotion.

There was none to give. I was robotic in my need at that moment. It was mechanical.

It was meant to happen, already written.

This man would cease to exist.

“She was terrified the night that you raped her,” I hissed.

And then something strange happened. Saying the words jumpstarted my anger, and the purest wrath filled my limbs, urging me back down over him.

“But you didn’t care,” I roared in his face, hauling him to me by his throat. “You raped her, viscously, like the sick animal you are. And now I’m going to put you down.”

I raised my fist once more, and Jose tried mumbling words as his hands came up to cover his face. Probably something like no, or please. Something I didn’t give two fucks to acknowledge as I swung at him, brass knuckles beating his face into a gory pulp.

Literally. I turned him into a mass of mush on the ground, with my hands. They weren’t bare, because of the weapon, but still. Close enough.

By the time I was done with him, there was nothing left of his head but a pile of blood and viscera. Cracked skull and brain. All unidentifiable.

Dead dead dead.

Dead as disco.

Wooziness took over as I struggled to haul air into my lungs. I became wobbly and I couldn’t see well. Blood spatter covered my face and my clothes. I was pretty sure my hand was broken, or at the very least fractured.

I was so out of it, I couldn’t remember who I was for a moment. I couldn’t remember where I was, what city I was in… What goddamn planet I was on.

For minutes on end, I breathed and muttered nonsense, swiping at chunks of something red and goopy on my shirt.

“Well, then…”

A voice pulled me out of it. And when I turned and blinked at a man standing five feet from me, a blurry shape in my peripheral, I realized I’d been crying.

I’d been shaking violently on the ground, hysterical in my trance. I’d actually thrown up, too.

“That’s a dead ass man if I’ve ever seen one,” the guy said, stepping closer to me.

Time rushed, slammed into me like a hundred-pounds of bricks hitting my chest. Everything came speeding back, the reality of what was happening pounding on my temples as if I’d been the one beaten in the head.

I reacted by stumbling backward, falling onto my ass as I gaped up at the man towering above me. He was very tall and slim, with hair as white as ivory and dark eyes cast right over me like a shadow. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, obviously very expensive, and as my gaze darted around, I realized he was alone. Or at least, he appeared to be.

“Who are you?” I croaked, my voice hoarse and my throat scratchy like sandpaper. “A cop?”

The man chuckled, shaking his head down at me. “If I were a cop, I’m sure I’d have you in handcuffs.” I blinked up at him. “And I’m not going to do that. Not yet, anyway.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulling together with my confusion.

“What’s your name?” He asked as he got closer.

I simply shook my head, because I couldn’t really remember, nor did I understand what he was asking me. There were two very dead assholes on the ground right next to me, smelling like all sorts of nasty shit. That was where my mind was. Not on my fucking name.

“You’re obviously very capable,” the guy kept going, despite the fact that I clearly wasn’t capable of answering him. “Come with me.”

I shook my head more, trying to signal that I had no desire to do that. I tried to stand. “I gotta get out of here…” But I stumbled a bit and he caught me, holding me by my waist to keep me upright.

“Relax, or you won’t make it far regardless,” he said, voice soft though his tone had something dark in it that I just couldn’t figure out. It was as if he was speaking to me like a pet.

Something you like only because you own it. It was very unsettling.

“I gotta leave…” I mumbled again, squirming to break free from his hold.

Then he took my chin in his long fingers, forcing my eyes onto his. “Young man, you aren’t going anywhere.”

I gulped. I remember it vividly, the sound it made when I swallowed, swallowed down the thickness of my situation. I nearly choked on it.

“I know what you did, after all,” he said with the subtlest curl to his lips. “I’m the only one who does. If you’d like to keep it that way, then I suggest you start by telling me your name.”

Coal irises swallowed me up as I whispered, “John. John Chevelle.”

“Good boy.” His thumb brushed my lower lip. “I’m Manuel Blanco, The Ivory. And you work for me now.”

On the floor of my bedroom, head in my hands, my mind sifts through memories and images like one of those old toys I had as a kid. A view-finder.

Things were never this bad before…

I always considered myself a happy person. I had a good life. Not perfect… I mean, whose is? But my parents love me, I get along great with my sister. I knew what I wanted to do with my life from a young age… I wanted to help people. To protect them.

Sure, maybe my father being a cop ushered me in that direction, but I’ve still always loved my career choice. And leaving North Dakota… It was the biggest adventure of my life.

New York City made me into the man I am today.

And then, unfortunately, it led me to this.

Sitting naked on my bedroom floor, in the mansion where I live, like a servant of sorts. Reflecting on the fact that the first guy I’ve ever admitted feelings for just rejected me, for the millionth time. What’s worse, I think I’m really starting to… care for him. Let’s just leave it at care for now.

I won’t pretend to know John Chevelle, because clearly, I don’t. I know next to nothing about his past, his life before Alabaster Isle, his family… It’s all a goddamned mystery to me. Just like everything else on this island.

For someone who thrives on information and knowledge of the people around me, this shit fucks with me more than I’d even realized. The amount of secrecy here is weighing on me. It makes me feel like I don’t know anyone. Like I don’t even know myself…

But even though I don’t know Velle, I feel like I do. I could tell something was eating at him tonight. Almost immediately after we were done fucking, he flipped a switch. He turned back into the illusive creature he’s been since I set foot on this island, and I just don’t fucking get it.

What’s holding him back? Why is admitting that he likes me such a fucking problem? Why does hooking up with him feel like sneaking around with a married man??

I’m really starting to wallow in my own confusion and self-doubt when a knock at my door startles me. I leap to my feet so fast I almost fall over, dashing to the door and whipping it open.

“I’m so glad you’re—” My words expel on a sigh of relief, falling off when I realize it’s not Velle standing in my doorway, but Joy. “Back…”

“Well, don’t look so damn disappointed.” She rolls her eyes, pushing past me into my room.

I close the door and when I turn to face her, I find her eyes stuck below my waist.

Oh right… I’m still naked.

I quickly cover my dick with my hands, but Joy just laughs. “Seen it already, Rook. Remember?”

She touches her tongue to her top teeth, the sight giving it a little jolt behind my fingers. I won’t blatantly check her out right now, but my peripheral is noticing she’s in only some very short, very tight booty shorts and a crop top, nipples visible.

I swallow hard. “What are you doing here?”

She lets out a sigh. “I saw Velle hightail it outta your room, and I heard you slam the door.” She gives me some sympathy in her eyes. “Figured you might want to talk.”

I’m not sure what comes over me, but just having her here… my only fucking friend… and the fact that she cares enough to come check on me, it sweeps me up in emotion. I reach forward and grab her, pulling her into my arms. And she wastes no time wrapping hers around my waist, burying her face in my neck.

The feel of her eyelashes fluttering on my skin does something to my dick, which is totally smashed into her crotch right now, since Joy’s not much shorter than me. I can feel her nipples on my chest, and I don’t want to think about how much I like it.

This isn’t supposed to be sexual. She’s my friend, and she’s a comfort to me. But mostly, she’s the only fucking person on this island I can talk to, about Velle mostly, but really about anything. I trust her fully, and that’s something I don’t want to take for granted.

Since my life was uprooted, I’ve found myself worlds away from any form of trust, and it causes more mental anguish than I’ve yet to acknowledge.

I need Joy Jameson.

“You smell like chocolate,” she murmurs into my neck and I chuckle.

“It’s cocoa butter,” I tell her softly, running my fingers through her long, dark hair.

It’s so soft and smooth, it feels like literal silk.

“What happened with Velle?” She asks, making no move to untangle from me.

“We fucked…” I breathe, my heart sinking at the memory of how incredible it felt to have him. What we did together tonight… It was a masterpiece. “And then he left.”

This time Joy pulls back, just enough to make eye contact. “You fucked him?” Her eyes widen and she looks… astonished.

My brows zip together, bemused. I open my mouth to answer her, but then I pause, remembering what Velle said about it not leaving the room. I know he and Joy are closer than anyone else on this island, but I still don’t want to betray his trust.

“Rook, don’t worry,” she says calmly. “I know everything there is to know about Jonathan Chevelle. I know exactly what he likes behind closed doors…”

My brows lift. “Really?”

“Yea.” She bites her lip. “Velle plays the part of a top, because he’s always been that. Because he needs to be that… But inside, he’s a fucking bottom. He craves it, which I’m sure you’ve discovered if you two did the dirty dirty.” She pauses and glances at my bed, then squints at me. “It does smell like sex in here. And you look sufficiently rumpled.”

I can’t help but grin and flush. “Tonight was fucking amazing… It was better than I ever could have imagined. I never knew I had that sort of dominant side to myself until Velle came along and dragged it out of me. It’s almost like I just…” I pause to swallow down the heaviness of what I’m about to say, “I’ll do anything for him. I just want to be what he wants…”

Joy shivers in my arms. “My mind is running wild. You don’t happen to have a hidden camera set up in here anywhere, do you?”

I chuckle. And while Joy is smirking too, she looks pretty damn serious about her question. It reminds me of when we watched Jasper fucking Hancock a few weeks ago.

My gaze at her narrows. “You like to watch, don’t you?”

Expecting her to blush in shame would mean not knowing Joy Jameson at all. She lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug and murmurs, “Guilty.”

I have to laugh, moving her out of my arms and toward the nearest place we can talk, which is the bathroom. I’m still naked, reminding me that I’m also covered in sex juices and whatnot, which I’ve been absentmindedly rubbing all over Joy.

She leans up against the bathroom counter, watching me carefully. “The thing with Velle is that his hidden desires are about more than just sex. He has to be in charge here, because of the nature of his job and his position… There are a lot of layers to it. And I think realistically he hates it. He wants to give up control, but he can’t, and it sorta drives him crazy.”

My jaw clenches. I feel for Velle, I really do. I want him to be happy. I hate the thought of him feeling anything but that. “But why can’t he? I understand he needs to portray the Head C.O. of Alabaster Pen… it’s an image. For the prisoners and the guards alike, I get that. But he won’t let himself truly give in to me when we’re alone, either. It’s like he’s—”

“Trapped,” Joy whispers, then nods solemnly. “Yea. That’s exactly what it’s like, Cookie.”

“Why, though?? And by whom…?” My voice trails off at the end, because I already know the answer to my question. “The Warden. It’s him, isn’t it? He’s threatening Velle with more than just whatever reason he’s here?”

Joy looks like she wants to say something, but she won’t let herself do it. She bites down on her lower lip as her eyes fall to the floor.

I huff out a tired breath and run my fingers through my hair. This is exhausting. Honestly, I wish I had it in me to just walk away and forget about my attraction to Velle. If it was just an attraction…

But it’s not. It’s so much more than that, so I kind of understand his hesitance. Feeling this way about someone you barely know is pretty damn unnerving.

“I have to take a shower,” I mutter, stepping over to it and turning the water on. “I’m still covered in sex stuff.”

“I like it.” She grins, to which I shoot her a look over my shoulder.

She’s just kind of standing there, gripping the counter behind her with her fingers while she watches me, eyes sparkling a bit. I stick my hand under the water to make sure it’s warm, and what possesses me to say these words, I truly have no idea.

But I ask, “You wanna join me?”

She blinks, going serious for just a moment, something flashing over her face that I can’t quite identify before she meanders over, walking up to me until we’re nearly pressed together once more.

Then she lifts her shirt over her head, tossing it onto the floor, shimmying out of her shorts and leaving them in a pile by her feet. Gazing up at me, she rasps, in a voice that’s smooth and a little grungy, “I want you to tell me everything you and Velle did together.”

I’m not really sure why this request doesn’t surprise me. It just doesn’t. Honestly, it feels sort of right.

I’m attracted to Joy. I think she’d be a lot of fun to hook up with, in a very different way than with Velle. But I also think he’s the link between us. And as fucked up and rude as it may sound, it’s similar to the thing with the fleshlight.

I want to feel close to him. To have what he’s had.

That said, it’s not that I don’t care about Joy. Of course I do, which makes it even hotter. She wears her freak flag like a badge of honor. I’m dying to see what sorts of things she gets up to.

Stepping into the shower first, she purposely brushes her tits on me, and it gives me a chill. Her breasts are mouthwatering; not very big, but round handfuls with nipples the color of caramel. Lickable and suckable.

With her under the cascading waterfall of the showerhead, my eyes slide down her taut body, smooth and defined. Her pussy is bare, minus one small strip of hair my fingers are itching to touch.

Does Velle lick her there? Does he wedge his face between her thighs and use that sexy tongue ring on her clit? Does she spread her legs wide for him, sit on top, ride his face?

The thoughts have my erection standing at a full-salute as I step into the shower. It’s not a very large space, so we’re immediately crowding one another, my dick reaching out to her as if it’s trying to shake her hand and say hello.

“Tell me, Rook,” she whispers, lashes fluttering droplets of water that tumble down her cheeks and her lips.

I suck in a breath. “If I tell you, will you tell me?” She nods slowly. So I do. “First, we kissed. For a while.”

She gazes up at me, pupils dilated as she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. “It was your first kiss with a guy?” I nod. “How was it?”

“He tastes dangerous… sort of forbidden,” I rumble. “That tongue ring… it feels amazing in my mouth.”

Joy leans back into the shower wall, chest lifting with a forceful breath. “Show me.”

Placing a hand on the wall by her head, I move in slowly, the air around us thick with sexual tension. My mouth hovers over hers and before I can move in, she reaches up and grabs my jaw, pulling my lips to hers until they crash.

Her warm tongue slithers into my mouth and I grunt, sucking on her lower lip, marveling at how soft it is. She feels feminine pressed against me, but there’s something so very dominant about Joy. It’s hard to explain, but she has a masculine energy about her, the way she’s holding my jaw and taking over this kiss…

It reminds me of kissing Velle.

“I haven’t kissed Velle like this in a while,” she murmurs into my mouth. “When we fuck now, we try to keep emotions out. Kissing sometimes feels too intimate. Or at least, he thinks it does.”

“But you don’t?” I breathe in between us sucking at each other, our slippery bodies pressing together.

“Not necessarily.” Her fingers slink up into my hair and she pulls it. “But I do miss kissing him… He’s very fucking good at it.”

I nod, becoming dizzier and dizzier the deeper we get. “I love the sounds he makes… when I bite and suck at him. He gives in so well…”

Joy lets a moan slip, urging her mouth back. “What next? What did you do to him next?”

“I sucked his nipples,” I tell her, out of breath and panting.

My face is warm as hell at recanting the memories, speaking it out loud, but also from doing this with Joy. I have no clue what we’re doing right now, but it’s hot as fuck and I don’t want to stop.

She doesn’t say a word. She just pushes her chest out, presenting her tits for me to show her.

And I keeping doing.

My lips trail down her throat onto her chest, gliding all over her creamy skin. I make a circle around her right nipple, just like I did with Velle, before sucking it into my mouth.

“Fuck…” she whimpers, sounding just like Velle does when he groans, her fingers lacing in my hair. “He loves having his nipples sucked, doesn’t he…?”

“Yes.” I flick and flick with my tongue. “I could feel his dick throbbing when I took the barbells between my teeth.”

Joy gasps as I nip her peaked flesh, pulling them with my lips, making it a little rough, just like with Velle. I do the same thing to the left, squeezing the opposite breast in my hand until my cock is aching.

“Then what?” She purrs, gazing down at me with hooded eyes.

I leave her breasts and drop to my knees, tilting up to her. “I teased his big dick with my tongue…”

Humming, my eyes fall to her pussy right in front of my face. I grab her thighs in my hands, pushing her legs apart as she props herself against the wall for leverage. I have precum leaking from my cock at the notion of eating a pussy again. I haven’t done it in a while and right now, it feels naughty.

Alternating between dick and pussy is making me feel wicked. I want both. I want fucking both at the same time…

Insatiable.

My tongue peeks out and swipes Joy’s clit. She groans, slapping a hand over her mouth. When I glance up at her, she’s watching me with her usual confidence, though there’s a flush to her cheeks I’ve never seen before. I like it a lot.

“Does Velle use his tongue to get you off a lot?” Before she can answer, I slip my tongue between her lips, swiping at her flavor, up to her clit and back.

“Yes.” She shivers. “He’s a master with it. He can fuck pussy with his tongue… and ass.”

A low rumble leaves my lips. “I want his tongue in my ass…”

“Yea. You do.” She spreads her legs more, giving me room to work.

I lash at her again and again, sucking on her clit until she’s almost falling down on me before stuffing my tongue inside her, swirling it around her walls. I’m breathing heavily while I eat her, deep, my lips connecting with hers while my tongue dives and explores. She’s fucking loving it, her panting echoing off the shower walls.

My cock is so fucking hard it’s bobbing heavy between my legs.

“Did you eat Velle’s ass?” She thrusts her pussy into my mouth, practically riding my face where I kneel before her.

I nod fast. “Yes… He swallowed my tongue right up.”

“Fucking Jesus…” She grips my jaw. “I love licking him there.”

I stop and peer up at her, chest heaving. “Yea?”

She shows me a devilish grin. “Cookie, I bet I’ve done all the things you did to him tonight already.”

I’m just gaping up at her, awed and turned on as fuck, all sorts of images flashing through my brain.

“You fuck him…?” My voice grates.

She hums, head dropping back against the shower wall. “He looks so good taking a dick. Even a fake one.” Fuck. Me. More precum sneaks out. “But I’ve always wanted to see him getting dicked by a real one. I wanna watch you guys fuck so bad…”

My balls throb between my legs. The idea of fucking while people watch really gets me going, more than I ever thought it would. It’s something I’d never considered before I came here and was presented with it. But the truth is, that night when we watched Jasper and Hancock…

I desperately wanted it to be me and Velle.

“Fuck…” I hiss into Joy’s pussy. “I think I would fucking love that.”

“That’ll be our next mission.” She smirks. “For now, tell me… did you finger Velle’s ass before you fucked him?”

I nod, going back to our little game. “Yea…” I slide my index finger between the slit of her pussy, sucking her clit while I push it inside.

She moans quietly, gripping my shoulders with her nails while her body sucks my digit right in. She’s so tight and warm, plush and silky wet while I finger her slowly, getting it nice and lubricated. Then I remove it and slide it back, pressing on the entrance of her other hole.

My eyes fling up to hers quickly, just to make sure she wants it. And she doesn’t need to speak.

Her face is telling me everything I need to know right now. Her eyes are barely open, but she’s still eyeing me intently, chewing on her lower lip while she writhes against the wall.

And so I give her a nice little shove, nudging my finger into her asshole while my mouth continues to devour every inch of her sweet pussy.

“God… Rook…” she mewls, grinding her hips on my face and my finger, taking both, quivering.

“You like that…?” I groan into her, the scent of her overtaking me.

My face is wet with her arousal and I’m fucking savoring it, working my finger in and out of her tight ass while she chases her orgasm. I can feel her doing it, riding me, tightening all over. It’s the sexiest thing, being with a woman who knows how to claim her own pleasure.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to give it, and give it good. But I want to know I’m doing the right thing. I want my partner to be so drunk on what we’re doing, they can’t help but fucking take everything I have to offer.

“Fuck yesss…” she squeals quietly, pulling my hair hard while she mashes my face into her pussy. “I’m fucking coming.”

I stick my tongue inside right at that moment, my finger just resting inside her ass while all her muscles clench all over me. Her pussy is slippery as fuck, arousal coating my tongue and lips. And I suck it all down.

She tastes so different from Velle. So clearly woman in this moment, despite the edge to her, the sort of masculine dominance. Right now, she’s feminine as fuck, and I really love it. My cock is engorged as hell and needing release.

When Joy’s finished coming, she straightens up, legs shaking while she gazes down at me, her face blushed, tits moving with rapid breaths. I suck my bottom lip and she does the same.

“Okay,” she says on a strong exhale. “My turn.”

I can’t help the bemused expression on my face as she stands me up. I’m not really sure what to expect, but it’s definitely not her grabbing a handful of body wash, lathering up her hands and washing me off.

We don’t speak while she does her thing, exploring the muscles in my torso with soapy fingers, moving them down my thighs, then back up… to my dick. She strokes it in her fist with the suds, and it feels phenomenal. My eyelids droop, a soft hum escaping my throat.

Then she moves her hands back, gripping my ass, slipping fingers curiously between my cheeks.

My face flushes and my eyes shoot open to gape at her. She drops to her knees.

“This is what you did to Velle…” she waits until all the soap rinses off my cock, then her tongue feathers over the head. I gasp. “Right?”

I nod slowly, with no earthly idea what she’s doing, though I’m insanely intrigued and in desperate need of an orgasm. Doing what I did to her wound me the fuck up, as is reliving my sex earlier with Velle. My brain is a haze of new sexual desires, mischievous wonderings, and devious needs.

I want to do everything. I want to try everything. And I think I found the best two people on earth to help me explore.

Joy’s mouth takes my cock in, truly magical. Very different from the way Velle does, and yet toe-curling in its own right. Meanwhile, her fingertips are swirling and swirling over my asshole, spreading soap lube around while she teases my rim, a place I’ve never considered seeking any attention before.

Not until I met Velle, that is.

Before I found out Velle wanted me to fuck him, I was on board with the idea of letting him shove his big cock inside me. Because truthfully, deep down in a place I’d sequestered until recently, I’ve always sort of wondered what it would feel like.

A few gay friends have told me it feels like heaven when something touches your prostate. Like a woman’s g-spot, I guess, theoretically, since how the hell would I know? And sometimes when I used to jerk off, I’d think about stuffing a finger up there, just to see…

But then my hang-ups with my sexuality would convince me not to. To just leave it alone. It’ll make you gay.

Yea, turns out I don’t give much of a fuck about any of that, and I’d rather just try anything and feel fucking good.

“This is what I used to do to Velle.” Joy’s sultry voice calls to me, and I zone back in on the fact that she’s already sort of sinking her dainty finger into my hole. I guess I’m relaxed enough. “Before he admitted he wanted to bottom. When he was still figuring it out…”

“You fingered him?” I ask, my voice hoarse with curious need.

She nods. Then she sucks my cock into her mouth, bobbing on it a few times before popping off and ducking in between my legs. “Spread your legs. Wide,” she commands, and I do it. Zero hesitation. “Place your palms on the wall and bend at the waist, just a bit.”

“This reminds me of how we search the prisoners,” I chuckle, but it turns into a moan when her hands run up my ass cheeks and she spreads me open.

“Yea, I’m sure this is how they search each other, too,” she mumbles.

And then I feel a tickle. A wet, delicious flutter of her tongue over my rim.

I can’t help the needy gasp that flees my lips.

“You like it?” She asks, doing it again.

My knees buckle. “Yes. Fuck… yea. That’s… mmm… weird, but good.”

“Imagine how good it’d feel with Velle’s tongue ring in here,” she murmurs, then keeps going, reaching through my legs with her hand to stroke my cock while swirling her sweet little tongue around between my cheeks.

I’m gonna collapse… Holy fuck this is amazing.

She goes at my ass for a few minutes, eating at me like you’d eat a pussy, which makes me think she’s definitely done that before. I know Joy identifies as pansexual, because we’ve talked about it, but she’s never actually told me she eats girls out. If she doesn’t do it often, she should. Because goddamn that mouth is a fucking treasure.

Just as I’m hugging the wall, feeling the burn of my orgasm building, she pushes a finger up to me again, this time not stopping at the tip.

It’s somehow slick, with what I’m not sure, but the smell of soap is everywhere, so maybe shampoo or conditioner? Who knows, but it allows her slim finger to slip right into me, the burn giving way to how much I fucking like it.

“Oh God, yea…” I whine, wishing it came out more manly, but also not really fucking caring at all.

“You want me to fuck you?” She growls. Sounding like Velle.

She fucking sounds like Velle. My balls draw up.

“Yes,” I pant. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass…”

She gives me another finger. I groan at the mild pain, her digits stretching my tight hole while I vibrate with pleasure sizzling in my veins until I’m hot and cold at the same time. She fucks me with them, slow and deep, and I can practically see her doing this to Velle in my mind. I can visualize him standing here, pleading with her to ride his ass with her hand. Or with a dildo…

I wish she brought a dildo.

“You take it so good, Cookie.” She presses a soft kiss on my ass cheek while her right hand pumps into me, the left jerking my throbbing cock with immaculate rhythm. “You look so fucking sexy like this.”

My chest swells at her praise. It’s unusual, and not. I’m a people-pleaser, and I’ve always enjoyed doing good for those I care about. Makes sense it transfers into the bedroom.

“Ready for more?” She hums and I find myself pushing my ass back further, like a fucking greedy slut with no fucking chill.

“Yes. More…”

I expect to feel another finger enter my ass. What I don’t expect is for her fingers to pull out completely, replaced by an object.

It’s slick and hard. It doesn’t feel like anything dick-shaped, and honestly, I don’t know where she would’ve gotten any sort of sex toy, since she didn’t come in with them and I certainly don’t have any.

I’m confused as hell, but I don’t have time to keep thinking about it. Because there’s something entering me, something bigger than her fingers, and the hurt is somehow immediately swept up in how fucking good it feels.

Whatever it is feels bigger than two fingers. It might be closer to three, wide, but not very deep. Still, it’s stretching me uncomfortably, but the more I think about how much it hurts, the more it turns me on. It’s such an odd sensation, yet my body welcomes the intrusion.

My hips dive back to take more.

And I groan, “Fuck yes. God, fuck me… Fuck me harder.”

I barely even know I’m saying it, but I can hear Joy whimpering from behind me. My eyes, which keep falling closed, reopen to peek down at her hand as it strokes my dick to match the shallow strokes of the object in my ass.

It’s in me for less than three full minutes before I’m swallowed up by a violent climax.

My cock swells and bursts, pulsing streams of cum all over the shower wall, and Joy’s hand. And the entire time I’m just humming out nonsense, my ass clenching on whatever’s inside me, holding it there to ensure I get the best possible orgasm out of it.

“Fuck, Rook… Fucking Jesus, your ass looks so good,” she whimpers.

“Oh… my… fuck…” I breathe out steadily as my cock finally stops shooting.

Tingles sheet my skin while Joy pulls out of me. The wall is the only thing holding me upright. My legs want to give out, and when I feel her stand by my side, she’s shaking too.

Peeling my eyes open, I stare at her, and she back at me. We lean on the wall, beaming at one another while the water rushes over us, going cold from having been on for so long.

I blink. “That was…”

“Fucking incredible,” she finishes my thought. Takes the words right off my tongue.

Her hand rests on my chest, over my heartbeat as I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Are we freaks?” I ask through an unrelenting grin.

She lets a small giggle slip. “Oh, most definitely. I just fucked you in the ass with a bottle of conditioner.”

My face drops, eyes rounding. I turn and look at the floor of the shower. There’s a relatively small bottle of conditioner there, resembling the shape of what just made me spray cum everywhere like a firehose.

“You fucked me with that??” I gasp. Joy snorts, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Dude, it’s not funny! That’s like…” I can’t stop staring at it. “That’s like… kinda big.”

“It’s not that big.” She smirks, unable to hold her laughter in. “You took it like a champ, though.”

“Fuck…” I sigh, dropping my head to the wall. I can’t fight the smile on my face, which I’m sure is beet red. “It wasn’t open, was it?”

Joy bursts out in a cackle, and I can’t help but chuckle myself. I grab her by the waist and smoosh her body in between mine and the wall.

“You’re trouble, Joyful,” I growl at her.

She purses her lips up at my face. “Delicious cookie man… you have no idea.”

Rook and I fell asleep cuddling.

I know… Fuckin weird, right? I haven’t cuddled with someone who isn’t Velle in years. And we don’t wear each other in our sleep like Harley and I did. Usually, it’s my fault. Velle is surprisingly cuddly. I’m the one who prefers my space.

And yet as soon as Rook and I got out of the shower and dried off, I was so exhausted that nothing in the world looked better than his bed. And his arms, but we won’t get into all that right now.

It’s a good thing I wake up before everyone else in this house, because I was able to sneak out of his room undetected. I got dressed in my workout clothes, then went downstairs to the gym.

The need to work myself out until I was practically falling down was strong this morning. And all the while, the only thing I could think about was Velle.

I messed around with his dude last night…

I played with his toy, without his permission. And it wasn’t even intentional! Not at first, anyway. I definitely hadn’t gone into Rook’s room last night expecting, or even wanting to hook up with him.

But there’s certainly some interesting chemistry between us, which in the moment felt almost impossible to ignore. It’s not the same as the chemistry he has with Velle. And I know he doesn’t feel the same way for me that he does for Velle… Shit, I don’t feel the same way for him that I feel for Velle.

Still, there’s something there. We’re friends. We trust each other. I like him a lot as a person. Honestly, I can’t even remember what life on this damn island was like before Harley Samuels came along. He brightens the fuck out of my day, and I know he does the same for Velle, though he’d never admit it.

I have no real clue how any of that equates to us hooking up, literal minutes after he finally had sex with Velle, over whom he’s been pining since he got here.

I’m not sure what it means.

I am sure it means nothing, in the grand scheme. But I’ve never done anything to betray Velle before, and this feels uncomfortably close to that.

Well… actually, I have betrayed Velle. By sneaking contraband to Dash behind his back, knowing it could fuck him over.

Wow… I’m a shitty fucking partner and an even worse friend.

Even so, I can’t lie… Hooking up with Rook was fun as hell. We were basically imagining Velle was with us the whole time anyway, so that’s gotta give for something, right? Plus, Velle all but told me he wanted me and the rookie to get together…

Sure, that was before they had sex. But Velle is all the fuck over the place right now, playing Rook hot and cold. It’s not his fault, of course. He’s dealing with more than any of us can even comprehend, which is why it makes me feel bad that I slurped up his sloppy seconds.

Velle’s not choosing to push Rook away because he wants to. I should be encouraging them to get together, not driving a wedge between them.

This is all so very irritating, and by the time I’m done with my workout, stomping out of the gym, I’m barely even looking where I’m going.

And I run right into Mr. Hot-n-Cold himself.

“Oh, shit!” I gasp, startled after colliding with the solid wall of Velle’s chest.

Glancing up at him, the first thing I notice is that he’s all sorts of disheveled. He’s not showered or ready for work yet. In fact, he’s still wearing his clothes from last night. And he looks exhausted. Like he didn’t sleep. Dark circles under his eyes, just generally stressed and tired.

It hurts my heart. A lot.

Velle’s been getting more and more stressed as the years go by. This job is fucking killing him. More to the point, the Warden is fucking killing him. Slowly and painfully, which is exactly how The Ivory wants it, sadist that he is.

“Hey…” I mumble when I realize he’s just staring at me, eyes wide and… nervous?

Velle’s nervous? Or… what is that? Shame??

This isn’t good.

“Hey,” he breathes, lashes fluttering as he looks away from me.

I decide to go for humor, since this is venturing into awkward territory, and Velle and I don’t do awkward. “Watch where you’re going, huh?”

But instead of giving me one of his usual evil smirks or some witty comeback, he simply runs his fingers through his dark hair and sighs, “Yea, sorry about that. I gotta get in the shower or I’ll be late.”

He brushes past me, going for the stairs. And I stand still for a moment, just watching him, his shoulders slumped. He looks awful.

I fucking hate this so bad.

Racing after him, I take the steps, falling in line by his side. “Where are you coming from?”

His eyes dart to mine for a moment, and he gives me one of his fiery glares that means I don’t want to talk about it.

I’m not satisfied. Not this time.

“No, seriously, Velle.” I grab his arm to stop him.

He does, but he huffs out a stiff breath of annoyance. “Joy, I’m late…”

“Why?” I bark, quietly. “Where were you?”

“Not you too…” He shakes his head. “I can’t get into it right now, Joy. I just need to get ready.”

He sounds as defeated as he looks. It sets an ache in my chest that I can’t ignore. A tightness squeezing at my lungs from the inside.

“Velle… this isn’t right.” My voice comes out small, almost childlike in my worry for someone I genuinely love. I don’t like it, but I’m more concerned that my best fucking friend on earth is fading before my eyes at the hands of pure evil. It’s like watching someone succumb to an addiction. “He can’t keep doing this—”

“Enough!” He hisses, cutting my words off as they leave my lips. “I don’t know what you think is happening, but you’re mistaken. No one’s doing anything to me, okay?? I’m fucking fine. I’m in control, and I’m fucking handling it. So I suggest you stop fucking around and go get ready for work so I can do the same. Is that clear, Officer Jameson?”

At his use of my title rather than my name, I straighten and swallow down all my emotions. I force them away, all the thoughts and memories, any feeling threatening to burst from my face.

I push it all aside and nod firmly. “Yes, sir. Crystal.”

“Good,” he mutters under his breath, already storming away from me, up the rest of the stairs.

And I stand there for a moment, a few more pounds of weight adding onto the heavy burden before I sniff and shake it off, wandering upstairs to get ready for work.

“Hold still, ya damn ferret,” I growl at Ren.

I’m trying to shave his face, but he won’t stop turning his head to look at Luthor and Dash, talking to them the whole time.

“I just cut you again! You fucker,” I hiss, wiping a trickle of his blood with my knuckle.

“It’s okay. I didn’t feel it.” He grins. One of those pretty-boy heartthrob things that gets him whatever the hell he wants.

I see right the fuck through it.

I don’t mind him, though. Ren gets a bad rep because of how much trouble he is, but really, he’s just sick. Most of them are.

Except Luthor. That boy really doesn’t belong here, not as far as I’m concerned.

We all have our demons.

“They add ADHD to your list yet?” I give Ren’s throat one last swipe with the dull razor before rinsing it off in the sink.

“Oh yea.” He rubs his jaw. “Been hearing that one since I was like six.” He swipes some blood on his fingertip and sticks it into his mouth with a wink.

I roll my eyes. “Go rinse off, dumbass.” As he turns toward the stall, I call to his back, “Hair’s getting a little long, Prince Eric.”

Ren smirks at me over his shoulder. “You love it.” Then he whips his towel off and tosses it, sashaying toward the spray of water fully naked.

I can’t help but laugh to myself. He’s a fucking trip, this dude. And not as much of a pain in the ass as he used to be. I guess we all sort of fell into a groove together. There’s an understanding now, between the guards and the inmates.

Do what we say, keep your shit on lock. And if the Warden comes for any of you, we know nothing.

Not that there aren’t still issues. I mean, it’s a hole filled with sociopaths. But at least the trouble seems to have died down a bit. It happens in waves.

Speaking of trouble…

“#101, you’re up!” I holler at Dash, who’s finishing his shower next to Luthor and Kang.

He comes scampering over to me, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Thanks, Joy.”

The kid’s polite, I’ll give him that. “Hold still.”

I lather up some shave gel, rubbing it along his jaw and throat. Then I begin shaving him, using the same razor. Kinda gross, sure, but we don’t get many of them, so we have to make due.

Watching Dash’s face while I shave him, he seems… settled. I’m not sure why, but he’s less twitchy and his eyes are clearer. He hasn’t been to solitary in a couple weeks, which is saying something since he’s already spent almost half his time in A.P. down there, for one reason or another.

I hope he’s comfortable. Maybe it has something to do with the gifts I’ve been giving him, on behalf of Kemper. I’d like to let him know Dash is doing well, but I haven’t spoken with him since the day he left Alabaster Isle. When he sends me money for Dash’s stuff, he just does it through PayPal, including a little note, like Calvin Klein boxers, nicest ones you can find, or Kiehl’s products, travel size so he can hide them.

It’s really strange… I’m still itching to know what Kemper’s connection is to Dash. And why he’s keeping ties just to make sure the kid is comfortable. I’m curious, to say the least.

Last I heard, from one of our partiers who’s friends with Kemper’s wife on Facebook, he’s going to Mexico with her on some anniversary vacation. I can only hope it works out well for them down there.

Who knows.

Dash doesn’t grow as much facial hair as some of the other guys, so it takes less time to shave him. And once he can tell I’m about done, he asks, “Do like working here?” I can’t help the odd look I give him, raising my brow in a way that clearly indicates are you fucking kidding? To which he chuckles, “No, I just mean, like… why would you choose this place over say, any other place in the entire world?”

Now it’s my turn to chuckle. I shake my head. “Sometimes you’re caught between a rock and a hard place. And the only option is to choose the direction that’ll hurt less. Or save someone you love…”

My gaze sticks to the slope of his neck, freshly shaven pale flesh. And it sits there for a moment while I think back to the choice I made. The choices we’ve all made.

Dash mutters, breaking my daze, “Is that true for all the guards?”

“What’s with all the questions?” I check him over one last time before turning to rinse off the razor.

“Nothing,” he answers too fast, eyes widening. “No reason, I was just… curious. I don’t know much about you guys. The guards.”

I scan him speculatively for a moment. Does he mean Kemper? Do they know each other? If so, how??

I really want to just ask him, but I don’t want to get Kemper in trouble. Still, Dash has to be wondering where all the gifts have been coming from. Unless he’s fucking around with another guard and just assumes it’s from him?

“You seem to be keeping your nose clean lately,” I remark. “What happened? Got your fill of solitary?”

“I don’t need to go down there anymore,” he mumbles, then stills, peering at me. “I mean, yea… I realized getting in trouble isn’t the way.” He pauses and we both stare at each other. “I just want to do my time.”

I don’t understand this kid, and I’m not sure I ever will. Who knows, maybe he is seeing another guard and just being sneaky about it. I hope for Kemper’s sake that’s not the case. If the reason Kemper’s sending him gifts is that he’s into him… which would still be super confusing.

“Alright, #101,” I sigh, nodding toward the showers where the rest of the inmates are gathering up their things. “Get dressed. Time’s up.”

He immediately does what I say, stalking over to Luthor and Ren, who hand him his stuff. I watch as he gets dressed… New socks, Calvins, better fitting pants, travel kit of expensive products in hand. The kid is spoiled. By me.

Technically by Kemper, but still.

The other guards round up the rest of the inmates, corralling them out of the showers. On his way out, Dash gives me a kind smile. “Thanks again, Joy.”

I can’t help it. I wink at him.

Because any friend of Kemper’s is a friend of mine, whether I understand the nature of it or not.

Checking my watch, I find it’s time to head downstairs. Today’s my day to bring Darcey to the showers.

Making my way to the East, I’m lost in my thoughts again.

Velle’s been ignoring Rook all day today. Again. It seems like that’s what happens. They hook up and then Velle ghosts for a few days. But unfortunately, we’re all stuck on this island together, and you can only run so far.

Velle and I are good. That little snap this morning was brushed under the rug, as usual, and as soon as we got to work, he was back to picking on me, keeping me by his side for hours, until he had to run off for some important work. Not sure what it means, or where he went. But now I’m going to the East wing to tend to Darcey, and my boys are off somewhere awkwardly avoiding each other.

I stop walking. My boys… I just thought of Rook and Velle as my boys like it was the easiest thing in the world. When in reality, it’s not.

Nothing about this is easy. Velle and I learned that the hard way.

I came to Alabaster Isle expecting to be plagued with loneliness. What I didn’t expect was to meet the most charismatic man around as my new superior officer, and eventually, my partner.

When I first met Velle, he was much quieter. But still, he’s Velle. All it took was a few drinks to get him opening up our first few times hanging out in the Ivory Mansion.

I started with a team of ten others, and Velle, but they’ve all since gone, for one reason or another. Usually, Manuel Blanco hires them as his henchmen for other facets of his business and has them transferred. At least that’s what he tells us.

Still, none of them mattered. It was all about me and Velle. It didn’t take us long to click, and as soon as we did, we were sleeping together. It started out like every vice does on this island, as a way to numb the pain. But when we realized that we truly enjoyed one another’s company, we decided to try for more.

It didn’t work. Because relationships can’t happen on Alabaster Isle. Dating coworkers is always complicated, no matter where you work. Dating your supervising officer is harder… And dating your supervising officer who’s also your roommate??

The relationship was doomed before it even started, but that’s not why we broke up. At least I don’t think it is…

There are other reasons, the same sorts of things keeping Velle from letting Rook in now. It has to do with control, and the image he puts forth.

And it has to do with him.

Once in the East wing, I locate Felix Darcey in a padded cell. He’s wearing a straitjacket, so I shackle just his ankles, bringing him to the downstairs showers. He’s quiet while we walk, as usual. An introspective kind of monster.

Just as we’re rounding the corner for the showers, we run into his new therapist.

Dr. Love.

“Oh, hello, Doctor.” I smile, attempting politeness.

The dude sorta gives me the creeps. He’s a very, very attractive man, but it’s almost impossible to notice because of how motherlovin weird he is.

“Officer Jameson,” he says without even the slightest hint of emotion, on his face or in his tone. “Taking Mr. Darcey for his shower?”

I nod, hesitantly. “Yea. Gotta keep those balls clean, huh, killer bee?” I turn to show Darcey a fake smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “Funny. But no, seriously… I’d really like to clean myself. Straitjackets aren’t exactly breathable, so it’s muggy as fuck in here.”

I can’t help but laugh. Dr. Love doesn’t react in the slightest. He simply stares at Darcey with a blank expression.

“I’d like to observe,” he says, fully serious.

I blink at him, my face dropping a bit. “Pardon?”

“I would like to observe,” the Doctor repeats himself, slower, as if the problem was that I didn’t understand his words.

My fist clenches at my side. “Oh no, I heard you. I’m just a little confused as to why you’d like to observe my inmate showering.”

“My research methods are mine alone, Officer,” he responds, still staring directly at Darcey.

When I turn to check on The Carver, I witness his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Alright, I don’t have time to argue,” I huff, dragging Darcey into the doorway of the downstairs showers. “Guess your ball-washing is gonna have an audience, #89.”

Darcey’s visibly nervous as I yank him in and shove him toward the stall. The downstairs showers are slightly smaller than those in gen-pop, with only five shower heads all in a row. It works, since inmates from the East are brought in to shower one at a time, anyway.

It’s also much dirtier down here, which is why I plan on giving Darcey something to stand on, so he doesn’t get foot fungus from all the gross bacteria on these floors. I remove his shackles, then help him out of his straitjacket, handing him a bar of soap and a trash bag.

“You have five minutes, inmate,” I tell him as he’s stepping out of his shoes, trying his hardest to balance on the plastic and not touch the floor.

I stand back, leaning against the sink counter with my hand on my Glock.

Darcey’s eyes flit to the Doctor before he removes his boxers. Honestly, I’m not sure where he even got boxers, but that’s not the strangest thing happening in this room right now.

Dr. Love is standing about five feet outside of the shower stall where Darcey is getting naked. And he’s just watching him undress. Casually, as if he’s observing a painting in an art gallery. His arms remain folded over his chest, face completely still. I’m usually pretty good at reading people, but I have absolutely no idea what’s going through this dude’s head right now. And I’m not really sure I’d even want to.

Darcey swallows down his obvious hesitations and steps out of his boxers, leaving them with the rest of his clothes on a small stool before quickly spinning away from us, pressing the button for the water spray. When he moves under it, he flinches. It’s obviously cold, but that’s just a given here. They’re lucky to get warm water in winter. It’s getting hotter outside, so it’s not bad now.

Darcey makes fast work of washing himself, scrubbing under his arms and between his legs vigorously with the soap. He peeks over his shoulder, water droplets on the lenses of his black-framed glasses as he blinks at the Doctor, who is still just staring at him.

My forehead creases while I watch the two of them, gazing at each other silently. It’s been creepy, but now it’s bordering on disturbing. I’m forced to watch the front of Dr. Love’s pants to see if he’s sporting wood.

I mean, why else would he want to watch Darcey in the shower??

But he doesn’t have a visible boner, nor is he giving any indication that he’s turned on by this. Just standing and watching, like the way Darcey showers will somehow give him insight into how or why he’s killed dozens of people.

Darcey finishes rinsing himself off when I tell him the time’s up. I toss him a towel, but this time when he turns to face the doctor, he doesn’t cover himself up. He stands, fully naked and unashamed, facing Dr. Love while toweling himself dry.

I’m sort of shocked. This is the weirdest experience I’ve had with an inmate in the showers in a long time. I’m not sure what’s going on between these two—Dr. Love isn’t reacting to Darcey’s display in the slightest—but I’m itching to get away from it.

I don’t want to think about the two of them having sexual tension because it would be wrong on so many levels. Dr. Love is here strictly to examine Felix Darcey, who is a brutal serial murderer. Despite how good-looking they are, and how nice Darcey’s dick is, it’s too fucked up.

“Alright, alright.” I hurry the process along, stomping up to Darcey and getting him strapped back into his straitjacket. “I hope you got what you needed from this little show, Doctor.”

My tone is rife with sarcasm, but either he doesn’t pick up on it, or he chooses to ignore it, because he simply nods, turns, and storms out of the room.

“Doctors.” I shake my head while fastening the shackles to Darcey’s ankles, walking him out of the showers and back to his cell.

When we get closer to the row of cells, I hear whimpering and muttering coming from a couple of them. There aren’t many inmates down here, but there are a few, and I don’t need to check on them to know they aren’t doing great.

Stuffing Darcey back into his cell, I remove his shackles and glance up at his face. He’s staring off into space again, which is what he typically does. Nonetheless, after that weird shower just now, I feel the need to check on him.

“You doing okay?” I lift my brow.

It takes him a moment, but his eyes fall to mine and he nods. “I don’t remember what okay feels like to be honest with you…”

I can do nothing more than blink at him, before turning away, locking him back up in his padded cell and storming the fuck out of this fucked up wing, my heart sitting exceptionally heavy in my chest.

It’s late.

We’re all drinking and hanging out in the living room, decompressing from yet another Groundhog Day here in Hell.

We’re not all here, though. Velle is nowhere to be found. Everyone’s asking me where he is, and I have no answers for them. Soren says he hasn’t hooked up with Velle in weeks, same goes for this girl Kelsey he usually bangs. They’re both here now, playing with Hancock and Peters, since their Daddy isn’t around.

“I’m going to bed,” Rook rumbles at my side, standing up, wobbling as he does.

I jump to my feet to help him. “Don’t fall, drunk ass.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Joy Jameson.” He giggles and hiccups. Then his eyes widen, and he gasps. “Wait a minute… Jameson. Like the whiskey! Did you do that on purpose?”

I chuckle while we stagger out of the living room toward his bedroom. “I didn’t choose my last name. And it’s a pretty popular one in Ireland.”

“Whiskey goes good with cherries,” Rook keeps blabbing. “And Velle calls you Cherry. So it all ties together.”

“Mhm. Very good.” I shake my head.

Inside his bedroom, I drag him over to his bed and shove him down. He crashes onto it and immediately cuddles up to his pillow, breathing deeply. Unable to help myself, I reach down and brush his sandy hair back with my fingers.

“Goodnight, Cookie,” I whisper, and turn to leave.

But his slurring voice stops me. “Stay. Please, cherries…”

I glance back at his bed. It looks so damn cozy…

“Not sure that’s a good idea.” I bite my lip.

“But if Velle comes… I need you here, too,” he mumbles. “You’re the only one who knows how to keep him.”

My heart aches. “You’re drunk. You have no clue what you’re saying.”

“Just stay and cuddle, Joyful,” he rambles into his pillow, opening his arms wide.

It’s like a welcome sign for me specifically.

Welcome, Joy Jameson. Welcome to what you really want.

“Okay fine. Just for tonight.” I skip over to the bed, crawling in and nestling up to him.

As I drift off to sleep, I know it won’t be just for tonight. Because it’s where I’m supposed to be. Waiting for Velle in this bed…

It feels one body shy of right.

The thing about a weapon is that sometimes it becomes an extension of you.

If you’re using it right, if you’re using it to inflict pain on someone you’ve decided needs it, the whip, the gun, the knife, the brass knuckles might as well not even be there.

I’m a fucking menace with a weapon, we’ve already established that. Because I am one.

Officer Chevelle is worse than any object he could wield.

I didn’t make this thing. Honestly, I don’t know who did. Whoever did is probably one sick son of a bitch. ‘Cause it’s goddamn brutal.

My arm swipes, wrist flicking with a rapid movement that brings another loud thwack against his skin. The marks are blending together, blisters bubbling on his sweaty flesh before my eyes. It looks gross as fuck. And when I come down for the next lash, they burst.

That’s when the cloth comes into play.

At first, it probably seems like an unnecessary addition. Like we just drape it there, maybe as something to help them. Clean them off or whatever.

But no. That’s not what it’s for.

It’s soaked in salt water. So when the blisters burst, turning almost instantly into sores, the salt stings the wounds something fierce.

Painful.

I’ve never experienced it myself, but the more I strike this man with a leather strap, holes cut into it for these express purposes, I find myself wondering what it feels like. How bad it hurts.

Based on his screams, it doesn’t feel good.

I’m out of breath when I pause to take a break, barely realizing that I’m sweating and I can’t feel my arm. I don’t even remember how long I’ve been doing this… I completely zoned out.

Checking my watch, I bite my lip. I’ve been going at it for forty-five minutes. Jesus…

“Why…” he mumbles. And then his voice gives out.

Lester McDermott, inmate #81, is cuffed to a drainpipe, which is conveniently set up so his toes barely touch the ground. His wrists are just as bloody and blistered as the rest of him at this point. Well, not quite…

He’s a pretty tall, pretty thin guy. The skin on his torso, his side and his back are now all torn up. Raw and festering, salt in his gashes making it even redder. There are tears and snot running down his face, head and shoulders slumped forward. He’s just hanging there…

Hangin’ out.

Asking why is a stupid question. Even if there was a reason for the torture, which there is, it wouldn’t matter. When it comes to The Box, the Warden gives an order and I fulfill it. Point blank, no discussion.

It’s been like this for a long time.

My mind flashes back to the night he found me in Red Hook, thirteen years ago. I remember doubt. I remember questioning him. At the time, I definitely did.

But after a certain point, it stopped.

Unconditional servitude. That’s what it is now. Stronger than the chains we lock these assholes up with. I wouldn’t be able to break them if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

I don’t…

Blinking, I whip him once more. He sobs out loud. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to, Dirt.”

“Your… boss…” he croaks out words on each breath, “Is… psycho.”

Stepping up to him, I drop the weapon. I grab his face and jerk him, forcing him to look at me. “That’s like saying the sky is blue. The earth is round. People who eat unfrosted Pop-tarts are ghouls. These are facts, inmate. Things we all know.” I bend to grab the bucket of salt water, lifting it up so he can see. “We know he’s psycho. Yet you keep testing him. What does that make you?”

He shivers, eyes widening as they flick between me and the bucket. I tip it forward and dump more onto the cloth around his neck, soaking it as the liquid trickles down, stinging his bloody blisters. He wails.

“A moron,” I mutter through his yelps. “It makes you a fucking moron.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I roll my eyes, dropping the bucket with a thud. I hold up a finger to #81, stepping away to pull it out and see who’s interrupting me at work. Not many people have this number, most of them here on this island.

The only one who’s not is the one whose name pops up on the screen. My heart jumps inside me as I rush out of the room, closing the door to block out the screams, answering fast.

“Mom?” I huff, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you okay?”

The fact that she’s calling me sets me on edge. We have scheduled days to talk to family, and right now isn’t one of them.

“John, honey, I hope I’m not bothering you…” Tammy says, and immediately I know something’s wrong.

She doesn’t sound good. I can tell right away.

“What’s wrong?” My jaw sets with my nerves.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she mumbles, voice all rough. Fucking strung. “You’re such a buzzkill…”

“Tammy,” I growl, “I’m at work. What’s the issue? I thought you were doing better…”

“Alright alright.” She pauses, breathing for a moment like she’s about to ask me something that will stress me out. I know this tone well. “I had a little issue… and I’m out of cash.”

My eyes snap shut, and I squeeze them. Leaning back against the wall, I bang my head a few times. “Mom… I just sent you money. What happened to it?”

“It wasn’t my fault, John.” She sniffles. “I was robbed!”

Jesus fucking Christ. “You were robbed? Really?”

“Yes. Why don’t you ever believe me…?”

“Because you lie, Mom.” I rub my eyes hard with my fingers. “Like you telling me you were clean. Fucking lie, right there.”

“I am clean!” Lie. “I swear, baby. I’m trying, but it was out of my control.”

“Yea, it always is.” My fist clamps over and over with my thoughts.

She wasn’t supposed to be getting fucked up anymore. An agreement was made.

“Johnny, please…” she whimpers in my ear. “I can’t even buy groceries.”

“I have them delivered,” I hiss. “Try again.”

“I want to get takeout sometimes, John, Jesus…” She’s like a moody teenager. Not a mother, who’s supposed to take care of me, her son, rather than the other way around.

It’s so fucking annoying that I’m still surprised by this; that it still knots up my stomach after all these years. I should be used to it…

She hasn’t taken care of me since I was a baby.

“I thought you were gonna try to go back to Marie’s,” I breathe, drained from a two-minute conversation. “The diner paid well…”

“Marie’s acting like a stuck-up bitch,” she mutters.

Because she doesn’t want you getting high at work.

I have to put my fucking foot down. Seriously, I need to stop enabling her. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. I just paid your rent last week. You have food, your phone is paid for. The utilities, your car. Everything is set, so I really can’t…”

“John, please, baby. It’s me. It’s Mom.” She gives me that tone, reaching deep into my chest and poking at my heart with her fingernail. My head is so heavy my neck can barely hold it up. “I just need a little more. A couple hundred… I thought the whole reason you were working at that job was so you could afford things.”

No. No, Mom, that’s not fucking why I’m working at this job.

My pulse jumps in my neck. I’m tense all over, just rippling with angst and frustration, and guilt, stomach churning it like indigestion.

“Please, Johnny…” she begs in my ear, slithering into my brain. My temples throb as pressure climbs behind my eyes. “I have no one. You’re gone and I just… Please.”

An image of me screaming at the top of my lungs flashes behind my eyes.

Smashing a human being’s face into the blacktop.

“Fine…” I sigh on a breath so harsh with anguish it skids out of my throat. “I’ll send more.”

I feel her relief over the phone. “Thank you, John. Thank you so much, baby. I promise this time I’ll make it last.”

Right. Promises emptier than your goddamn bank account.

“Great.”

We’re both quiet for a moment. “Are you doing alright, honey?”

I scrape a hand down my face. “Yup. Fine.”

Her silence means she doesn’t believe me, but there’s nothing to be done. This is life, for both of us. Nothing will fix it.

“I’m sorry, John…” she whispers.

That does it. The sound of her voice, apologizing while she’s withdrawing… It’s too much.

I’m gonna break the fuck down if I don’t end this call, right the hell now.

“Ma, I gotta go,” I grunt, pushing all the feelings away. Stuffing them as far down as I can, practically choking on them shits. “I’ll send it on my break.”

“Okay, baby. Thanks again.” A lighter flicks in the background. “I love you, John. Take care of yourself.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Yea. I will… Love you, Mom.”

Ending the call, I let out a choppy breath, shuddering from the pain.

This is what I get. I deserve this… Retribution for my sins.

I pull my radio. “Joy, you clear?”

Almost instantly, she responds, “Yea, I’m good. What’s up?”

“I need you… in The Box.” Joy is quiet. My anger bubbles into impatience and I bark, “Officer Jameson?”

“Yea… sorry. Copy,” she mumbles. I can hear everything she’s not saying in between those three words. Rage and pity and hopelessness.

“Throw him in the hole,” I command, straightening up and striding the corridor, in the direction of the West wing.

I don’t have time to clean up my mess right now. I have a bone to pick with someone.

“Ten-four,” Joy sighs. I choose to ignore her tone while I walk.

It takes me a while, and I’m fuming the whole damn time. It’s like every step I take builds more and more rage, climbing up my spine, so that by the time I’m taking the stairs, I’m ready to erupt.

Outside his office, I pace for a few generous moments, practicing, preparing my words ahead of time. I always try to do this, but it never sticks. Once I get in there, I’ll end up kneeling.

As usual.

I knock on the door and hold my breath.

“Come in,” the Warden barks.

I enter with as much confidence as I can muster, stomping directly up to his desk. But he doesn’t even look at me, eyes locked on his phone screen. I stand there for at least two minutes, breathing and waiting for him to acknowledge my presence while his fingers move with his typing. The sound of the buttons clicking on his iPhone is expanding my irritation until I’m sure the vein in my forehead is visibly pulsing.

Enough. I slap my hands down on his desk, leaning in to remind him that I’m fucking here and I’m not fucking happy.

He barely reacts to the sound. He simply slides his gaze up my frame, landing on my face before blinking slowly.

“How can I help you, Officer?” He already sounds uninterested and I haven’t even said anything yet.

I’m shaking, I’m so angry. “My mother… she’s using again.”

His brow arches. “You have proof of this?”

“I don’t need proof,” I hiss. “She’s my mother. I know her. She’s getting high… I thought you said you’d stop it.”

Finally, he puts his damn phone down. He sits back in his seat and gives me one of his looks, dark eyes blazing into me until I fall back. Removing my hands from his desk, I straighten up.

“Jonathan,” he sighs in a placating tone, rising from his seat and rounding the desk until he’s standing before me. I back up a bit. “I told you I would do you a favor, and I did. I instructed my men to stop selling to your mother, and they did. Anything outside of that is outside of my control.”

I swallow. “But you own the territory. If anyone else was selling in the area, you’d know about it.”

He squints at me. “That’s true…”

“So can’t you send someone to find out?” My tone is pleading. “Or maybe we could arrange some protection…”

“We have no protection to offer,” he says firmly. “I do, and I won’t be doing that. You’re overreacting. Your mother is a big girl. She can handle herself.”

Fury is coursing through my veins like acid, stinging in every crevice of my insides. I feel betrayed, and I feel fucking stupid for it.

“I’m worried about her,” I speak quietly, keeping our eyes together so he really grasps the seriousness. I’m trying desperately to convey how important this is to me, praying it’ll make a difference.

That maybe, just maybe, he’ll do this for me. After all I’ve done for him.

The Ivory reaches forward and slides his long fingers along my jaw. They dance on my skin, down the slope of my neck.

My breath catches in my lungs. So many sick, awful things are moving inside me, mingling with my comforts and my needs, I don’t know what’s what anymore.

“You needn’t worry, Jonathan,” he says, easily. Surety, he’s giving me in his voice and his eyes. In his touch. “Everything is fine. We have more pertinent matters here. Your mother will be just fine.” He moves in closer, until our fronts are almost flush, fingers curling around my throat, tightly, until I can feel it cutting into me, reddening my face. “You trust me… don’t you?”

A voice at the back of my skull shouts, No! It honestly sounds like Joy.

But I blink, leaning into his palm around my throat, my head all stuffy. “Yes… sir.”

“Good boy,” he growls, inching in even more, until his breath is brushing my lips.

My eyelids flutter. My body reacts this way, and I’ll never understand it. I know it’s not what I truly want… At least, I don’t think so.

I can’t even tell anymore. All I know is that I’m being held up right now. He’s keeping me upright.

His lips graze mine, and I shudder. “Don’t question me again, Officer.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I murmur, arching into him.

Quickly, he releases me and steps back. “Apology accepted.” He glides back around his desk and takes his seat, leaving me fluttering there like a leaf in the wind. “Back to work now. When you’re done with #81, I want #62 in The Box. Find out where he got that cell phone.”

My brow furrows. Kang? “Don’t you know…?”

He shows me a cocky smirk. “Of course I do. It’s not about information. It’s about breaking them.”

I can do nothing more than blink. Then nod. Then turn and leave his office, with swirling words and actions in my head.

I’m stuffed to the brim with bullshit right now… Tension overtaking me. Anytime I’m near him now, it’s a minefield. Each interaction is like going to war. I storm in there, ready to finally tell him exactly what he can do with his orders and within minutes, I’m missing limbs. And what’s worse, I’m fucking thanking him for it.

My brain is broken. That’s the only explanation. There is not one single part of me he doesn’t own.

His name is branded on me from the inside.

Stomping through the prison, toward gen-pop, I’m lost.

I’m not really lost. I know exactly where I am, physically. But mentally… I’m in a maze.

I go straight to Kang’s cell, reaching for the bars. I find him inside, lying on his bunk. He glances up and his forehead creases, fear lining his eyes.

No confusion. I’m sure he knows what’s about to happen to him. And rather than trying to protest, or pissing himself, he just stands up and puts his wrists together.

I blink at him, over and over, my fist gripping the door, just needing to yank it open.

But I don’t.

Instead, I turn around and I stagger away. Because fuck the Warden.

Fuck him.

I’m going outside. The weather’s nice, sun will set in an hour or so. I’m not wasting another beautiful evening in a hole, beating the shit out of people until they cry.

I want to feel the ocean breeze on my face.

Stalking the halls toward the side exit, I whip a door open and I’m hit with green eyes and honey-colored hair.

Harley.

I feel myself sigh, out of relief, or excitement, or some sort of emotion I’m not even familiar with. Something I’ve never felt before.

And while he’s mumbling one of his sweet, innocent hi’s, I’m grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to me. He crashes into my chest, and before I can even register amusement at his startled face, I’m kissing him.

Fucking kissing him hard, and so so good.

His lips welcome mine immediately, hands crawling up my chest, fingers on my jaw. I hum into his mouth, sucking desperately on his lips, opening up so he can find my tongue ring.

“Jesus, Velle…” He pushes on me, licking and tasting as he backs me into the wall with a grunt. “I fucking missed you.”

An involuntary moan leaves my throat as I writhe into him, gripping his waist and hauling him into me, wanting to take every single inch of his goodness and absorb it directly into my body. I need him, more than I’ve ever needed anyone, right now.

I need everything he is.

It takes many generous moments of this before I remember where I am and what I’m doing. My surroundings come rushing back and I tug away from him, panting.

This is so bad. I wasn’t thinking.

We can’t do this here.

But instead of running away, like I’m used to with him—like I probably should—I take his hand, lacing our fingers. “Come with me.”

Rook doesn’t hesitate. He lets me yank him out the door and up the next two corridors. We leave the prison through a side exit that takes us into the woods. Following a path, we’re both quiet. Just breathing and stomping through brush at a swift pace, like we’re running away, together.

Running from all the bullshit in that fucking building. Fleeing on foot, like bandits. It has a small smile on my lips throughout our entire five-minute walk.

When we reach the old shack, I pull a key ring out of my pocket.

“What is this place?” He finally asks, as I unlock the padlock on the door.

“It used to be an armory,” I tell him, pushing the creaky door open and nodding for him to go in first. “It started falling apart, and rather than fixing it, they just left it alone and moved the armory into the West wing.”

I have to stop and stand still for a moment to watch Rook wandering around, checking the place out. It’s just as run-down and rickety as Alabaster Pen, only with more mold and more crumbling concrete. Stuff I think could be fixed easily enough. We’ve gone back and forth over the years on whether having the armory separate from the rest of the prison is a good or bad idea.

Still not entirely sure. But having this abandoned facility empty means I get to use it for personal storage.

Rook freezes when he sees my motorcycle, spinning to face me with wide eyes.

“Wanna go for a ride?” I smirk at him, jingling the keys.

He bites his lip for a second before his brows zip together. “This is yours?”

I nod, regarding him as he goes back to examining it. “Got it a few years ago. It was… an anniversary gift, I guess.” The memory sits in the forefront of my mind for a split-second until I realize Rook is staring at me again. I clear my throat. “Harley.”

He lifts his brows, but I nod at the motorcycle. He peeks at it, then this giant, straight-white toothed captain of the football team smile appears on his face. It’s so bright and beautiful it’s almost hypnotizing.

“We could take it out?” He steps up to me, something like mischievous arousal in his mossy green gaze.

“Have you been on a bike before?” I ask, touching his front, tracing the buttons of his uniform shirt with my fingertip.

He nods slowly, giving me major sex eyes. Part of me wants to drop onto all fours right here. Let him use me in whatever fashion would make both of us sweaty, sated and happy. But I know we only have so much time.

Grabbing the bike, I move it into position, then roll it outside. I hop on and start it up, the loud rumble awarding me a thrill I’ve definitely been missing. This is my first time taking it out this year. I come out to start it up sometimes, but I haven’t ridden since last fall.

When I glance at Rook, I find him watching me closely, smoothing his thumb over his lower lip.

“You look hot as fuck,” he says, just loud enough that I can hear him over the motorcycle engine.

I can’t help but bite back a grin with flutters happening in my stomach as I nod for him. “Get on.”

Without hesitation, he throws a leg over and gets seated behind me. I won’t lie, it’s a little awkward, size-wise. We’re both huge, so the bike dips, to say the least, and he’s crowding me to get settled, which I secretly love. It doesn’t much matter either way. It’s not like we’re going far.

“Hang on, cowboy.” I wink at him over my shoulder. His arms tighten around my waist.

And then we’re off.

I start slow to get us out of the woods, but once we’re on the road, I open her up. Rook grips me tighter, which sets my smile off, fucking powerfully.

The wind is whipping at my face. Usually, I’d like to be wearing glasses… or a helmet, but right now, we’re kind of just cruising. With the ocean on our left, I feel Rook’s cheek rest on my shoulder blade as I imagine he admires the view. For just a moment, just right now, it’s easy to forget where we are, what’s waiting for us back in that dungeon. We’re just us, John and Harley.

Sea air in our lungs, sun setting before our eyes. It’s fucking beautiful.

It barely even feels like Rook’s holding onto me for safety. It’s like he’s holding me to hold me. Heart racing into my back, elated breaths at the nape of my neck. Just knowing he’s there is more of a thrill than speeding along the ocean at fifty miles an hour.

We whiz past the Ivory Mansion on our right, zipping the empty road around the island. It’s only a couple miles across anyway, so I circle it a few times, speeding up as we pass the prison once more. There’s a spot I want to take him, on the far side of the island by the big dock.

Slowing down so I don’t miss the turn, I pull off the main road, nestling us up on the shore, just far enough from the dock that no one would see us, if they were over there, which I don’t think anyone is. The ferry stays docked in New York until it’s needed, so the only thing over there is the Warden’s yacht, which no one’s allowed on unless it’s in use.

Still… You can never be too careful around here. For an island with barely any inhabitants, there are eyes everywhere.

Once we’re parked, and the engine’s off, Rook stretches out behind me. But he doesn’t hop off. He keeps his arms around my waist, clutching me like he simply does not want to let me go. It warms me inside, like I just ripped a shot of some good tequila.

He presses his firm chest into my back, and I hum. “You feel that? My heart is flying…”

“I like it,” I tell him gruffly, shifting my ass back into his crotch.

“I like you,” he whispers in my ear, pressing a kiss just beneath it. “Seriously, Velle… that was amazing, but being close to you like this is what’s doing it.” He pauses, breaths tickling as his lips brush my ear. “You’re like a rollercoaster, baby. Scary as fuck, but just the best shot of adrenaline.”

His hands move up to my chest and he grips my pecs, palms covering my nipples in a way that feels better than you’d expect. A purr leaves my throat as I peek at him over my shoulder, the look on his face wholly carnal. Pupils dilated, lips parted as he wets them with his tongue. He inches up to me, deliberately building anticipation until I’m buzzing. Then he captures my mouth, softer than I anticipated, swelling the thudding organ in my chest.

I want him. Right now. While the sun sets over the ocean before our eyes, straddling my Harley… I want Harley to straddle me. Yes, I went there. Had to.

“Harley…” I murmur when he breaks our kiss.

“I’m taking my dick out, Velle, don’t worry,” he croaks, unhinging his arms from me to go for his pants.

Our movements become frantic as he removes his holster, and I do the same, dropping everything on the ground. The bike is shimmying all around while we struggle to get our pants down.

I don’t need much. Just enough to get his cock in me.

“Fuck, I’m needy for it, Rook,” I lean forward while he cups my ass. I feel his erection jamming into my lower back and my eyes fall shut with a greedy groan.

“I know, baby,” he croons. “I’m gonna give it to you. I just need you to lean forward a little more.” Pushing myself onto my forearms, I hold myself up on the front of the bike. “What can we use for lube?”

I’m about to tell him to just spit on me and go in raw because I don’t even care. But then I remember I have a small bottle of lube…

“M-my pocket,” I stutter, grinding back into the feel of his fingers tracing my rim.

He reaches into my pants, fishing for the tube. When he pulls it out, he chuckles. “Prepared, hm?”

“Just hoping.” My face heats. I glance left and right, double-checking for signs of anyone. It’s one of the few secluded spots on this island, when the boats aren’t around.

But to be honest, I don’t think I’d care right now either way. My need for him is stronger than a thousand bloodied consequences.

Rook does his thing, and in seconds, there are wet fingers between my cheeks. My head drops forward when he presses one inside me. It urges deeper and I’m falling apart already.

“Tight…” he rumbles, shoving another in. “So fucking tight, baby. Perfect, sweet tight hole.”

“Jesus…” I relax for him, letting him get me wet.

He’s quick with it, eager to get his dick where we both want it. He pulls his fingers out and uses his left hand to spread me as much as he can while the right guides his dick up to my asshole. Steadying myself with my feet on the ground, I spread my legs and push my hips back for him. My heart is bouncing against my ribs while Rook’s restless breaths and the cresting ocean waves play like beautiful music.

The head of his cock breaches my hole and I relax as much as I can, even with all the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I make myself jelly and let him in, that first shove breaking the barrier as he sinks deeper.

“Guhh…” I reach forward to grab the handlebars.

“It wasn’t a dream… this feeling.” He surges in more. “God, it was real, baby… yes. Take it.”

Burning and crazed, the world around me spins like we’re on a carnival ride while his big, thick cock rips into me, gliding slow to fill me all the way up, until his pelvis is on my ass. Both of his hands grip my cheeks, holding me open while he draws back and drives in, shuddering as he does.

“Fuck, Velle…” He drops his forehead between my shoulder blades. “Fuck, you feel so goddamn good.”

My arms are shaking, my panting and purring becoming almost obscene as he picks up the pace, fucking me good, so damn good I’m crumbling to bits. My dick is as stiff as a metal pole, rubbing against the seat of my motorcycle with each one of his ravaging thrusts.

I’m leaned almost all the way forward, lying on my bike with my ass open and full of cock. Seriously, this is insane. I definitely never imagined fucking on my motorcycle, at least not like this… and it’s turning me the fuck out.

Rough breaths escape us both while he goes at me hard, that fat cock working in me, hitting my prostate until I’m in tears.

“Fuck me…” I can’t form intelligible thoughts. Just pleas and praise. “Fuck me so good with your big dick.”

“You love it, don’t you?” He snarls at me, licking and biting my neck, sucking on my earlobe in between his dirty words. “You love this big cock tearing you apart.”

“Yes…” My eyes rolls back when he hits my spot again, precum leaking onto my bike. “Yes, Rook.”

“Big, scary Officer Gorgeous getting fucked on his motorcycle.” His voice is smooth and hoarse at the same time, sounding every bit as sexed up as I’m feeling. “Look at your ass, baby… taking this dick. So snug, gripping me like the good little slut you are.”

A shivering cry leaves my lips. I’m clutching the handlebars with white knuckles, knees buckling, digging my toes into the sand and praying the kickstand won’t give out. The bike is rocking around like crazy, tires skidding into the dirt.

Rook stands up a bit higher and lifts my ass so he can pound me, driving into my prostate over and over until I can’t even hold myself up anymore.

“I’m gonna come…” I whimper as my balls climb up where they’re sort of mashed beneath me. My dick erupts quick and cum sprays all over the place. “Uhhh fuuucckkk Harley… Fuck fuck fuck!”

“Mmm yesss, baby.” His voice snaps behind me, then his arms circle my waist. He grabs my dick and jerks it gently, milking out every drop. “I love how you come for me.”

“Come in me,” I plead, out of breath and seeing stars. “Come deep in me… Please.”

“Anything for you, John.” He gasps, and only a few strokes later, I feel his erection begin to throb.

Our breathing is out of control, both of us panting and grumbling nonsense while he pours his load deep in my ass. It feels fucking amazing, I don’t know how, or why. But I like it. I like it way too much.

“Fuck,” he finally sighs, squeezing me tight.

I think he might actually be holding me to the earth right now. Keeping me from flying away like a balloon a kid accidentally let go of.

Rook’s lips graze my neck for a few minutes, and I’m too dazed, too fucking blissed out to even realize my arms and legs are trembling from exertion.

I’m weightless. Light as air.

“I’m gonna pull out, babe,” he murmurs, sounding tired and fully sated as he slips out of me, my body protesting, wanting to keep him there.

I go to sit up, but he holds me still with a palm on my back.

“Let me watch my cum drip out of you,” he demands. “Wow… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I know my face is flushing, but I’m still too drunk on the afterglow to feel embarrassed or self-conscious. Actually, I think it’s hot as fuck and I wish I could see what he’s ogling right now.

Rook stumbles off the bike, almost toppling over, and I can’t help but laugh. He’s wearing this boyish smile that makes me feel all sorts of things as he removes his uniform shirt, then his undershirt.

I give him a look, but it doesn’t stop him from using it to wipe me up, trying his best to clean our mess.

“I’m gonna need to give my bike a bath.” I tug my pants up and wobble to my feet.

Once we’re both standing, staring at each other, things become much more real than they were during our lust-crazed mania.

I mean, I’ve had a lot of sex… Like, a lot of sex. More positions and partners and locations than I can even remember.

But this… this was a first.

And it’s not even just getting railed in the ass on a Harley Davidson. It’s Rook. He does things to me I can’t understand. He keeps me comfortable, and I try to push it away like one of those terrifying things that make you too happy, so there must be a catch.

But right now, I don’t want to do that. I want to reach out and pull him closer. I want his arms around me again, because they’re big and warm and it feels good to have him holding all my brokenness together.

I want his smell, and his lips and his smile. I want it all… just for now.

I blink at him, and he at me. Then I turn to look out at the ocean. “You wanna watch the sunset?”

A small grin tugs at his pink lips and he nods. “Yea. I would love to.”

I roll my eyes at the look he’s giving me, though I can’t seem to stop smiling, taking him by the hand and leading him over to a spot where we can nestle up, just at the edge of where the shore meets the trees. The sun’s already setting, a giant mass of colors lining the edge, where the sky dips into the ocean.

Breeze brushes us as we plop on the ground. Rook leans back and he doesn’t even let me sit with space between us. He throws an arm around me and pulls me close. It takes only a second for me to give up the fight, cuddling into him and resting my head on his chest.

His fingers combing in my hair feels incredible. I’m totally Zen right now, man.

I never want this to end.

“You smell good…” I mumble with my hand slinking inside his open uniform shirt.

“So do you.” His chest moves my head up and down with his calmed breaths.

“I love smelling you on me, after we’re together.” I have no idea why I’m telling him these things… It’s like I can’t keep it in.

“Me too, baby,” he says, confidence in his deep voice making me swoon. “I want you on me all the time.”

“You’re really gonna die on the baby hill, huh?” I smirk as my leg sort of swoops over his. Just a little.

“Tell me right now you don’t like it and I’ll stop,” he rasps from above my head. I purse my lips. Of course I can’t tell him that, because I do like it. I refuse to admit it out loud to him, but I really really do. He chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”

“Asshole,” I mutter, and he laughs harder.

He reaches for my chin and forces me to look up at him. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

I gulp. “Uh yea. Duh. I’m a stud.”

“I’m being serious.” He grins. “I fucking like you, Velle. And I know you like me, too. I don’t want to play games…”

“I’m not playing games, Harley,” I sigh, repositioning so our faces can line up. “There are things you don’t… know.”

“You can tell me anything,” he says with blind, innocent sincerity. Something it seems like only Harley possesses.

“It’s—”

“Complicated, I know,” he huffs. “That’s what you keep saying.”

“Believe me, I don’t like having to fake shit.” My fingers comb through my hair. “This persona, this role I have to play… It’s exhausting.”

He sits up and takes my face in his palms. “Then stop. Fuck everyone, Velle. Who cares what people think? You’ll still be in charge because you’re a badass motherfucker.”

“It’s not about… people…” I whisper, then fall silent. Just one person…

Harley realizes quickly what I mean, and his eyes drop between us, hands running down to rest on my chest. We’re both quiet for minutes, still tangled in one another and just breathing. I can feel how much he wants to get at me. How much more he wants. It seeps from his pores when we’re together, like a pheromone. And deep in my body, somewhere between my brain, my heart, and my gut, part of me fucking loves it.

I hated when he ran out of the hotel suite that night. By some weird twist of fate, I got him back and now I’m the one running. He’s staying right the fuck here, and I wish I could just give in. Give him what he wants… Me.

My insecurities whisper to me, telling me he’s nuts for crushing on me so hard. He doesn’t know the real you… If he did, he’d run screaming.

Or maybe he wouldn’t, and that would make him a fucking moron.

I blink myself out of it, because it doesn’t matter either way. I’m not available.

End of story.

My heart hurts at the thoughts, so I distract myself by taking his jaw and kissing him. He gives into me right away, so much easier than I could ever be, claiming my lips, tasting my tongue.

Rook pushes me onto my back in the sand and wedges between my thighs, taking my hands in his. He lifts them above my head and pins them there, sucking and breathing and grinding and needing.

“You think they’re looking?” He mumbles into my mouth with a grin.

“Hide us, baby,” I rasp to him, lifting my hips to his.

He chuckles. “So now I’m baby too?”

I can’t help the way he makes me smile. “Mine.”

Rook stills for a moment, lips hovering while we both breathe. I gaze up at him and catch some uncertainty on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen it from him, and honestly, it makes me feel a little better about myself. I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing anymore.

Rook pushes the look away and captures my lips again, but I can’t stop remembering his face. Like some form of guilt in his eyes. I recognize it…

But I ignore it for now and kiss him back, letting him grind me into the dirt. After all, I’m hardly one to demand exclusivity…

Don’t get me wrong, I do. I’m hella possessive, and I know it’s hypocritical. But it’s the way I am, and I can’t change it. With Rook, at first, I would’ve rather decapitated everyone in the general vicinity than watch him with someone else. The jealousy I felt when I found him in that hallway with Dash’s hand on his dick was like a rage cloud that swept me up. But it quickly and unexpectedly morphed into arousal after that.

I’m not saying I want Rook with someone else… I want him for myself. But I also understand that it’s sort of irrational.

As much as relationships don’t work here, monogamous ones aren’t even in the realm of possibility.

“You make everything feel right…” he whispers onto my swollen lips, erasing all my thoughts and reminding me that we have here and now.

And we should make the best of it.

We’re both dazed, high as a kite on us. That chemical explosion of John and Harley.

With the sun setting behind us, hidden away between the trees, I let Rook kiss me until our mouths go numb. In the dark, I let him give me his good…

Because goddamn do I need it.

It’s been a week since my night with Velle on the beach.

One excruciation week of going back to pretending none of it happened. Squashing feelings and attraction, acting like we didn’t have the best damn evening either of us has had in a long while, on the shore while the sun set.

To be fair, though, I knew it’d be like this. I’m not so naïve to believe something would change. The Warden has his claws in Velle, of this I’m fully certain. What he has on Velle must be worse than what he has on any of the rest of us.

Because yea, The Ivory is a scary guy. I definitely have no desire to step to him, but I wouldn’t be opposed to testing the reins, just a little. We’re already trapped here, working as his slaves. He’s really going to tell us who we can and can’t date, too?

I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but no one will tell me. I might have to do a little digging on my own…

Right now, I’m waiting outside Ren’s cell while he gives Dash a tattoo. Again, something I probably shouldn’t be doing, but I don’t really see the harm. Dash and Ren are friends, so it’s not like I have to worry about them killing each other. Plus, who am I to prevent people from getting ink in prison? When it’s one of the few things they can do.

I don’t personally have any tattoos, but I like them. On Velle, they’re sexy as hell. I wonder if he’d like it if I got one…

I drop that idea quick enough. I’m the only person on this island with no tattoos, I think. Even Joy has a couple. I like being a tattoo virgin. It makes me special. Ha freaking ha.

A few minutes later, I peek inside the cell and it looks like they’re done. So I open the bars and wander inside. “Good to go?”

They both turn to me, and Dash nods. I step up to him with my cuffs, but he stops me. “Could you try to go, like… loose?”

My head tilts at him in confusion, until he lifts his wrists to reveal his tattoo. Or tattoos. He has one on each wrist. It looks like one says My and the other says Officer.

I can’t help the look I’m giving him. I have no mother-loving clue who he got those for, or what it’s supposed to mean. But I guess it’s none of my business.

I simply nod and fasten the handcuffs loosely on his wrists, trying my best to mind the tattoos. Honestly, it’s like the worst place to get new ink around here. He’s cuffed constantly, multiple times a day. They won’t heal right. But again… none of my business.

I bring Dash back to his cell, but before we get there, Velle appears, as if out of nowhere. Glancing at him nervously, I freeze while he gives me a severe look.

“What’s going on over here?” He barks, eyes bouncing between Dash and me.

I shrug in silence because I don’t know what he wants me to say, and I feel like I’m in trouble.

“Leave us, Officer,” Velle growls, an angry glare aimed at Dash.

I can do nothing more than exactly what he asks, handing Dash over and stalking away.

Once I’m out of the row, I stand and wait. I want to talk to Velle when he comes back, maybe find out what the issue is. Maybe I’m a wuss, but I’m really just hoping he’s not mad at me for helping Dash and Ren.

Velle clearly doesn’t like Dash. I imagine it’s because Dash kicked him in the balls as his first order of business here. I don’t think Velle should take it personally, but that’s not something I can voice to him.

Officer Chevelle would never allow an inmate to get away with such things.

I’m lingering for only a few minutes before Velle comes storming through the doorway. He’s radiating tension. I can almost feel how irritated he is, but when he realizes I’m standing there, he pauses and his eyes soften.

“What was that all about?” I ask, stepping up to him. I stop myself before I get too close, though, because I know we’re not supposed to touch or anything while we’re at work.

Still, it’s hard not to. I’m magnetized to him.

“That kid’s trouble,” he grunts, brushing the same stubborn lock of hair behind his ear. My fingers twitch with the desire to do it myself.

“Dash is harmless.” I shake my head.

Velle glares at me. “You know what he did to get tossed in here, don’t you?”

“Yea,” I sigh. “He’s fucked up, sure. But certainly not the worst we have. I mean, Ren—”

“Why are you defending them?” He narrows a fiery glower at me. “You crushing on the inmates, Harley?”

I chuckle, but it cuts short when I realize he’s fully serious. “Velle… I thought we were past this.”

“We’re not past anything.” He inches closer to me. “There’s shady shit going on here, rookie. And it’s my job to nip it in the bud. If you have anything to do with it, I’ll have no problem correcting your ass.”

I’m stunned. This conversation is out of nowhere. I barely even understand what he’s talking about.

It’s with him so close and glaring at me that I notice how exhausted he looks. His stress is palpable, circles under his eyes telling me he hasn’t been sleeping.

Something is going on. Velle’s barely been present at home lately. When we come back from our shifts, he vanishes, and no one sees him again until the next morning. He’s not partying, at least not with us.

He’s like a ghost, and the thought caves in my chest significantly. I want to wrap my arms around him and just take his pain away. I want to bring him back.

I wish we could go back to that beach, lie together, kiss and touch and be okay. Because this shit right here… It’s very fucking not okay.

“What’s he doing to you, John?” I blink up at his face.

His jaw ticks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Officer. But I need you to get back to work. This isn’t a fucking vacation, for those assholes or for us. We’re all fucked here.”

The last thing I see is him glance up at the camera before stomping away from me.

My gut is all twisted as I peer at the camera, aimed directly at me. A sickening feeling slinks through my insides, anger seeping in with the turmoil and agony while my teeth grind together.

“If you hurt him, I will fucking end you.” My eyes stay locked on the device while my fist tightens at my side. “Don’t underestimate someone with nothing to lose.”

Joy and I are drinking in the living room. We did some molly because why the fuck not?

And we’re nestled up on the couch, watching some sex happening across the room.

Jasper is fucking Hancock, while Hancock is fucking that girl Kelsey or Kasey or whatever the hell her name is. It’s really hot, and that mixed with the drugs is winding me up tight.

And yet, I can’t stop watching the doorway.

There’s a stubborn itch inside me. Something nagging at my mind.

I want to know where Velle is. I’m unsettled, and I will be until I see him. I just want to know he’s safe. I hate that I have no idea where he is… or what’s happening to him.

Joy’s fingers are stroking up and down my thigh. It feels good, especially as they inch closer to my crotch.

She’s been sleeping in my bed with me almost every night. Sometimes we hook up, but most of the time we just cuddle… and wait for Velle.

Each night, she sneaks into my bedroom, the both of us praying that he’ll show up. Because honestly, as good as it feels to be with her, there’s always something missing.

Someone.

My gaze leaves the two men and one woman fucking, and I peek down at her. Her head tilts up from where it’s resting on my shoulder to lock our eyes. I’m not even sure how, but we’re sharing the same thought in this moment…

That should be us.

The night wears on. The live sex show ends in spectacular fashion, and I’m turned the fuck on, edgy in my restlessness. It’s late as fuck by the time everyone adjourns to their bedrooms. Joy and I are the last ones to leave the room, disappointment strong. Velle’s still missing in action.

Our other piece is gone.

It’s not even just a deep and fervent desire to fuck Velle and Joy together. It’s more than that. The three of us… it feels like something that needs to happen.

As much as she insists she’s repellant to relationships, I know Joy loves Velle. Even if it’s just a friends-with-benefits type situation, their bond runs deep. And my own feelings for Velle are a pertinent ache that only grows stronger the more he pushes me away.

I love Joy as a friend, and as a person. And I also happen to love hooking up with her, but every time it happens, the absence of the other person who holds us together is so very apparent.

We both need him, and I feel like he needs us, too. If he’d just show the fuck up.

“Let’s go to bed,” Joy finally sighs, standing up and taking my hand.

We slowly walk together to my bedroom, passing Velle’s on the way. His door is open a crack, and I don’t need to peek inside to know he’s not there.

My body is buzzing as we enter my room, closing the door behind us, but keeping it unlocked. Just like every other night before this one, hoping tonight will be the one when he finally comes home. To us, where he belongs.

I get undressed down to just my boxer briefs, and Joy into just her panties. And we crawl into my bed, nestling beneath the covers. I pull her into my arms, my chest to her back, and hold on to her. My face nestles in her silky hair and I take a strong whiff, because her smell is comforting, the same way she is. Like a field of sun-kissed wildflowers.

Her ass grinds leisurely into my crotch, my erection resting in the crack over her panties. I’m hard—I’ve basically been hard all damn night, from the drugs and the sex in the air earlier—but I haven’t had any kind of release. And I kind of want it this way. As achy as my balls are right now, I refuse to give my body what it wants until I can really have it.

We both fall into an uneasy slumber, dreams taking over.

In my sleep, I can feel Velle everywhere. His large body pressing into mine, his sweet yet masculine scent overwhelming my senses. His soft lips dancing on my neck. It feels so damn good, I never want to wake up.

But then I do. My consciousness returns when I realize that my bed has dipped behind me, and a strong arm is wrapping around my waist.

My eyelids flutter as I feel Velle still. I turn my face to look at him when he sits up in my bed. His ocean eyes gleam in the shadows, stuck on Joy, who’s lying right beside me. I blink myself awake and prop up on my elbows. Joy tosses a bit.

“You’re finally here,” I rasp in the dark.

“I didn’t know you’d have company…” he mutters, eyes flicking to Joy again.

At the sound of his voice, Joy shifts, gazing at Velle with sleep still in her eyes. “Velle… We’ve been waiting for you.”

I’ve never seen Velle look surprised, but that’s what we’re getting right now. His face is etched in it, bewilderment lining his features. “How long has this been happening…? You two…” His tone is sharp and hoarse. It gives me chills and awakens my dick immediately.

“Only a few weeks,” I tell him, quietly careful.

I had every expectation that Velle might be upset about this. He’s the definition of possessive, even when it’s hypocritical. And he might not understand the full scope of it, based on how it looks.

“Oh…” he mumbles, and I witness him swallow. “That’s good, I guess. You guys are good together.”

His eyes fall in a rare display of vulnerability that somehow makes him a zillion times sexier.

I sit up and reach for his hand. “We are… but we’ve been needing you, baby. You’re supposed to be here with us.”

His eyes fling to mine, and he appears momentarily relieved. But he smothers it fast, shaking his head. “You’re just saying that because I caught you.”

“You didn’t catch us,” Joy huffs, sitting up too. Neither of us miss the opportunity to look at her bare breasts. “Because we’re not hiding from you, Lucky. We’ve been waiting for you to sneak into this room every damn night.”

Velle blinks. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around…”

“You’re here now,” I reassure him, pulling his hand up to my chest.

He stays quiet for a moment before releasing a heavy breath. “I won’t say I’m not jealous…”

“Well, we know I like to make you jealous.” I show him a small smirk and it quirks his lips. “Plus, I’m always jealous of everyone who touches you.”

“Okay, we get it. We’re all jealous,” Joy murmurs through a grin. “Now, can we stop with the feelings and finally test out this theory?”

Velle’s brows zip. “Theory?”

“That three is the magic number.” She licks her lip, amber eyes lighting up.

I see Velle’s chest moving as he looks over the both of us, wheels turning in his devious mind. It brings a needy sensation to my balls, reminding me of how badly I need to get off. This is probably the worst time to finally try this… I’m gonna come in two seconds.

His fingers grip onto my pectoral beneath my hand. “What did you two dirty little birdies have in mind?” His mouth forms one of his Velle smirks, and my dick throbs.

“First, I need this,” I growl and grab his jaw, pulling his mouth to mine.

He groans when our lips meet. I suck his lower lip and nip on it, humming as his tongue slides over my own. The feel of the barbell twitches my erection, thinking of all the places I want it to explore.

My fingers sift into his hair, gripping it and holding him in place while we pant into each other’s mouths, lust building like a spreading fire.

“I fucking missed you,” I tell him in between licking and sucking at his mouth like my favorite candy. “It’s impossible to look at you without wanting this… To see you every day and not shove you into a corner so I can remind you that you’re mine.”

He whimpers, shivering as he gives right over to me. I both hate it and love it beyond all reckoning. I love how he offers himself up to me like this, but I hate that I can only have it in secret. Waiting for him is torture, but I suppose it makes his inevitable return that much sweeter.

We force ourselves apart to catch our breath, and I see Velle’s eyes go behind me. “You getting ready for the show, Cherry?”

I turn to look at Joy, and she’s gaping at us with clear thirst. “Please… this is what I’ve been waiting for. It’s like Christmas. Forget I’m here.”

We both chuckle while she lies back in the bed and slithers out of her panties. I gulp at the sight of her fully naked, immaculate body squirming in the covers as she positions herself for the best possible viewing location, hand already slinking between her thighs.

“Not possible, sweetness.” I grin at her and she winks.

Going back to Velle, I lace my fingers at the nape of his neck and kiss him until we’re horizontal, his large body blanketing my own. My greedy hands run down his shoulders, tracing the muscles of his chest, thumbs flicking the steel in his nipples until he shudders. They keep moving down, slipping inside his sweatpants to cup his perfectly plump ass. I squeeze him, making him purr before shoving his pants down, big cock flopping out onto my abs.

“Yum,” I breathe, gazing at his dick like it’s a delicious snack.

Velle shimmies out of his pants, kicking them away and immediately coming back to grind his hard cock on mine through my boxers. I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of this… Feeling him, his warmth and strength writhing into me with need. He’s such a colossal beast that I’ve somehow managed to tame. For now.

“Bring that giant dick over here,” I demand, raspy in my arousal.

Velle wastes no time obeying my command, climbing up over my chest, straddling it and holding onto the headboard. I peek at Joy and she’s clearly in seventh heaven, sliding her fingers around on her clit, biting her lip while she watches anxiously.

My hands run possessively up Velle’s thighs and hips where he kneels, huge, flawless dick hovering above my mouth, precum dripping down to that sexy fucking piercing. I lap at it with my tongue and he groans.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” I tell him before slipping his crown between my lips, sucking hard.

“Goddamn,” he gasps, pulsing a little more into my mouth.

I lick up the salt and swallow his flavor, taking him in more, deeper, sucking and sucking, bobbing on his many inches until he’s tapping on the back.

“You should ride his throat.” A scratchy feminine voice comes from our side and I almost chuckle, though I can’t really with a dick in my mouth.

But it’s funny. Joy’s like a sexy little conscience devil over there, telling us what naughty things to do.

And Velle listens. He shoves his cock deeper, and I relax enough to overcome the gag reflex. We just got fucking started and I already love having Joy here with us. Every salacious thought flooding my mind needs to be explored. I could spend weeks in this bed with them, with all the ideas in my brain.

Popping off Velle’s juicy dick, I rumble at Joy, “Make his ass wet.”

She bites her lip and crawls behind Velle, lying on her front in between my legs. I can’t really see her around Velle’s enormous frame, but I catch her hands gripping his ass cheeks, spreading him apart. I take him in my mouth while she pushes him forward enough to get her mouth in there.

“Holy fuck… Sweet fucking Jesus,” Velle pants, his whole body tremoring while Joy licks his rim and I suck his cock. “You two are ruining me already.”

“That’s the idea, Lucky,” Joy rumbles from behind him.

I get lost in the sensation of blowing him, choking on his dick while he rides my mouth. When I zone back in on what’s happening, I find that Joy left us to go to my nightstand, returning with a tube of Astroglide.

I slurp off Velle’s dick. “Where’d you get that?”

“I stashed it in here the other day.” She grins. “I’ve been bringing all kinds of fun things in here in anticipation of us finally doing this.”

“Good looks,” Velle breathes ragged.

Joy squeezes some lube out onto her fingers, then slides them between his ass. I can tell when she shoves one inside because his eyes droop shut and his lips quiver. I go back to licking up and down on his erection while Joy fingers his asshole, getting him nice and ready. Then she lubes up my cock, stroking it in her fist, causing me to grunt with a mouthful of dick.

“Okay,” she sighs, grabbing a vibrator I also hadn’t noticed until right now. “You’re good to go.”

Velle chuckles. “I feel like you could work in porn.”

She gives him a sweet, if not immensely aroused smile, lying back with a vibrator between her thighs. “If you want me to start filming, all you gotta do is ask.”

Teasing Velle’s piercing a few more times with my tongue, I give him a little smack on the ass, to which he trembles. “Your turn to ride, Officer.”

Velle lets out a shaky breath, moving down a bit. Then he reaches behind himself and fists my cock, aiming it right up to his ass.

“I’ve never done it like this before.” He peeks over his shoulder while guiding my dick where it needs to be. I grip his ass in my hands, spreading him wide. “I can’t wait to sit on your dick, baby…”

“Mmm… get me inside that tight hole. Please.”

He bites his lip, lifting enough to get my head in. I feel him relaxing as it slips through that first barrier, both of us humming. Then he takes in more, my cock breaking through each ring of muscle as he gets seated.

“F-fuck…” His eyes roll back as his body swallows me up. Every. Inch.

When his cheeks hit my pelvis, we both stop, breathing so heavily the sounds are ricocheting off the walls. My eyes are stuck on his dick, hard and heavy, pointing right at my face, stretched, shiny and twinging.

I lick my lips, skimming my hands up to his chest. “I love watching your cock move while I’m buried deep in your ass, Velle.”

He whimpers, moving an inch until his cock bobs again. “This feels… so fucking good. Intense.”

My thumbs circle his nipples, and he groans. Then I take his hands in mine, pressing them down on my chest. “Ride, baby. Work my cock in your sweet ass.”

“Fuck me,” Joy squeals. She looks like she’s two seconds from coming already.

I know the feeling.

Velle finally starts to move, building himself a nice little rhythm while he gets used to being on top. It’s a bit uncoordinated at first—he’s so damn big—but he quickly finds what feels the best and runs with it. He’s really just humping the life out of me, lifting his hips and pressing them back down to take me as deep as physically possible.

His fingers dig into my pecs, gripping and squeezing while he swivels, on his knees over my hips, rising and falling on my cock until we’re both glistening with sweat and struggling to breathe right. I can’t stop watching him. As much as my eyes want to close in my euphoria, I force them open to see his face, his gorgeous angles and lines contorting with his pleasure, throat bobbing with his swallows.

And seeing his dick, how fucking hard it is, smacking my abs every time he comes down, precum leaking all over me… It’s going to make me burst. I don’t even stand a chance.

“God, I love how you fuck me, baby,” I tell him, voice grating like metal on metal from how damn wound I am. “You wanna come on my cock?”

He nods fast. “Yes. Yes… Harley… Your dick is so big.”

“Stretching your tiny hole?” I growl. He nods again. “Your ass is squeezing me like it doesn’t want to let me go…”

“It doesn’t,” he groans. “I want you inside me forever.”

“You can have whatever you want, baby.” I can’t even help myself, I grab his hips and drive up into him, meeting his down-thrust until he cries out some garbled version of my name.

Our eyes both dart to Joy when we hear her mewling. She definitely just made herself come, giving my balls a nice throb. She looks so fucking gorgeous when she comes.

“Joyful… come put your lips on Velle’s dick.” I nod her over.

She lifts herself up, shaky in her post-orgasm high, onto her hands and knees and leans over my chest. I watch Velle’s face while Joy sucks on the head of his dick, flicking his piercing with her tongue.

His lashes flutter, head dropping back. “I’m gonna come…”

Joy hums, sucking him deeper. He rides me faster and harder, my fingers digging into his flesh while he chases his orgasm. I’m so fucking ready…

“Me… too…” I grunt, unable to hold it for one more second.

My cock erupts, blowing my load deep inside Velle’s ass while he clenches on me, tightening so hard I see lights and stars dancing in my vision.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Velle sings, wrapping Joy’s hair around his fist while he comes in her mouth and she swallows it, drinking him down. “Fuck yea, Cherry, swallow my cum… Mmm… Rook, baby, your dick makes me come so good.”

“God, yes.” I can’t even breathe. I can’t process what the hell just happened.

My blood is rushing in my ears, dick all tingly from the explosive orgasm. Joy slurps off Velle’s cock just in time for him to collapse on top of me. Without even thinking, I grab her face and pull her lips to mine, kissing her fast and deep, tongue in her mouth to taste Velle.

“Sweet,” I whisper when we break. “So fucking sweet.”

Then something really crazy happens.

Velle lifts his head and reaches for Joy’s jaw, bringing her mouth to his. He kisses her, softly at first, hesitant, like they haven’t done it in so long they barely remember how.

I know this is true, because Joy told me they never kiss when they hook up.

But now they are. Their lips are moving together, tongues visibly tangling right before my eyes, and it’s so fantastically sexy to watch. I never thought watching two people make out could turn me on, but seeing Joy and Velle together is unlike anything I can even describe.

They just look fucking good… They look like they were made to be together. It pangs me with minute jealousy, because of how goddamn perfectly they fit.

I don’t look like I fit with either of them…

But in a weird way, the jealousy, the tight ache spreading up into my chest like heartburn, it just turns me on more. I feel it in my groin, like pleasuring pain. Something that shouldn’t feel good… but it does.

When they pull apart, they actually stare at each other for a moment, sharing dense breaths, lips brushing. They swallow in unison, too. Like they’re looking in a mirror. And in this moment, I think I finally see it, more than ever before.

They’re bizarro versions of each other. It’s amazing.

Velle’s eyes flick to mine as he sucks on his lower lip.

“You two should do that more often,” I tell them, unable to stop the amused curl to my lips.

They glance at each other and shake it off, putting themselves back together.

“He wishes,” Joy rumbles, jumping off the bed.

“Don’t lie, Cherry. You know you miss our little makeout sessions.” Velle smirks after her.

She rolls her eyes, waltzing naked over to the nightstand again.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, registering that my dick is still in Velle’s ass when I feel him clench. He moves like he’s going to pull off me, but I grab his waist to stop him. “Stay where you are.”

His eyes round at my command, pupils dilating.

“I wanna grab something.” Joy grins.

I let out a breath, my fingers slinking between Velle’s ass cheeks, tracing where we’re joined. “She’s trouble.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “Your cum is gonna start leaking out of me…” His tone is quiet with humiliation, which I know he likes. His cheeks are all flushed, making him look infinitely gorgeous.

“Hold it in,” I demand. “I want to stay inside you… for as long as possible.”

He lets out a sated purr, flicking my lower lip with his tongue, the barbell teasing the curve. “I always feel you for days after.”

“Good,” I hum, taking his jaw in my hands and kissing him once more.

I want him to know how much it means to have him again. Even if it’s just for right now. Even if he feels like he has to leave… Right now is enough.

I’ll take whatever I can get with Velle.

Joy comes traipsing back up to the bed. And we just stare up at her, wondering why she has a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Pulling her hand out from behind her back, she reveals what she grabbed. Another item she apparently stashed in my nightstand without my knowledge. Velle lets out a growly chuckle as my eyes widen.

A strap-on.

“You guys didn’t think we were done for the night, did you?” She smirks.

I’m speechless for a solid five seconds before I blink, my balls twitching at the possibilities…

“This,” I mumble, blinking again at how big the dildo is. “This is why the three of us needed to happen.”

“I’m in agreement,” Velle breathes, ass clenching for a new reason.

Joy squeals in excitement and immediately goes for the lube. “Get into whatever position you guys want.”

“Wait… who’s getting that?” I ask, nervously. I’m not as well-versed in taking it up the ass as Velle is.

“Both of you.” She grins, then inches over to me, running her fingers along my jaw. “Don’t worry, Cookie, I got you.”

I can’t help but tug my bottom lip between my teeth in uneasy excitement. I’m actually restless as hell to try something bigger, but that dildo is like… oof.

“Harley…” Velle whimpers, running his lips down my throat. “Your dick is hardening in my ass… Fuck, it feels so good.”

Growling, I roll us so that he’s on his back, then I lift his hips a bit, pulling out of him slowly. He gasps and whines at the loss, and I hover over him, rubbing my slick cock against his also rapidly hardening erection.

“Hold that cum inside, Officer Gorgeous.” I drop my face to his chest and lick his nipples, giving them a little attention.

I love playing with the piercings, teasing them with my tongue, nipping and tugging until he’s all wound up.

Joy climbs back onto the bed and I immediately feel a hard, slick object poking at my ass.

I gasp and flinch. “Jesus, Joy!”

She giggles wickedly. “I’m just kidding. Lucky, you wanna get him ready?”

“Mmm that’d be nice,” Velle sighs, barely even sounding like himself he’s so sexed up and desperate for more.

She gives him some lube for his fingers, and he swirls them around on my asshole. I gaze down at him, biting my lip while he presses one inside me.

“Guhh,” I rumble, forehead dropping onto his chest.

“Tight…” Velle whispers, fingering my ass gently. “So tight, baby.” Then he gives me a second.

“Fuck,” I hum, embracing the feel of him inside me.

I truly love fucking Velle, and I know it’s what he wants. But damn, there’s something about having him in my body that just drives me wild.

I glance over my shoulder at Joy. Or maybe I could have someone just like him inside me…

“Keep giving me that look, Harley,” she rasps. “See what happens.”

A chill shoots up my spine, and my balls throb. Velle chuckles, then curls his fingers, brushing that infamous spot.

“Velle,” I purr. “God, yes.”

He pulls his fingers out fast and my head pops up, giving him a petulant look.

He simply smirks behind me at Joy. “He’s ready.”

She grabs me hard on the ass until I grunt, spreading me for access, moving the dildo up to my hole as I start to shiver.

Velle holds my jaw, pulling me so that our lips are touching. “Relax, Harley baby.”

Some overwhelming emotions sneak up on me while I look at him, our eyes connected. His are deep, vast like the ocean that surrounds us, golden flecks sprinkled around the pupils; the sun reflecting off the sea.

I might be falling for him…

And then something firm and wide nudges up to my asshole. A breath leaves my lips, but I force myself to relax, despite what I’m feeling tripping me up. Joy’s fingers caress my skin while she shoves the dildo inside me.

I groan out loud. “Lord have mercy…”

“God, that’s hot,” she whispers, stuffing it in even more.

The burn is intense, I remember that from the shower when she fucked me with the conditioner bottle. Still, the pain feels good; wicked, and that flips the burn into quick pleasure, spreading all over my body like sheets of goosebumps as she fucks me deeper.

I fall forward, resting my entire body weight on Velle’s muscled torso, licking and biting him anywhere I can reach while a huge dildo macerates me within an inch of my life.

And goddamn… I fucking love it.

“Fuck… me…” I can only imagine how this looks, and that thought turns me on just as much as the dildo stroking in me, lashing at my prostate.

Velle’s hands run all over me, massaging up my neck to lift my face. He pulls me in and kisses me hard, growling between my lips.

Just when I’m getting used to the friction of silicone in my ass, it disappears, and I whimper in Velle’s mouth at the loss. But before I can turn to glare at Joy and see why she stopped fucking me, Velle grunts. Joy’s fake dick is inside his ass now.

Jesus, this is insane.

I lift and look between us, watching Joy plunge into Velle with the strap-on, his cock flinching and filling up before my eyes, until it’s just as hard as it was before. Matching mine.

“Fuck that’s good.” He runs his hands down me until he gets to Joy’s, gripping them on my hips.

There are so many body parts, real and fake, everywhere, I barely know what’s going on. All I know is that when Joy rears out of Velle and thrusts back into me, I crumble into a million pieces.

“This…” she rasps, pumping into me a few times before pulling out and shoving back into Velle, “Is… the hottest fucking thing… I’ve ever done.”

“I’m gonna…” I don’t know how to even finish my sentence. Erupt? Explode? Come? Die?

It’s all possible. My brain is scrambled, fuzzy static all around me. All of our panting, grunting, groaning, and the sounds of vigorous fucking blend together, ringing in my ears.

“Fuck us, Cherry…” Velle’s voice cracks. “Fuck us good, baby. That’s right… right there.”

Joy fucks him steadily, then stuffs back into me, alternating between both of our holes with the most immaculate precision I can’t even comprehend.

I’m so close to coming, but I don’t want to… I have a better idea.

“Joy…” I gasp with barely any breath. “Let us fuck you… Please.”

She stills for a moment. Velle’s drooping eyes are on hers as he nods in agreement. “Please.”

She exhales roughly and backs up, removing the strap-on. I give Velle one last kiss before climbing off him, grabbing Joy by the waist and positioning her over his hips. She takes his dick in her hand right away, lifting enough to get him inside her pussy.

And I watch in fascination as she slides all the way down on his thick cock, both of them letting out satisfied noises.

They fit together so well.

I lube my dick, using my fingers to slick up Joy’s asshole while she fucks Velle, riding him in a slow, hypnotic cadence. His hands come up to cup her tits, and the way their eyes are locked gives me that same thick feeling again. Their connection is so strong, it’s astonishing to even be present to it.

Pushing Joy forward a bit, I splay her ass open. “Ready, Joyful?”

“Yes… God, please,” she whimpers. “I need you both in me.”

My cock is heavy, pulsing and ready as I move it up to her hole, right above where Velle is currently stretching her pussy with his girth. Between the both of us, we might rip her apart. But she seems all too ready to be destroyed.

So I nudge my head inside. It takes a moment, but once it’s in, we all groan. I move in deeper, her tightness welcoming me, though it takes some effort to move with how full she is. I can feel Velle through the wall of her pussy, and it’s driving me insane.

“I’m gonna come so fast…” she drops forward to lean on Velle.

“I’m glad you said it.” I stroke in her, matching Velle’s leisurely movements.

“We should try to come together,” he chuckles breathlessly. “That’d be awesome.”

“You’re an idiot,” Joy croaks, followed by a moan. “But yea, let’s do that.”

The three of us are in a sandwich pile, Joy writhing in between our big bodies, legs spread wide, two huge cocks lancing in and out of her while she screams. And my balls brush Velle’s as we go, a sensation I love too damn much. My lips trail Joy’s neck and shoulders, kissing, sucking and biting, while she does the same to Velle’s chest.

I barely even know what I’m doing anymore. I’m on autopilot, chasing another orgasm, pushing to give Joy one that’ll have her soaring. Based on her cries, she’s pretty fuckin close.

“Gush all over me, Cherry.” Velle lifts her face. “Come good for us, okay?”

She nods quickly, her sounds growing more rapacious until finally she crashes. Her entire body goes tight, and she comes, gripping us inside, moaning and purring as she tumbles down from her climax.

Velle reaches up and grasps my face, pleading, “Come in me again, Harley.”

I don’t even think. I pull out of Joy’s ass, as gently as I can, while Velle slides out of her pussy. Then I shove my dick back into him, immediately launching off into another whirlwind orgasm. My dick pulses into Velle’s ass as his dick jolts streams of cum all over himself and Joy, while she grinds on his cock, riding his erection with the slit of her pussy to get herself off on aftershocks.

It’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever been a part of.

It takes a long time for me to remember who or where I am. We’re all just nestled on top of each other for minutes on end, a pile of sweaty limbs, mussed up hair, lube, and orgasms.

Eventually I shift to reposition us so we’re not pig-piling Velle anymore, but rather sort of cuddled up together.

I lean in and kiss Velle’s lips. Then I kiss Joy’s.

Then Joy kisses Velle. And we all gaze at each other for a brief moment before bringing our lips together, all three kissing at once. It doesn’t make sense that this feels so right… I don’t think it should.

But it does.

It’s like we just fell together, broken thirds snapping in for an unexpected fit.

That night, hidden within my sated slumber, I dream in threes.

The next day goes by uncharacteristically fast.

Days tend to drag on this island, and they definitely blend together like an endless smoothie of the same faces, a routine of no routine when we’re at work, and then back home to distract ourselves until we pass out, waking up in the morning to do it all over again.

But not today.

Today is special. It’s different, because I woke up in bed with two people. Sore muscles, chafed skin, a couple fingerprint bruises and a smile beaming on my face.

It was the first time Velle didn’t dip out immediately after we hooked up. He slept peacefully, right where the fuck he belongs; in between me and Joy. Of course, he crept out early so no one would see him. But I got some nice cuddles and neck kisses out of him first. It was perfect.

Joy doesn’t do the morning snuggles, which Velle and I laughed about. She’s a night cuddler, sure, but in the morning, she’s all business. I think it’s cute.

Now we’re at work, and our shift is almost done. It feels like we just got here, and already it’s the final dinner group. We’re filing all the inmates into the caf, and Velle is off barking something at Peters. Joy makes a beeline to the food to grab some for Darcey, since she’s due to bring him his dinner.

Between her and Velle, they sure are great at putting their personal shit aside at work. Where I’m buzzing on what happened last night, the two of them are just going about life as if nothing happened.

It’s frustrating. I’ve somehow managed to insert myself into the middle of a thruple with two of the most emotionally stunted people on the planet. And the thing is, I didn’t go into any of this wanting a relationship… But it seems like the more they fight it, the more it makes me want to hold them down and force happiness on them.

I might be more of a masochist than I thought.

I’m jerked out of my thoughts when I realize Dash is acting weird. He’s awfully twitchy right now, eyes darting all over the cafeteria like he’s looking for something. My brows zip together as I observe him.

He’s seemed okay recently. Less spastic, and calmer than he has been since he first got here. He was totally fine yesterday when he got his tattoos. But then Velle intervened…

Maybe something happened?

Shaking it off, I remove his cuffs. “Go eat, inmate.”

He ignores my command, like he didn’t even hear me, stalking slowly in between the tables. He’s not going to the food, nor is he heading toward the table where Luthor, Ren, and Kang are seated. He’s wandering around, his movements fidgety, looking fully exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, short hair all mussed up as if he’s been yanking at it.

Keeping my eyes on him, I walk over to where Joy is collecting food for Darcey. “What’s up with #101? He seems… weird. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

Joy’s gaze moves to Dash, and we both observe him for a moment. It looks like he’s talking to himself, scratching at the black ink on his wrists. Joy’s brow creases in unease.

“Hmm…” she mumbles, but then peeks up at me, a subtle smirk forming on her lips as she changes the subject. “Dude, I just have to say… You and Velle are so cute together.”

My head tilts in her direction, and I can feel a flush creeping up my neck. “Really?”

“Yea. Last night, I could tell he was so into you.”

My stomach flutters as my eyes slide across the room to Velle. He’s moved onto Linetti, talking to him about something that must be important because he’s motioning all around with his hands. A grin pulls at my lips and I bite to suppress it.

“He does look a little happier today, huh?”

“He does,” Joy agrees. “I mean, don’t expect any overnight miracles, you Ryan Gosling in The Notebook motherfucker.” I glance at her and she laughs. “But yea… I’d love to see you two together.”

Something about the way she’s talking clutches my chest. “What about you?” She purposely looks away. “You’re not feelin it?”

“I think we should just be realistic here, Rook,” she sighs, fiddling with the container of food.

Confusion lines my face. “But the three of us are good together. You can’t deny that.”

“I can and I will,” she mutters.

“What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?” I rake fingers through my hair. “I swear to God, you’re both the most resistant people I’ve ever met. Do you also tell rainbows they’re overrated?? Jesus…”

She lets out a little chuckle. “They kind of are. It’s just nature.”

“You’re so annoying,” I scoff. “We’re supposed to be in this together. You, me and Velle.” Something nags at my brain. “Unless you’re saying I don’t fit into your two-man crew.” Her eyes spring up to mine. “You’re partners, ride or die. And I’m what… just a fun new way to pass the time?”

“It’s not like that…” she grumbles.

“Then what is it like?” I turn to face her, arms folded over my chest.

I want answers. Because now I’m starting to feel like a red-headed stepchild.

Joy’s eyes soften, and she opens her mouth to speak. But she’s cut off when we hear yelling.

Our faces spring to the other side of the room. Dash is over in a corner, shouting at nothing.

I’m immediately on alert, the both of us stepping forward. He’s talking to himself, pacing and jittering about. He looks like he’s in the midst of a full-blown episode, and now everyone’s staring.

Peters and Brenner rush over to him first, trying to calm him down. But their attempts at restraining him seem to only freak him out more. They both lunge, grabbing at him while he jerks away from their hold.

“Fuck…” I stomp closer, Joy by my side.

“This isn’t good,” she whispers, more concern in her tone than I think I’ve heard before.

We linger back just to make sure the rest of the inmates are contained during this dramatic outburst, some of them shouting and standing up from their seats.

“Sit the fuck down,” I bark at one table, my eyes stuck on Dash as he flails in Brenner’s hold while Peters struggles to cuff him.

“Shit shit shit.” Joy rushes over.

“What’s going on?” Luthor gasps at the table to my left. “What are they doing to him??”

“Calm down.” Glancing in his direction, I see Ren grasp Luthor’s hand, squeezing it tight while they both watch Dash freaking the fuck out.

Suddenly, Velle stomps over to where Brenner and Peters are struggling to hold Dash down.

“What the fuck is going on over here?” He snarls, the uneasy looks on the faces of his guards snapping him into action.

He pulls something off his holster. It looks like a syringe.

My heart is in my throat while I watch from a distance, wanting to go help, but knowing someone has to stay with the other inmates. Linetti, Jasper, and I post up while Velle sticks a goddamn needle into a screaming Dash’s neck.

He goes limp in Brenner’s arms. I can barely swallow at the sight. He’s like a rag doll, hanging there incapacitated as Peters helps secure cuffs and shackles. Jesus…

“Take him to the East,” Velle breathes, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

Brenner and Peters nod, carrying Dash’s unconscious body out of the cafeteria. The murmurs of the remaining inmates are loud around us. Luthor, Ren, and Kang are visibly distraught. And I don’t blame them…

That was fucked up. I have aching sympathy in my chest for Dash right now. After all, he’s not a bad kid. He just has issues.

“Alright, fuckers. Show’s over,” Velle shouts at the room. “Eat your food and shut the fuck up or you’re going to the hole.”

He stalks toward the exit of the cafeteria, but Joy stops him before he can leave, grabbing his arm.

I stomp up to them just as Joy is saying, “Is that really necessary?”

“Uh yea,” Velle grunts. “He’s sick. He should’ve been in the East from the jump.”

“Velle, seriously…” Joy blinks over wide, worrisome eyes. She sounds genuinely upset. Looks it, too. “Can’t you just put him in solitary? Let him cool off…”

“Oh, he’ll cool off alright,” Velle growls.

“He just needs help,” she whimpers.

His gaze at her narrows. “I’m sick of babysitting his ass. He’s their problem now.” He turns to leave again, but she grips his arm tighter, causing him to whip back around and face her.

“You know what they’re gonna do to him down there…”

“You sweet on the little psychopath, Cherry?” He seethes, suspicion written all over his face.

Joy straightens up and drops his arm. “This is fucked.”

Then she brushes past him, bumping his shoulder forcefully on her way out of the room.

I give Velle a look, to which he shrugs. Exhaling some of the tension I’m feeling, I follow after Joy.

She’s racing up the hall, and I have to jog to catch up with her.

“Hey,” I huff. “You okay?”

“No, man.” She stops and shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. “That’s fucked up. Putting him in the East like that… He can’t be down there.”

“It’s not our call, though,” I tell her warily. “If he’s a danger to himself or others…”

“Whose side are you on, rookie?” She glares.

Without thinking, I grab her and pull her into my chest. She resists at first, but eventually sighs and melts into me. Holding her tight, I feel how anxious she is in my arms. My fingers brush through the dark hair of her ponytail, then down to her back, hoping to pacify her rampant duress.

I wish there was something I could say or do, but the truth is, I’m completely out of my league. I have no clue what’ll happen to Dash, or why Joy is so dismayed over it.

All I know is that right now, my job is to be her rock; her comfort. Like she’s done for me since the moment I got here.

That is my duty now. Protect them. At all costs.

Life lately has become an experiment in denying myself.

It’s like anything I want, I get the opposite. And I have to like it. I have to be alright with it.

Actually, I have to be alright with everything. Every dollop of dumb bullshit I’ve been presented with lately, I’m expected to just take it, dry and deep. No lube, no goddamn neck kisses to at least make me feel like a human being.

I’m getting raw-dogged with stress, responsibility, and turning down the stuff I truly crave.

Not only do I have to roll with these rapid punches, but I still have to run shit, all the while knowing my heart isn’t in it. My heart seems troubled lately, anyway.

It suddenly wants things I haven’t wanted in over a decade.

Obviously, being able to have Rook, out in the open, would be ideal. He has this way about him that just settles me. That’s a sort of delight no rational person would willingly turn their back to. And then throw in my partner in crime, my best fucking friend in the world and the coolest human being ever—Joy fucking Jameson… It’s a triumph of epic proportions.

Who would get served a delectable five-course meal like that and flip their hand up like, no thanks, I’m good. I’ll have Arby’s instead.

But it’s not exactly my choice, now is it? I’m being force-fed. I have been for years.

I would’ve loved to go back into Rook’s bedroom last night. I know Joy was mad at me, after everything that happened with Dash. She made it known that she was a little salty, and I’m not really sure why. She’s never seemed to like Dash, per se. She gets on with him well enough, but her rampant concern for #101 after we drugged him up and sent him down to the East was surprising.

Thing is, I can’t afford to let it sway me. Everything I’m doing right now is so goddamn fragile. Going easy on Dash after that scene in the cafeteria would earn me some licks I’m not prepared to take. So my Cherry will just have to accept it, like I accept all sorts of shit I don’t like.

Last night, I slept in my own bed. And it was fine. I won’t try to lie and say I didn’t have my ear up to the wall for entirely too long, though… Like some kind of obsessive stalker. I didn’t hear anything.

I haven’t interacted with them much today, and it has me up in my head. One of the main reasons why I know relationships are a weakness. I don’t need to be all torn up over people. Rook, sure… he’s a new, puzzling chapter in my story. But Joy? She has no damn right making me feel crazy. She already did that, a long time ago. I thought we were past it.

It really is Rook’s fault. He’s a goddamn nuisance. A beautiful, sexy, perfect inconvenience.

It’s later in the day and I’m tired. I’m supposed to be dragging some sorry sack to The Box per the Warden’s orders, and I’m hesitating. Too lost in my own thoughts and problems, with no energy to beat the snot out of prisoners who are already decaying. I’m finding it all so fucking redundant.

When I get a call on my walkie, to my private line, my forehead creases. Only the doctors in the East use this line.

“Chevelle,” I mutter into it.

“Officer…” One of the East wing pricks, Johansson, croaks over the line. “We have a problem. Get down here.”

Oh yea, because I forgot, I also answer to your worthless ass. I roll my eyes. “On my way.”

I go straight to the East wing, and when I get there, the asshole ambushes me as soon as I set foot through the door.

“What the fuck is your malfunction?” I grunt, doing nothing to hide my irritation. “You’re supposed to have this place under control.”

They all know I’m busy. I don’t have time for whatever inane bullshit he’s about to bother me with.

But the guy actually looks spooked, which has me crazy curious, since he’s his own version of a psychopath. He doesn’t say shit, simply leads me to the row of padded cells. We get to the one Kieran O’Malley’s been in, and I notice the door is ajar, just a crack.

I aim a withering glare at him. But before I can whack him in the face for leaving the cell of a violent criminal open, he nods for me to look inside.

I yank the door open, and the second I do, I’m hit with a terrible smell. One I’m unfortunately familiar with.

Death.

There’s so much blood in the room, I can taste metal already. All the smells I’ve learned to associate with a dead prick over the years attack me and I cough.

Taking a small step into the cell, I stop before I hit the massive pool of blood surrounding the lifeless form on the ground. I have to assume it’s O’Malley, but I wouldn’t even be able to tell from the state of his corpse.

Scanning the body, I can’t decipher from here what the cause of death is. I assume he’s been stabbed, but there’s so much blood everywhere, I’m just guessing. He’s all hacked up around the neck. And when I notice his face has slashes on it, my muscles tense.

“It looks like… he’s been carved,” Johansson says, gagging on his words.

That little fuck.

That worthless, preppy fucking lunatic. Jesus Christ.

“Who the fuck was in here with him?” I bark at the doctor. He just stares at me, looking completely out of his league. All the shit this asshole does and he can’t handle a dead body?? “Answer me, fuckface, or you’ll join this prick in a body bag!”

“I-I don’t know.” He shakes. “I mean, no one. No one should have been in here.”

“These aren’t self-inflicted wounds!” I roar, getting up in his face. “Someone got in here, and I’m willing to bet I know who it was. But the question is how.”

“I don’t know,” he stutters again. “I really have no idea.”

“Ugh!” I roar, pushing him out of the way. “Fucking useless.”

My head is clouded with rage as I stomp to the next cell, where Darcey was being held. It’s empty. Great.

Storming back up the hall, I race through the corridors that lead to the examination rooms. Every muscle in my body is constricting as I check each fucking one. Darcey is nowhere to be found.

And now I’m panicking. Where the fuck is he? How is this possible??

My heart is leaping into my throat, adrenaline coursing through my veins while I stalk, on a mission to the last place I can think of…

Dr. Love’s office.

When I get there, I don’t even knock. I smash the door open, only to find Felix fucking Darcey, sitting quiet and calm on the couch.

He glances up at me, appearing freshly showered, with wet hair and a clean white t-shirt on. But as I take in the rest of the room, I spot a pile of blood-soaked clothes on the floor by Love’s desk.

My jaw tenses. Without a moment of reluctance, I stagger up to Darcey and grab him by the throat.

He lets out a grunt as I haul him to his feet and throw a right hook to his face.

I think I’ve blacked out. I don’t even know what’s going on around me or what I’m doing.

All I know is that this fucking asshole is going to get me killed. But not before I beat him to death first.

Darcey falls back and I lunge at him, tackling him to the ground and throwing punches at his face so fast he doesn’t even know how to react. His hands come up like he’s trying to block himself, but I just keep wailing on him, his eyes, his jaw, his nose, unleashed and fully ready to rip this sick fuck’s head off.

Darcey brings his knee up, struggling to kick me off him, but I use my body weight to pin him down, my fists drenched in his blood and numb from hitting him.

I’m dizzy. I hear nothing but a ringing in my ears.

I’m back in Brooklyn, beating the asshole who raped my mother.

Thwack thwack thwack, over and fucking over. No mercy.

I’m going to kill him… because he fucking killed me.

Suddenly an arm hooks around my neck, catching me in a sleeper hold as a large form pulls me backward, off of Darcey.

I fall back against a firm chest, the grip tightening on my throat, cutting off my oxygen. Fortunately for me, I know how to overcome it.

I rear my head back hard against his face until his arm loosens, and I break free. Stumbling to my feet fast, I turn to find Dr. Love blinking heavily. He straightens up and steps to me immediately.

So I pull my Glock. “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Dr. Love holds his hands up. “Relax, Officer. Let’s just calm down.”

“Calm down?” My voice booms, eyes falling to Darcey who’s sitting on the floor with blood trickling from his nose and lip, eye already swollen. “This psychopathic fuck murdered yet another inmate!”

“Do you have any evidence of these accusations, Officer Chevelle?” Dr. Love questions, far too calm for my liking based on what’s going on.

“I’ll give you some evidence, you fucking clown.” I cock the gun, aiming it right at his smug, self-righteous face.

“Velle, wait.” Darcey stands up slowly on shaky legs. “You’re right.” He moves closer to the doctor, hands up. “I did it. I killed Kieran O’Malley.”

My blood is rushing in my body like wave after wave of unsteady waters. I have no idea what to do right now. I’m spiraling, certain dread filling me fast.

I can’t help the gasp I surrender, a long, broken exhale, because I’m so fucking done. I’m fucked.

“How?” I seethe at Darcey, aiming my gun at him, then back at Love. “How the fuck did you pull that off?”

Darcey peers at the doctor for a moment, then back to me, his eyes wide, missing the glasses, which must have flung off his face when I was hitting him. “I had the keys… To the cells.”

My stomach falls. It plops out of my body and plummets so hard it’s practically in my shoes.

“How… where…” I don’t even know what to say.

I’m falling the fuck apart here.

Darcey blinks, going mute. The only sounds in the room are that of our collective breathing.

Aiming the gun at Love’s face, I growl, “You gave him the keys, didn’t you?” He remains silent, and I snap, “Didn’t you??!”

“Officer…” he finally mumbles, standing straight with his eyes locked on mine. I know he’s not the serial killer in the room, but right now, I wouldn’t be so sure. “What’s done is done.”

I scoff and shake my head, lowering my gun. “What’s done is done? Really?” Dr. Love says nothing, lowering his hands. When I look to Darcey, he simply shrugs, face all bloodied. I just sigh as my chin drops. “You’re the Warden’s problem now.”

Leaving the room, I’m slow and defeated. My nerves are overtaking me, a heavy pit settling in my gut.

I’m so screwed. He’s going to kill me over this. What the fuck am I even going to say…?

Heading back to the cells, I find Johansson is gone. Peering back inside O’Malley’s cell, I blink over and over at the inert form on the floor, surrounded by blood. I have no fucking clue what to do.

I’m at an absolute loss.

I decide to close the cell door and leave him for now. I have no choice but to bring this to The Ivory… He’ll blame me, and I’ll be responsible for what comes next. As usual.

I’ll have to take my licks with a smile… Like always.

My stomach is churning as I walk back up the row of cells, shoulders slumped in my defeat. But something tells me to check on the other inmates before I go face the music.

Maybe it’s just knowing that Joy was so upset about Dash being sent down here last night. Maybe it’s to make sure the rest of them aren’t lying in pools of their own blood, too.

Who knows, but I peer inside the small plexiglass windows on each cell, verifying that all the inmates are still there and at least not visibly dead.

Once I’m at the end of the row, I pause, my brow furrowing.

I go back and check them all again, counting seven inmates. There should be eight.

Where the fuck is Dash?

Immediately, I radio Peters.

“Yea, boss?”

“You and Brenner brought Dash to the East last night, right?” My hands are shaking.

“Yea. You told us to…”

“Which cell did you put him in?”

“Fifteen,” Peters answers me hesitantly. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I bark, stomping back to cell fifteen. It’s fucking empty. “You’re positive you put him there? I swear to God, Peters, if you’re lying to me, I’ll tear your head off your body with my bare hands…”

“Velle, I’m not lying,” he says, sounding completely serious. “Ask Brenner. He was still unconscious, but we brought him down, laced him up in a straitjacket and locked his ass away, just like you said.”

A sudden, brutal throb appears at my temples.

I can’t move, I can’t breathe. Everything around me becomes hazy.

“Boss?” Peters rumbles over the walkie when I don’t say anything. “You sure everything’s okay?”

I can’t even fathom what’s going on right now. I simply mutter, “Everything is great.”

Then I power off my walkie and lean up against the wall.

Sliding down it, I find myself seated on the floor by an empty cell. Knowing with every fiber of myself that Dascha Reznikov is gone.

And because of that… I’m fucking dead.

It’s dark by the time I’m done circling the island on my motorcycle. Not ideal for spotting an escaped inmate…

Truth be told, I knew I wouldn’t find him. I made the conscious decision not to tell anyone. It was my choice not to inform the team that there’s a missing inmate and have them all out here, combing the woods for that Russian fucker.

I’m not even sure why. I just had this sinking feeling in my gut, while I was stalking through every single hallway and corridor of Alabaster Penitentiary, opening every door, checking every closet and corner and fucking crevice. I knew he was long gone, so by the time I’d jumped on my bike, the sun had already set.

I told Joy to handle the shift change while I went out to handle my business… Because this is my business. I’m responsible for Dash.

His escape is my fault.

The fact that he escaped is just that. A fact.

I know that too because when I arrived at the small dock, my boat was gone.

I’ve always kept my own boat at an old rickety dock a few yards from the mansion. Call it an emergency vessel, I guess. I don’t use it, like ever, but I keep cans of gas in the little boathouse, in case I ever need to scram real quick.

Like now. Right fucking now, I could’ve used that goddamn boat.

But it’s gone. I guess leaving the keys in it probably wasn’t my brightest decision, but I needed to know that in a pinch, I could just hop on and go.

It’s seeming more and more likely that this is exactly what Dash did.

I gotta hand it to the little prick… He’s brave. Determined.

I guess I would be, too.

I don’t know if anyone else has discovered that Dash is gone. I’ve had my phone and my walkie turned off for hours.

The thing is, I know the sooner I tell the Warden what happened, the sooner he can send his goons out to look for Dash. Every second I spend delaying the inevitable is helping him get away.

It’s almost like I’m doing it on purpose…

But why would I do something like that? I don’t want Dash to escape. And it’s not that I necessarily care about keeping his ass in the Pen. Whether we have one-hundred and one inmates or zero, it changes nothing. I’m still fucking stuck here either way.

But at the same time, him breaking free is directly my responsibility. Whether I physically had anything to do with his escape is irrelevant. My ass is on the line for this, quite literally, and so for that reason, I’m really not sure why I haven’t told anyone yet.

Prolonging the inevitable isn’t something I do. I’m a realist. The pain to be inflicted on me over this will be astronomical, regardless of how long I wait to tell him. In fact, if I don’t tell him now, and he finds out on his own, it will be immensely worse.

I might not survive.

Yet I’m still just sitting at the dock, where I’ve been for over an hour, staring down into the water. Watching it splash around the wood, thinking about how wholly fucked I am.

Self-preservation is the name of my game, typically. I don’t want to die… I need to stay alive. For my mom, at least. And for myself. I’d be doing John Chevelle a huge disservice by letting the Warden kill him.

I’m not done exploring this thing with Rook… and my ex. I know if I disappeared, they’d be fine together. And I take heed in knowing that they would still have each other.

But I also feel like I exist on this island as a martyr. If I’m here to take all The Ivory’s wrath, it prevents him from doling it out to the others.

That’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone before. Part of the image is to let them think I don’t give a fuck about them or their safety. But of course, I do…

They’re my people. My only friends, basically my family.

You won’t hear me broadcasting it, but I care about all of them. Rook and Joy most of all.

I’m not saying they need me, but I’d rather be here, chained down, bloody and bruising, than in the wind, leaving them to take it in my place.

Rubbing my eyes, I finally stand up. My back is stiff, and my ass is numb from sitting on the floor for so long. I take one last look out into the ocean; a vast black expanse spread out beneath a star-lit sky. The moon gives an ominous glow, and I wonder if it’s helping Dash see right now.

Or maybe he’s already off the boat, in New York somewhere, scrambling.

Maybe he’s dead.

Who the fuck knows, but it’s time for me to buck up and face the devil.

I get on my bike and drive it back to the armory, parking it and locking it up. Pausing outside, I gaze at the prison. Monstrous and menacing, taking up so much goddamn space for what it is… A chamber for lost, tortured souls.

I could go back and grab an SUV to drive home. But I don’t.

Instead, I decide to walk back to the mansion. More delaying…

I take the woods, since it’s more direct, using the flashlight on my holster to light my way. I stop when I see the sewer drain, the one leading to the channel inside the prison, my eyes lingering on the muddy, shit-covered footprints in the sand.

The kid literally pulled a Shawshank, and some small part of me has a lot of respect for him. That must have been a disgusting journey.

There should be bars blocking the exit of the sewer, where it leads into the woods here. But again, this place is falling apart. The bars have long since corroded and crumbled apart, making it very easy for someone, especially someone Dash’s size, to slink through the broken, jagged metal.

Just one of many, many problems presented by the lack of funding, all of which I’m expected to deal with.

I’m exhausted by the time I make it through the woods to the south gate of the mansion. I was praying for some sort of island wilderness beast to come out and maul me to death, but no such luck. I’m still here, still breathing, and mentally preparing myself for the punishment of a lifetime.

I don’t even bother entering the mansion through the front door. I go directly to his door, guarded by one of his men. He opens it for me without hesitation, and I avert my eyes as I wander inside, weakened and unsteady. It’s late, so I’m not sure where he’ll be. But part of me knows he’s expecting me.

Part of me knows he already knows.

I walk through the study first, passing his library. It’s empty, the whole place dark and quiet enough that my breathing is fully audible. Checking the entire downstairs of his lair, I find him nowhere. Ascending the stairs, I pass the second floor, choosing not to even go there. I’m pretty sure that’s where Dr. Love is staying, though none of that was ever confirmed or denied by the Warden.

Up on the third floor, I see a small stream of dim light coming from his office. I gulp, walking slowly toward it, my stomach twisting up until I feel sick. Approaching the door, I take a deep breath, lifting my hand to knock.

But before I can, his voice murmurs, “Come in, Jonathan.”

My head drops and my eyes close, allowing myself just one more moment of dread before I turn myself in.

And when I straighten up, eyes reopening, I’m fully accepting of my fate.

Let’s do this.

Pushing the door open, I step inside, my eyes landing on him where he sits in his chair. He’s behind the desk, reclining a bit, a glass of brown liquor in his hand.

“Close the door, please.”

His eyes stay on me as I do, black, powerful orbs of pain. I can see it already, what he knows he can do to me. What he’s been doing for as long as I’ve known him.

What he uses to control me.

There are many things that have led me to this place, many reasons why I’m still here. The order he possesses in those eyes is just the tip of the iceberg.

He takes a sip from his drink, watching me over the rim. I simply stand, stock still, straining and yet oddly composed.

This is when it comes. This is why…

“You know what to do,” he mutters in a barely-there voice.

Without any further prompt, like a reflex, I kick off my boots, leaving them by the door. Then I make quick work of the buttons on my uniform shirt, removing it and leaving it folded on the floor. I do the same with my undershirt.

I stand up straight, arms hanging by my sides, chin dipped, though my eyes remain on his. He’s quiet for so long, I don’t even know how much time has passed. I can never tell if he’s waiting for me to speak or do something. I have no fucking clue, and it has every muscle in my body bunched in wait.

He blinks at me. “I know why you’re here, Jonathan.” The calmness in his tone sends a zap up my spine. “On your knees.”

I fall to my knees immediately. My head remains tilted, eyes cast down at the floor, hands resting with my palms on my thighs.

“Crawl,” he orders.

Shifting onto my hands and knees, I crawl to him slowly, lungs tight as I try to contain my breathing. Shame heats my face, burning hotter and hotter the closer to him I get.

Once I reach his seat, I stop, staying on all fours. I keep my gaze on his expensive shoes, feeling him moving before me. But I don’t dare look up unless he says. Which he does.

“Look at me.” He takes my chin in his fingers, tipping my face.

Our eyes lock, and I see his evil… demonic irises swallowing mine. Dim light frames him in shadows, the sharp angles of his face, the slope of his neck, all pale skin and the white hair. It practically glows.

His fingers brush down to trace my Adam’s apple, short nails scraping at my throat like he’s petting me rough. I’m fighting to hide my shivers.

He lets me go for a moment to open his desk drawer, removing something I’m very familiar with, eyes coming back to mine as he holds it up in his hands.

“Do you think you’ve been a good boy for me, Jonathan?” He unbuckles the collar, metal studs glinting in the light.

My head shakes slowly, but I can’t articulate. I don’t know that I even have a voice right now.

“Speak!” He slaps me. Hard across the face, my head flinging right, an immediate sting burning my cheek.

“No, sir.” My voice grates, sweat already breaking out at the back of my neck.

“You’re correct,” he mumbles. “In fact, you’ve been extremely bad. Dissatisfactory on many levels. It’s disappointing.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whimper as he leans forward, buckling the collar around my neck.

He pulls it so tight, it causes me to grunt, the leather digging into my flesh right away.

“Do you mean that?” He asks, eyes round and severe.

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

He exhales. “We’ll get to the groveling in a moment. For now, please sit up.”

I lean, still on my knees, straightening my back and keeping my eyes on his shoes as he connects the chains from the collar to each of the piercings in my nipples. They’re heavy enough that they tug and it hurts, but the ache brings a significant pulse to my nuts.

I want to squirm so badly, but I know it’ll earn me another smack.

He fastens the leather leash to my collar, wrapping it around his fist and tugging until I stumble into his legs.

“Come closer,” he growls. I inch up to him, and he hums, fingers of his left hand combing through my hair. “Good boy. See? You know how to listen. You know how to obey. Now, why is it so difficult for you to follow orders outside of this room?”

I’m frozen, balls humming in my pants from the chains hanging on my nipples and the tightness around my throat. I can’t think straight.

He yanks on the leash, hard enough that my head flings forward and I cough, the collar choking me. “Answer me when I’m speaking to you, Officer.”

My pulse is sky high, heart thudding aggressively behind my ribs. I can barely remember his question, hesitating until he smacks my face again, harder this time.

“I-I… don’t kn-know,” I wheeze.

“That seems like a problem.” His head cocks. “After all, if I can’t trust my guard dog to obey me, who can I trust?”

“You can trust me, sir,” I rasp with as much confidence as I can muster. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jonathan,” he seethes, tugging me closer once more by the leash. “Yet another inmate was killed on your watch.” He leans down in his chair, lining his face with mine. “An inmate escaped. You must accept the consequences and let me know how you’re going to rectify the situation.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” My voice wavers. “Anything.”

He’s quiet for a moment, the air of the room buzzing. My nipples are throbbing, neck aching already, and my throat is so dry I can barely swallow.

“First thing’s first.” He grabs a fistful of my hair, tugging until my scalp stings. “Grovel. I want to see just how sorry you are, my pet.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod, on autopilot.

I don’t feel like myself right now. I’m not even human.

When I’m kneeling at his feet, accepting my fate like this, it’s as if I’m outside of my body, watching from somewhere else. I’m not present in this room.

This isn’t me. I don’t know who or what this is.

I go into my standard groveling moves, the ones I know he likes. I nestle my face against his legs and his hands. I get low onto the floor and I lick his shoes. I know he likes that one because he parts his legs wider, and I can see his erection through the front of his pants.

He doesn’t always want me to touch his dick, but this time I know he wants to humiliate the fuck out of me. In service of that, he grabs a handful of my hair and shoves my face into his crotch where I run my lips up and down his length through the fabric, licking and licking until I’m lost in some far-away corner of my mind, dull and murky, with cum leaking in my boxers.

“How sorry are you?” He snarls the question, fingers sliding up to unbuckle his belt.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” I murmur, with my lips trailing the long, hard shape in his pants. “I’m so so sorry I failed you.”

“Will you do whatever it takes to regain my trust?” He asks, slipping his belt free from the loops.

Fear lances in my limbs, arms shaking beneath me. “Yes, sir. Whatever you wish.”

“Good boy,” he sighs, yanking me back by my leash until I stumble away from him.

He stands from his chair and kicks me like a disobedient dog. I fall forward a bit, shivers of suppressed rage shooting through my limbs. Stuffing it down and forcing myself to take the degradation is something I’ve gotten good at over the years. I don’t even notice it anymore.

Must be how he’s trained me.

“Pants down,” he commands, and I oblige, taking my pants and boxers down to my thighs. “You know how this works, Officer.”

I nod, quaking with nerves at what I know is coming as I press my face down into his expensive oriental rug, lifting my ass up high.

I get no warning whatsoever before the first strike. It comes out of nowhere and it fucking kills. The first one always shocks me. I forget every single time how badly this hurts… Until he reminds me.

He keeps going, holding my leash tight in one hand, while whipping me with his belt with the other. This isn’t a Dom/sub thing… I have no safe word. He doesn’t care if I get pleasure from it, which I do on some remote, depraved level of myself. But he’s definitely not trying to get me, or himself, off.

This is a punishment, in every single sense of the word.

I lose count after twenty. My ass is so numb and raw I can’t even feel it. I can’t feel anything but my tears and snot soaking into the carpet beneath me, fingers digging into it, loins coiled from all the pain and sensation.

I’ve gone fully numb to the world outside this room, where my wicked secret lies.

But then he stops, and it all becomes so very real. The cold air stings my swollen flesh and I gasp for oxygen. I hear something behind me, but I don’t dare lift my head.

I recognize the sound, though… He’s jerking off.

He beats his dick for only about a minute, and then I feel spurts of cum hitting my back. He’s coming all over me and I’m crying into the floor, because my balls are aching, in need of release myself.

I have no possible idea how this could ever make me want to come. I should be disgusted, repulsed.

I hate this man, more than I’ve ever hated anyone. I despise him for the evil, torturous demon he is.

And yet when he yanks on the leash and sighs, I go to him.

“Get up.” I rise on my knees, listening intently to his hoarse demands. “Clean me off.”

I lap at the tip of his dick, sucking just enough to get any remains of his orgasm, swallowing the salty flavor. My cock is stiff and jammed in my pants, all the precum leaking from me, soaking and drying on my pelvis.

The Ivory hums, stroking my face gently. “Good boy.” He lifts my face so I’m forced to look up at him, wiping my tears away with his thumb. “There’s still hope for you, Jonathan. So long as you don’t ever betray me again.”

Fear. Anger. Arousal. Shame. Need. Rage. Lust.

Hatred.

Love.

All the things I’m made of fade into black. And I’m nothing but empty.

Something is wrong.

I’ve always had good instincts. I’ve learned over the years to trust my mind emphatically. When it warns me against something, I believe it. Because only I know what’s truly good for myself… and what isn’t.

I haven’t seen Velle all day. He disappeared last night and was nowhere to be found this morning, either. All I got was a text…

Lucky: You’re on point today

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to have me handle shift changes. But for him to have me do it two days in a row is strange. Especially with no explanation.

No one has flat out asked me what’s going on yet, not that I’d have an answer regardless, but I can feel each one of them wondering silently. Where’s Velle?

Rook is on edge. That I can feel stronger than anything else. He has a tendency to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and right now, he’s downright stressed. Worried as fuck for Velle and desperately needing to know he’s okay.

At about noon, I get a call to my direct line on my walkie. “Officer Jameson…”

It’s Velle, and there are so many things wrong with the way he utters even just my name that I’m instantly tense.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” I have to ask. Because as much as wearing emotions isn’t my ensemble of choice, that doesn’t mean I don’t worry, especially when it comes to Velle.

“I need you to hold a quick briefing with all available staff.” He gets right down to business. “Kieran O’Malley is dead and Dascha Reznikov escaped.”

I think I just blacked out for a second.

My brain is still busy digesting his words. I don’t even realize how tightly I’m gripping my walkie until I realize I’ve snapped one of my fingernails.

“Oh…. Kay…” The word comes out in two parts.

“Yea. No further information right now, but just… I thought everyone should know.” On that sentence, I can hear how exhausted he is.

Being that we never saw him this morning, it’s safe to say the Warden had him somewhere all night. And though I have no physical proof—I never have—I just know he’s had something unsavory happening to him.

The feelings I get at those thoughts are overwhelming, so I push them away and focus on work, asking him, “So… no further action is needed? Regarding Dash…?”

Velle gives me no response for almost a full minute, before he grunts, “No. We’ll handle it.”

We… We’ll handle it.

It’s never a good sign when he refers to him and the Warden as a we.

A million and five things are on the tip of my tongue. But I keep biting it all back and mumble, “Ten-four.”

“Joy…” he comes back, his voice softer, “Just know things are going to get a lot worse from now on.” I can’t help the way I gulp at the seriousness his tone carries on these words. “Let them know to expect a full lockdown.”

Fuck… My eyes close and I rub them with my fingers, so hard I see spots when I reopen. “Copy that.”

Then he goes offline again.

My meeting with the staff went exactly as I expected. No one was really shocked that another inmate died, because unfortunately it happens more often than it should.

But on the topic of Dash’s escape, people started to freak out a little.

Naturally, Brenner and Peters are paranoid. They were the ones who delivered him to the East wing, the last of our crew to see him. Theoretically, they could be held responsible. There’s a lot of similar panic sweeping through the guards at the moment. Lockdown means the Warden has severe plans to punish not only the inmates who are still here, but also us.

If he doesn’t already know who helped Dash escape, he’ll find out. And I can’t imagine his reaction will be good.

I refuse to show it to anyone, but I’m nervous as hell.

I’ve been supplying Dash with contraband since he got here. Obviously, the Warden knows about it. Regardless of how scared the control room guards are of me, the Warden has access to all feeds directly to his personal laptop. He doesn’t need to ask them what’s going on. He watches that shit himself, like reality TV.

Outside of the general tension radiating from each of us guards, the inmates are asking questions, too. I’ve got Luthor, Ren, and Kang breathing down my neck all damn day, asking if Dash is alright. I just keep telling them I don’t know and to leave me the fuck alone about it.

It’s only a matter of time before they hear the truth… These walls talk, after all.

But it won’t be from me. I don’t need any more trouble at the moment.

When our shift is almost over and I still haven’t seen Velle, I decide to go check on him.

Rook and I sneak off into a corridor in solitary where there are no cameras.

“I’m so fucking worried, Joy.” He leans up against the wall, gripping my hand in his. “What if he’s in danger?”

“He’s always in danger,” I grumble. “We all are. Now don’t you see what I’ve been saying? No one comes here by choice.”

The look I’m giving him is pretty obvious. I’m still itching for him to tell me why he’s really here. No more bullshit. You’d think after all we’ve been through by now, the least he could do is tell the truth.

But he just closes his eyes and bangs his head on the wall. “Where do you think Dash went…?”

For some reason, the very first thought that pops into my head is Kemper. I still don’t even think they know each other, but something is nagging at me. I should try to get ahold of him…

I don’t want to bother him on his anniversary vacation in Mexico, but since he’s technically the one who’s been supplying Dash with goodies up until a few days ago, he might want to know the dude’s not here anymore.

“Who knows.” I stand beside Rook on the wall. My head sinks onto his shoulder. “If he’s smart, he left the country.”

Rook’s head rolls toward mine. “Who do you think helped him escape? I mean, someone had to have at least let him out of the cell…”

I peer up at him to observe his worry. I think he’s afraid he might be implicated too, after that whole debacle with him losing Dash in the East wing. I reach up and brush my fingers over his soft lips.

“Buckle up, Cookie. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

He drops his forehead to mine, and we stay like this for a moment. Rook is such a reassuring presence to me. He’s a friend when I need one, but more than that, he’s a genuinely good guy. As weird as it’s felt from time to time, sleeping in his bed and being somewhat intimate, it also feels necessary. It’s just easy to be with him.

That said, we share a restless awareness for the empty space where one giant tattooed monster belongs.

It’s peculiar, but ever since the night the three of us hooked up, I’ve felt a longing ache for Velle. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it reminds me of when I first started here. When he swept me up in his charms, his crude sense of humor, his dangerous good looks and his perfect dick.

I feel like I’m eighteen again, which is such a head-trip. And I don’t think I would have rediscovered any of these feelings if it weren’t for Rook.

That’s how the three of us are stumbling around one another, struggling to navigate this shit, all the while knowing there’s no possible way any of it can end happily.

Giving Rook a kiss on the cheek, I leave him and saunter off in my search for Velle. I’m really hoping I don’t have to go to the Warden’s lair to find him, but I’ll do what I have to.

I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s alright.

I check all the hidden spots in the prison where no one else goes; the West wing armory, the basement, The Box—where I know Velle usually is when he’s working for the Warden. But I don’t find him anywhere.

Making my way down to the East wing, I check O’Malley’s cell, only to find it completely empty and smelling like massive amounts of bleach.

Which has my mind wandering…

Leaving the prison through one of the back exits, I veer in between the trees. It’s quiet out here, with only the occasional squawk of a seagull and the ocean noises to be heard. The sun is still out, staying up later and later as summer graces us with its presence, but based on the hour, darkness will creep up soon enough.

I walk for a few minutes until I reach the spot in the middle of the island. The place no one dares to come. And sure enough, as I grow nearer, I hear the distinct sound of a shovel slicing into the earth, and the hard breaths of the person doing the digging.

Approaching slowly, I spot Velle’s head. He’s standing in a hole about six feet deep, sweat and dirt on his face. The closer I get, the worse I feel. He’s so clearly wiped the fuck out. He looks dazed and determined in his trance.

He notices me as I step up to the grave, finishing his task while my eyes stick to the body wrapped in a sheet. A very bloody sheet.

Velle stops digging and throws the shovel out of the hole, wiping his forehead with his arm. He climbs, but I reach out, giving him my hand to help pull him up.

Once he’s out and standing before me, he lets out a tired huff and mutters, “Thanks.”

“Velle…” I start then stop, not wanting to piss him off or stress him out more, but also knowing he needs to tell me what the fuck is up, right the fuck now. My eyes slide down from his helpless expression to a prominent red mark around his throat. I gulp, gaze flicking back to his. “What is going on? Talk to me… please.”

He stays quiet for a moment, leering at the body by our feet.

Guilt swims in my gut. “I need to tell you something…” That gets his eyes snapping back up to mine. “I think it might come out.”

“What might?” His gaze narrows.

Taking a deep breath, I confess, “I was the one giving Dash things.”

I think his eye is twitching as he gapes at me. “Why…?”

“Kemper asked me to,” I answer on a breath. It feels good to get this out but making him look the way he does right now is ruining it. “When he left… He asked me to watch out for Dash. He’s been sending me money to buy him stuff. I hope you can understand why I couldn’t tell you…”

Velle blinks hard, hands coming up to cover his face. “Oh, wow… fuck my fucking life.”

I bite my lip, an awful sense slinking up my chest. “I didn’t want to implicate you in anything. But I owed it to Kemper.”

“Owed it to Kemper??” He seethes, aiming a furious scowl at me. “You mean the asshole who deserted us?”

I’m speechless. I don’t even know what to say.

Velle puffs out a ragged breath and starts pacing around. “Joy… this is fucked. I’m fucked, do you realize that?? He’s going to goddamn blame me for that too! And now he’ll have me forever.”

My eyes are wide as I watch him, quivering and quaking and yanking at his hair.

“He can’t have you…” I murmur.

Velle stops and stares at me. His brows zip together, and he honestly looks like he might fall to his knees. Or drop himself into that goddamn grave.

I step forward and press my fingertips to the raw red mark on his throat, feeling his swallow dip beneath my touch.

“Let’s just get out, then,” I say. “Fuck it all. He can’t… He just can’t do this.”

Velle is struggling, the mask slipping before my eyes. He bites his lip.

But then his eyes slam shut, and he shakes his head, stepping back. “No… It’s not just him. I… I want it, too. I deserve to be punished. It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s fucking not!” I hiss. “Stop lying to yourself, Velle!”

He lets out a roar and grabs the shovel off the ground. “I hate this fucking asshole!” He raises it and brings it down on the body on the ground, bashing it with the spade of the shovel.

He does it again, and again and again… Whacking the dead form over and over until he’s out of breath and panting, sniffling and wheezing.

“Okay.” I grasp his arm gently. “It’s okay. Just relax.” He shakes his head, but I squeeze him harder. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“No…” He drops the shovel with a thud. “I’m not getting you mixed up in this, too. You and Rook need to stay far out of it. I’ll handle him. I can handle him…”

“No. Velle—”

“It’s not up for discussion, Officer,” he growls at me. “Just go. Take care of our men. I’ll take care of him.”

I want to keep arguing, because I fucking hate what he’s saying. But I know it’s no use.

The Warden’s hold on him is tight. It’s been like this for as long as I’ve known Velle, and it’s only getting worse. As much as I’m dying watching this shit kill him, I need to be smart here.

I have no experience in separating someone from an abusive, manipulative relationship, but I know coming at it head-on probably isn’t the way.

I simply nod in uncertain agreement. But not without first wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing him hard. He sighs, a long breath that it seems like he’s been holding onto for a lifetime. And he rests his chin on top of my head.

“I love you, Joy,” he whispers.

My heart fractures in two. “I love you, too, John. You know where to find us.”

He trembles a little. I can feel it, him needing it, not only me but Rook.

I wish he was here right now.

We stand like this for a while, until I finally untangle myself from him, leaving him to bury Kieran O’Malley with the others.

The lockdown is in full effect.

And everyone’s on edge.

It’s been three days since we found out that Dash escaped. And in that time, none of us have seen the Warden.

I know it’s only a matter of time before he pops up, and honestly, I’m not looking forward to that. The only thing that sullies this little reprieve is that Velle has also been M.I.A.

I haven’t seen him since that night in the woods. Rook and I have been running things as best we can, but we’re strained. We all are, but the two of us in particular.

I can’t stop thinking about how torn up Velle was that night. It’s been haunting me.

The mark around his neck…

Part of me wants to get up right now and storm over to the other side of this goddamn mansion and locate him. I know he’s over there, and I just want to go save him. Let him know he doesn’t need to do this.

He thinks the Warden needs him, and I’m sure he does, but only in the way someone needs a loyal henchman. A body to do the heavy lifting, to bloody their hands so he can keep his ivory white.

It makes me sick.

The TV is on in Rook’s room, old episodes of Law & Order SVU playing at low volume. He’s staring at the screen, sitting on the edge of his bed with his knee bouncing. And I’m parked behind him, rubbing his shoulders. I wish it was working to destress him, but he’s tense and bunched up all over.

As horrible as this whole situation is for everyone, I feel just awful for Rook. He’s only been here a few months, and I can tell he’s detrimentally in love with Velle. The first man he’s ever had feelings for swept him up, the way Velle does. And now he has to sit on his hands and wait. For someone like Rook, I think that’s really hard to do. He’s an action guy. A cop in every sense.

He doesn’t enjoy knowing something bad is happening and being unable to intervene.

“Stabler’s hot, huh?” Rook mutters out of nowhere.

I can’t help the smile that takes over my lips. This dude just makes everything okay.

I chuckle and drop my forehead onto his shoulder blade. “Daddy Stabler is life, boo. You’re just now realizing that?”

Rook vibrates a little with a subtle laugh. The kind you do when you have no business laughing. “I think I noticed it before, but I wouldn’t let myself accept it.”

“Thirty is a good age to come out.” I wrap my arms around him from behind and give him a supportive squeeze.

He releases a long breath and holds my arms on his abs.

The sound of his bedroom door opening has us both instantly on alert. It’s actually crazy how fast my heart jumps into my throat. As fast as Rook leaps to his feet.

The large form stammers slowly into the room, ocean eyes locking on us immediately. The relief on his face is visible right away, like he just made an epic journey to get back to us. And he’s finally home.

“Thank God,” Rook breathes, stomping up to Velle and grabbing him in his big arms.

Velle appears momentarily surprised at Rook’s affection, as if he hadn’t expected to be welcomed in such a way. It pains my heart.

Velle’s face tucks into the crook of Rook’s neck, arms circling his waist. And I just watch them, standing there swaying together. It’s heartwarming to see; soothing, as if I’m in the middle of it myself. I love them together. As opposite as they are in facets of appearance, they just fit.

My chest is swelling, almost uncomfortably. I’m not supposed to want this… These feelings. They’ll bring nothing but trouble. Yet I can’t seem to help it. My boys…

Velle pulls himself abruptly out of Rook’s hold. “I need… a shower.”

He definitely looks like he’s been through the ringer; hair all tousled everywhere, that red mark on his neck even worse now, visibly bruising. Eyes circled dark, his uniform shirt hanging open with nothing underneath.

Even like this, though, he’s fucking gorgeous. Almost unreasonably so.

Rook nods. “Okay. Of course.” Then his eyes take in the state of Velle’s throat and they harden, with more resentment than I’ve ever seen on him before.

It’s kind of scary to witness his wrathful side. Rook is like the nice guy you don’t expect to have a murderous glint in his gaze, and when you see it, it rushes a chill of fear up your spine. Flipping that switch could cause mass destruction.

Rook doesn’t have to say anything. Velle knows what he’s thinking.

He takes Rook’s wrist in his hand and holds it. “Just don’t say anything… about any of it. Please.” His eyes are round and pleading. “I just want to forget.”

The protest is evident on Rook’s face, but he lets it go and blinks hard. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He brings Velle to his en suite, turning over his shoulder to me. “You coming?”

I nod and slide off the bed, following them. Inside the bathroom, they’re both already undressing. I hop up onto the counter, and Rook raises a brow at me. “I already showered. I’m just here to watch.” I give them a smirk and they both grin.

This feels right. Velle’s back… He’s here, where he belongs. Even if it won’t last, for right now, we have him.

Rook turns the shower on and they both step inside, crowding each other with the lack of space. It’s not a small shower stall, but they’re both sizable men. That and they clearly have no desire to put distance between themselves.

Velle moves beneath the spray of water and Rook lathers up body wash with his hands, running them gently over Velle’s chest. My insides clench at the sight, suds gliding over all the divots in his muscles, darkened with ink. I can hear Velle breathing as Rook washes him, taking care of his every inch. Velle’s eyes droop when Rook reaches between his legs, stroking him in his fist, massaging his balls until Velle whimpers.

Running fingers through his wet hair, he watches Rook closely as he kneels to wash his legs and even his feet. Velle’s erection is visibly stiff, leading up high. Rook’s dick is hard too, of course, but Velle’s is engorged, stretched tight, like he’s in desperate need of some sweet release.

I think I have a great idea for us to make that happen.

Rook stands back up, eyes growing serious as he brushes his fingers over the bruising on Velle’s neck. Velle lets out a sturdy breath, their eyes connected.

“Turn around, baby,” Rook rumbles.

Velle hesitates, Adam’s apple sliding in his throat. Rook gives him a bemused look. “Please remember what I asked… Don’t say anything, okay?”

Rook’s eyes widen with visible apprehension, though he nods in agreement.

Velle turns around. And Rook’s jaw clenches as my fists do the same.

I hadn’t noticed them before… The marks.

Velle’s back and his ass are all torn up with red slashes. The tattoos disguise the ones on his back enough, but on his ass cheeks, they’re unmistakable. It looks painful as fuck.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper as Rook gusts a ragged breath, his hand smacking hard against the wall of the shower. Velle jumps.

Still, Rook manages to keep himself intact and keep his word not to say anything, though his hatred is palpable; the impotence of not being able to protect his man. He squirts more body wash into his hands, rubbing them together before sliding them tenderly across Velle’s back. His touch is undoubtedly cherishing, as if he’s trying to put Velle’s broken pieces back together, and I just hope it works. It has to…

This is all we have.

Rook goes on, washing down Velle’s lower back, then onto his butt. Velle shudders, maybe from the pain, or maybe not. Falling to his knees once more, Rook slips his fingers between the crack of Velle’s ass, and this time I can practically feel him trembling. My pussy pulses with need as I watch them, my lifelong fantasy come to life.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to watch two huge, delicious men together. I’ve done it a lot over the years, but with these two, it feels different. I’ve never needed to be involved before.

I can watch, and step in to play every now and again, but I’ve never found myself craving a part in it… Until them.

It still doesn’t make much sense to me, and I choose to push away my yearning and just revel in the sight of them together.

Rook’s fingers cup Velle’s perfect ass, his thumb sliding over the four-leaf clover tattoo. He peeks at me through the glass of the shower stall and smirks. “Lucky?”

Grinning, I jump down from the counter. I slip out of my panties and turn my butt in his direction, showing him my cherry tattoo.

Velle glances over his shoulder. “We got them together. When was it? Like, eleven years ago at this point?”

Nodding slowly, I can’t help but tug my lower lip with my teeth as Velle and I stare at one another. There’s so much history between us. It was never that we ended things because we didn’t care about each other. In fact, it’s the opposite. We cared too much to risk it.

But now that I think of it, maybe the problem was that we were trying to be Bonnie and Clyde, when really, we needed to be Bonnie, Clyde, and their cowboy friend, Harley.

Rook gives us a soft chuckle, standing up and pressing his chest into Velle’s back. His lips graze to Velle’s neck and he whispers something I can’t hear. Velle’s eyes close as he takes Rook’s hand in his, holding it over his chest while his head drops forward. And they just stand in the water together, letting their stuff flow between them.

It’s such an imperfectly perfect moment, tightening my lungs like a massive drag of smoke. I think they’re in love with each other.

It’s good. I need to know that no matter what, they have one another. I need to know that Rook will always fight for Velle. Regardless of my place in this, I want them together. That won’t change.

They need each other.

I remove my shirt and toss it, leaving the en suite. Leaving them to have their time.

I want to set up some fun things for us to play with. Tonight, we need to disappear into this lust we possess for one another. We all need to forget.

In Rook’s bedroom, I go for his mini fridge. We had ice cream sundaes the other night, and I stashed the leftovers in my overly ambitious hopes that we’d have an opportunity to use them together.

I’ve got an array of toppings available, placing them all on the table by the bed. Then I go to the nightstand for lube and a couple of my sleep masks I brought over. Yes. This will do just fine. Removing the blankets from the bed, I put down a spare sheet, since this is definitely going to get messy.

I’m giddy with excitement as the boys step out of the bathroom, all smiles while they towel off.

I’m so glad to see Velle smiling. Honestly, I almost forgot what it looked like. It’s too beautiful a sight to be buried beneath his despair.

“Here, baby.” Rook tosses his towel as he goes to the nightstand. “Let me take care of you.”

He comes back with some cream, using it to tend to Velle’s marks. Velle grows serious as Rook applies the ointment to his back and ass first, finishing with a little on his throat.

“You’re too sweet for real life,” Velle murmurs in an astonished bewilderment as Rook presses a kiss to his lips.

“Speaking of sweet,” I rasp. Then I nod at the bed. “Who’s in the mood for dessert?”

They both gape at me. Velle’s tongue slides over his lower lip.

“I’m digging the outfit, Cherry,” he rumbles, mouth quirking as his eyes dance over my nakedness.

“Mmhmm…” Rook adds, his fingertips brushing Velle’s erection as he gapes at me like I’m the meal.

Probably… But not just yet.

“I had something else to wear, but I didn’t want to get it all sticky,” I tell them.

They both growl in unison and it makes me all types of gushy.

“Where do you want us, Joyful?” Rook asks.

“Lie down on the bed, please,” I instruct.

They practically run to obey my orders, and I have to chuckle. Lying down, propping on their elbows to watch me, they nestle up to each other, unable to stop touching for even one second, which I love all too much.

I go for the masks first, tossing one at each of them.

“This is already super hot,” Velle mumbles, slipping his on immediately.

Rook follows his lead and I check them to make sure they’re not peeking. I have to take a moment to admire how sexy they look. Two massive, muscled, naked men, blindfolded and ready for playtime. I’m vibrating in anticipation.

Picking up a can of whipped cream, I shake it, squirting some into my mouth. The sound is obviously a recognizable one. Velle’s head drops back on the bed as he lets out a strong breath, and Rook grins, sucking his bottom lip.

Climbing onto the bed by their feet, I lean forward and cover Velle’s nipples with whipped cream. He grunts, to which I chuckle. Then I use it to draw an arrow down his abs, pointing to his erection. Next, I go for the chocolate syrup, drizzling it all over his dick.

“Jesus… what the fuck,” he gasps through a laugh.

“Don’t move, snack,” I rumble at him, unable to contain myself. “Okay, Rook. Your dessert is right next to you. Give him a taste and see if you can find all the sweetness.”

“With pleasure,” Rook rolls over.

He clearly can’t see anything, and he reaches out like he’s going to feel around. But I give him a quick smack on the ass, and he flinches.

“No hands. Mouths only,” I insist.

“Fuck me…” he whispers.

Lowering his lips to where Velle is lying still, only his wide chest rising and falling with eager breaths, he finds Velle’s shoulder first, kissing down until he figures out where he wants to go. He reaches Velle’s left nipple, humming as he laps at the whipped cream, sucking hard. Then he moves over to the right, licking up the cream as Velle’s toes curl.

“That feels so good,” Velle arches up to Rook’s mouth as it moves lower.

His lips are covered in whipped cream as he eats down Velle’s hard body. I chomp on my lip, my pussy already throbbing at how goddamn good this looks.

Rook reaches Velle’s cock and curls his tongue around the head, tasting the chocolate and visibly falling apart. “Fucking delicious.”

He keeps going, sucking up every last dribble of chocolate on Velle’s stiff erection, thrusting his hips into the bed for some friction. I find myself mimicking his movements, needing relief between my thighs. But that will come later.

After all, I love the burn of watching; the build in my belly that comes from not touching myself. It’s like a high. I can’t get enough.

Rook’s mouth moves below Velle’s waist, onto his dick, his nuts, his inner thighs, sucking and licking like a madman. It’s intoxicating to witness.

Velle is squirming as Rook takes his cock between his pouty lips, sliding up and down on Velle’s inches, looking like a damn dream while he throats a big cock. It’s amazing to me that he was straight his whole life, because now he seems to really excel at sucking dick. Well, Velle’s dick. He worships the thing, teasing Velle’s piercing over and over until I can see Velle crumbling.

“Two more seconds…” he breathes, head tipped back, “And you’ll get a mouthful of a different dessert.”

“Mmm…” Rook slides back up to pop off. “I’m counting on it, Officer.”

As much as I’m dying to watch Rook drink Velle’s cum right now, I stop him. “Not just yet. It’s Velle’s turn to taste.” I reach over and grab the last ingredient. “And I’ve got something special that I know he loves.”

“Ooh, I’m intrigued,” Velle grins lazily.

Rook reluctantly moves off of Velle and lies down as I crawl over to him with the jar of maraschino cherries. I remove one and stick it between my lips, leaning over Rook and pressing it up to his mouth.

We kiss as I transfer the sweet cherry to his mouth. He takes it, and my tongue to taste.

He growls on my lips. “Oh, fuck… Yes. That’s so so good, sweet stuff.”

I smirk on his before pulling back.

“What is it??” Velle whines. “I’m curious as hell.”

We both giggle in excitement while I move back and tap Rook on the thigh. “Roll over, onto all fours.”

“Fuck…” he and Velle pant at the same time. I’m tingling everywhere.

Rook gets onto his hands and knees, sticking his ass in my face. I bite my lip to cover my grin, pouring some of the sweet red juice on his lower back.

“Guh…” he grunts and I laugh, watching as the sauce leaks into his crack, running down onto his balls and dribbling all over the bed.

“You’re making a mess,” I whisper, hoarse as fuck in my arousal. “I need you to clench on this.”

“What the fuck are you two doing??” Velle writhes.

“Patience, Lucky.” I take a cherry out of the jar and stick it between the cheeks of Rook’s ass. “Hold on to it.”

“This is insane…” Rook gasps. But he does as I say, making sure the cherry stays in place.

“Okay, you’re up.” I move back and make room for Velle to roll over. “That’s one tasty Cookie. Enjoy him.”

“I’m gonna come everywhere…” Rook pants as Velle moves his mouth closer, trying to figure out where to start with no hands and no vision.

He gets Rook’s side first, trailing his lips up to Rook’s back as he gets behind him. His mouth is all over the place, but not quite at the sweets just yet, kissing and licking Rook’s flesh everywhere, pushing his hips to rub his erection on Rook’s leg.

“Where oh where…” Velle’s deep voice croons as he moves down, “Is my taste of the good stuff…?”

Finally, he reaches Rook’s lower back, tongue grazing some of the red syrup. His grin turns thermonuclear, and he releases a breathy laugh.

“Mmm… cherry is my favorite,” he rasps, and I squeal. He laughs again, leisurely licking at the top of Rook’s dynamite booty, moving into his crack. But he can’t quite get there… “Rook, why are you clenching? Open up and let me in.”

“I… can’t…” Rook says on a shaky breath. “I’m holding onto something.”

I snort and Velle giggles, dropping his head onto Rook’s ass cheek for a second. I love hearing him laugh like this… I knew this was a perfect idea.

“Cherry, you’re a twisted little monster, aren’t you?” He hums and I nod, though he can’t see me. I can tell he’s thinking for a second, before he says, “Alright, I have an idea.”

Velle moves himself lower, wedging his face between Rook’s legs a bit. He licks up the cherry syrup from Rook’s balls and Rook’s face drops further into the bed as he purrs.

“I can’t hold it much longer…” he whimpers. “I want your fucking tongue in me, baby.”

“Okay, okay. I got you. Relax now.” Velle parts his lips as Rook lets go, and the cherry falls directly into Velle’s mouth.

He bursts into a laugh while chewing. I cover my mouth with my hands, straight up dying.

“That was ridiculous,” Rook groans, purposely hiding his face from us.

“Ridiculously hot,” Velle growls, then grasps Rook’s butt in both his hands, spreading him open. “Give me that ass.”

I whimper as he goes in, feathering over Rook’s rim, using the barbell in his tongue to tease the fuck out of him while Rook puckers. I can’t see it, but I just know it’s happening. Been there, done that.

“Unnnghh… fucking yes.” Rook grips the sheet in his fists. “Eat me, baby. God, I’ve been dying to feel your tongue ring in there.”

Velle doesn’t respond with anything more than muffled groans, buried in Rook’s ass as he eats and eats. The sounds are so fucking salacious I can barely process it. I know I said I wasn’t going to touch myself yet, but I can’t even stop.

“Fuck. Yes.” I gape with wide eyes as Velle licks up every drop of cherry flavor from Rook’s ass, kissing and sucking at his taint, then his balls.

“I… I’m gonna come soon.” Rook rests his cheek on the bed, throat dipping. “God, I can’t believe you could make me come from eating my ass out.”

“I can,” I retort.

“Hold that thought.” Velle grins, then yanks Rook’s hips back, lying down and pulling Rook on top of him. “Ride my face.”

Rook’s movements are jittery as he tries to steady himself, holding Velle’s thighs while he positions his ass over Velle’s face. That blush on his perfectly creamy complexion is to die for, biting his lip to keep his cries in while Velle holds his ass open and devours him from below.

It’s the literal hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my twenty-nine years of life.

Rook’s cock is bobbing, beading precum from the tip while he chases his orgasm, grinding onto Velle’s mouth. Velle has his tongue buried in Rook’s asshole as I crawl closer to get a better look.

“I’m dying,” I whimper, my pussy aching in the delicious torment of this.

“I’m… gonna… come.” Rook digs his finger into Velle’s muscular thighs.

Hastily, I move around to his front, straddling Velle’s legs. And I fist Rook’s cock, jerking him until he bursts.

“Fuck me… Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” he gasps on repeat as streams of his cum shoot all over my tits and my stomach.

I can’t even keep my breaths in. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room for the three of us.

Rook is whimpering through his high, reaching between us for Velle’s erection. He curls his fingers around it and starts stroking. “I need to make you come, baby.” Delirious, he leans down and takes Velle in his mouth.

“Oh, God…” the rich voice purrs into Rook’s ass.

Reaching for the lube, I quickly squirt some onto my shaky fingers, wasting no time slipping them between Velle’s cheeks. He spreads his legs right away, as much as he can, though we’re both sitting on him. And I shove two inside.

No warming up. No coddling him.

My fingers push into his body, tightness gripping me while Rook bobs on his cock.

“Fuck… yessss…” Velle hisses.

Right as he comes, Rook pops off and milks his dick in my direction, spraying my tits with even more cum.

“Fuck that’s good. Oh, Jesus, yes.” Velle grips Rook everywhere his hands can reach while his dick decorates me with cum.

It takes a few minutes for them to recover, all of our breathing out of control as Rook climbs off Velle, unsteadily, toppling over onto his side. Velle sits up, blindfold still intact, lips shivering.

I tug my fingers out of his ass and he yelps.

“I’m gonna eat you alive for that, Cherry-bomb,” he growls at me.

Rook sits back up and nods.

To which I murmur, “Come and get me.”

Velle whips off his mask, then reaches over and removes Rook’s, too. Their eyes adjust, and when they see my tits dripping with cum, they share a hungry look, both of them prowling toward me as I lie back. And almost instantly, they’re crawling over me, mouths going for my tits like magnets.

Rook on my left, Velle on my right, they lick up all their mixed up cum from my breasts, sucking my nipples between their lips. I can’t help the cries coming from me, hips lifting to seek any sort of friction I can get. I’m desperate, needy, and wound the fuck up.

Velle gives me his thigh to ride while he and Rook finish eating their cum, lips moving in to kiss each other dizzy.

“Three is dangerous,” Velle hums.

“So dangerous,” Rook agrees, grabbing the can of whipped cream.

He sprays some onto the slit of my pussy, where Velle licks it up. Then he clutches Rook’s jaw and kisses him so he can taste. I’m falling apart.

Next is the chocolate… on my pussy. Velle licks it and gives Rook his mouth to taste once more.

Lastly, the cherries. I’m quaking to my core as Velle carefully removes two cherries, biting each in half so he can stick them to my pebbled nipples. He grins, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

“Hello, Daddy… hello, Mom…” he croons through a smirk.

They each eat a cherry off my nipples.

“Fuck me…” I squeal.

“That’ll come soon.” Rook’s eyes sparkle. “Right now, the final course is served.”

They spread my legs wide enough to fit, both of them lapping at my pussy together. Velle pours a careful dribble of cherry syrup while they lick and suck, sticky red stuff all the fuck over the place.

But I can’t be concerned with any of that. I’m about to…

“Come!” I squeal, my insides exploding like a damn nuclear blast.

My thighs try to close on them, but they keep me wide open, lashing at my clit over and over as I ride out the orgasm, my pussy creaming into their sweet, hot mouths.

“Fucking God dammit… she tastes so good,” Rook growls.

“I’ve got a Cookie and a Cherry cupcake,” Velle sneers wickedly. “How Lucky am I?”

Rook and I giggle breathlessly.

“You’re such a dork.” I bite my lip.

“You love it.” Then he comes up to my mouth, catching my face to kiss me hard.

Fireworks are popping off inside me. Kissing Velle is an experience… one I hadn’t even realized how badly I’d been missing until I got it back.

When we pull apart, we’re all heaving, chests pumping, the smell of sex and candy taking over the room. It’s heady as fuck, and I’m already aching for more. Clearly, the guys are ready too, their erections filling more and more before my eyes.

“I don’t even care who fucks who right now, but I need it.” Velle rests his head on my chest.

“I’ve never felt that sweet pussy on my dick…” Rook mumbles. “I’m kind of dying for it.”

Velle gives him a confused look, brows zipping. “You haven’t?” His face lifts, eyes bouncing between the two of us.

We both shake our heads. And Rook says, “We were waiting for you.”

Velle simply blinks. His iridescent blue gaze grows serious for a moment, as if he doesn’t even know how to process this information. He must have expected Rook and me to be fucking this whole time. But no. We’ve hooked up casually, but he hasn’t fucked me.

It always felt like something we needed Velle present for.

Velle grabs Rook’s face and hauls him in for a treasuring kiss, their lips moving together sensually, little gasps and moans leaving them as they do. I’m sitting up as Velle’s hand comes for my jaw, holding me in place while they separate, and we all three kiss together.

I embrace the sensation of both of them at the same time, letting it wash over me. Our lips touching, we fervently seek a closeness that’s difficult to reach. But the frustration feels like part of it. The chase just as satisfying as the capture.

“I have an idea…” Rook’s tone is devious as he breathes over our mouths.

He has Velle and I lie side by side, close enough that it’s like we’re cuddling. Then he grips my calf, lifting my leg to position himself in between. His crown pushes in first and he keeps sliding, inches sinking into my pussy, slowly, until I feel every groove of him.

I can’t help how my eyes roll back in my skull because… holy fuck. He feels incredible.

Velle licks all over my tits while Rook fucks me deep, through leisurely, immaculate thrusts. He’s long and thick as fuck, reaching deep and stretching so good. Velle’s thumb slides over my clit, rubbing in circles before his fingers graze curiously down to where Rook’s cock is moving in me.

“You look so good taking his dick, Cherry.” He touches where my lips are parted, and Rook’s shaft, slick with my arousal. Then he grabs my face, kissing me until my brain turns to mush.

Rook pumps into me faster, deeper, groaning out words and sounds that echo together. My next orgasm is fast approaching, and between Velle’s lips on mine, his fingers between my thighs, his chest on my chest, and Rook’s dick diving deep… I erupt once more.

I come on Rook’s cock hard, my walls gripping him to death while he rides me out. And as soon as I’m thoroughly sated, he pulls out gently, dropping a kiss to my mouth.

“Your turn, baby,” he mumbles to Velle, moving just enough to press his shiny solid length up to Velle’s hole. “Natural lube is the best.”

“Godddd yes it is,” Velle groans out loud as Rook sinks deep into his ass.

My head spins while I watch them, fucking out all their chemistry, the lust between them… The love they’ll probably never admit to. At least Velle won’t…

I hope he does, though. Because they really look gorgeous together. Perfect.

The way their eyes lock, holding onto one another for dear life as Rook strokes in Velle’s body.

Rook grabs my hand and wraps it around Velle’s dick, helping me jerk him while he fucks and fucks and fucks… the bed creaking, headboard smashing into the wall until they both crack.

Rook’s head dips back, stomach tightening as he pours himself deep into his man’s ass, Velle’s cock almost instantly shooting out more cum, all over himself and me.

By the time we’re done, we’re a big old mess.

But it’s perfect. We’re perfect, just like this.

Our messiness is us. I wouldn’t trade it for any of the clean things in the world.

“Psst. Hey… Harley.”

The voice is calling me from inside the showers, and I’m trying my hardest to ignore it.

Aside from being deep in my thoughts at the moment, I’m paranoid. Every move we make is being scrutinized right now, and the person trying to talk to me is a bit of a stain on my record here at Alabaster Pen.

“Officer Samuels… I know you can hear me,” he keeps nagging. “Fine. If you don’t answer me, I’ll be forced to describe your dick in great detail to any passersby.”

I roll my eyes and spin around, coming face to face with Ren. His dark hair is wet from the shower, sky-blue eyes shimmering, and a cocky curve to his lips.

I glance left and right to make sure no one’s paying attention. “What? What the fuck do you want??”

“Sheesh… someone needs to get laid.” Ren leans up against the wall.

Not true. Got plenty of that. Unfortunately, it’s not helping my situation at all, short of relieving some stress while simultaneously presenting me with more issues.

I fold my arms over my chest, raising my brows in a way that lets him know I’m not in the mood for his nonsense.

He simply hums and straightens up. “Alright, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I just want to know what’s going on… Is it true Dash killed O’Malley, then escaped??”

I tense. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Around.” He shrugs, his smirk growing. “So it’s true?”

“No,” I bark quietly. “Stop spreading rumors. Just keep your head down and do as you’re told, inmate.”

“I’m not spreading the rumors. I’m just repeating what I heard.” His eyes dart right as Luthor and Kang approach us.

Great… More of them.

“Dash wouldn’t kill O’Malley,” Luthor cuts in. “It was definitely Darcey.”

Ren scoffs, “How would he manage that?”

“How would Dash manage it?” Luthor snaps.

“I mean… he managed to escape somehow,” Ren mutters. Then they all look to me. “He did escape, didn’t he?”

All of their eyes are gaping at me, like those little hobo kid dolls, wide and curious. Desperate for information about their friend. I can’t rebuff the need to let them know he isn’t dead… Because those would be the two alternatives.

If Dash isn’t here, he’s either dead or elsewhere.

“Dash is…” I mumble, then clear my throat. “He’s no longer in the East wing. That’s all I can say.”

“Rook… please.” Luthor inches closer, keeping his voice down. “You’re a good guy, I can tell. You’re not like Velle…”

My gaze narrows at him, jaw ticking. “And what’s Velle like, inmate?”

His face shifts as he realizes that talking shit about Velle to me is the wrong move.

“He’s an asshole,” Ren intervenes. “Regardless of how you feel about him, Harley, you have to admit… He’s the Warden’s puppy. A rabid one, at that.”

I hate the way those words make my stomach flop. Because there’s truth behind them, and I don’t want there to be.

“Just tell me Dash isn’t dead,” Luthor sighs, rather unsteadily. “Please… If he’s dead, we deserve to know.”

“He’s not dead,” I hiss. “Okay?? And if he is, it didn’t happen here. As far as I know, he’s alive. He’s just not here.”

The three of them share looks, part nervous, part beyond baffled. I can tell they’re reading between the lines of what I’m saying, astonished by it, and I don’t blame them. It’s crazy to think that Dash actually escaped from this place…

It’s never been done before.

Kang shakes his head. “That’s fuckin wild.”

“I can’t believe he really did it…” Luthor whispers.

My teeth grind as I glare at him. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, I don’t know shit. I have no idea how he pulled it off.”

“Right.” I rub my eyes.

“Don’t say another word, Lex,” Ren insists. “Plausible deniability. I learned that in Law School.”

Luthor and Kang huff out loud, to which I give Ren a skeptical look. The one reserved for when we all know he’s lying. He just smiles.

“I can’t believe O’Malley’s dead…” Kang’s chin drops in sorrow.

They were cellmates before O’Malley was shipped to the East. Now I feel sort of bad. Ren places a hand on Kang’s shoulder and squeezes.

“I’m sorry, Byron,” he offers some sympathy. I can’t tell if it’s sincere or not. “He wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve that.”

“Look, you guys need to shut this shit down,” I tell them, seriously. “I don’t know what the Warden’s doing about all this, but I can guarantee you he won’t be letting it go. Shit’s about to get real uncomfortable from now on.”

“How can things get worse than they are?” Luthor runs a hand over his scalp.

At that moment, Joy stomps up to us. “Things can always get worse, inmate.” Then she turns to me. “Let’s get them back. Debriefing in ten minutes.”

I blink at her. “You spoke to him?”

“He just called,” she tells me. The solemnity encasing her tone twists my gut. “He’s coming down… With the Warden.”

My throat just turned into a desert.

Once again, it’s been a couple of days since we’ve seen Velle. After that wild, crazy, sticky night, he slept with Joy and me in what I’m now referring to as our bed, because I think we all belong in there, together.

But come morning, he was gone. He left even before Joy woke up, which is unheard of. I don’t know if I’m just a gullible moron for always hoping he’ll stay, setting myself up for a constant gut-stabbing disappointment. But I suppose if it was like this before the whole Dash escaping and O’Malley being slaughtered fiasco, then there’s no reason to think things would change now.

I’m still holding out hope, though. I refuse to give up.

Because after what we shared the other night, I think I can safely say I’m in love with both of them. I dare not speak a word of it, since they’re skittish as hell. But it’s undeniable.

That night was more than just the filthiest, most intense and mind-blowing sex of my life. It reaffirmed what I’d been feeling for quite some time, spreading inside me like the vines that climb up the outside of the mansion…

We need each other. They need me, and I definitely need them.

Joy and I, along with a few others, herd the inmates back to their cells, then we all make our way to the large empty room we usually use for the intake meetings. We line up as we’re instructed to for debriefs with the Warden, backs straight, faces stone-still.

I watch as everyone files in. The control room guards, from gen-pop and the East. The doctors. The gang’s all here, but it’s not lost on any of us that Dr. Love is absent.

When the door across the room opens, my heart jumps. In walks Velle, followed by Dr. Love, and finally everyone’s favorite sadistic monster… The Ivory.

Velle doesn’t make eye contact. He just steps into the center of the room and posts up, Dr. Love wandering off to the side, as if he’s here strictly to observe. It’s weird, but I can’t focus on that.

My attention is on Velle, noticing the strain in his jaw. Stubble overgrown, eyes tired, and yet he’s still so fucking beautiful my fingers tremor. I want to rush up to him. Touch his surly, exhausted face, brush that lock of hair behind his ear and kiss his neck the way that always makes him quiver.

My heart aches, sitting weighted in my chest at the sight of those bruises on his throat, yellowing a bit, yet still visible. The memory of the marks on his back flashes in my mind, and my toes dig into the soles of my boots as I force myself to stand still, keeping me glued in place so I don’t run.

The Warden steps in front of them, facing us all with his usually bored demeanor radiating some quiet fury. It’s discernible in the room, an expanding rage just beneath his surface.

I’ve experienced it before… It didn’t turn out well the last time.

Gulping, I push away the sounds in my head… The smell of blood and gunpowder. I blink hard, attempting to thwart my own wrath as I watch the form of pure evil standing before us.

The silence in the room seems to last an eternity, though it’s only maybe a minute, with the Warden standing there, staring at all of us, the black in his eyes deep, bottomless; two adjacent pits of doom.

Finally, he sucks in a breath. “You’ve all been made aware of the unfortunate incidents we suffered here last week. Some more unfortunate than others. The death of Kieran O’Malley was tragic, yes. But I suppose in some way it was inevitable.”

My brows push together.

“The real tragedy is that some of you seem to have forgotten what exactly it is we do here.” He begins walking, slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “Your job, all of you, collectively, is to keep these dangerous criminals locked behind bars at all costs. Let me say that again.” He stops and faces us. “To ensure that each and every one of the low-life degenerates we house remains within these walls… No. Matter. What.”

His voice hardens as his words go on, the lines of his face becoming much more severe. “But you haven’t done that, now have you?”

I glance behind him at Velle, who’s still standing rigid, dead eyes aimed ahead, locked on nothing. Or maybe something none of us can see.

I chew on the inside of my cheek.

The Warden steps up to Peters. “Officer, have you done your job properly?”

Peters is quiet for a moment, his gaze straight ahead as he struggles to find the right answer to what is obviously a trick question.

The Warden, growing impatient, reaches forward and grabs Peters’ Glock from his holster, cocking it and aiming it at his forehead.

My eyes go wide, watching this as best I can from my peripheral because I dare not move.

“Answer the question, Officer,” the Warden growls.

“Sir, no, sir,” Peters barks shakily, though his military training remains intact.

“That’s correct,” the Warden murmurs, a sick curve quirking his lips as he lowers the gun, stuffing it back into Peters’ holster. “You have absolutely not done your job properly. None of you have.”

He continues pacing in front of us, and I feel Peters’ silent sigh of relief.

“Dascha Reznikov, my newest animal, has escaped.” The Warden’s voice carries through the room. “He was a gift sent directly to me by Governor Russo himself. He was to be hidden here for the remainder of his pathetic existence, yet less than two months later… he’s gone. Tell me, how does something like that happen?”

He pauses in front of us and looks directly at Joy. My fist clenches and my nostrils flare, though Joy doesn’t react in the slightest. But I’m raging inside, pulse thrumming in my ears. If he pulls a gun on her, I swear to God, I’ll end his life.

“That one was rhetorical,” he whispers in front of her face. Then he straightens and barks, “I think many of you have forgotten, so let me remind you…”

Before any of us can process it, he pulls something from his pocket. I recognize it as a butterfly knife when he flips it open. And in the blink of an eye, he twists and flicks his wrist.

Everything is in slow motion.

I don’t even realize what’s happened until there’s blood spurting from the throat of Steve Islo, one of the control room guards from the East wing, who was standing right next to Joy.

Steve’s body falls forward, dropping to his knees. His hands clutch his throat as he gurgles and gasps, blood pouring from behind his fingers. He slumps to the floor, literally bleeding out two fucking feet from where I’m standing.

My eyes are bulging out of my skull, everyone around trying desperately not to react, knowing damn well if we do, we’ll be next.

“I see everything,” the Warden seethes, just loud enough that we can all hear him, though fully relaxed and unfettered, proving that he is, in fact, a true sociopath. “I know everything. I am the alpha, the fucking omega, and everything in between. Is that clear? Or does anyone else need a refresher?”

Everyone mutters different things, all of us stunned and shaking.

The Ivory roars, “Is that clear?!”

“Sir, yes, sir,” we respond in unison.

My hands are trembling. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins so thick I almost can’t see straight. When I look at Velle once more, I see his jaw working, eyes dropping briefly to the body on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood.

The Warden turns and waltzes away indifferently, shouting at us over his shoulder, “All monthly trips off island are suspended until further notice. This prison is on lockdown, meaning any and all imports of goods will go through me. Contraband of any kind is to be seized from inmates’ cells starting now.” He waves his hand as he approaches the door. “Clean that up and get back to work.”

Without a word or a glance, Velle and Dr. Love follow The Ivory out of the room, the door closing with a hard slam behind them.

I can’t even eat.

There’s some real good smelling lasagna available right now—my favorite—prepared by the chef, and yet I can’t even make myself dig a fork in for a bite.

I’m sick to my stomach.

After the Warden left, with my man and that creepy doctor in tow, the rest of us had to figure out what to do with the body of one of our coworkers. A situation no one seemed at all prepared for… except Joy.

She told us about a spot to bury Steve, where apparently there were plenty of others resting, making it a goddamn graveyard in the middle of this desolate island where we’re all trapped like rats.

We spent the rest of the afternoon moving a body and burying it, at which point we all found out about things we’d heard but never wanted to believe before that point…

Velle’s been disposing of bodies for the Warden for years now, in that exact location.

I don’t blame him. Not one bit. This shit is clearly so far out of Velle’s control, based on what I’ve seen on his body and his behaviors… And while I’m not privy to exactly why he’s here or what The Ivory has on him, I just know it’s something serious, and I know none of this is Velle’s fault.

Now the bunch of us are just sitting quietly in the kitchen, looking at the delicious food before us without one single shred of available appetite.

I didn’t know Steve well. We weren’t exactly buddies, but he was one of us.

The helplessness I’m feeling in this moment is unrivaled.

“Steve must have been involved in Dash’s escape,” Peters mumbles, still thoroughly shaken after his own close call today. “He was on duty…”

“Like it matters?” I hiss. There’s so much I want to say, but at this point, I can almost guarantee every room in this damn house is bugged in some fashion. “He didn’t deserve to die…”

“We should’ve done something to stop it,” Linetti says, fingers grating over his scalp. “At the very least, Velle should have. He was right up there! Standing behind the Warden like his fuckin bodyguard.”

“Enough!” Joy smacks her hand down on the table, the silverware clinking. “No one’s to blame here but that sicko.”

Linetti glares at her. “Go on, Joy. Keep defending your boy. But where the fuck has he been during all of this?? Right by that asshole’s side.”

Joy stands deliberately, stepping to Linetti. “You have no fucking clue, do you? How much he does for us all?”

Linetti isn’t backing down, and I refuse to let this escalate, so I intervene, “Calm down, both of you. Joy’s right. This isn’t Velle’s fault, and if anything, we should be trying to help him. We can’t turn on each other… not now.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you three are banging,” Linetti growls, eyes falling to the table. “We’re all screwed now, anyway… and he’s a part of it.”

I can’t do much more than shake my head and grab Joy before she lunges, pulling her away from the group.

“Let’s take a walk,” I grumble, bringing her around the corner to the library.

It’s dark down here, as usual, nothing but a small crackling fire in the fireplace to light up the room. I glance around the setting, wondering why no one ever comes in here. It’s actually a pretty cool room. Seems like it could be fun to relax on one of the big chairs, or on the couch, reading and sipping cocoa.

My mind flashes to a potential future, something that may never happen… An image of me sitting in here, nestled up to Velle’s side, Joy on the other, reading something we could all enjoy, like thrillers or true crime biographies. We’re twisted like that. Some playlist humming through the speakers with both classic rock music for me and emo from the early two-thousands for them.

Velle loves The Used and Taking Back Sunday…

It caves in my chest even thinking about it, knowing he’s on the other side of this damn mansion right now, being harassed and tortured for the sick entertainment of that scumbag.

Joy spins to face me and she looks done. Just over it, all of it. I understand the feeling.

“Those assholes don’t get it.” She shakes her head. “They think it’s so simple… black and white.”

“Nothing is black and white,” I mutter. Then I grab her shoulders, “Joy… you need to tell me… Now. I need to know what’s going on with Velle and the Warden.” I pause to swallow. “I need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

Joy chews on her lip, considering what to say for a moment, before she breathes out steadily. “Velle’s been hypnotized by Manuel Blanco since day one. Since the moment I set foot on this island with them. The Ivory sunk his claws into him deep and never let go… He witnessed Velle killing two men.”

My brows shoot up. I wasn’t expecting that.

“They’d raped his mother,” Joy goes on. “And Tammy is his whole world. So he did what he had to… The Ivory was just there at the right time. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

My hand scrubs over my face. “Even after all these years, though? I mean, how could he still be…” My voice trails. Because I physically hate the thought of Velle being attached to the Warden… in any way, especially the way I’m thinking.

Joy lets out a rough sigh. “Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?” She stares at me while I shake my head. “Me neither. And that means it’s impossible for us to understand.”

The organ in my chest is heavy as I nod. I get what she’s saying. I fucking loathe it, but I get it.

My fists squeeze at my sides. “I want to run over there and fucking kill that asshole. I want to go save him, Joy. It’s not fucking right… Velle’s not his. He’s ours.”

She paces for a moment, in thought. “He’s been threatening my family again… The Ivory.”

“What?” I grunt.

“Yea… I think he was pissed about me giving Dash stuff, so he’s been sending his goons to my uncle’s restaurant, disrupting shit.”

“He can’t keep getting away with this,” I whisper.

Joy angles to face me, eyes glowing in the dimly lit room. “Don’t you understand now, Rook?? No one would ever choose to be here… It’s not possible.”

My muscles constrict. The look she’s giving me is pretty obvious. She knows I’m lying… She’s known for a while, maybe even since the moment I set foot on this island.

It’s the truth. No one comes to Alabaster Isle by choice. You come here as a last resort. Or because The Ivory has you by the balls.

And if we have any hope of rescuing Velle from his clutches, it’ll have to start with me admitting it… The real reason I’m here.

How I got here:

It was a cold evening in February when I stumbled out of a taxi, head so clouded with the weirdest experience of my life that I completely missed the presence of a mysterious Audi parked in my driveway at our condo in Queens.

Taking the stairs of the stoop and pulling out my keys to unlock the door, I also didn’t notice it was already unlocked. My brain was too busy remembering the large tattooed man’s hand on my dick… Processing the discomfort of dried cum in my boxers.

I didn’t even assess the situation, which is supposed to be instinct to a cop like myself.

But once I got inside, once I heard the obvious sex noises coming from upstairs, my body kicked into detective mode. Like a reflex, I took the stairs quietly, all the while mentally preparing myself for some scarring images.

My wife getting plowed by another man. I was almost certain that was what I was hearing.

Yet I still could never have anticipated the scene in my bedroom. On the very bed I’d shared with Paula for years.

It wasn’t anything graphic. They were just fucking. Thinking back on it, it actually looked pretty mundane compared to what I’ve engaged in since then.

But despite how not at all jealous I was feeling of the man burying his dick in my wife’s pussy, an unexpected and overwhelming rage set in.

It could have been attributed to the breaking of vows I was witnessing, in our goddamn marital bed. Or possibly a pent-up frustration for my own undiscovered latent desires, which had been tested that night, for the first time in my life.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was a combination of all of it.

The fact that I’d married a woman I was only meh about in college, and stuck by her no matter how many times I’d thought her love wasn’t enough… wasn’t what I needed. The fact that I’d fled Fargo because I wanted more for my life, only to find myself in a rut of epic proportions with a woman who clearly didn’t give two fucks about my happiness. The fact that I’d molded myself into the spitting image of my father, and while that had never seemed like a bad thing up until that point, I was just then realizing, at thirty fucking years old, that I wanted something different.

Something spectacularly inconvenient, to possess me, to grab me by the throat. To tell me who I really was and where I was to fall, despite all the signs pointing elsewhere.

My wife was doing it, in that moment. She was taking charge and breaking free right in front of my face, and that, above all else, brought on an envy unlike anything I’d felt before.

I didn’t want to take New Client’s place in that bed with Paula. I wanted to be that for someone else… Someone with the potential to make me come in my pants with one touch.

I’ll admit it. I snapped.

By the time Paula and her little friend noticed me, it was too late. I grabbed the asshole who was fucking my wife by the scruff of his neck and tackled him to the floor, using one swift blow to the temple to render him unconscious. Police training.

Then I reached for my Beretta from underneath the mattress just as Paula was letting out a scream, covering her naked body frantically with our comforter.

Our eyes connected, and before she could lunge for her phone on the nightstand, I cocked my gun, aiming it right at her head.

“Mrs. Samuels…” I admonished her with a tsk, shaking my head. “Don’t even think about it.”

The sun rose and set before I even processed what was happening.

I remember the feeling of blinking my eyes and eighteen hours having passed without any true recollection of what had occurred during that time.

Downstairs in the kitchen, I’d made myself a sandwich for dinner, eating quietly and listening to the Eagles, while ignoring the muffled screams and clunking happening just above my head.

When I was done, I went back up there to see what the racket was. My wife and her lover, whom I was and always will be referring to as New Client, were groaning through the duct tape around their mouths, their wrists all bloodied from how much they’d been yanking at the handcuffs.

They were both attached to the bed, still naked, Paula on the right bedpost and New Client on the left. Tears and snot ran down Paula’s face into her duct tape, wetting it a bit and giving her some room to breathe, and scream. So I ripped it off fast, causing her to yelp in pain.

I could tell she was going to scream louder with it off, and right as she opened her mouth to try, I backhanded her.

Her head flung right as I did. And I used the opportunity with her mildly quiet, to stuff her own panties into her mouth before applying more duct tape.

“You realize I don’t want to be doing this, right?” I growled at her while she sniffled and sobbed behind the obstruction. “This is your fault. All you had to do was ask for a divorce. Instead, you spread your legs for this limp-dicked asshole for months. And here we are.”

My eyes flung to New Client, taking in his demeanor. For someone who was sitting in a puddle of his own piss, being held captive in his lover’s bedroom, he was surprisingly calm.

He had this overconfidence in his eyes that just rubbed me wrong.

I’d already spent enough time kicking the shit out of him the night before, so his left eye was swollen shut, blood caked between his nose and the duct tape around his mouth. But he still had the nerve to look bored and a bit put-off. It only served to jack up my mania.

I was running on no sleep. It was Sunday, so I hadn’t needed to call into work for Paula, but I’d done so for myself. I had no real end-game, and that was the only thing stressing me out.

I didn’t care that either of them was obviously uncomfortable. Their displeasure actually made me giddy on some strange, depraved level I’d never knew existed prior to this experience.

It was like vengeance had taken shape; it had become something tangible, something I wanted to take advantage of.

I wanted them both to understand why this was happening. That they couldn’t just do whatever they wanted in life with no consequences. It was moral anarchy, and that was something I couldn’t stand for. Above all else, everything I’d been following my entire adult life, this felt like the most important message.

Karma. What goes around fucking comes around.

Reaching into the back of my jeans, I grabbed my gun and aimed it at New Client’s face. “I should kill you right now. And not because I give a fuck about this woman.” I nodded to Paula. “She pissed all that away when she opened her mediocre pussy to some asshole with a Thug Life tattoo on his chest. I mean, who do you really think you are… Tupac?? No, I should fucking kill you… because I don’t like your face.”

New Client’s eyes narrowed at me.

“I think you look like so many of the entitled scumbags I’ve picked up over the years. The fucking pricks who do horrible, reprehensible things, then smirk in their mugshots, knowing full well they’ll hire some five-thousand-dollar an hour attorney to get them off scot free. And they’ll be back on the streets, slinging and ruining people’s lives in no time.”

I cocked my head as he blinked at me.

“I’m right, aren’t I? That’s exactly the type of man you are…”

Paula was still shivering across the bed, but that asshole just stared at me, giving me the godddamn look. That look I’d seen a hundred times from various assholes.

I was right. Regardless of how I felt about it, a cop’s intuition was just that, and I knew this asshole, even if I’d never met him a day before.

In that moment, I was honestly going to shoot him.

I’d already flung myself off the deep end, and there was no going back. And I knew murder was a stretch from kidnapping, but honestly, I barely cared. I was so fucking fed up. I was sick and tired of meeting the evil of the world and watching it slip through the cracks. I was even more tired of seeing decent people get fucked, and not in a fun way, by the legal system.

Mostly, though, I was sick of playing this game. Acting like I cared when really, I didn’t.

I wanted out, and maybe it makes me a sociopath too, but if so, I can accept it.

I’ll take my part in this, because lord knows I’m not innocent. I wanted to kill a man I didn’t even know because his fucking face pissed me off.

But just as I was tapping my index finger on the trigger, considering how much attention a gunshot would draw in my neighborhood at this time of night, the doorbell interrupted me.

It snapped me out of my little trance, and I blinked.

My head turned slowly toward the doorway of our bedroom and I stayed still for a moment, as if not moving would make the person leave. Unfortunately, no such luck. It rang again.

I rolled my eyes, tucking my gun back into the waist of my pants. “Hold that thought.”

Leaving the bedroom, I went downstairs to the door, peeking through the peephole. There was a man standing there, looking thoroughly out of place. He was in an obviously expensive three-piece suit, with pale skin and white hair, despite not looking old enough for it.

To be honest, I’ll still never understand what made me open the door for him. I think he just looked like a Wall Street broker whose car had broken down on his way back from some business dinner. Or maybe subconsciously, I was looking for a reason to stop what I was about to do.

Either way, as soon as I pulled my front door open, I knew I’d made a mistake.

Because suddenly it wasn’t just him anymore. Two large men stepped out from around the corners, and the white-haired man moved his coat aside to reveal a pistol.

“May we come in, Officer Samuels?” The man smirked.

They didn’t wait for me to respond before simply pushing their way inside, immediately patting me down, and taking my gun.

My heart was in my throat right away, cop instincts taking over and telling me I needed to play it smart. But smart wasn’t what I had been doing, so I was in a bad spot.

“What the fuck?” I growled, fighting them back. They pulled their guns on me immediately. “Who the fuck are you?”

The white-haired man looked around before setting some very dark eyes on me. “My name is Manuel Blanco. I think you have one of my men.”

My mind raced to process what he was saying, instantly deciphering that apparently New Client was connected. It only made me hate him more.

“Leave it to my wife to fuck someone in the damn mob.” I rubbed my eyes. “Look, if you’re gonna kill me, just do it down here. I don’t want to be anywhere near her when it happens.”

The man—Manuel Blanco—lifted a light eyebrow at me. “Where is he? Take me to him.”

Choosing not to say another word, I brought him and his guys upstairs to the bedroom. Once we were inside, New Client started making all kinds of sounds behind his duct tape, as did Paula. As if they thought the cavalcade had come to rescue them from sudden death.

But Manuel Blanco just stood there and stared, before peering at me. “You’re no regular cop, I see.”

I shrugged. Because what the fuck else was I supposed to?

“Alright, I’m going to deduce like Sherlock Holmes and say you caught my man, Henry, fucking your wife, yes?”

“I didn’t know that was his name, but yea,” I grumbled. “Pretty much.”

“And rather than just letting it go, or killing them immediately, you decided the best course of action was to hold them both captive for almost a full day…?” He looked at me skeptically, not because he didn’t believe it was true, but because it clearly wasn’t a well-thought-out plan.

I wasn’t about to ask him how he knew how long New Client had been in my house, or even how he’d tracked his location. Those things seemed easily answered.

For some reason, I felt more inclined to answer Manuel, since he’d yet to react angrily, or punish me for hijacking his employee.

“I don’t know…” I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair. I was so damn tired. “I came home and found him knee deep in my wife. It was annoying.”

Manuel gaped at me. Then he glanced at his man. Then back at me. “I can understand that. Unfortunately, Henry works for me. If you take one of my men out of commission without my knowledge, it hurts the operation. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Yea, but I didn’t know he was your man,” I told him.

“Fair point.” He nodded.

He began meandering around my bedroom, poking at things, while the rest of us just watched him. My muscles were stiff all over at the notion that I was likely dead. I didn’t know of Manuel Blanco… His name had never been brought up in my time with the NYPD. But I knew men like him existed and I knew, realistically, there was no possible way I, a cop, would survive this encounter.

And just as I was about to sit down and make myself comfortable for my execution, he muttered, “Officer Harley Samuels… Today is your lucky day.”

I couldn’t help the bemused expression on my face.

But he continued, “I operate an establishment, a prison off the South Fork, and I’m in need of some help. I think you would be a wonderful addition to our team.”

So many thoughts… so so many different things ran through my brain. And maybe because of how delirious I was, the first words to leave my mouth were, “What is this… some sort of Suicide Squad situation?”

He blinked at me. “If that helps you, then sure. But make no mistake, Officer, you won’t be rescuing anyone or saving anything. It’s a hole where scum goes to die.”

I was quiet for a moment, struggling to wrap my brain around what I was hearing. “And if I say no?”

His lips quirked. “That word isn’t part of your available vocabulary anymore, I’m afraid.”

Frozen, my lips parted, and I just stood there, staring. While I was silent, shocked at the turn of events, my wife and her fuckboy took the opportunity to speak up. But their mouths were still covered, so it was just a bunch of mumbles.

“What exactly are you saying?” I turned to the man with the white hair.

“I’m saying,” he started, then paused, glancing at the bed where the two naked idiots were shimmying around, attempting to shout beneath the tape like anyone could understand them.

Manuel Blanco pulled the pistol out of his waistband, aimed it at my wife’s head, and pulled the trigger.

The ringing in my ears distracted me as time stopped. I was dazed, in a traumatic, whirring fog, blinking many times at the bed, white sheets now splattered with red, blood and brain on the wall behind it.

I was in shock. For at least a minute.

But then reality snuck up to me, and I began shaking violently all over, my eyes unable to leave my wife, now cuffed to our bed and missing a chunk of her skull.

“I’m sorry…” Blanco murmured, “That was really distracting. As I was saying, I need a man, and you’re it. Right place, right time. You understand.”

My entire body was quaking everywhere. The world around me felt fake, like a slow motion reel of a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

Horror in my gaze, it stayed stuck on the dead body of my wife as my chest heaved, panic overtaking me.

But then I felt long fingers grasping my chin and pulling my face until I met his eyes.

“Harley… You’re mine now. If I were you, I’d get on board, and fast.”

My voice shook, “Mr. Blanco… You know I’m a cop.”

“Not anymore.” He smirked. “And you can call me The Ivory.”

“I hope you know how repulsive it is to touch your underwear,” I grunt. “And I mean that with the fullest sincerity.”

“Well, you don’t have to take them…” #59 mutters. “Come on, man. Just leave me these. Warden doesn’t need to know.”

I glare at him. “Just for that, I’m taking the cigarettes you have stashed in your ass, too.”

He gives me a look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t make me go fishing for them, inmate. Trust me, that won’t be fun for either of us.” He keeps staring at me. My hand moves to my Taser. “Come on, dumbass. I don’t have all day. Fork it over before I lose my patience and cut them out of you.”

He lets out a petulant whine, but abides, stuffing his hand into the back of his pants to start reaching. I can’t help how my gaze flies to the ceiling, a profound irritation resonating inside me. I don’t want to be doing this. It feels like a huge waste of time.

But then I remind myself that this is what he wants. And it needs to be done… or else.

More. More punishment, more humiliation I hate enjoying on some sick level, more tearing me away from the two people I actually want to spend time with.

So many repercussions I’m suffering, and it’s all because I dropped my guard. Because I allowed myself to get swept up in feelings.

I’m a damn moron for letting Harley in the way I did. I knew it would present a problem, yet at the time it just felt so motherloving good there was no way I could deny myself. And now I’m paying for it… dearly.

I mean, the dude even convinced me I needed to start back up with Joy again. Like the three of us need to be in some kind of Alabaster Isle polyamorous tricycle, as if there’s any way that could ever work. I feel monumentally stupid.

I don’t get to have nice things. We’ve already established that, and I was a fool for thinking otherwise for one shining moment.

My joy comes from fucking random people and being more shallow than a kiddie pool. Getting drunk and high and dominating everything around me. That’s what I’m good for.

Nothing else.

The only place I kneel is at his feet.

My stomach feels weird, chest tight as I tap my foot, waiting for the piece of shit to finish rummaging through his gaping asshole for all the contraband hidden in there. When he’s finally done, I open the trash bag, and he drops it all inside.

“Nice working with you,” I mumble, leaving his cell, slamming the door on my way out.

Next stop is Ren, and I know this one’s going to take some time. He’s been accumulating shit since the moment he arrived here, using his exceptionally honed skills in being a big ol’ slut to get everything his black heart could desire.

I’m gonna need a bigger bag.

“Checks!” I bark at him as I enter, even though the inmates are well aware of what I’m doing at this point, since I’ve been at it since the break of dawn.

They’re all pretty pissed off, which I suppose is the silver lining to this never-ending task.

“Oh good, I was expecting you.” Ren smirks, sitting up on his bed.

“Assume the position, inmate.” I nod toward the wall.

“Mm… haven’t heard you say that to me in a while.” He stands slowly. “Just like old times.”

“Not in the mood, #48,” I huff. “It’d be a whole lot easier to do this with you in the hole, so I suggest you shut up and put your hands on the wall.”

“Fine, sheesh.” He steps over to the wall and places his palms flat while I immediately start ransacking his things, tossing stuff into my garbage bag. Like Santa’s sack of toys, if it were filled with drugs and nudie mags.

Ren peeks over his shoulder at me. “I was thinking, maybe you and I could come to some sort of arrangement…”

“No more arrangements, Ren,” I mutter while going about my work, throwing shit everywhere as I do. “Those days are over.”

He pushes his ass out a bit. “You say that now, but I think once you bust your nut, you might feel differently.”

I give him the side eye, briefly, ignoring him and moving on. Until I reach his tattooing supplies. My fingers brush over the items hidden beneath his mattress in a rolled-up towel.

“You got me most of that…” he says whimsically. “Remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” I sigh, picking things up and dumping them into the bag.

“Such a waste.” His tone darkens.

My face tilts to his, finding his eyes hard, frustration in the line of his lips as rage sets his jaw.

I straighten and step to him. “How ever will you stay entertained without all this stuff?” His gaze narrows at my face, our scowls locked in a power struggle. “Without all that dick to distract you from how goddamn sad you are…”

He lunges, but I’m faster, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him up against the wall. My other hand reaches for my Taser and I hold it up.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being his lapdog?” He croaks, my hand cutting off his oxygen enough to turn his voice hoarse. “Knowing he doesn’t give a flying fuck about you when he’s your whole world?”

My teeth grind together as my fingers tighten around his throat, thumb digging in until he grunts. There’s an inferno blazing at him through my eyes, I can feel it, my gut churning at the way his stupid fucking words have truth to them…

This little fuck is getting under my skin, too… How the hell am I letting this happen?

“Oh, you mean like you with #35?” My brow lifts.

At mention of Luthor, Ren’s expression changes. His forehead lines, and he gets this sad twinkle to his eyes that’s hard to miss.

“I guess maybe we’re in the same spot, then…” I shrug, backing up. “Because he’ll never fucking love you. Difference is, I don’t want it. But you do… You need him to love you back, even though he’ll never see you for anything more than what you are…” I lean my face in and growl over his lips, “A lying, manipulative, murderous whore.”

Ren shudders, his body going slack against the wall. I push off of him, storming away and leaving him sniffling on the floor amongst the ruins of his cell.

As I yank open the bars, he shouts in a shaky voice, “Velle, wait. Please…”

I close my eyes with my back to him. “You’re not keeping the tattoo stuff, #48.”

“No, not that…” he says, softly, having completely abandoned the hard act he was giving me not two minutes ago. “Will you please just… let Luthor keep his stuff? Please, I’ll do anything.”

I spin around to face him once more, my brows zipped together in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nods, then shrugs. “Thing is… I don’t care if he never loves me back. I just want him happy. I think you can understand that…”

My jaw sets and I growl, “No, I can’t.”

“Not him,” he breathes. “You have people who would do the same for you. And you’re too stupid to realize that’s worth giving up everything for.”

I stare at him for all too long in silence. I’m not surprised Ren seems to know things about what’s going on with me. At this point, he might know more about what happens inside these walls than the Warden.

Eventually, I sigh, “You have nothing to trade. I’m not putting my dick anywhere near you.”

“Despite what you think, I have more than my sick body to offer up.” He rises to his feet slowly, leaning against the wall.

“Oh yea? And what would that be?”

“Information.”

I go quiet again, considering what he’s offering. I’m not sure what he knows, but if it’s helpful in me getting The Ivory to ease up, I suppose it’s worth it.

“Duly noted,” I rumble. Then I leave his cell with another slam.

After that, I go directly to Luthor’s cell, where he’s now alone because his cellmate escaped, in turn, ruining my damn life.

But I won’t take that out on Luthor. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, but he’s my favorite inmate. He’s quiet, he does what he’s told, and he doesn’t expect anything. Shit, I remember when he first got here, almost five years ago. He was just a scared kid trying to navigate a life sentence. But he never made things difficult for himself. Not like Ren did…

Inside the cell, with Luthor up against the wall, I begin my ransacking. I have to take some stuff, otherwise it’d be obvious I’m letting him slide and then the whole thing falls apart. So I make it look like I’m taking everything, leaving him with a few basics.

But I pause when I find his buried treasure. Underneath his top mattress, there’s some sort of device. I have no earthly clue what it is. And next to it, a bunch of old computer parts in a pillowcase.

My eyes dart to where Luthor’s watching me with wide, nervous eyes, chewing on his lower lip.

I step over to him, getting close, and whisper, “I’m leaving this stuff here. Because your stalker made a promise. But if he doesn’t deliver, I’ll be back.”

And then I storm out before he can say anything.

Stomping up the row, I decide I’m done for now. I need a fucking break. A bottle of water, and maybe a Hot Pocket or something. I’m exhausted, and this whole time I’ve been both praying that I run into Rook, and dreading it.

I don’t want to see that look on his face… The one he’s been giving me lately, any time I see him outside of his bedroom, which is a rarity since I’ve been busy carrying out the Warden’s orders during the day, and retreating to his side of the mansion for my punishments at night. But when we do cross paths, Rook just gives me those eyes of his, like a dewy field in Ireland or some shit, all green and sparkly.

Telling me without words that he misses me, and he wishes it was different. I do too… But wishes are for Jiminy Cricket and other fictional characters.

They don’t work, and they’re ultimately pointless.

As I walk the halls toward the break room, I hear voices, and I immediately slow down. There’s a conversation happening around the corner from where I’m standing, and right away I recognize Linetti’s voice. And then Brenner.

“The fucked up thing is that it’s so damn easy to escape from this place,” Linetti says. “No one in the guard tower, only one man in the East wing control room during shift changes…”

“Right?? I bet he went through the sewer drain,” Brenner adds. “It’s like, right the fuck there. That’s what I’d do.”

My blood is roaring in my ears, the rage I’ve been suppressing for weeks coming to a rolling boil as I lurch around the corner. Before either of them can even react to my presence, my fist is raised and swinging.

I catch Linetti in the jaw first, nailing him once more in the nose until he flies backward, stumbling and dropping to his knees. Then I turn my angry glare on Brenner.

He holds his hands up. “Whoa whoa, Velle… chill.”

Nope. I whack him in the jaw, then the nose, then the jaw again. He drops with his little friend and I alternate between kicking each of them in the ribs. Repeatedly.

“You think this shit is a joke?!” My voice booms as I drop over Linetti, damn near cramming my fist down his throat. “Out here spilling secrets! Was it you?? Talking shit in front of these inmates so they know exactly how to break free??”

I’m heaving for breaths, grabbing Brenner by the throat and giving him a few licks because fuck this. These dickheads are over here laughing about this shit while I’m getting beat for their stupidity.

I’m on my knees every damn night, my ass raw and my fucking throat bruising. Being tortured because they don’t give a fuck.

I’ve never been so angry.

When I come to, they’re both on the ground, bleeding and grumbling. And I’m just dragging air into my lungs, knuckles raw, head spinning.

I stand up slow on rickety legs, adrenaline buzzing through my veins like electricity.

“Fuck both of you,” I growl, exhausted, pressure building in my head and about to burst.

Then I storm away, leaving them there to think about what just happened.

Every action has a consequence.

My back is sore.

I’ve been on my hands and knees for a while. He left me here to take a call or something… who knows. But I’m not allowed to move, not that I would anyway.

That would earn me some kicks similar to the ones I doled out earlier.

I shift, and the collar around my neck tugs on the chain hooked to my nipples. The leash is tied to the leg of his desk, giving me only a couple feet of slack. And even though it hurts, my dick is solid, balls heavy and aching. Tonight is especially degrading… I have a tail on.

Literally… One of those butt plugs with the furry thing.

It’s humiliating. And yet I can’t keep myself from feeling the tight burn of arousal from it. Especially when I think about Rook.

If I was doing this with him and Joy, I’d be able to get some pleasure from it. We’d make it into a sexy game, and then we’d all come, together, like a bunch of silly perverts. Collapsing into his bed, sweaty and sated, cuddling and kissing and feeling it… The good stuff that’s supposed to come from this.

When you actually care about the people you’re hooking up with… It’s a high I never anticipated loving so damn much.

But I can’t go there. Not now. Not when I’m supposed to be sitting here in agony, thinking about my transgressions.

The door to his office opens and The Ivory wanders inside, closing it behind him. My eyes stay on the floor, watching as his dress shoes make their way into my vision.

He doesn’t speak to me for minutes, simply sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop. I don’t know how long I’m expected to stay here like this, but judging by the way he’s acting, and how he’s been this past week, it’ll probably be another long night.

A few minutes later, he sighs and turns until his legs brush my side. “Well, it seems as if Dascha fled the country. At least my associates seem to think so.”

I’m not sure how he wants me to feel about that statement. But I am sure he doesn’t want a reaction, so I remain still.

I jerk like a reflex when his fingers begin stroking in my hair. “You let too much slide with that partner of yours. You know she was providing #101 with all sorts of contraband. That’s a slap in the face to you as much as it is to me.”

My muscles tighten at his mention of Joy and the things she was doing to help Dash. I can read between the lines… He thinks she helped him escape.

I don’t know if that’s true or not, but either way, it wouldn’t matter. I would never sell Joy out. I’d rather take a bullet between the eyes right here and now.

“I can feel that you have something you need to say,” he mutters on a breath. “So just say it, my pet.”

I swallow, choosing my words carefully before I speak. “I just think it might be a waste of time… Ransacking the inmates’ cells, torturing the guards. It’s all pointless when we have a lead we’re ignoring.”

He’s silent for a moment and I cower, bracing for a blow to the back of the head.

“And what about Joy?” He speaks quietly. “Do you deny she was involved with Dascha?”

“I wouldn’t call it involved…” I mumble. “She wasn’t a part of his escape, that much I know.”

“You’re so certain,” he croons, fingertips trailing the nape of my neck, reaching the leash connected to the collar and tugging it until I cough.

“I am.” I try my hardest to sound unbiased. “We’re focusing on the wrong staff while a silent killer roams the halls of the East wing.”

The Warden lets out an audible breath. “Dr. Love.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t trust him,” he says, like it’s supposed to be a question, though it comes out like a statement. I haven’t hidden my disdain for the new doctor in the weeks since his arrival, nor have I been shy about my suspicions regarding him somehow allowing Darcey to kill O’Malley.

It’s totally plausible that Dash’s escape is tied to that incident.

“You know I don’t,” I croak.

He grasps my chin and tilts my face until I’m forced to look up at him, dark eyes settling into mine, causing me to burn with the heat of embarrassment from where I am.

On my knees at his feet, wearing nothing but a jockstrap, collared and leashed with a furry tail plug in my ass.

His pet in every sense of the word.

“Your distrust of Dr. Love mirrors a distrust of me, Jonathan.” His head cocks. “You’re questioning my judgement.”

I shake mine quickly. “No… No, I’m questioning him.”

“Who I’ve hired.” His dark gaze narrows. “You believe I’ve made a mistake?”

“I believe he’s taking advantage of you.” I blink.

“And what would be his motive for that?”

I consider the information from Ren… It’s a bargaining chip I’m keeping for myself until I can figure out how to best utilize it.

“Maybe he doesn’t need one,” I answer after a beat. “Maybe he’s just as crazy as the inmate he’s studying.”

With a curl to the corner of his mouth, the Warden slides his thumb over my lower lip. “That seems unlikely. Is this something you’ve shared with your boyfriend and girlfriend?”

My eyes widen, pulse immediately kicking up a few notches.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed, do you, Jonathan?” He leans his face in closer to mine. “I’ve told you before, you can’t make a relationship work here. Getting your rocks off is just fine, but none of them will take care of you the way I have. Right?”

I find myself nodding, though it doesn’t feel right. My mind flashes back to over a decade ago, when Joy and I decided to go back to being friends who fuck on occasion.

His voice echoes in my nostalgia… You have to break it off, Jonathan. There can only be one guard to your heart, and that’s me.

A sudden knock at the door pulls me out of the memory.

My eyes dart to his, wide and frantic, praying he won’t let whoever is out there into the room with me here, looking like this. That’s a humiliation I don’t think I’m ready for, regardless of how unintentionally hard my dick is at the thought.

I’m shivering from my head down to my damn toes as the Warden sits back in his seat and rumbles, “Yes?”

Oh, fuck me. This is horrible.

But hold that thought. Because it gets worse.

The door opens and one of the Warden’s men pokes his head in. “You’ve got visitors, boss. They’re rather insistent.”

Before anyone else can say anything, Joy pushes past the man, strolling into the room with Rook right behind her.

Now my heart is leaping up into my throat, a sweat breaking out over my forehead as I squirm in place.

Their eyes set on me first, before anything else. I make sure to avert my gaze, my face burning hotter than the sun in peak summer. I’ve never heard my own pulse clanging so loudly in my head. I think I might pass out.

“Holy fuck…” I hear Joy whisper, and my eyes spring just enough to lock with hers.

She looks pissed. I gulp.

Peeking at Rook, he’s glaring right at me. His forehead lines as he blinks, silently raging like he’s two seconds from diving on me. It plummets my heart in sheer misery. He hates seeing me here like this… with him. His hurt is visible, mingling with the confusion and jealousy in his eyes. It’s not the time, but that possessive sparkle makes my dick twitch, hard.

Mine, I can practically hear him saying in his mind. You’re not his. You’re mine.

“Is there something I can help you with, Officers?” The Warden sighs, making no effort to disguise his irritation. “You’re interrupting.”

“What are you doing to him?” Rook growls, stepping forward with his fists clenched and his eyes shooting flames of wrath directly at my captor.

Joy places her hand on Rook’s chest to keep him in place. “Listen, Ivory. We have some things to discuss.”

“You’re right. We do,” the Warden murmurs from behind me.

I can’t see him because I dare not make a move. Kneeling at his feet like his property with Rook and Joy here, it all feels suffocatingly real. It’s one thing to be like this behind closed doors… To know this is a dirty little secret, sheltered away from the rest of them.

But now they’re here… witnessing it with their own eyes. The shame is so thick it’s strangling me more than the tight as fuck collar around my throat.

“I know you think I helped Dash escape,” Joy cuts right to the chase. “That I was in on it in some way. I’ll just let you know right now, I wasn’t. The fact that I gave him a few items is an unrelated matter.”

“Oh, I know that,” the Warden says calmly. “A favor to Kellan Kemper.”

Joy’s face freezes briefly, but she pushes past it. “Inconsequential. An agreement was made, Ivory. My life in exchange for my family’s safety. And yet you’ve been sending your assholes to my uncle’s restaurant, harassing and bothering. I’ve held up my end for eleven goddamn years. What sort of shit are you playing at?”

I feel the Warden sit back in his chair. “It’s a free country, Miss Jameson. Last I checked… My men are entitled to frequent any establishments they so choose.”

“Call them off,” she growls.

This time he stands. And my heart rate picks up to an abnormal speed. I think I might be having a heart attack.

“Or what?” He says in a calculated and threatening tone.

“Or our agreement is null and fucking void.”

Joy sounds every bit as scary as The Ivory right now, reminding me once more that she’s not to be trifled with. She’s the only person who goes toe-to-toe with him like this, and it sort of scares me for her, because I know what he’s capable of.

But I won’t lie… It scares me for him, too.

“I assure you, that won’t be happening.” The Warden stands beside me, his legs brushing my arm. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell my men to leave your uncle’s business alone. So long as I get what I need.” He pauses, and I flinch when his fingers appear at the nape of my neck again, brushing through my hair absentmindedly, like he’s petting me. “Is there anything else? Because I’m really quite busy and this visit, while entertaining, is a waste of my time…”

“We want him,” Rook’s stern voice plunges into the conversation. Glancing up at his face, I can see him vibrating. “We’re taking Velle with us. This shit… whatever you’re doing to him… It’s done.”

I can’t help it. My eyes slide up to the man by my side, his gaze narrowing directly at Rook.

“He’s not yours to take,” the Warden retorts. “Jonathan is my property, and he’s exactly where he belongs.”

“Fuck that,” Rook hisses. “He’s not your property, he’s a human being. I don’t know what kinds of mind games you’ve been playing with him, but it ends now.”

“You’re right, Officer Samuels,” the Warden hums. “He is a human being. So I suppose we should let him choose what he wants to do. He can decide if he’d like to leave, after all…” His dark eyes slide down to me, holding me still. “He’s a big boy.”

No… My fingers dig into my thighs. No don’t do this. Please…

The room goes silent while everyone stares at me. The pain in Rook’s eyes is slicing me open at the gut. And when I peer at Joy, her jaw is grinding as she blinks at me, willing me to get up. To break this goddamn spell.

But they don’t get it… It’s not that easy.

I can’t just get up and go with them, no matter how badly I want to.

My chest is fluttering with rapid breaths, the pumping of my heart quaking my body all over. The air in the room is stifling, and my skin feels hot and itchy everywhere, like I’m breaking out into hives.

The sudden sound of my cell phone ringing in my pants pocket across the room distracts from the tension, causing me to jump. It keeps ringing and ringing while we all just stand still. Well, me kneeling. My mind is somehow both swarmed with a million different things and completely blank.

Lips parting, I gaze at Joy and Rook, wide eyes guilt-ridden and anguished.

“Velle… please,” Harley begs, the glistening green begging me to break free. To stand the fuck up and go to him, like we both know I want to.

“Don’t make me do this…” I mumble, barely audible while my phone rings once again.

“You can, Lucky,” Joy whispers directly to me, as if no one else is in the room. “You’re so much more than what he’s made you into.”

My stomach is twisting and tying up into an unforgiving knot. The Warden says nothing. He simply continues brushing his long fingers in my hair, calming strokes hypnotizing me.

“I’m not…” My head shakes subtly. I peer at Rook. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His face drops, and I see more suffering, more disappointment than I can even process.

He looks like I just broke his heart.

Without even realizing it, my head leans into The Ivory’s side.

“I know I left first…” Rook’s voice sways, eyes shimmering sad clovers at me. “But you’re the one running.”

My chest caves, heart sitting black and shriveled in my chest like a lump of coal, or a piece of bruised, moldy fruit. Rotten, decayed… Sick.

Joy takes Rook’s hand and laces their fingers. “Come on.”

Crushed, they both turn to leave.

On their way out, the Warden mutters, “Have a great evening, Joyless.”

Joy shoots him a glare of disgust as they exit the room, slamming the door behind them.

If anyone’s joyless here, it’s fucking me.

My mind flashes back once more… To a memory from many years ago…

“I think it’s crazy sexy.”

A chuckle brushes past my lips while my eyes linger on the TV in the living room, some movie we’re not really paying attention to playing in the background. I’m much more interested in the slender fingers sweeping the flesh of my ass cheek, tracing my new four-leaf clover tattoo.

She calls me Lucky as an inside joke, sort of like my nickname for her. Because even in our perpetual state of misfortune, I manage to get it.

Get Lucky.

Rolling onto my side, I grab my girlfriend by the waist, pulling her into my arms. My fingers slip inside her short shorts, one palm gripping a handful of her ass, decorated in her own new ink.

“I think yours is crazy sexy.” I tug my lower lip between my teeth until she hums. “Do you wish I was the one who’d popped your cherry, Cherry?”

She lets out a raspy laugh that flutters my stomach. It might make me sound corny as hell, but I don’t even care. I love the sound of her laugh. She has a great smile, too. And I really love how I’m the only person who gets it as much as I do.

“No, not really,” she mumbles, writhing into me until we’re nestled against the back of the couch. “Your dick is huge. It would’ve split me in half.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “If you felt like putting that on a billboard, or one of those banners they fly through the sky, I’d be alright with it.”

She giggles into a sigh. “No thanks, stud. I don’t need people knocking down the doors to get at you. We have enough of that as it is…”

I breathe a chuckle as her lips drop to my throat, planting soft, slow kisses all over that race my pulse and my pulse my dick.

We’ve been dating for months, and while we’ve never actually declared exclusivity, I know I haven’t fucked anyone else. And I don’t think she has either. Not that we have many options around here. There are only a handful of other guards, and they’re not exactly my type. Plus, they’re guys and I haven’t dated a man openly yet. I’m not opposed to it, but after the unsavory experiences I had in high school and college, I’ve decided to leave most of my encounters casual. With women, too.

I’m just not a big relationship guy, I suppose. And I don’t think Joy is the monogamous type, either. We’re so very similar in so many ways. Maybe that’s what makes being with her feel as easy as breathing.

She’s like a mirror image of me. And it probably sounds narcissistic, but fuck it. I’m pretty awesome, and the idea of dating someone just like me feels solid.

Still, there’s a part of me that knows something is missing. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but I’m still figuring myself out and I can’t determine why nothing ever seems to truly fill my cup to the brim.

Ignoring that thought, I take Joy by the jaw and kiss her lips. They’re soft and she always tastes sweet, just like the cherries I’ve named her after. It turns me into a fiend for kisses, like I’m back in high school. Blaring Fall Out Boy and Sugarcult in my mom’s Nissan Altima, fogging up the windows while I made out with every girl I could get my hands on. Fully into it, and yet secretly wishing, more than occasionally, that their mouths were a little more like mine. Sharper jaws and bigger hands, meeting my own aggression in spades like only a dude can.

That must be part of the reason I love kissing Joy so much. It feels like kissing a man, only with a softer edge. She likes to be the dominant one, and I like to let her.

It feels good.

Our breaths are getting heavier, panting louder than the low volume of the TV as she crawls on top of me, thrusting between my legs to rub our stuff together. My hands glide up her back and I hold her hard, letting her get her fill of my tongue ring. We’re all alone in the room, which we usually are at night. Coming back from shifts at the prison, it’s always so quiet in this big, scary house. The rest of the guys usually keep to themselves, and while we’re all sort of stuck here, it’s not bad. Because I have Joy, and she definitely brings light into the darkness of this undesirable situation.

I catch movement out the corner of my eye, peeking as the new guy, Kemper, walks by the room in nothing but boxers. The sight gives my balls a nice throb. And suddenly my mind is racing, wondering what it would be like if he joined us. If he came over and started touching me, while Joy did it, too. All the things three of us could do together that would only serve to multiply the lustful heat.

I toss it away, though. Because Kemper is straight, and we all know I need to stop lusting after straight guys. It was my ultimate mistake, which led to more disappointment than I care to relive, stunting my sexual awakening for years longer than it should have.

I’m happy with Joy. She’s giving me exactly what I need right now, and for that, I’d trade nothing.

We’re really getting hot and heavy when my phone chimes on the table next to us. I can’t help but freeze, because no one ever calls or texts this late.

Only one person, and I don’t want to upset him or keep him waiting. I stop Joy from mauling me and mutter, “Sorry. I need to get this,” reaching for my phone.

Joy huffs out of frustration but sits up and ruffles her hair while I check the new message.

I need to see you. Now, please.

My heart is immediately in my throat. It’s crazy how fast it happens.

“Sorry, babe. I gotta run real quick,” I tell her, sitting up, minding my aching balls from the interruption.

Joy gives me a look. “Really? He needs you right now??”

I shrug, because that’s all I can do. I’m still trying to navigate this whole thing…

It’s been over a year since The Ivory plucked me out of that parking lot, surrounded by the mutilated remains of the two rapists I’d killed. He dusted me off and gave me a second chance at life. A new chance, where I get to be in charge. Where I can utilize my skills, hone them, and bask in my darkness.

Of course, I know he’s using me, but then what other options do I have? Letting him turn me in to the police would mean I’d go to jail, leaving my mother all alone. I couldn’t let that happen.

At least this way I can still provide for her. And he can make sure she’s safe. He does that for me.

Getting up, I press a quick kiss in Joy’s hair, then stumble off, making my way down the long staircase. I cross the threshold of our side and ease myself over to his.

It’s odd, the way the air seems to shift on this side of the mansion. It’s a different vibe altogether, feeling like less of a house and more of a being.

It feels like him over here.

I look toward the stairs, not knowing where exactly he wants me to go. I haven’t been over here much, but I can usually find him in his downstairs library, so that’s where I check first. Sure enough, there’s dim candlelight coming from in there.

Wandering through the room, I pass the maze-like setup of bookshelves, slinking in between them until I spot him. He’s seated in a giant leather chair, holding a glass of liquor in one hand and a cigar in the other. The smell of the smoke resonates with my nostalgia in some deep place my mind can’t quite understand. It’s familiar… though I’m not sure why.

“Jonathan,” he murmurs, placing the cigar in an ashtray, setting his glass down next to it. He stands and drifts over to where I’m sort of rooted in place.

He’s shadowed in this light, the angles of his face darkened in some spots and highlighted in others. But two things about Manuel Blanco always stand out, no matter what; his hair and his eyes.

“You wanted to see me?” I blink up at him, though he’s only a hair taller than me.

He has this way of looking down at me that feels monumentally large. Overpowering. Dominating.

It gives me the chills. Always has, since that first night a year ago, when he cleaned the blood off my hands.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, standing unnecessarily close to me. I want to back up, but for the life of me I can’t make my feet cooperate. “About how important you’ve been to this whole operation. And to me… I couldn’t have done any of this without you, you know that, right?”

I can’t help the way I gulp and the way my head bobs. Warmth floods my stomach at knowing he’s pleased with me.

I know it doesn’t make any sense for me to feel this way. He’s holding me hostage, and part of my brain recognizes that.

However, there’s another part that has bloomed a bizarre admiration for him, which feels almost fatherly in a way, although technically he’s not old enough. That said, I find myself craving his approval the way one would from a father, or a parent. I chase it like butterflies with a net, and when I catch one, I hold it close to my chest.

“We’ll be expanding soon,” he tells me in a tone that’s sensitive yet confident. “And I need to know I’ll have you by my side, no matter what.”

I don’t really know what to say. Sometimes he makes me feel like I have no choice but to be here, working as his henchman. He’s threatened me before, and I’m never sure if he’s doing so to test me, or because he’s truly afraid I might try to break free.

Other times, he makes me feel like I’m his partner. Like now.

“I’m here,” I rumble, because that’s all I can really think to reply. He has me… I mean, where am I going?

“Are you?” He lifts a translucent eyebrow. “Really?” I nod slowly. “I need your absolute certainty, Jonathan. But more than that, I need your commitment. I need your faithfulness.”

My muscles tense. He sounds like he’s talking about a relationship, and it throws me off.

“I’ve noticed that you’re spending much more time with Officer Jameson lately,” he speaks smoothly, black eyes locked on mine.

I blink. He wants to talk about Joy? About us dating…?

“I think it’s great that you have someone to share your burdens with,” he goes on. “To satisfy your urges. But I also think it’s best to leave it at that. Don’t you?”

“I… I’m not sure,” I stutter, my mind suddenly second-guessing everything I was just thinking about upstairs with my girlfriend. It’s like he has me hypnotized, and I just can’t throw it. “I care about Joy. A lot.”

“I wouldn’t expect you not to,” he says. “She’s a wonderful girl. But I need you to understand that this is really no place for relationships. They make you weak, Jonathan. And I need you strong. For me.”

His fingers come up to my jaw, sliding gently along the line over to my chin. His thumb grazes my lower lip and suddenly I’m trembling.

I haven’t been close like this with a man… Not in years, and it’s stirring up the part of me that’s felt denied. The other half of me that wants it.

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way…” I whisper.

“That’s alright.” He shows me a subtle smile, eyes bouncing between my mouth and my eyes. It’s bringing all sorts of heat to the air around us as a flush creeps up my neck. “That’s why I’m here. To remind you of what’s best. You’re very important to me, Jonathan. I need you to remember that. No one will take care of you the way I do.”

I nod in agreement, watching his lips, mesmerized at how pink they are. I find my eyelashes fluttering as I lean in, the warmth of his breath, strong and masculine like scotch and cigars, dancing over my mouth.

But he abruptly steps back and claps. “Let us toast.”

He saunters away from where I’m floating, barely held to the ground, going to his desk to pour another glass. He hands it to me, and I finally force myself to move, walking over and taking it from him.

He raises his. “To Alabaster Isle, and all the new, exciting things we’ll venture into here.”

I’m feeling very uncertain, but I clink with him and take a sip of the strong liquor, the burn mixing up with all the heat already living inside me at the moment. I’m not really a scotch drinker. I prefer clear booze, but there’s another familiar sensation that comes with sharing a glass of his favorite drink.

My father… I think it reminds me of my father.

He takes a seat in his big chair again, and I glance down, wondering how long he expects me to stay. I suppose I’ll at least finish my drink…

“Come,” he commands softly, though with enough bark to let me know it’s an order.

I give him a bemused look, because there’s no other chair nearby for me to sit. His eyes drop to the floor by his feet.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly very scratchy. I don’t know if he truly wants me to sit at his feet, but I wander closer, and when I stop directly before him, he whispers, “Kneel.”

His tone, and the way he says it, so dominant, commanding… It does something to my insides, something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.

And without even thinking, I drop to my knees.

“Good boy,” he hums, the praise at knowing I did the right thing spreading more warmth in the pit of my stomach. “Finish your drink.”

I do. I drain the glass, placing it on the floor. His lips curl as he watches me, fingers reaching out to brush through my hair.

“This is where you belong, Jonathan,” he tells me. “Your obedience will be rewarded, I promise. I will take care of you, my pet. No one else.”

Snapping out of my reverie, my head swivels as I look around.

We’re not in the same room, but here I am… Still on my knees. Over a decade later, and still serving him faithfully. Mindlessly, like the pet he’s turned me into.

It doesn’t feel good, and I can’t stop picturing the pain in Harley’s eyes as he walked out that door not thirty seconds ago.

The Warden lets out a breath. “Well, that was annoying.”

He turns back to his desk chair and sits down, grabbing at my leash until I stumble.

I’m still stunned. I barely even know where I am right now. I’m all levels of out of it.

“Oh, Jonathan,” he sighs, unclasping the leash from the collar around my neck, “I know that was hard for you. But if you’ll recall, I told you all those years ago that relationships would only cause you pain. You cannot lose focus of that. The only person you need to remain faithful to is me.”

I’m still shivering, staring at the door, blinking at it over and over as if that will make them come back. This doesn’t feel right…

I did the wrong thing, yet I still can’t even move. I’m beginning to think my brain and my heart are on two completely different wavelengths.

“Jonathan, look at me,” he demands, and I finally pry my eyes away from the door, turning my body to face him. “This is all over that new thing, isn’t it? He’s the one who’s flipped everything upside down for you? Harley Samuels…”

I couldn’t respond if I tried, so I simply stare up at him.

He leans down to align his face with mine. “Do I need to make him disappear?”

Fear shoots through my limbs so fast I spasm. “No. No no no… Please. It’s not him. I don’t care about him at all,” I lie. “Don’t hurt him. Please…” I press myself into his legs, quivering as I wedge myself between them. “I’m here. You have me. Just leave them out of this.”

My phone rings again, cutting through the thick, stifling air. His gaze narrows. He looks downright menacing as my heart leaps into my ribs.

I need to fix this. Anything, I’ll do anything to keep Harley and Joy safe.

The Ivory grabs me by the throat, hard, pressing the collar deeper into my flesh until I grunt.

“Prove it,” he growls. “Prove that I have you.”

I nod fast, agreeing. Just whatever… whatever I have to do. Leave them out of it.

His fingers slip under my chin, lifting as he looks me over. “You look like such a wicked animal…”

My skin is tingling as he releases me and unbuckles his belt, taking his tailored pants down enough to get his dick out. The ache in my loins that’s been there for hours is making me numb. My ass clenches around the plug, nipples so sore they’re pulsing. Just looking at his erection, the way he leans back and relaxes himself, tells me this is going to be a long process.

He’ll draw this one out. Deny himself an orgasm if need be, just to ensure that I have to suck him for as long as it takes. To prove he’s the one in power.

Like I don’t already fucking know that.

But once again, I have no choice. I give him my mouth, doing my absolute best to stay focused while I suck his dick, slow and rough, like he likes it. Blowing him is an obvious show of control, made to humiliate me even further. He gets off more on the fact that he can keep his dick in my throat for an hour, until I can’t even feel my fucking jaw, shoulders and back straining, than the ultimate climax.

I’ve lost track of how much time has passed after a while. I’m just sucking and sucking, using my best skills, all of which he manages to overcome, my head bobbing on his lap for so long I lapse into a trance.

I just know it’s not supposed to be like this. It’s not like this with them.

When he does eventually come, he makes me open my mouth so he can stroke it onto my tongue, making sure to spray cum all over my lips until it’s running down my chin.

Then he simply stands and tucks himself away, patting my head as he says, “I expect to find you in this exact spot in the morning.”

He walks away, leaving me there with nothing but throbbing balls and an empty heart.

As soon as I’m sure he’s gone, I allow myself to relax. I crawl over to my clothes and use my t-shirt to wipe the cum off my face.

It’s then that I remember my phone… It was ringing like crazy earlier, which immediately puts me back into panic mode.

Pulling it out of my pants pocket, I find the screen lit up with a dozen missed calls and voicemails. With twitching fingers, I hold my phone up to my ear, listening.

“John… it’s Marie.” My aunt. “Tammy, um… she overdosed.”

The black thing in my chest crumbles into dust and floats away.

No…

“I didn’t want to leave this on your voicemail, but I couldn’t reach you…”

My head shakes incessantly as I whimper to myself, “No… no no no… Please…”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie… Your mom… she didn’t make it.”

Rook is shivering in his sleep.

I’m surprised he was even able to pass out after that debacle a couple hours ago. Maybe it was all the pacing he did when we first got here, back into his bedroom. It must have worn him out, because eventually he crawled into the bed, turned SVU on at low volume, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

But not me.

I’ve been up the whole time, brushing my fingers through his sandy blonde hair where his head rests in my lap, just staring at the TV. Blankly…

My mind has been sifting through everything. Not just what happened in the Warden’s office, and how truly devastating it was to see Velle like that, trussed up and chained to that asshole… But also the events of the last eleven years.

Everything we’ve been through. Everything I always suspected was happening to him, but never actually witnessed with my own two eyes. Until tonight.

When Velle and I broke up, it was mutual. We both agreed, based on his sudden pulling away, his frustrations and shortness that seemed to pop up almost out of nowhere, that it made more sense for us to just be partners. I’ve never been a relationship person myself, and remembering my promise I’d made to myself when I was younger, I had no problem taking a step back.

My friendship with Velle was too important to risk us ultimately hating each other.

And after that, we started throwing parties. Getting fucked up and having a good time. More guards showed up, things got darker. They all began taking advantage of the inmates and their collective needs.

It’s been that way ever since, and we’ve all just been coasting through it. But just because you become comfortable with something, and complacent in the way you’re living, that doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t even mean it’s what you truly want. Most of the time, it’s just easier to be bad than to question yourself.

Suddenly, the bedroom door whips open. My heart jumps into my throat as Velle storms into the room, panting like he just ran a mile, closing the door behind him and pressing his back to it while he stops to catch his breath.

I have no idea what’s going on, but my adrenaline is instantly jacked. I carefully shift Rook’s head from my lap and slide off the bed, darting over to Velle. He looks crazed, all jittery with wide eyes, wearing only his uniform pants.

“What—”

“We gotta get out of here,” he cuts off my question, dashing to Rook’s closet and rummaging around.

I can’t help but stare at him like he’s insane while he grabs a travel bag and starts throwing clothes into it. They’re not even his clothes, but apparently that doesn’t matter to him in this state.

I step over carefully. “Velle… please tell me what’s happening so I can help you.”

He pauses his frantic movements, head slumped between his shoulders. Pulling in a long breath, he lets it out slowly before muttering, “My mom’s dead.”

Splat. That’s the sound of my heart falling out of my body onto the goddamn floor.

My mouth opens, but I have no fucking clue what to say. I just stand there gawking, while nothing pumps in my chest.

Velle runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s trying to force away the emotions. Then he turns to look up at me. “You got any drugs?” I raise a skeptical brow. “Please, Joy, I just need something to calm me down. I’m freaking the fuck out…” His voice disappears into a helpless sob, hands covering his face.

I nod fast. “Yea… okay. Sure. Um… Soren usually keeps a stash in the guest room. Nightstand. Bottom drawer.”

He stands up fast and leaves the room faster. He’s gone for only a minute, returning with a pill bottle and an oddly surprised look on his face.

“Did you know Peters is in the guest room with Carson?” He lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“From the control room??” I’m thoroughly shocked by this information. I’d never known the two of them to hook up.

Velle nods, popping the top off the bottle and dumping a couple pills—looks like Xanax—into his mouth. “This place is bizarre, man.”

His eyes dart to Rook, who’s amazingly still asleep in the bed. They soften and I see so many varying things in them. Guilt, need, comfort… love.

“I don’t want to wake him…” he mumbles, staring. “He looks so peaceful. But we need to leave. Like now.”

“Velle, what happened…?” I step up to him, running my hands up his chest. He looks down at me with his brows pushing together, eyes red and glassy like he’s two seconds from bursting into tears. “Babe, I’m so sorry about Tammy…” He drops his forehead to mine. “Is that why your phone was ringing?” He nods solemnly, his huge body trembling against my hands.

“Velle…”

We both look up to find Rook, blinking himself awake, eyes going instantly wide. He jumps off the bed and practically runs to us.

But Velle holds up his hand to stop him. “Harley… please. Don’t touch me. If you touch me right now, I’ll break the fuck down.” His tone is overflowing with anguish; that plagued vulnerability he keeps locked up tight.

Rook freezes and stands still with only a couple of feet between us, wide chest pulsing up and down with his breaths. He too looks beaten the fuck up, puzzled and hurt, but also relieved that his man is here and in one piece.

His forehead lines as he whispers, “Why does she get to touch you?”

Velle murmurs, “Because she keeps me standing… But you make me fall.”

Rook lets out a pained noise, the both of them staring at each other with a palpable burn that blankets over the three of us. My pulse rushes hard at Velle’s admission, at how goddamn confusing it is that somehow nothing makes more sense than the three of us together. Each in different ways…

“What’s the plan, Lucky?” I finally break the weighted silence.

“I need to go…” his voice cuts out and he clears his throat, “Bury my mother. And I don’t give a fuck what he says. But if I don’t leave right now, he’ll find a way to stop it.”

Rook nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Velle’s eyes shine at him, then they turn down to me.

“If you think we’re letting you do this on your own, you’re dumber than you look.” I smirk and he lets out a tired chuckle, hugging onto me hard.

“You’re killing me right now,” Rook whines, and Velle glances at him. “I need to touch you.”

“Not yet,” he pleads. “Wait until we’re on the ferry.”

“How are you gonna get it to come at this hour?” I ask.

Velle straightens. “That asshole isn’t the only one with connections.”

After that, things become a whirlwind. The three of us pack the bare essentials into two bags, rushing around as quietly as possible. I leave a note for Peters that he’s in charge until we get back, and we’ll explain everything then.

We’ve all accepted that there’s no way the Warden won’t find out exactly where we are and what we’re doing. But Velle is insistent that he’ll handle The Ivory, and while neither me nor Rook like that thought one bit, we accept it.

Right now, nothing else matters but getting off this island and getting Velle home.

The three of us leave the mansion through the back door on our side, making sure to avoid being spotted by any staff. Velle says taking an SUV would make it too easy for the Warden to track us, so we cut through the woods on foot to the dock, where a Seajet is waiting.

“Thanks, Terry.” Velle pats the captain on the back as we all file onto the small ferry. “I owe you one.”

“Yea, I’d say you do,” the guy responds, though there’s a knowing smirk on his face.

“When have I ever steered you wrong?” Velle mumbles. Then adds, “Don’t answer that,” with a wink.

He seems to be holding himself together well enough. But as soon as we’re settled on the boat, and the thing is cruising at an unusually fast speed for a ferry, Velle slumps over in his seat. Rook and I both watch him as he covers his whole head with his arms, curling into a ball on the cushioned bench seat.

I’m splitting down the middle with pain for my best friend… and I know Rook is too, judging by how hard he’s squeezing my hand. After what we saw tonight, witnessing how deep the toxic waters of the Warden’s control over Velle run, and knowing how damn strong he’s been, always holding himself together, holding this whole place together with every single ounce of weight on his own shoulders…

He really must be a god of some kind… A super-anti-hero.

“Harley…” Velle’s deep rumble comes from across the aisle. “I need you.”

Before the last word even leaves Velle’s lips, Rook is on his feet, like he’s been on pins and needles waiting. And he stumbles over, dropping to the seat on his knees, melting himself over Velle.

He wraps his big arms around Velle’s equally big body and just holds him, tightly pulling him into his chest while Velle breaks down. I can see him shuddering through silent sobs, burying his face in Rook’s neck, while Rook just whispers to him, rubbing his back and kissing him everywhere his lips can reach.

If there ever was doubt as to the level of what my heart can feel, this negates it all. I feel the love they have for one another, deep behind my ribs. I feel that same love for both of them, separately and together.

It makes me uncomfortable… how much it’s there, sitting inside me like its own organ.

Many minutes pass until Velle’s finally calmed down. The two of them are lying, crammed on that tiny seat, practically wearing each other like they’re wearing their gray sweatpants and hoodies. Velle in his favorite, old worn out black one from The Used concert, and Rook in his navy blue one with the NYPD seal.

It’s really not the time for me to be ogling, but Rook’s booty looks delicious in those sweats, and Velle’s hoodie is riding up a bit to expose tanned, inked skin on his side.

They’re just so fucking sexy together, but they also look cute. Cuddling like muscled up boyfriends, hair all messy, greedy fingers touching every available surface.

I take in a deep breath and hold it for a moment, knowing this won’t be easy. Not even just the funeral, and the things Velle will deal with, all of which we’ll be there for, right by his side. But also the danger we’re putting ourselves in.

Part of me knows the Warden needs us too bad to just have us all killed. But another part also knows his pride, having witnessed it firsthand. The disrespect of his pet running off on him, taking two of his other guards and leaving Alabaster Pen, especially after everything that just happened… It’s going to set The Ivory’s rage on a warpath.

And the three of us need to be ready to fight.

“Cherry…” I hear Velle’s exhausted voice. “I need my Cherry.”

“I’m here, Lucky.” I get off my seat and wander over to theirs, nestling up at their legs, since there’s definitely not enough room for the three of us on this small bench seat.

But neither of them seem to care. They pull me on top of them, and I nestle in, lying on Velle with my arm draped over Rook’s waist.

“You guys are stupid for coming with me…” Velle mumbles. “He might try to kill you.”

“He might try,” I hum. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll succeed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dying to protect someone you love,” Rook breathes, dropping a kiss on Velle’s lips.

“Says the cop,” Velle sighs through an audible grin. I lift my head to peek down at them.

“I’m being serious.” Rook’s own smile fades into seriousness, his eyes locked on Velle’s. “I will fucking fight for you, Jonathan Chevelle. I’ll fight for both of you. He’s not taking you again… He’d have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”

Velle giggles, fucking giggles. It’s a manly, growly one, but still. He loves this shit.

Remember that whole thing I said about how being in love makes you stupid?

Well, color us all the perfect shade of moron.

When we arrive in Long Island, there’s a car waiting for us. Another favor Velle had called in.

The GMC Arcadia belongs to his friend Paul, who’s letting him borrow it for as long as he needs. We’re hoping this might throw the Warden off our scent for a while, though we all know he’ll have no trouble hunting us down, eventually.

Still, we’re keeping our cell phones off. Velle had already spoken with his aunt Marie before we left the mansion, so she knows we’re coming.

Our first stop is Velle’s house on Staten Island. His childhood home, where he grew up. Just him and his mom… She really was his whole world.

Naturally just stepping through the front door sets him off. We’ve only been inside for two minutes before he locks himself in the bathroom and won’t come out for almost an hour.

He feels guilty. I know he does. Because we’re the same in so many ways, and I know if my mother had passed while I was stuck on Alabaster Isle at the hands of The Ivory, I’d be harboring more guilt than blood and oxygen.

But we also know the guilt is just a stopover to the final destination of merciless rage.

The original agreement between the Warden and Velle was that the Warden would stop his men from selling to Tammy, knowing full well she suffered deeply at the hands of addiction. Not only that, when Velle found out his mom was still using, he was pleading for some sort of intervention, protection for his mother that only The Ivory could provide. And he refused.

Now, I have no evidence that the Warden had his men continue selling to Tammy on purpose… yet. But so help me God, I will find some if it’s true.

All that will come later, though. Right now, we just need to be here for Velle as best we can. We need to help him through the greatest tragedy of his life.

Rook and I are kind of hovering, leaving ourselves available for whatever he needs. It’s always tough helping someone deal with death. It involves a lot of standing around, which is difficult when we’re both keyed up and in need of action.

Rook decides to make some coffee while I clean up the house as best I can. When Velle finally emerges from the bathroom, he breathes out hard. And we just stare at him.

“I’m going to meet my aunt at the hospital,” he says, brushing hair behind his ear. “We have some stuff to figure out, I guess…” He glances at the floor, lost in his thoughts.

“We’re coming with you,” Rook says firmly.

Velle’s forehead creases. “No. That’s okay. You guys must be exhausted. Get some rest. I won’t be gone long.”

“Fight my ass as much as you want,” Rook grumbles. “But I’m coming with you.”

Velle just blinks at him, seemingly stunned. Then he peeks at me. “Where did he come from?”

I can’t help but grin, biting my lip to smother it. “Those midwestern boys. Very chivalrous.”

Rook lets out a small laugh, then grabs the keys. “Let’s go, my loves.”

There’s a lot of bullshit that comes with death. A ton of unnecessary nonsense that helps keep you in denial, guarded from the truth of the matter. That someone you love is forever gone from this earth.

Velle and his aunt dealt with the hospital and Tammy’s body. We were there for hours, Rook and I watching the sun come up from the hospital parking lot, while we allowed them space to do their thing.

Velle doesn’t have many relatives in the area. Just Marie and her son, Travis. A few family friends he calls uncles and cousins, though I don’t believe they share any blood. He has a grandmother in Florida who suffers from severe dementia, but apparently his mother hadn’t spoken with her in years, anyway.

They were very much alone, John and Tammy. Which makes the whole thing that much harder.

We end up staying in his house for two days before anything of significance happens, just running miscellaneous errands and clearing out belongings. Fortunately, that works as a decent enough distraction from the reality of the situation. Though sorting through Tammy’s things is understandably tough on Velle.

I don’t want to stress him out, because he already has too much on his plate. So when I come across Tammy’s phone and realize it’s unlocked, I decide to do some digging of my own.

It’s easy enough to locate the contact she had with her dealer. He’s saved in her phone as Mario, and while Rook and Velle are in the shower, I decide to play undercover detective.

And place a call to the number.

The prick answers after only one ring, “Yo.”

“Hey…” I have no idea what Velle’s mom sounded like, but hopefully the scumbag is so stupid he doesn’t notice I’m not her. “You around?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Uh… yea. Whachu need?”

“Oh, you’re still good?” I rasp. He’s silent again. “I only ask ‘cause I thought your boss didn’t want you selling to me…” Jesus Christ, I’m shaking. I hope this works.

“Nah, girl, I got you,” he says, sounding a bit surprised. “You’re a preferred customer.”

My jaw tenses. “Thing is, my car broke down and I can’t wait for the bus. I need a hit now.”

“Aight thas cool,” he mumbles. “I’ll come to you, mama. Be there in twenty.”

“Thanks, babe.”

I hang up, steadying my rocking pulse before I go to the bathroom. The guys are just getting dressed as I linger in the doorway.

They both glance up at me, marginally refreshed, though still understandably stressed out. Hopefully I’m not about to pile on more.

“Okay… so… here’s the thing,” I start, shifting my weight back and forth.

“Oh God, what happened now?” Rook mutters.

“The dealer who was selling to your mom is on his way here,” I tell Velle. “I’m gonna find out if he’s working for The Ivory. I have to.”

Velle’s eyes widen as he gawks at me. Rook’s giving me a similar look, but with more brows up by his hairline, like I’ve fallen off the deep end.

“I don’t need your help, but I just figured you might want to know.” I crack my knuckles.

“Holy fuck…” Velle whispers after at least twenty seconds of silent staring. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

I shrug. “Not the first time I’ve heard it.”

Velle puffs out a ragged breath, then launches himself at me, grabbing me and sort of hoisting me up into his arms while he squeezes the air out of my lungs. “I’m obsessed with you,” he murmurs in my ear. It makes me smile.

“I’ll be your backup,” Rook says definitively.

“Me, too.” Velle plants me back on my feet.

Rook shakes his head. “No. You should rest. You don’t need to be dealing with this shit.”

“But I want to,” he insists. “I have to know.”

Rook doesn’t look pleased, but he nods anyway, conceding to whatever will make Velle feel better. It’s beyond sweet, how he really wants nothing more than Velle’s endless comfort.

We all get ready, devising a plan. And when we hear a knock on the door, we’re already in place.

I open it and grab the asshole by the throat before he can react, dragging him inside and closing the door quick, but not without first verifying that he’s alone.

Velle and Rook pop out from where they were waiting, disarming the dealer and tying his hands behind his back with a zip tie.

“Yo what the fuck!?” The guy shouts, and Velle immediately backhands him across the face.

“Keep your voice down, prick,” he growls. “If you want to get out of this alive, you’ll behave and answer our questions.”

We sit the asshole down on a chair, the three of us crowding him.

“I only have one question, really.” I stand in front of him, grabbing his face so he has to look at me. “Do you work for Manuel Blanco?”

His eyes answer before his mouth even needs to. The Ivory stays hidden in all his business dealings, keeping his name out of the mouths of most of his lower level associates. If we know who he is, chances are we know even more than this fool.

“What are you? Cops?” The dude spits.

“No. Worse,” Velle seethes. “We work for him, too. Now, tell me how long you’ve been selling to Tammy Chevelle.”

The dude swallows visibly. “I ain’t telling you shit.”

Rook comes in with a swift punch to the dude’s gut and he keels over in the chair, grumbling out all kinds of curses.

“Answer the fucking question, prick,” Rook snarls.

“Jesus, that’s hot.” Velle bites his lip.

“Focus,” I scold him.

“Right. Okay, why don’t we just use this then.” Velle holds up the dude’s phone, which he’d taken out of his pants, along with a forty-five caliber pistol.

He swipes at the screen, holding it up in front of the guy’s face for the facial recognition. Once it’s unlocked, he starts sifting. He’s absorbed in the phone for a few minutes while Rook and I watch the dealer, who’s appearing more and more nervous with every second that ticks by.

“Look, bro, I’m just a foot soldier, fam. I got nothin to do with all that!”

“We understand,” I tell him. “So just tell us what you know, and we won’t hurt you.”

“Well, according to this text thread, you’ve known my mother for quite some time,” Velle steps in, holding up the phone. “At least a year before you took over for the last guy.”

Velle’s voice drops out a bit as he finds something else that grips his attention.

“Oh, shit… you’re her son?” The dealer says as his brows stitch together. Velle’s eyes flick to his. “I’m sorry, man. I had no idea. Like I said, I just do what I’m told so that asshole don’t kill me too!”

Velle’s gaze narrows at the guy suspiciously before coming back to me. “Check this out.”

He hands me the phone and I see a text thread with someone named Money Mike. According to one of the last messages, from three days ago, the boss wanted them to sell Tammy a batch with extra fentanyl.

Which increases the chance of overdose by like ten times.

Rook comes up to my side and reads the text. Then the three of us aim our angry glares at the dealer.

“The Ivory passed down the word to kill my mother?” Velle hisses at the kid, the emotion snapping in his voice.

The dealer appears terrified at the look Velle’s giving him. His eyes are bulging as he stutters, “I told you, I don’t know—”

Velle bashes him in the temple with the butt of his gun and he slumps forward, unconscious. “Shut up,” he breathes.

Rook and I share a look. “What should we do with him?”

“Who cares.” Velle rubs his eyes, defeated. “Kill him. Toss his body in the East River. What does it even matter…”

“Velle, baby…” Rook steps over, attempting to console him.

But Velle rips away and barks, “Don’t you see what this means?? I killed my mother! I’m the reason she’s dead. Because I’m a fucking idiot…”

“You’re not,” Rook sighs, trying to grab him again while he fights. “It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself because he’s a fucking psycho.”

“Uh, yes I can!” He roars. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through with him over the years?? All the shit he said and did?! And all the while he knew he wanted her dead. To get back at me, or to isolate me… or…”

A phone starts ringing.

The three of us look around, confused, since none of our phones are on. And it’s not coming from the dealer’s.

“Velle…” I nod toward Tammy’s phone, which is lying on the counter. Ringing.

The screen reads Unknown, but for some reason, I’m not sure how, I just know it’s him.

“Don’t,” Rook grunts.

But Velle picks up the phone. “No. I have to.”

He answers it, holding it up to his ear, though he doesn’t speak.

We can’t hear what the person on the other end is saying, but judging by the violent look on Velle’s face, it’s definitely him.

“Yea… I get that,” Velle finally huffs. “But it changes nothing. Do whatever you need to… come here, try to kill me, I don’t give a fuck. I’m burying my mother tomorrow and nothing, not even you, is gonna stop me from saying goodbye to her.”

He ends the call while The Ivory is clearly still talking, then powers off the phone.

“I’m tired…” he exhales, wandering away. “I’m going to bed.”

Funerals suck.

It’s an awful, emotional time when you want nothing more than to celebrate the life of the person who’s left, but it always ends up just reminding you they’re gone.

Tammy’s was pretty small. No wake, no church. Just a burial at a small cemetery on Staten Island, after which everyone gathered at a nearby bar that had been Tammy’s favorite hangout. A few of her friends Velle hadn’t really known showed up to pay their respects, which was cool. But it got a little awkward trying to explain where he’s been for the last ten plus years.

After all, he can’t very well tell people he’s been living on a secluded island, working at a secret government-funded prison run by a raving lunatic.

Velle told them he’s been surfing in Australia. Then backpacking Eastern Europe. I heard him tell one guy he joined a traveling circus. I had a hard time keeping my chuckles in at that one, especially because he said it without a single trace of amusement on his face.

He’s really good at hiding his emotions from the outside world. Almost frighteningly so… He’s a fucking statue half the time.

But I knew as the night went on, he was breaking down. And when he asked me and Joy to keep people entertained for a few while he went outside to get some air, it was clear the mask was coming off.

Only about ten minutes pass before I tell Joy I’m going to check on him. She just nods me off and says, “Go. I’ve got this. Make sure he’s alright.”

Outside of the bar, I wander around looking for him. Eventually I find him at the back of the building, smoking a cigarette. And he’s on the phone.

I watch him for a moment while he paces, phone plastered to the side of his face, which doesn’t appear excited at the call. His brows are zipped up, and he’s chewing on his lower lip in between sucking drags of the cigarette.

I move in closer, listening as he says, “You say that now, but you just want me to come back. You’ll say anything to make that happen…”

My stomach knots instantly as I gulp. He’s talking to Manuel Blanco.

Velle lets out a breath and shakes his head. “Yes, it is. You think I’m stupid? Or do you just like treating me like I am…?”

The vulnerability in his tone makes me want to retch. It reminds me of the other night, in the Warden’s office. How Velle… reacted to him. How he stayed with him. I’m so furious with jealous rage I could punch a hole in the side of this building.

“I don’t care. No. No, stop doing that,” Velle barks, turning to the wall and pressing his head to it. “I just… can’t.”

I move up to where he’s standing and his face pivots to mine, eyes wide and shimmering with remorse. I can hear the Warden’s voice speaking to him in the phone, but I can’t decipher what he’s saying. He’s definitely saying a lot…

Velle just stares at me, and I back at him.

And I’m finally truly understanding the wedge that’s been between us since day one.

“I have to go,” Velle mutters, eyes still on mine. “Leave me to my business. I’ll see you soon.”

He ends the call and powers his phone back off, pulling one last drag from the cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. He exhales, brutally so, the air of misery surrounding him so powerful, I just want to take it away.

I’ll do anything to give him some peace… But I don’t even know if it’s possible. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.

Velle rubs his eyes hard with his fingers, leaning up against the wall.

I stand beside him, our arms touching. There’s so much I could speak, but I don’t even know where to begin. I expected, going into this, that Velle had feelings for someone else. At first, I’d thought it was only Joy.

Now I know… It’s someone much more dangerous.

“Harley,” he whispers, finally breaking the silence. “I’m sorry about what happened… that night. In his office. But I warned you… I told you it was complicated, and that we couldn’t be anything more than what we were doing… in secret.”

Anger sweeps me up as I turn to face him. “But it’s not true. We can… if you want to. And I know you do. You’re just scared of what he’ll do.”

“I’m not fuckin scared,” he growls.

“You are,” I reply. “And it’s okay. I get it. But I want you to be happy. He’ll never make you that.” I step in front of him until our bodies are pressed together, placing my palm flat over his heart. “I will. Joy will. The three of us together… it’s the real thing. He’s just a nightmare desperately trying to become a dream. It won’t happen.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” He sighs. “He’ll fucking kill you, Harley. It’s what he does.”

“I’d like to see him try,” I grunt, sick of this fucking shit. “I told you, I’ll fight for you. I meant it. I’m not giving up… never will.” I gulp at the shine in his ocean eyes. “Unless… you want me to?” I witness his throat adjust with a hard swallow, my fingers trembling as I ask, “Do you love him?”

He closes his eyes for a moment in a hard blink. “It’s not always about love, Rook.”

“It is though.” I grasp his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “That’s what matters. Where your heart lies, John… Where is it?”

He pauses for a moment, wetting his lips. “He’s been guarding my heart since the moment he found me, the same way we guard those inmates. Keeping it locked away in the dark, cold and hungry. Starved… I was starved when I met you, Harley. Even knowing I could never ever make it happen, I was desperate for you. For freedom…”

I can’t even help it. I press my lips to his fast, and he vibrates into my mouth as it advances on his. Sucking and tasting him in endless need, the mint and lime and cigarettes on his tongue drive me crazy. He’s so much of what I never knew I craved; my feral beast I just want to tame.

“Let me break you out, then,” I murmur onto his lips. “I refuse to let him keep you locked up for one more second. You’re mine.”

He shudders, hands sliding down to cup my ass and squeeze. It makes me wild.

Pressing my hips into his, I rub my growing erection on his, holding his throat while I go back to devouring him, drinking him up to quench my thirst.

“I can’t let him hurt you,” he croaks when we pull apart to breathe. “You and Joy are everything… If he threatens you, I’ll do what I have to, to keep you safe.”

“We can handle ourselves,” I tell him with confidence. “Stop being a martyr, Velle. We’re a team, the three of us. We’re in this together.”

He lets out an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry… I’m just so used to handling everything on my own. I don’t… know how to let people help. I don’t know how to give up control.”

“Except with me and Joy.” I brush my lips over his. “You let us control you. And it’s better than what he does, because we love you. And we want to make you feel good things, not bad.”

“It scares me…” his admits in a low, uncertain brogue, “When you say that.”

“What? That I love you?” My hands run over his chest. He nods. “Because you like it…”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding again. “It doesn’t make any sense…”

I give him soft chuckle, pressing my lips to his throat until he hums, gripping me tighter with his big hands, on my waist and my butt. “It does, baby. You’re a giant, sexy hunk of muscle and tattoos, and piercings, who loves to get fucked… But not only that, you’re sweet. On the inside, you’re caring and kind, loyal to a fault. Funny and charming and beautiful in so many ways. You’re a fuckin unicorn, John Chevelle.”

That gets a small laugh out of him. “I’m a mystical, sparkly rainbow creature?”

I snort into his neck, licking and biting him until he shivers. “Yes. That’s exactly what you are.”

“Watch it, cowboy,” he threatens, though his voice flutters in his arousal; his need. “You forget I can fully kick your ass.”

“And I can make you come from spanking yours.” My lips move on the flesh of his throat, taking in that succulent scent of his. “So, I’m more powerful.”

“You’re more annoying,” he snorts.

I drift to his ear. “And you love me.” He whimpers as I pull his lobe between my teeth, sucking until he’s practically falling down. “Let’s get you home.”

He nods quickly. “Yes, please.”

“Fuck me… when you beg, it makes me want to do so many bad things to you,” I croon.

He’s ready for it, we both are, but we force ourselves to separate so we can go close the tab and get the hell out of here.

My man’s had enough stress for one lifetime. He needs to be pampered with some dick, some pussy, and a whole mess of orgasms.

Back at Velle’s, out of our black attire and resting in his bedroom, I can’t help but wish this was it. Just this, all the time.

Me, and him, and her. No more cold darkness. No more blackmail… No more knowing that any time I can’t find him, he’s off being humiliated by someone who’s been toying with his mind for so long he barely knows who he is anymore.

Velle’s head is resting on my chest while I play with his hair, the silky smooth strands of dark, all tousled everywhere and tickling my flesh. Joy is on my other side, breathing softly. I think she’s asleep, which would make sense. Her tiredness is justified after getting rid of that drug dealer asshole last night.

I know what you’re thinking… But we didn’t kill him. It wasn’t necessary, since the Warden clearly already knew where we were.

Instead, we just kicked the shit out of him, then cut him loose, warning him that if he didn’t make himself disappear, he’d wish he had.

Velle’s tired, too. I know he is, and I wouldn’t blame him if he just wanted to sleep. I think he’s been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for over a decade. Yet his fingers are tracing the divots in my abs, slinking lower as my dick twitches. It’s been far too long since the last time we were together… Only about a week, although it feels like a hundred years.

I’m waiting for him to make his move, though. To let me know he’s alright. I want him to tell me what he needs so I can give it to him.

His leg curls over mine and he pushes his hips, erection pressing into me as his breaths pick up. I think that’s the move… My fingers trail his back, feeling his strength and pulling him even closer.

His face tips up, our eyes meeting, then simultaneously falling to one another’s mouths.

And then he comes up to me, kissing my lips soft and so needy, my heart lurches to him.

“You’re my greatest weakness…” he tells me with wonder in his tone. “But I think I want it. Knowing you’ll catch me makes me want to fall.”

My hands come up to hold his jaw, keeping his mouth over mine. “I will always catch you, Jonathan Chevelle.”

This time we meet in the middle, breaths mingling, lips parting and tongues touching. Gradually developing from easy lust into fierce yearning, desire multiplied into sensation that blinds us to the rest of the world.

Everything outside of this bed could be collapsing, and it wouldn’t matter one bit.

“Baby,” he purrs, hands ripping at my chest, reaching between our writhing bodies for my hard cock.

“Never stop calling me that.” I push and roll on top of him while he gasps, spreading his legs to make room for me.

“I need you in me,” he pleads, breathless while our mouths continue to suck and lick and bite. “Give me what I need, baby… like only you can.”

“Fuck, love… I’m here,” I breathe. “I’m here for you.”

He whines out hoarse, his dick so hard beneath my own, it’s almost unbelievable. I grab the waistband of his sweatpants and shove them down before he takes over and kicks them off the rest of the way. He’s naked underneath, which has me growling in my urges as I rip off my own pants. Pressing our heated flesh together, I keep us as close as possible while I suck on his bottom lip until he groans. The feel of his muscles, his power, large body submitting to me; letting go for me… It’s everything, how he lets me have him, willingly.

“Tell me how you want it, baby.” My words are throaty with all the lust clouding around us. “I’ll give you anything you need.”

Our kiss breaks and we gaze at each other, the blue in his irises sprinkled with shimmering gold around his pupils. Beyond beautiful.

“I… I like when you’re rough with me.” His cheeks flush. He’s so goddamn gorgeous, I’m tumbling already. “I love when you are…”

My stomach tightens at what he’s saying, the unspoken message hidden beneath the surface of what he speaks.

“John.” I hold the nape of his neck. “I promise you, when you fall to your knees for me, I’ll always pick you back up. And I have no problem kneeling for you in return. Because I love you. I’ll never take from you without giving in right back. We can let go… together.”

He tremors with his hands on my chest, gliding all over like he wants to touch each and every surface of my skin. “Say it again.”

I drop my lips to his neck and murmur, “I love you.”

“Fuck…” He trembles more. “Say it while you fuck me.”

My hands become frantic, reaching for his long, perfect cock, stroking his inches a few times before descending his body, dropping kiss after kiss on his chest, lapping at his pierced nipples. Then I proceed lower, going for his dick.

I flick the piercing there too, slurping him into my mouth and sucking hard until I taste him.

“Fucking delicious flavor,” I tell him as his fingers yank at my hair,

Grabbing his hands in mine, I pin them down on the bed while working him over with my mouth. I swear to God, I could listen to his sounds for the rest of my life; better than the best song I’ve ever heard.

Leaving him dripping with precum and my saliva, I tease his balls, then stuff my face deeper into him. Taking my hands back, I use them to spread him wide, fluttering my tongue over his rim, getting him wet until he squirms.

“Jesus Christ, get inside me,” he pleads.

“Magic word?” I smirk, biting the flesh of his ass.

“Please.” His voice is gravelly. “Please please please, Rook.”

Coming back up, I hover over him, roughly kissing his mouth before going for the tube of Astroglide on the floor. I squeeze a bunch onto my fingers, swiping them between his cheeks then massaging more onto my erection. I take his legs, knees bent, holding his ass up and open for me.

Pressing my crown up to him, I lean over to whisper on his lips, “I love you.” And my head shoves inside his body.

It welcomes me, a tight fit, that first push dragging moans from us in unison.

“Fuck yesss, baby…” His eyes roll back as I slide deeper. “So good… so so good.”

“Sweet, snug little ass… swallowing my cock like a good boy,” I praise into his soft cries.

It brings my attention next to us in bed, where I’m just now realizing that Joy is fully awake and watching us with hooded eyes, breasts rising and falling as she breathes in mischievous arousal.

“Please don’t stop on my account.” Her tongue swipes her bottom lip.

I give Velle a hard thrust and he whimpers, head back, stubbled throat exposed, looking all kinds of delicious. “You like watching our boy get dicked down?”

She nods, fingers slipping between her thighs.

Deep in his body, I keep driving, reaching as far as I can, eyes set below his waist to watch precum leak from his cock when I hit his good spot. I go at him harder, my pelvis slapping on his ass over and fucking over.

“God, you take dick like a dream.” I drift above his lips so I can swallow his breaths like delectable treats.

“I… I…” His words dissolve in breath. “I love… you-your cock.”

My heart jumps and I nip at his lower lip. “You love me. I know that’s what you wanted to say.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses, eyes rolling back again. “Fuck me… Fuck me, Harley.”

“I love how you say my name when I’m up to my nuts in your sweet ass. Remember who fucks you like this, John… Who gives you what you need?”

“You do,” he sobs, quiet and growly. “You, Harley.”

“Damn straight.”

My movements become frenzied, rampant thrusts rocking the bed while I pump my cock into my man deep, feeling his muscles gripping me like he never wants me to leave his body. His long arms fly up to the headboard and he holds onto it, tipping his chin to watch me move between his thighs.

With my eyes roaming all over the sight of him, muscles constricting, decorated with ink and steel, my gaze lands on his throat, the bruising still very much visible. Inside my chest burns, recalling Velle collared and leashed at the Warden’s feet.

I know he was manipulated into kneeling for that prick; into taking the punishments he doled out. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it, on some level. He was just doing it with the wrong person.

Attempting similar kinks with Velle might be too much, but at the very least we can start off small…

My right hand rushes up the curves of his chest, reaching for his throat. And I curl my fist around it, tight. Velle’s eyes gleam up at mine as he sucks his lower lip, giving me the green light. Because I know what he wants; the roughness and tenderness, together. He needs love behind his pain.

My fingers stiffen around his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple dip in my palm while I choke him harder, using my grip as leverage for my feverish thrusts.

Velle’s face reddens, eyes drooping in his euphoric daze as he croaks, “I’m gonna come.”

“Your big dick’s gonna come for me?” The fingers on my left hand tweak his nipple hard until he quakes and cries.

“Yes… yes yes yes, fuck, I’m coming.”

All eyes are glued to Velle’s cock as it bursts, shooting his orgasm all over his abs and chest. But I don’t stop, riding him out while I slide my fingers into his cum, bringing it to his lips for him to suck it off.

“Mmm… Goddamn.” My eyelids droop at the feeling of him sucking them clean, my own climax fast approaching.

I force myself to stop before I get there, pulling out of him slowly while releasing his throat. He gives me a flushed look.

“Flip over, baby.” I tap his ass. “I wanna watch you lick pussy while I fuck you.”

Velle immediately does what I ask, grabbing Joy by the legs as she squeals, “Ooh, you mean I get to play?”

“Always.” He rips her panties off.

She slips her shirt over her head, then splays her perfect body out before us, spread-eagle so Velle can nestle his face between her thighs. Lying on his stomach, he lifts his ass up for me, lashing at Joy’s clit with the steel in his tongue.

I have to take a second to watch her slender fingers wrap around his sharp jaw, holding him and riding his face the way she likes it. It’s such a turn-on, having both of them like this. Joy’s dominant side, Velle’s submissive side. My both.

We do whatever we want, endless combinations available for us to treasure each other with hurt so good.

Slowly, I ease back into Velle’s ass and he lets out a ragged breath directly into Joy’s pussy, licking and sucking her with the most caressingly soft precision.

“He doing good for you, Joyful?” I pick back up, stroking my cock in the channel of his tight ass.

“He’s a goddamn master,” she mewls.

“How’s she taste, baby?” I ask Velle and he mumbles. I slap his ass hard.

“Mmfff,” he huffs, lifting his face enough to tell me, “She tastes so good… like sweet cherry pie.”

“You flatter me.” Joy grins before letting out a soft squeal.

“Good… keep going.” I grip Velle’s ass hard in my hands. “Get her off, baby.”

He works his tongue inside her until Joy is writhing into his face, all the while my thrusts pushing him deeper and deeper, suffocating him in her sweet cunt.

I can’t even take anymore. I’m falling…

“I’m coming inside you, Velle.” I pant, and his ass clenches on me, holding my cock while it erupts inside him, draining every ounce of my cum.

Falling over him, I kiss the back of his neck, holding him by the chest while Joy whines that she’s coming, too. The noises the two of them make drown out everything else, their panting and purring, whimpering and gasping. It’s perfect, and right now, more than ever, I don’t feel separate from the two of them, with all their history. I feel like I’m a part of it, their present, and hopefully their future.

I know it won’t be easy, whatever we’ll face after tonight. But it’s a risk I’m more than willing to take. To finally feel like myself for the first time in thirty years.

Pulling out of Velle gently, I watch my cum drip from his ass, my cock immediately twitching again at the sight.

His head rests on Joy’s lower stomach while he breathes, calmly, as if he finally feels like himself, for the first time in a long time, too. Maybe ever.

His blue eyes slide up to mine and he gives me an utterly awed look. When I glance at Joy, she’s watching him before her eyes slowly meet mine as well. There’s so much here. So much for us to explore, it could take a lifetime and we still wouldn’t break the surface.

“Harley,” Velle breathes, hand reaching down to stroke his erection, which is already stretched and leaking again.

“Yea, baby?” I drag my lips over his shoulder and back.

“I want to fuck you…” he says, and I freeze. “Can I please? I want to feel you inside…”

A tremor runs through me at the idea. I’ve been thinking about this since the night we met… But when I found out Velle needed to bottom, I slid into the role—pun intended—effortlessly, for him.

That said, my cock is already filling up thick at the thought of having him in me.

“You can have whatever you want, gorgeous,” I promise, to which he lets out a soft, eager sound.

Velle scoots up, holding himself on shaky arms while we reposition. He lays me on my side, my hands instantly running all over Joy, touching her smooth, golden skin. Velle gets more lube and coats his fingers, parting my legs and moving himself between them, sliding one around on my rim.

Humming, I’m a buzz of nervous energy. His dick is huge… much bigger than the things I’ve had inside me up to this point. But by the time Velle gets two of his long fingers inside me, I’ve completely abandoned my worry, hips thrusting to I chase the good feelings.

I’m impatient, we both are, so he forgoes warming me up and massages more lube onto his erection, gripping it in his fist as he aims it right up to me.

“The piercing…” I watch him with hooded eyes, his large body all dripping in ink, the sharp angles of his face looking somehow dangerous and sweet at the same time. Because I know him. I know his heart. He bites his lip as our eyes connect. “Go in slow… I want to feel it.”

“Oh, you’ll feel it,” Joy insists, fingers grazing over the muscles in my chest. “Trust me.”

A whimper leaves me as Velle nudges the crown of his cock up to my hole.

“Relax, baby.” His eyes sparkle, a lock of hair hanging in his face, making him look so damn sexy I can barely breathe. “Take me in.”

He pushes a little harder and I can feel it, the steel ridges beneath the curve of his head as it breaks into my ass.

“Guhhhfuck,” I gasp, reaching for something, I’m not sure what. My hands grab his waist as Joy’s fingers continue to tease my nipples, quaking me.

“Jesus… you feel so fucking good already,” he croaks, gliding in more, stretching me wide with his girth.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” My lashes flutter, lips quivering as I accept him, the burn I’m loving already. It hurts, but it also feels fucking incredible. Knowing it’s Velle inside me has my mind reeling.

It seems like forever before his dick is all the way inside, every inch being swallowed up by my greedy ass, sucking him in and holding him there tight. Now I understand why it feels like this when I’m fucking him. Our bodies are insatiable for one another.

“This looks unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” He pulls back a bit while I gasp. Then he drives in, repeating the motion, hips developing a rhythm of shallow strokes. “God, Harley, I could live inside your ass.”

“Don’t make—uhhh… any… promises… oh my God, right there.” My eyes roll back in my skull.

His piercing is hitting my prostate. I don’t even know how I can tell, but I feel it and it shoots bolts of lightning through my balls. My dick jerks hard, leaking from the tip.

“Oh my God, that’s so fuckin hot.” Joy slides her hand down to my cock to stroke it gently.

“Mmmffmmm…” Nonsense leaves my lips as Velle’s pace picks up, just enough for him to pump into me deep and thorough.

He holds my ass open with his large hands, filling me with so much cock, I’m certain he’s about to split me in half. Sliding over my prostate again, my ass clenches and holds him, my body gripping his as he rides me.

“Fuck, this is amazing.” He drops onto his hands over me, face wedging into the crook of my neck while he sucks and bites at my flesh. “Harley, you’re so perfect, baby. You’re so mine… right?”

It’s incredible how submissive he still sounds, even while macerating me with his giant cock. This is how he loves to be in the bedroom… He doesn’t want to be in charge, not here.

“I’m yours, Officer,” I tell him, lacing my fingers in his hair. “In fact, you belong to both of us. Want us to prove it?”

His hips slow. “Yes, please.”

I tilt my face to Joy, who looks like she could pass out at any moment from arousal-overload. “Joyful… I think Officer Lucky here is abusing his power. Should we give him a spanking to get him back in check?”

I’ve never seen Joy’s eyes light up so fast. “Ooh, yes! I have an idea.”

Leaping off the bed, she waltzes, completely naked, across the room to rummage through her bag. And returns holding a hairbrush.

I chuckle as she scrambles onto the bed on her knees, crawling behind Velle. His face is a picture-perfect Kodak fuckin moment. He’s not even moving in me anymore, gaping at me with wide, thirsty eyes, pupils dilated, lips parted, in between peering at Joy and the object in her hand.

Joy and I share a look over his shoulder, and she wastes no time winding up.

“You want this, baby?” I check in with Velle, just to make sure he’s fully consenting.

He nods fast. Blink and you’d miss it. “Fuck yes. Please.”

“The begging.” My ass trembles as he shifts, cock swelling inside me.

Thwack! Joy connects the flat side of the brush with Velle’s ass cheek and he yelps.

“Oh fuck me.” His eyes fall shut. “That’s good.”

Sinking into me deeper, he gets another slap, falling down to purr in the crook of my neck. His hips work steadily, smooth ripples of his big cock in and out of my hole as Joy hits him, every third thrust. Our chests are gliding together, sweat stirring up the remnants of Velle’s cum from before. When his nipples brush over mine, the barbells in them… My nuts tighten.

“Baby…” he whines, pumping while presenting his ass for Joy, loving every second of this. “Hit me harder, Cherry.”

“With pleasure,” she rasps, wearing the fuck out of this Domme persona. It fits her so damn well.

The haze of lust in the room is suffocating, making us all dizzier, wanton and unleashed. The spanking and fucking goes on for an amount of time I wouldn’t possibly be able to decipher. The sounds of us going at it like animals swirl through the room, cracks on Velle’s skin just barely louder than our collective groans and grunts. I know my orgasm is whipping up fast, a new need cresting in my mind.

“Cherryful.” The ridiculous nickname just falls from my mouth as she grins lazily at me. “Let me feel your pussy while he fucks me.”

Joy is all too happy to oblige, clearly wanting some dick herself. She drops the brush and gets up on her knees, giving Velle a look. It takes him a moment to even comprehend what’s happening around him, large body draped over me and quaking. When he lifts his face, I can see how high he is on the pleasure-pain, face flushed and tears in his eyes.

He pulls out of me and my body shudders at the sensation, the loss of him detrimental. I never knew I could want someone inside me so badly. Lying back, I spread my legs wide as he kneels in between them.

“First show me your ass.” My lips quirk in an aroused grin.

Velle turns a bit to present me with his glorious booty, and a guttural moan rises from my throat because, oh my God… That looks sexy as hell. His butt all blushed pink from Joy’s handiwork. Our new, good marks covering up the lingering bad ones.

Joy throws a leg over my hips, straddling me backward, in reverse cowgirl. Her ass is fucking perfect and I waste no time grabbing it in my hands as she sits down on my cock.

“Fuck yesss…” we both hiss at the same time, and Velle chuckles.

He lifts my hips just enough and plunges back inside me, filling my ass with his massive dick once more.

The two of them riding me is immaculate. I’m not even doing anything, just lying here getting the life fucked out of me from two different directions. It’s sufficiently ruining me. Seriously, I think I might pass out.

Joy grasps Velle’s face and kisses him, one of his hands slinking down to rub her clit, the other reaching behind her to grip my chest. Their rapid movements pick up and I’m dazed. I’m going to fucking come, and soon, but I know I shouldn’t do it inside Joy. I have to hold off until she finishes, though it’s difficult. Her pussy is so warm and tight and wet, juices leaking all down my balls, mingling where Velle is driving into my ass hard with his long, thick cock.

Joy gasps into Velle’s mouth, “Oh God, fuck me, I’m fucking coming!” And she gushes all the fuck over us.

It’s the last straw.

“I’m gonna… fuck, I’m… mmmm…” My sputtering turns into a hoarse cry as she whips off me, just in time for my dick to blow, pulsing cum all over everyone.

“My turn, baby,” Velle rumbles, pushing and pushing. “God, I’m gonna come for you.”

“Come in me,” I plead as the sky falls all around us.

And he does. I feel his dick swell up and throb inside me while he weeps my name over and over, his orgasm seeming to go on for a while. After the delights he received, I’m not surprised.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever felt, with him rupturing into me like this. I find my body stiffening like a reflex, holding onto his dick and draining it to keep every drop.

The three of us collapse all over each other, sweaty and panting, the entire room filled with nothing but sex and love and our exhausted breaths.

My brain is fogged for a while, many minutes after Velle pulls out and plays with my ass, spilling his cum from my body. Afterward, he nestles up to my left side, Joy on my right, and we just hold each other, kissing and touching and feeling it… The good. How goddamn good we are together.

Three become one.

Eventually my awareness comes back, pulse quiets, and I press my hand to Joy’s chest. Her heartbeat matches mine. I do the same to Velle, feeling his.

“We fogged up the windows.” He chuckles. I glance across the room and see that he’s right. Joy giggles.

Suddenly, Velle sits up, gazing down at us with his sex hair all mussed up, face flushed, eyes bright. I’ve never seen something so beautiful in my life.

“Harley, I…” he stops and clears his throat, “I love you.”

I blink up at him, witnessing his pupils dilate, like he just took a hit of some potent narcotics.

“I know.” I grin as my fingers run down his front. “I love you, baby.”

His eyes move to Joy. “And you know I love you, right, Cherry?”

“Of course.” She nods. When I turn my face to look at her, she’s chewing on her lower lip, appearing more timid than I’ve ever seen her before. It’s kind of fucking adorable. “I… I love both of you.” Her eyes drop to mine. “Even you, Rook.”

I gasp in appall. “Gee, thanks.” She giggles, obviously aware that I’m teasing. “And still with the nickname?”

Grin growing some of her confidence back, she leans in to press a soft kiss on my lips. “Harley.”

“Wow… it’s really hot when you say it.” I wink. She hits me in the chest, and I laugh. “I love you, too, Joyful.” I jokingly glance around the room. “Is that all of us?”

Velle snorts.

But Joy tenses once more as she admits, “It’s um… It’s hard for me. This relationship stuff. I don’t really know how to do it…”

“Neither do I.” Velle shrugs. “I mean… it worked with us back in the day. Before he convinced me to end it.”

Joy’s face shifts and I can see her thinking, things clicking into place in her mind. “I always had a feeling it ended because of him.”

Velle nods, somberly, his eyes dropping in shame. “This is all my fault. I fucked everything up being attached to him for so long.”

“It’s not your fault.” Joy shakes her head. “He’s been manipulating you, Velle. He stepped in at exactly the right moment and chained you to him.”

“I don’t want it,” he mumbles, then glances at me, eyes round with sincerity. “I don’t love him. I promise.”

I sit up and nod, curling an arm around his waist. “I know, baby.”

“So what the fuck are we gonna do?” Joy asks. “What’s the plan? Should we run?”

I look to Velle, who appears buried in his own thoughts.

“I’ll do whatever you guys think is right,” I tell them. “But you know if we run, he’ll go straight to our families. We’re not losing anyone else.”

Velle’s lip quivers, and he bites it. “No. We’re not running. I’ve spent too much time at his feet. And as much as I know most of those assholes back at the prison don’t give a fuck, I refuse to leave them behind. They’re my men.”

My heart thumps behind my ribs. He’s a true leader, and a great one at that. If only all those guys knew how much he’s been putting his ass on the line for them all this time. Literally.

“We’re going back tomorrow,” he says with confidence. “I need to confront him. I need him to know…”

Joy and I share a look before my gaze comes back to my man, the strongest, most badass motherfucker I’ve ever met.

“Know what, baby?” My fingers brush his hair back.

“He fucked with me for the last time. I’m breaking free.”

We get back to the island late.

But even though it’s well into the night shift, I know just about all my guards will be working, what with three of the staff being missing from the roster.

I’m aware that my main priority should be to go check in with The Ivory, but I need to see my men first. I need to make sure they’re alright.

One thing I’ve learned from this whole debacle is that I’m responsible for them. I’m the captain of this ship, and I won’t let it go down without a fight.

It’s time to stand up. To be the leader they need, no matter what comes next.

Entering Alabaster Pen, I’m on a mission. Joy and Rook hang back to keep an eye out, since we’re all on high alert. And I move through the halls, looking for Peters.

I find him posted up in gen-pop, and when he notices me, his face drops. Then the most unexpected thing happens…

He launches himself at me. And fucking hugs me.

I don’t think I’ve been hugged by any of these dudes in all the years I’ve known them. It’s as startling as it is kind of nice.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he mumbles as he tugs himself off me. “I’m really sorry about your mom…”

My brows lift. “How did you—”

“Word gets out, man. You know that.” He shrugs. “Is everything alright?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing…” My forehead lines. “Everyone’s okay?”

Peters nods. “Yea. Tired, but we’re all still… present.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Look, I’m going to hold a meeting tomorrow morning. We need to discuss some stuff with the team. Let everyone know we’re back, and we’ll see you guys bright and early.” I pat him on the shoulder.

“You got it, boss,” he says firmly. I turn to go check on a few of the others, but his voice stops me. “Hey, Velle.” I peek over my shoulder at him. “It’s good to have you back… I know it must’ve been tough. You know… not just bolting.”

“I would never do that to you guys,” I tell him with confidence.

Making my way down to solitary, I find Linetti and Brenner next. Their faces are instantly nervous, since the last time I saw them I was kicking the shit out of them. But when I hold my hands up and approach slowly, they give me confused looks.

“I need to… apologize.” The words feel foreign on my tongue. “For the way I lashed out at you two. You gotta understand… I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. But I’m good now, and I want you to know that I’m here for you. We’re in this shit together. All of us.”

The two of them share a look, before glancing back at me. Then they nod.

“We get it, bro,” Linetti says. “I mean, we should’ve known you were taking the brunt of all this shit.”

“Still, it’s no excuse,” I tell them.

“You were right, though,” Brenner adds. “We were fucking up, and you’re the one who has to deal with the consequences. We’re sorry.”

“I appreciate that.” I nod. “I’ll catch you guys in the morning. We’ve got a lot to go over.”

Their faces grow uneasy. “Have you… seen him yet? Since you got back?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I have to go now and face the fuckin music.”

“You got this, boss,” Linetti says. “Don’t take shit from that asshole.”

If only it were that easy…

Rook, Joy, and I head back to the mansion in one of the SUVs. We have no idea what we’re walking into, and Rook is acting like a total cop responding to a dangerous call, gun in hand, all ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

But I know it won’t be happening like that.

The Warden is calculating. He’s smart and manipulative, and he knows he needs us. Despite how angry he’s undoubtedly going to be, he won’t just kill us the second we return.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not planning to at some point.

That’s what we’re up against right now. He’s got us by the balls, but the part of it no one else but me is privy to is that I’ve got leverage, too.

And that leverage is about to walk upstairs, right into the mouth of the beast.

“Let me come with you,” Rook pleads as I make my way across the threshold, toward his staircase.

I just shake my head, the worry on his gorgeous face giving me all the stomach tingles. “I have to do this alone.” He looks like he hates what I’m saying. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s how to handle him.”

I take the stairs two at a time, all the while my heart thudding like crazy in my chest. I’m really not sure what’s going to happen when I see him, or how he’ll react to my return. But the one thing I’m fully certain of is that I won’t be kneeling. Ever again.

Outside of his office, I’m stopped by his man with an aggressive hand on my chest. He tries patting me down, like he’s going to take my weapons, but I jerk away from him, pounding on the door.

“Don’t make me lay you out, asshole.” I shoot him with a withering glare.

The door to the office opens and The Ivory peers through, eyes landing on me for just a moment before he glances at his man. “Give it a rest, soldier.” Then he nods for me to follow him inside.

I do so, closing the door behind me. The Warden is already at his desk, pouring a second glass of scotch, turning back to hand it out to me. I’m reluctant, but I come forward and take it, holding still for a moment while I observe him.

He says nothing for what feels like a long time, simply staring at me, the dim light of the room draping him in the usual shadows.

Then he lifts his glass. “To Tammy. I’m very sorry for your loss, Jonathan.”

My jaw sets, teeth grinding into dust as I watch him sip from his drink, rage burning in my veins like acid. Taking a small sip from my glass, I try my hardest to let the booze calm me down and keep me from lunging at him.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d return…” he starts, but I cut him off.

“You had her killed.” My words shoot from my mouth like a bullet from a gun with a silencer. Quiet, yet deadly.

His gaze narrows. “Do you have any proof? Or are you here to throw hurtful accusations at me…”

“I know,” I hiss, stepping forward.

“You’re hurting,” he says, tone calm. “Of course, I understand it, and I can sympathize—”

“Sympathize??” I scoff. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

I move closer to him, dropping my glass with a clunk onto his desk. Reaching forward, I place my hand to his chest, palm flat. His eyes actually widen for a moment, as if he can’t believe I’m touching him. I really can’t either, but I’m just trying hard to keep my composure. To stop myself from shaking.

“Is there even anything in here?” I murmur, eyes stuck on the black of his irises.

“That’s always been your downfall, Jonathan,” he regards me. “You’re too emotional.”

“I’d rather be that way than like you, Tin Man.” My head shakes subtly. “You’re a soulless monster.”

I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, which means I’m getting to him. I move myself in even closer until we’re practically zipped together.

“Business, my pet,” he hums. “It’s always been business. You’re a weapon in my arsenal.”

I rip the drink out of his hand and whip it against the opposite wall, glass shattering as I grab him by the throat.

The door flings open fast and his man storms in, gun aimed at my head.

But the Warden waves him off. “Leave us.”

The man looks like he wants to protest but backs away and does as he’s told, closing the door behind him.

“If you kill me, you won’t make it a step outside this door,” he hisses. “And then you’ll be dead, along with your little boyfriend and girlfriend. Their entire families… Everyone they’ve ever met will die a slow, painful death. Is it worth it?”

“What makes you think I’m going to kill you?” My lips hover over his, the way he’s done to me so many times over the years.

My heart rate is jacked, blood rushing so loud in my ears that it takes me a moment to realize his is doing the same. I can feel his pulse rapping in my hand, his body quaking where I press him into the desk. He grunts as I trap him against it, using my bulk to keep him there.

“Jonathan…” he seethes, breathier than I’ve ever heard him before. “Enough. You’re angry with me, and I understand it. But—”

“Shut up,” I growl, cutting his words off with my mouth on his.

It’s fucking bizarre, this feeling. We’ve never done this before…

Never kissed, never touched in a way that wasn’t cold or unpleasant. For all the things he’s done to me over the years, all he’s made me do, made me feel, manipulating me into thinking this was something it never fucking was… This is the first time I’ve had the upper hand on him.

It gives me a rush of power as I kiss him, slow yet rough. I’ve been needing this for so long… Needing to see if it was real, or just smoke in mirrors.

It definitely was. And now I feel infinitely stupid for not doing this sooner.

His lips on mine break the spell, like when the hypnotist snaps his fingers and you finally stop clucking like a chicken…

Or barking like a dog.

Pulling my mouth back, I suck my lip for a moment, watching his dilated pupils as he glares at me. I can see it in his eyes, why he never did that before.

He’d die before admitting he liked it.

I move my mouth up to his ear, lips brushing it as I whisper, “I feel absolutely nothing for you.”

I take a step back, releasing his throat. He swallows visibly again, straightening up himself, giving me one of his angry dark glares. Unfortunately for him, right now it’s also a bit cloudy.

“Here’s how this is going to go.” My head cocks. “I will stay here. I’ll keep working, guarding. We all will. But make no mistake, Manuel, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for them.”

His eyes harden, jaw clenched, and lips pursed into a scowl.

“You won’t lay a finger on any of my men…” I command. “You won’t lay a finger on me, ever again. I’m not your pet. Not anymore.”

He steps up to me, vibrating with a rage I can see, like a red aura surrounding him. “You think you can just come in here and demand things of me? Who the fuck do you think you are? I made you.”

“Well, Dr. Frankenstein… then you created this monster.” I wink at him.

And then I turn to leave, striding toward the door. But the sound of things crashing stops me in my tracks, my face whipping back to him.

He just threw everything off his desk. And now he’s stalking toward me. “You don’t get to just walk away from me! I own you. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten shit.” My muscles strain as I stand my ground, letting him get close to me once more. “But it seems like you have. You’re out of options here, Ivory. The only one left is to shut the fuck up and stand down.”

“Or else?” He seethes, doing that thing where he tries to tower over me.

It’s not working anymore. We’re face to fucking face.

“Oh jeez, where do I start?” I tap my index finger on my chin. “Maybe I rally the guards against you. Maybe the prisoners, too. Maybe I unearth some of those bodies I’ve been disposing for you for years…” I lean in closer to his face, making sure he can see my fucking eyes for this one. “Or maybe, just maybe, I let Governor Russo know his niece’s killer escaped on your watch.”

Flames crackle in his eyes, burning like an inferno of wrath directly at me. My eyes slink down to his hands, to make sure he doesn’t have a weapon, which he doesn’t appear to. He’s simply squeezing them into fists over and over at his sides.

Finally he blinks at me. “Don’t do this, Jonathan…” His fingers lift to my jaw. “Please.”

I grab his hand, forcefully. “Touch me again and I’ll break your fucking bones.”

He lets out a roar, backhanding me hard across the face with his other hand. Fury takes over and I whip him around, slamming him into the nearest wall and holding his arm behind his back. He grunts at the pain as I twist, pushing myself into him.

“You’ll be back,” he rasps. “This little show of independence is cute, but it will never last. I know what’s best for you. No one else.”

“Nah,” I huff, tugging once more for good measure before letting him go. “I think I’m over my daddy issues.”

This time I ignore his shouting at me as I leave his office, slamming the door behind me. My heart is racing faster than ever before while I descend the stairs. On the way past the second floor, I hear voices in the dark, which is odd since no one else is ever over here. I pause and listen for a moment.

I can tell right away the one speaking is Dr. Love. But I can’t tell who he’s talking to.

I’m intrigued, and I really want to eavesdrop on that asshole, to see if I can catch him incriminating himself. But I also don’t want to linger on this side of the house for one more second.

I need to get back to my man, and my woman. We need to get ready for whatever comes next.

They’re lined up. For me.

A surge fills my limbs, chin tipped up. In my uniform, locked and fucking loaded.

This is how it always should’ve been.

Looking over my men, and Joy, who let’s face it, is more man than most of these dudes, I give them a smirk.

“Alright, killas. Listen up. I am the Captain now.”

Rook and Joy can’t help but grin, visibly excited. Peters and Jasper chuckle. Hancock looks confused.

His brows push together. “Is that a reference from something?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Do you know why we’re here?” I bark at them, keeping my tone firm yet encouraging.

I can see that they’re still unsure. Of course, they are. It’s been a long time that we’ve all spent trapped here, under his thumb. But he made a grave mistake.

Never underestimate the will of your servants.

“It’s not because we’re unlucky, or because we’re easy targets. We’re here because we’re the best. We’ve proven something by surviving on this island for as long as we have, something more impressive than just brute strength, muscle and manpower. We’ve proven that we can endure. That we can persist, no matter how much bullshit he’s thrown at us over the years. We’re here… because we’re unstoppable.”

I see all their faces hardening, their nods of agreement and a rippling, renewed sense of purpose.

“We are so much more than just guards,” I tell them. “We run this place… Not him. No more wasting away, letting him dull our power with drugs and monotony. No more torture and humiliation. No more,” I roar. “This is our island. And we’re taking it back.”

They all nod again, some chanting, That’s right! And, hell yea!

“Now, let’s be clear. I’m not proposing a rebellion,” I cut in. “Yet. Right now, we need to stay vigilant. He won’t touch another one of our men. He won’t abuse us, but make no mistake, there’s always a calm right before the worst storms. We need to stick together. Play the game. Work, and work smart. And when the time comes, sure… we may need to go to war.” I pause to let this sink in. “I need you all to be ready for a bloodbath. But know this… throughout it all, no matter what comes next, I’ve got your backs. Each and every one of you. And in the end, he’ll find out the hard way… He tested the wrong motherfuckers.”

Everyone shouts, Sir, yes sir!

I grin wickedly at them as my head cocks. “Mmm… yea. He should’ve caged us when he had the chance.”

I’m actually surprised.

I really thought the Warden would have tried to get at me after the meeting with the guards this morning. But he’s still in hiding.

I mean, it’s only been a day. I fully anticipate having my guard up for the foreseeable future, but it’s alright. Honestly, I’ve been living like this for over a decade, anyway. I’m used to it.

It’s late, and all I want to do is go cuddle up in Rook’s bed with him and Joy. Pretend like we’re going to watch a movie or something, but end up with dick and pussy all over the place. My favorite nighttime routine. But it’s even better now that it’s with them, instead of miscellaneous people I don’t love, and who don’t love me.

Of course, I’m a little nervous… about attempting a relationship with the two of them. Joy and me, we have a groove. We’ve cared about each other for so long, and now that we’re back to letting our feelings fly, it makes me think that stuff never actually went away. It was just lying dormant for a while, waiting for the right kick to set it back off.

That’s Rook.

He’s still so new for me; a thrilling presence in my life, here to fulfill me in ways I can barely even comprehend. It’s amazing, and scary. But all the best things are.

After all, it’s not living unless you do it dangerously. My reckless boy motto.

What’s preventing me from going where I belong right now is a box of stuff we brought back with us from my house. I couldn’t go through everything while we were there. There simply wasn’t enough time. Plus, I still own the house, and I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do with it. Too many memories to be deciphered while I was still sinking in the shock and devastation of losing my mother.

Tammy Chevelle made me who I am today. She wasn’t without her issues, we know that. But she taught me to be strong. She taught me how to survive, and more importantly, she taught me how to protect others… to guard them with my life.

It’s because of her I was able to stand up to The Ivory and finally break his hold on my heart.

I ripped it out of his hands and gave it to the two people I know will guard it with their lives. No matter what happens from here on out, I know I made the right decision, falling in love with Joy and Rook.

The box is full of random items I thought I might want. Some old photo albums I’ll probably look at later, when I’m ready to feel it some more. I think I’m still processing her death, and it’ll take time. Grieving isn’t something you can just wrap up.

Digging through, I find an old work t-shirt from Americana. Spare keys to my Acura that’s long since been sold. Some flags and club wristbands I saved from my first Pride parade. It brings a curve to my lips, remembering how nervous and out of place I’d felt, still so unsure of myself.

As much negativity that’s come with being stuck here for so long, at least it gave me a better understanding of who I am, pansexuality and all. I love it…

But I don’t know that I miss the parties. Maybe I just miss the noise.

This house is so quiet when it isn’t full of people, cheering and laughing, dancing on tables and fucking in front of an audience. It actually reminds me of before all that…

It reminds me of when we first started this whole thing, and how different it was back then. Before he convinced me that my self-worth needed to be lowered to fit the version of me he wanted.

Shaking my head, I sift through more items, some workout stuff, old photos of friends, concert t-shirts and CDs I have no way of using because who the hell has a CD player anymore?

Then my fingers graze something hard and heavy at the bottom of the box. I reach for it, feeling the metal and immediately recognizing it by touch.

Pulling them out, I blink.

My brass knuckles.

My thumb brushes over the finger-holes and I notice a small spot of very old dried blood I must have missed when cleaning them off all those years ago…

Slipping my fingers through, it’s a perfect fit. I feel like Cinderella in her goddamn glass slipper.

My mouth quirks again, devious grin widening as I hold up my weapon.

And for some sick, twisted reason, I find myself muttering, “Daddy’s home.”

“Field trip, baby!!”

I cringe and shove Jasper away from me while he laughs hysterically.

“Okay, you just blew out my damn eardrum.” I roll my eyes. But even I can’t hide my smile this time.

This shit is gonna be fun.

We’re hijacking the Warden’s yacht for the day. Well, hijacking isn’t the exact word, since Velle told him we were taking it out. I wouldn’t know how he responded to that. I wasn’t there.

But when I asked Velle what the Warden said, he simply replied, “No cryin in the club,” then winked and wrapped my ponytail around his fist.

He’s still a fucking nuisance, I swear to God. And seriously, one half of the love of my life.

Him and Rook together make up the best human being ever invented, though separately they’re also pretty fucking awesome. And I’m just the lucky girl who gets to rock with them.

I won’t tell you it’s easy. Velle and I are super similar, and we’re both relationship stunted, which means Harley has his work cut out for him. Fortunately for us, he’s a good enough man that he can make this thruple happen for the three of us. He’s patient, understanding, sweet when he needs to be and dominating as fuck every other moment, reminding us that just because he likes to smile and laugh and cuddle, doesn’t mean he won’t spank the shit out of us if deemed necessary.

I love it when I love it. Other times, I’m the one who does the dominating, and they both seem fine with that, too.

Our dynamic just works. I think we have enough similarities and enough differences to keep things well-rounded, but it’s only been a couple of months. We’ll see. I’m hoping for the best.

The lockdown is still in full effect, though now everything in Alabaster Pen is being run by Velle, which means he decides what happens. He’s keeping a strict eye on everyone, but he’s not doing it to be a hard-ass or to obey The Ivory. He’s playing it smart, and we all agreed it’s the best course of action. For now.

The prisoners are restless, but we hold them over the best we can. There are no more parties in the mansion, though we’ve been allowing family visits, keeping them spread out and making sure it’s all under the strict guise of nondisclosure. It’s in our best interest to maintain the secrecy of this place. Another wildcard we’re holding close to our chests.

Since I wouldn’t dare bring my father into the same zip code as Manuel Blanco, Velle, Rook and I planned a trip to Boston for the weekend to go see my parents. We leave the day after tomorrow, and I can’t wait. Two whole days away from this island to see my family, whom I haven’t seen in years. It’s going to be great.

Today, though, we’re partying. Letting loose is much-needed since the lockdown, though we still have to do it in shifts, being that someone has to man the prison. Those of us on the boat today will work doubles tomorrow so everyone else can party.

We’ve got brilliant weather today. Hopefully it holds up, no unexpected storms on the horizon.

The group of us file onto the yacht, and the captain gives us all the rundown. Not a split second after he’s done telling us to enjoy, the music is blasting, champagne bottles are popping, and everyone starts ripping off items of clothing.

Out on the open water, the boat slows and then drops anchor, so to speak. The sun is shining down on us, bottles everywhere, catered food, the works. We’re having a blast, so when my phone rings, I’m tempted to ignore it.

But for some reason, I’m reminded of the fact that I’ve been trying to reach Kemper.

Shortly after Dash’s escape, I got a call. Of course Dash didn’t announce himself, but I knew it was him. He was asking to speak with Luthor, and even though #35 wouldn’t tell me what the mysterious person wanted, it was clear something fishy was going on.

Things only got weirder after that. I saw a post on Facebook a few weeks later of Kemper’s wife, Nikki, with a guy who was definitely not Kemper. The two had gone to Mexico for their anniversary, and then she came back posting coupley pics with some other dude?

It didn’t make sense. More than anything, I just wanted to make sure Kemper was alright.

I started trying to call him, but his phone always seemed to be off, or not working.

So even though this number calling me isn’t Kemper’s usual number, I still answer it, hoping.

“Yello?” I murmur, grin widening as I watch Rook and Velle playing around on the bow.

Rook is holding Velle by the waist while he stands with his arms out, yelling, “I’m flying, Jack!!”

“Joyful…?” The distinct grumble causes my heart to stop for a moment.

And I immediately rush to somewhere quieter.

“Kemper?? Oh my God, finally!” I squeal as he chuckles into the phone. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he says, though his tone doesn’t reflect it at all. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind…”

“What’s going on?” I ask, my brain flooded with a million different questions.

“Okay… so don’t freak out…” he mumbles.

“Oh God,” I huff and he laughs. “What did you do?”

“I’m… in love,” he sighs, sounding like that’s exactly what he is. I can picture the damn hearts in his eyes.

“And I’m guessing it’s not with your wife…” I grin.

“It’s him, Joy…” he mutters quietly. “It’s Dascha Reznikov.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised. I knew from the moment he asked me to take care of the kid that something was going on there. But for some reason, I’m still thoroughly shocked at this revelation.

“Dascha the prisoner…” I mumble into the phone. “Dascha the escaped fugitive?”

“That’s the one,” he replies.

“Okay, so I won’t ask where you are, then.” I sit back in my chair. “But I’m guessing… he found you?”

“He did. Somehow. I still can barely believe it. But Joy, I just needed to tell you how much I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me. For helping him… I mean, he doesn’t like to talk about his time there, because he wasn’t in a great place, mental health-wise. But I know you did a lot for him. More than just giving him a toothbrush and some boxers.”

“I’ll say,” I scoff. “He had nicer stuff than I do.”

Kemper laughs. “I fucking miss you, man. I wish I could see you…”

“Me too, bebe.” I pout. “But as long as you’re doing good, that’s all I wanted to know.”

“We’re doing great.”

“So you’re a we now?” I smirk. “Funny, I don’t remember you even being a we with Nikki…”

“This feels so different,” he hums in my ear. “But Nik’s happy. She’s actually pregnant. And engaged to this guy who’s great for her. Turns out she was just waiting patiently for her husband to come out so she could start the rest of her life.”

“Hey. You figured it out, that’s all that matters,” I tell him. “So… you and #101, huh? Happily ever after?”

“Getting there,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

He sounds happy. Happier than I’ve ever heard him, in literally my entire ten years of knowing him.

“What about you?” He asks. “How’s everything going over there? You staying safe?”

“Actually… I’m kind of… in a relationship myself.” I hesitate, still feeling beyond strange saying these words. But I can’t help the bout of tiny butterflies that take over my esophagus every time I think about Velle and Rook.

Young me would be so disappointed. I sold out for two perfect dicks… attached to the best damn guys I’ve ever met, of course.

“Let me guess…” Kemper sings into my ear through a chuckle, “You and Rook and Velle?”

I freeze, my forehead lining. “How in the fuck did you know that?” I glance right then left. “Are you watching me? Is the call coming from inside the house??!”

He snorts. “No, man. I saw the chemistry both you and Velle had with Rook. It was un-fuckin-deniable. And you and Velle are soulmates, I don’t care what anyone says. I’m team… uh…”

“Oh my God, please try to mash up our names in some ridiculous way.”

“Chevarloy?” He grunts and I cackle.

“Perfect.”

“You’re living your best #whychoose life, huh?” He croons.

“Absofuckinlutely, baby. You know me, one ain’t ever been enough.” This time we both laugh.

It’s insane how much I missed this dude.

We talk for probably too long, during which Kemper tells me all about how he’d been crushing on Dash in secret for a while, based on the fact that he apparently has a thing for pretty-faced Russian bank robbers, and he fled to get away from his true feelings, only to stumble upon a recently-escaped Dash wherever they are—I know, but we won’t say it on the phone, just in case—at which point, they fell madly in love.

It’s the most twisted love story I’ve ever heard, and I’m wearing a smile so big it can probably be seen from space, the entire time.

“So where’s your lil boo thang now?” I ask him, sitting at one of the indoor tables munching on crudité.

“He’s packing,” he tells me, then pauses. “Save the obligatory jokes please.”

I chortle. “Hey, I watch guys dick each other in my relationship too, remember?” He chuckles. “Packing for what?”

“We’re moving,” he announces. “We just bought the cutest little house. It needs a bit of work, but it gives me something to do. Now that I’m retired an all.”

I can’t help but grin. “Love that for you.”

“Listen, Joy… I don’t want to spoil the mood,” his tone grows serious, “But I need to talk business for just a sec.”

“Sure.” I’m immediately on alert.

“He called me, a few weeks ago… The Ivory.”

My pulse speeds up. “Let me guess… he knows you’re with Dash.”

I can picture Kemper nodding. “He didn’t say he’s looking for him, but I read between the lines. At some point, I know he’ll try to get to Dash. And I’ll fucking die before I let that happen.”

“Say no more,” I tell him firmly. “I’ll keep my ear to the streets, let you know about anything I find out right away.”

“Thank you.”

I can certainly relate to his wariness. We’ve all been on alert for a while now, and unfortunately in this life, you can’t turn your back on the enemy. Ever.

“Just stay sharp. I know you know this, but when you’re a part of the A.P. crew, that shit sticks for life. Our protection falls on you, too. Believe that.”

“I know. Thanks, babe.”

We end the call, agreeing to keep in touch. And afterward I sit there for a moment, just thinking about this family I find myself with. This group of people I’d sacrifice everything for.

Back when I first started, I saw this as a death sentence. And for so long, we all just coasted on not giving a fuck. Accepting our fate and living day to day, thinking it was nothing more than that. An endless stream of making the best of a bad situation.

It took Rook’s arrival, Dash escaping, and the untimely death of Velle’s mother to show me I was actually doing what I’d done since the beginning.

Protecting my family.

Going back up to the top level, I find all the guys cheering. Turns out Rook and Velle jumped into the water naked, which must have looked super fun, because now they’re all doing it.

Laughing, I strip out of my clothes and cannonball into the cool ocean.

When I come up from the refreshing waters, I see the smiles of my two favorite men.

“Cherryyyy!” Velle gasps, grabbing me by the waist.

“Oh my God, you have a boner!” I squeal while he laughs and rubs it on me.

“Um, duh.” He smirks. “Look at what I’ve got near me!”

Rook chuckles and kisses Velle’s neck a few times before moving over to mine.

I guess sometimes letting your guard down is all it takes to find your true joy.

I’m nervous.

Excited nervous… the kind where your stomach bunches up and flips and flops like you’re on one of those loopy rides. But still nervous nonetheless.

My family is coming… Here. To Alabaster Isle.

It sounds ridiculous to even say it out loud, because it’s not a place you’d imagine bringing your family, all things considered. But Velle made me promise after promise that it would be alright. He’s assured us repeatedly that the Warden won’t interfere with our visits, so long as everyone is made fully aware that telling anyone about the existence of Alabaster Penitentiary could result in death.

Not exactly the preface you want to your family vacation, but it’s either that or stick to FaceTime for the foreseeable future, and I already haven’t seen my parents in over a year. So, I guess this is happening.

We haven’t seen The Ivory much in the last few months. He stays on his side of the mansion, and when he does show up at the prison, he usually remains holed up in his office.

I know he’s still butthurt over losing Velle as his own personal whipping boy. And as much as I hate it, Velle’s been toeing a line with the Warden, playing the game the way he needs to.

He tells me and Joy everything, and he’s insisted that nothing even remotely similar to what we saw that night in the office has happened since. I have to trust him, and I do, with everything.

But I’ll never be able to relax when Velle is in The Ivory’s presence.

If he touches a hair on my man’s head, the peace we’ve been keeping for months ends. I think he knows that, and so he’s been carrying on with strictly business. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning.

And with the arrival of my family, I also have some business of my own to attend to.

“I need help,” Velle groans from inside our closet.

The two of them moved into my room in a more permanent fashion a while back. Peters took Velle’s room and Jasper took Joy’s. But the problem with having three people living out of the same shared space is that it’s a constant clusterfuck of belongings. Velle still has half his shit in Peters’ room and Joy rolls her eyes a lot at how apparently messy it is living with two guys.

She’s a legendary neat-freak.

“I got it.” Joy gets up from her chair across the room, waltzing over to the closet and peering inside. “What’s wrong, Lucky? Stressed?”

“No. I’m not stressed,” he barks. “I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents in an hour and I can’t figure out what the fuck to wear because I’m the first guy he’s ever dated and they’re going to expect a certain level of queer. And everything I own that isn’t a uniform or gray sweatpants is too emo boy. I’m trying to impress them, not invite them to Warped Tour.”

I can’t help but cackle. He has a point, though. I’ve already changed my shirt three times.

I haven’t told my parents specifics about my relationship yet. I told my sister, and she was naturally beyond excited, mainly for me and the fact that I’m blindingly happy, but also because she lives in Fargo and has only ever seen poly thruples on Tiktok.

My parents, though, have no idea who I’m dating. I told them I had some very important people to introduce them to when they got here. But that’s about it.

My mother is fine. I know she’ll just want me to be happy no matter what, even if she doesn’t understand what I’m doing. But my father… He’s never been very accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. He’s older and sort of set in his ways.

I’ve been dreading the look on his face as he tries to figure out how on Earth his son is in a relationship with someone like John Chevelle.

Uh, because he’s fuckhot and his dick is pierced, Dad. Good enough?

And I love him. That’s the most important part.

“You’re precious,” Joy says with a little pinch to Velle’s butt.

“Cherry… this isn’t a joke. I’m freaking out.” Velle rubs his eyes.

“You guys both met my parents.” She shrugs while rifling through all the clothes hanging in the closet. “And they loved you.”

“They’re from Boston. It’s different,” he points out. “Boston loves the queers. North Dakota… not so much.”

“I resent that,” I mutter.

“Harley, how many bisexual men does your dad know?” He shoots me a look.

“Trick question,” I reply, then mumble, “He doesn’t believe in bisexual…”

“I rest my case.”

“Look, stop being a whiny bitch.” Joy sighs, shoving a shirt at him. “Just be yourself. What are you… scared? You’re like the most intimidating person on earth. If they have shit to talk, they’ll just do it behind your back, like any regular family. So buck the fuck up, get dressed, and come take a shot with me… ‘Cause I’m sorta nervous, too.”

“Ha!” Velle points in her face. She bites his fingertip. And the two of them end up play fighting for way too many minutes before I have to go break it up.

“You’re both driving me to drink,” I grunt, pouring us each a shot of tequila. We hold them all up, and I toast, “To coming out of the fucking closet.”

They mutter amen, and we all clink, whipping them back. The burn definitely distracts me from how anxious I am. But still, I know this is going to be a day to remember, no matter how it turns out.

A text to my phone lets me know they’ll be arriving at the dock in twenty minutes.

I expel a firm breath. “Oh, man… This is getting so real.”

“Ooh! I know what will help you relax!” Velle jaunts over to his phone which is hooked up to our Bluetooth speaker.

Suddenly, his Taking Back Sunday cuts out, and the familiar intro to my favorite song croons.

I turn to him and pout. “I fucking love you.” He grins, looking proud of himself. “You have the Eagles on your playlist now?”

“Just this one song.” He rolls his eyes. “And Hotel California. And Take It Easy. Okay! You got me. They’re not that bad.”

Chuckling, I saunter over to him, running my hands up his chest. “I will make a classic rock lover of you, Officer Lucky.”

He rumbles as my lips press to his, large hand lifting to cup my jaw.

“One of these nights…” he sings into my mouth and I laugh.

“Okay, we get it. You guys are adorable.” Joy ruffles her hair in the mirror. “But we need to go pick up your family. So stop sucking each other’s butts for two seconds and let’s vamonos.”

Velle and I share a look, biting our lips to keep from laughing out loud. Then we rush to her, wrapping our arms around her, smooshing her in between us like sandwich meat.

“Awww, Joyful! Are you worried about meeting my parents??” I grin, kissing her hair. She smells fucking heavenly, as always.

“No! Get away from me, you heathens!”

Velle squeezes her tighter. “Don’t worry, Cherry-bomb. They’ll loveeee you.”

“Fuck off,” she grunts, though she melts into our embraces, and the three of us end up swaying to the rest of the song.

The world is such a better place with them as mine.

“This house is bonkers!” My sister, Keira, squeals as I finish up giving them the tour of our side of the mansion. She’s twenty-six and beautiful, so I’m on edge having her here in a house full of starved men who haven’t seen a woman that isn’t Joy in months.

But that’s probably the least dangerous part of them staying here.

They’ve already been made aware not to cross over into The Warden’s side for any reason. They won’t be visiting the prison either, because that’s also not something I desire to put them through. Really, they’re just here to see me, meet Joy and Velle, and allow me the opportunity to discuss something with my dad face-to-face. Something other than my newfound bisexuality, I mean.

“This half alone is like three of our house,” Keira goes on, spinning around the wide open space.

“Are you guys hungry?” I ask, fidgeting in place, knowing any minute now I’ll be introducing them to Joy and Velle.

I haven’t really felt like a simple midwestern boy in a long time, but standing next to the two of them with my parents here could serve as a reminder of how different we are.

I love it, though. And all I can hope for is acceptance from my family.

I hear footsteps coming from upstairs and my heart jacks up like crazy. I guess we’re about to see…

“We can eat later.” My mom rubs my back. “First, we want to meet your friends. You said you’ve been getting along with everyone here, right?”

Almost everyone… “Yea. Speaking of, here they come now.”

I glance up at Velle and Joy, my two beautiful dark angels, and I can’t help the smile that sweeps over my face. My eyes dart to Keira and she gives me a discreet thumbs up.

“Um… this is Joy Jameson, and John Chevelle.” I walk over to where they’re hopping off the last step. “Guys, this is my mom, Barbara, my dad, Keith, and my sister, Keira.”

“So lovely to meet you,” Velle and Joy say in unison like the Children of the Corn.

I give them a bizarre look.

Everyone shakes hands, exchanging pleasantries. Then we go silent for a solid ten seconds before Joy clears her throat.

“Why don’t we go sit on the back patio?” She smiles at my family. “It’s a lovely night.”

“That sounds lovely.” Velle grins uncomfortably.

My family doesn’t seem to notice how weird they’re being, and we all file out through the back toward the patio.

“Stop saying lovely,” I growl at them quietly as we walk.

“I can’t help it.” Velle shakes out his hands. “I get murdery when I’m nervous.”

Joy snorts.

“Well, lock it up,” I scold. “They’re just people.”

“Yea… Good people.” He tucks his hair behind his ear. “I don’t know how to act around the innocent.”

This time I can’t help but laugh. “You were normal around Joy’s parents.”

“Only her dad. Because he’s a stone cold badass. I can relate. Your dad’s a cop… cops make me nervous.”

“I’m a cop.” I smirk.

He shoots me a look. “Exactly.”

Keira slows down to walk by us. “They’re so fine.” She squeals next to my face, eyes lingering on Joy and Velle. “Nice work, brother.”

My eyes widen. “Shh!”

“Don’t chicken out.” She slaps me in the side. “If you don’t tell them, I will. They deserve to know.”

“Alright, alright.”

My pulse is racing as we all get settled on the patio’s outdoor furniture, surrounded by trees and twinkly lights overhead. It’s really gorgeous. We’ve been spending a lot of time relaxing out here this summer, just cuddling up on the loveseat that’s barely big enough for the three of us, listening to music and talking about everything under the sun.

This is my new happy place, for sure.

If only we had the mansion to ourselves…

My parents grill Joy and Velle about where they’re from, which keeps the conversation light for a bit. But as soon as there’s a lull, I feel my parents watching me like hawks, knowing full well that something’s up.

After all, I told them I’d be introducing them to people who are very important to me. And so far, they’ve only met these two.

“Would anyone like some wine?” Velle jumps up from his seat. I can read his facial expression like a book. I need booze.

“That would be lovely.” Keira gives him a wicked grin and I elbow her.

“Joyful, could you please assist me in the kitchen?” He smiles at her, going for polite, though to me it looks like someone is holding a gun to his back.

“They seem really sweet,” my mom says once they’re out of sight. She’s such a loving and polite woman. I know even if she’s shocked at what I’m about to tell them, she’d never allow herself to react negatively.

Good to know, because my father can react negatively enough for the both of them.

“So, the tall one,” my dad starts and already I’m on edge, “With all the tattoos and rings in his nose, he’s your boss?”

“Uh… in a way, I guess.” I shrug, fiddling with a piece of loose fabric on the chair.

“But he doesn’t run this whole place?”

What’s with the third degree, Dad?? Jeez. “It’s run by another man.”

“And we won’t be meeting him?” His eyebrow cocks.

“It’s best that you don’t,” I mumble.

My parents share a look as Velle and Joy return with wine glasses and a bottle of chilled white.

They pour glasses for everyone and we toast to family. It’s nice. I’m happy to see them.

“Harley, baby, I’m just so happy you’ve been making friends here.” My mom smiles at me. “And we’re glad you’re alright. We’ve been worried about you since Paula took off and you left the force.”

Joy coughs into her wineglass. Velle rubs her back, eyes wide.

“Yea…” I take a large gulp of my drink.

“I suppose I can say it now that the divorce is final,” my mom pauses, shaking her head, “But I never liked that woman for you.”

“Mom, let’s not, uh, talk about Paula,” I murmur. Since she’s dead and can’t defend herself.

“I’m just saying, I always wanted you with someone who could take care of you,” she keeps talking. “Not someone who expected you to wait on them hand and foot.”

I blink at my mother, then glance at Velle and Joy. They’re smiling awkwardly, probably appearing pleasant to most people. To me, they’re resembling stark-raving lunatics.

“Yea, about that…” I sigh, bucking the fuck up and taking a breath. “So… I am dating. Um, and they’re great, and I really care about them.” My hands are shaking and sweaty. “And they definitely take care of me…”

My eyes bounce back and forth between my parents and my partners, hoping Mom and Dad will get the hint so I don’t have to say it out loud and die of awkwardness.

“Okay…” My mother raises her brows. “Well? Tell us more. What’s her name? Does she live on this island, too?”

“Mom, he said they,” Keira butts in. “Meaning it’s either someone who identifies as they, or it’s more than one person.” She shoots a satisfied smirk at me.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, honey!” My mom gasps, face dripping with regret. “I’m still learning about the pronouns, forgive me!”

“No, Mom, it’s two people.” I rub the back of my neck. “They’re right here.” I nod at Joy and Velle.

They both sit up straighter and wave. Fucking wave?? Who are these people??

“Oh…” Mom’s face contorts, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. It makes me want to laugh, but I hold it in. “Oh!”

“I don’t get it,” my dad grumbles.

“Keith, he’s dating both of them,” Mom whispers to him.

“At the same time??” My dad looks perplexed. At that more than the fact that one of them is a guy, which I guess is progress.

“Yes, Dad.” Keira rolls her eyes. “It’s called polyamorous. Look it up.”

“She’s right.” I stand up and waltz over to Joy and Velle, ready to just say fuck it and throw all the cards on the table. “The three of us are together. And I love them, so I just hope you can understand and be supportive.” I go to sit down in between them, but there’s no room and I end up plopping onto their laps, grumbling, “Scoot over. Jesus…”

They both chuckle and move to make room for me.

“Harley! Language,” my mom scolds.

“Sorry. Look, I’m happy, okay? Happier than I ever have been. I know it could take some getting used to, but I just wanted you all to meet because, well… you’re the most important people in my life.”

Velle and Joy each take one of my sweaty hands in theirs. My face pivots between them, watching them smile like they’re proud of me. It reminds me why I love them so damn much. They’re here for me, always.

Just like when we told Joy’s parents. Though they seemed to have expected this of their daughter. They weren’t fazed in the slightest.

“Harley, of course, we’re just happy you’re happy, sweetheart.” My mom gives me a comforting smile. Then she looks to Joy and Velle. “Anyone who makes our son happy is part of the family.”

I show her an affable grin, eyes then sliding to my father.

He’s quiet for a moment until Mom elbows him and he grunts, “What she said.”

I huff and shake my head. “Thanks, Dad.”

The rest of the conversation flows. We drink more wine, then Velle lights up the grill, putting on hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone. It’s shaping up to be a great night with the people I love most in this world.

I sidle up to him, watching as he flips burgers, poking at them with a spatula.

Leaning into his side, I whisper, “Hey.”

He glances down at me and smirks. “Hey, cowboy.”

“Thanks for being amazing.” I reach out to subtly brush my fingers over the cords of muscle in his bicep.

“It’s what I do,” he hums, and I laugh.

“You were nervous…” I blink at him, to which he glares.

“This is a big deal for me,” he sighs. “I don’t do stuff like this. Never have.”

“I know, baby.” I rest my chin on his shoulder. “And I appreciate the hell out of you for it.”

He turns his face and winks at me, pressing a quick kiss on my temple before turning back to the group. “Food’s almost ready. Who wants cheese—”

“John, I’d like to know what your intentions are for my son,” my dad interrupts, striding up to us.

Velle’s eyes round. For as huge and domineering as he looks, right now, he’s really got the deer in headlights thing going on.

“Uh…” He glances at me, and I just shrug, biting my lip to contain my grin.

My dad simply stares at him expectantly. “I need to know that you’re serious.”

“I’m very serious,” Velle rasps, wholly out of his element. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Dad crosses his arms over his chest. “So you’re thinking about marriage?”

“Marriage??” The three of us choke at the same time.

My eyes fling to Joy, and she looks like she’s about to faint.

“Dad, I was already married…” I stammer. “It didn’t work out great.”

“That’s because you picked the wrong person,” he goes on, eyes still stuck on Velle.

“Why are you looking at me?” He gasps.

“Because you’re clearly the ringleader of this… poly… whatever the hell you call it,” my dad mutters.

“Oh my God, please get married!” Keira whines. “I would love to go to a thruple wedding!”

“Lord have mercy.” I rub my eyes.

“All I can say is that I love your son very much.” Velle’s voice comes out deep and certain. It sends a chill up my spine. And into my balls. “And if he and Joy want to get married, then… well… I’m down.”

The little smirk he tries to cover up has my heart soaring. I grab Joy and tug her into my side, both of us giving him giant heart eyes.

“Alright, enough.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

My dad pats him on the back. “Good answer, son.”

Later that night, everyone is nestled up in the living room, watching some horror movie Joy and Velle picked out. My mom looks terrified the whole time, while the two of them keep laughing at it like it’s a comedy.

Keira is obsessed with Joy. Of course, she thinks Velle is the hottest thing she’s ever seen in real life, but she’s been chatting up my girlfriend more than anyone. She already told me Joy is the baddest bitch she’s ever met and that I better not screw it up, with either of them.

Good thing I have no intention of ever doing so.

Now seems like a great time to pull my dad aside.

I bring him to help get the guest room set up for him and my mom. Keira will be staying in Kemper’s old room, since it’s still unoccupied.

Once we’re alone, I have a seat on the bed while he stands in front of me.

“Thanks for being cool about all this.” I fold my hands in my lap. “I know it’s probably not what you expected…”

“Son, give me some credit.” He tilts his chin. “Just because I’m not woke, doesn’t mean I can’t understand falling in love.”

“You did not just say woke…” I gawk at him.

He chuckles. “Sure, I don’t necessarily understand the concept of three people in a relationship together. But you’ve chosen good ones. You know I can read people.”

I swallow thickly, preparing for truth time. “I thought you’d be confused… about me dating a man.”

“Harley…” he pauses, a knowing smirk tugging at his mouth, “It’s not as much of a shock as you think it is.”

“Excuse me?” I gasp through a chuckle.

He takes a seat next to me. “I remember when you played football in high school. You used to look at your teammates as much as the cheerleaders.”

I can’t help but gape at him. And here I thought I was being subtle…

“I guess I never really… knew myself.” My fingers rake through my hair. “Until I met John.”

“That’s alright, kid.” He pats me on the shoulder. “You got there.”

I can’t believe how well this is going. How supportive and understanding my father is. I definitely didn’t give him enough credit.

Thing is, when you’re from somewhere small, with less diversity, it’s easy to grow up falling into the mold of everyone around you. But my dad loves me, that I know. And he doesn’t love me in spite of my bisexuality. He loves me, just the way I am.

“So… the real reason you wanted to talk to me.” He gives me a look.

I nod. “The man who runs this place… His name is Manuel Blanco. But he goes by The Ivory. I want you to use some of your connections to find out everything you can about him.”

My dad goes quiet for a moment. “Just tell me one thing, son… Are you in danger?”

Maybe… “No.” I shake my head. “Between the three of us, we have it under control. For now. But we need to know exactly what we’re up against. We have some leverage now, which is the only thing keeping him at bay. But I want more. I need every detail of his past.”

My father nods, draping his arm around my shoulder. “I trust you, Harley. You’re strong, and you know how to fight. I won’t ask what happened, or why you’re here. But just know that some secrets are buried for a reason.” My face angles to his. “That said, of course I’ll help you. I’ll have my guys do some digging.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

We leave the room and go back to the movie, a renewed sense of determination engulfing me. My father has connections. Not just from his time as a cop, but through some light P.I. work he did before fully retiring. I’m confident he’ll help us get answers to some questions I’ve been wondering for a while now…

Who is Manuel Blanco?

Cuddling up into Velle’s side, he takes my hand in his, tugging it onto his lap to play with my fingers. I rest my head on his shoulder and he drops a soft kiss in my hair before turning and doing the same to Joy.

We watch the movie, and I’m chuckling the whole time while Joy and Velle whisper their commentary like those two annoying old guys from The Muppets.

It’s exhilarating. I’ve found not one, but two people to love me for me. People I’ll stop at nothing to protect and care for. To give every bit of myself.

Despite how messy and complex it is, it’s us.

My faith paid off. I knew I’d get my shot at happiness…

One of these nights.

Honestly, I expected a monogamous relationship to be a little more work.

Now I feel stupid. Because this shit is just effortless.

Chalk it up to falling in love with the right people, I guess.

Our little trifecta is on point. We work together during the day, seamlessly. The rest of my team knows we’re an item, but to more of my own surprise, it doesn’t change the way they look at us. It doesn’t make them respect me any less, knowing I’m pussy and dick-whipped by the two coolest human beings ever to exist. It hasn’t weakened me one bit.

If anything, it’s made me stronger.

The crew looks at Rook, Joy, and me as a collective leader, though my partners follow my orders to a T, which helps show the others whose boss. This mofo right here.

And at night, we slide into bed together, me and my two, and we let our chemistry take over. I get to be tied up and bruised and pleasured in ways I never even knew were possible. I get to kneel for the right people, and the right reasons. Hot sex and even hotter love.

Then we wake up and do it all over again. But it’s different every time. The mundane monotony I experienced as a single guy has left the building. Who knew all it would take to settle me was settling down?

That’s sarcasm, by the way.

It’s been a couple of months, and we’re still handling business. Part of me exists in a constant state of unrest, waiting for The Ivory to start fucking shit up again. But I don’t let it sway me. I don’t let it stop me from running the show the way I always have. Only better.

Because now I know exactly what I’m fighting for.

It’s a late shower group today. Mostly everyone’s done, and inmates are being filed out and brought back to their cells. But it occurs to me, with my head count, that I’m missing two.

Stepping toward the showers, I glance around. I hear water still running, and my patience runs dry as I roll my eyes, peering around the dividing walls for the culprits.

A gentle moan catches my ear and I follow the sound, slowly stepping up to the last corner. When I gaze down to the far end, my eyes widen.

“Don’t tease me…” Ren whimpers breathlessly, his body shielding the other.

But there’s definitely someone running fingers along his wet flesh. The more I watch, I think the person is pressing kisses down his chest and abs.

When he drops to his knees, Ren lets out a soft exhale, turning just enough for me to see who’s there.

Ho-ly fuck… It’s Luthor.

I bite my lip, watching as Luthor peers up at Ren from the floor. Then he flicks his tongue over the tip of Ren’s cock and Ren’s head drops forward, his whole body visibly shuddering.

“Like this…?” Luthor murmurs, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

Ren nods, and Luthor’s tongue extends once more, licking a line up Ren’s erection.

“Fuck me… Lex…”

Turning away, I smirk to myself while I pinch my lower lip between my fingers. The old Velle would’ve totally stayed to watch the show. But now that I’m in a relationship, I don’t think it’s right… Right?

No… I shouldn’t watch this.

Actually, I should be breaking it up and dragging them back to their cells, since shower time is well over and I’m supposed to be in charge here.

But still… I can’t help the throb in my balls while I listen to their breaths echoing off the walls.

Has Ren finally succeeded in wearing Luthor down? Or have they been doing this in secret the whole time?

I’m insanely curious, but more than anything, I’m suddenly keyed up like crazy. I don’t really want to walk out into gen-pop with a visible hard-on.

Unable to help myself, I swing back once more, just for another quick peek before I break it up.

The way Luthor’s hesitantly lapping at Ren’s dick gives the impression that he’s never done this before. It’s super hot for some reason…

It reminds me of the first time Rook gave me head. Ah, memories.

Okay, now my dick is really fucking hard. This is embarrassing.

The sound of footsteps approaching draws me out of my voyeurism and I spin, walking out of the showers as quietly as I can. I’m all hot and bothered, and I can feel a flush on my face as I stalk right into a hard, familiar body.

Rook catches me with his hands on my arms, holding me in place. “Hey… What’s the holdup?” He takes one look at me, eyes darting behind me to the showers before his gaze narrows at my face. “What’s going on in there?”

“Uh…” My throat is super dry.

He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he steps toward the noises, which are becoming more and more obvious with each ticking second.

I grab his arm to stop him. “Don’t. Just… give them a minute.”

He shoots me a wide-eyed look. “Who is it?? Now I’m dying to know.”

“Luthor and Ren,” I whisper.

Rook’s face morphs into the same surprise I’m feeling. “Wow…”

“Right??”

He standing so close to me, his warmth and his firm body like a magnet to my unexpected desire. I lean into him, taking a deep whiff of his scrumptious Rook smell, sweet and manly and reminding me of how damn good he tastes everywhere.

His green eyes meet mine, darkening as they pull me in. And he abruptly swoops me around the corner, into the entryway to the showers.

Before I even know what’s happening, he has me pressed up against the stone wall, his lips sealing over mine in a tender yet powerful kiss that draws every last bit of breath from my lungs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmur into his mouth, knowing I should control myself because we’re working, but also completely unable to pry my mouth from his.

“I know…” He sucks on my lower lip, then nips it with his teeth. “Two more minutes.”

My hands slide down his lower back to his juicy ass, gripping handfuls and pulling him so we can rub our hardened dicks together through our uniform pants. Even this feels unlike anything I could have ever dreamt up. Just having this big sexy hunk of man in my hands and knowing he’s mine… It drives me wild.

Luthor and Ren’s panting fills my ears while Rook’s hot, wet mouth trails my jaw, then my neck where he lingers, sucking and biting until I’m sure he’s going to leave a mark.

I fucking love it. How he wants to perpetually bruise my body with his love and let everyone know who I belong to.

“Velle,” he breathes, covering my erection with his hand to stroke me, firm and possessive. “I love you so hard, baby.”

“I love you so hard.” I thrust into his palm, eyes closed, head resting on the wall behind me.

His other hand comes up to my chest, and he plays with the piercing in my nipple. Even through the clothes, this is fantastic. It’s the kind of stuff I wanted growing up, when I was too insecure with my own sexuality to make it happen.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, knowing any moment someone could catch you…

I know I’m not the most mature person on earth as it is, but Harley makes me feel like a kid again. He gives me everything I never knew I needed this bad.

“Can we go somewhere?” He mumbles in my ear, sucking the lobe between his lips. “I wanna fill your ass with every inch of me, baby.”

“Fuck…” I whine, struggling to stay as quiet as possible.

I think Luthor and Ren are sufficiently lost in what they’re doing, but the last thing I need is for them to witness this. I’d never hear the end of it.

“I want you overflowing with my cum, Daddy,” he purrs, an audible grin in his voice while he strokes me harder, fingers rubbing my balls as he goes. “I want to watch it gush out of you like the big sexy slut you are.”

“God… fuck… Rook.” I shiver, my head all foggy. “Don’t… I can’t…”

“Mmm… I love feeling your massive cock throb for me.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And I do, too. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop my balls from drawing up while he grinds himself into me, toying with my dick so good I’m seeing stars.

The orgasm sneaks right the fuck up on me. And before I can even process it, I’m biting my lip so hard I taste blood, cum shooting from my dick and flowing all over my pelvis.

Once I’m back on earth, I let out a sturdy breath, eyes peeling open to find him smirking at me, like the smug asshole he is.

“You totally did that on purpose,” I growl, heart rocking in my chest.

“Mhm.” He releases my spent cock, straightening up and pressing a soft kiss on my lips. “Now we’re even.”

“Is it my turn to run away?” I can’t help but grin at him, even though I’m mildly irritated at the feeling of cum drying in my boxers.

“Won’t matter.” He shrugs casually. “I’d catch you.”

“I know you would.” I grasp his jaw and pull his mouth to mine.

Our slow kisses, though, are interrupted by a vibrating in my pocket. I pull back, reacquainting myself with reality as I tug my phone out to check the screen.

It’s Dr. Love.

My muscles instantly tense as I peek at Rook, unease written on his face.

“Yea?” I answer the phone, blinking at my man, who makes no effort to hide his intrigue.

“Officer Chevelle,” the doctor says in his usual robotic tone, “Would you be able to meet me in my office?”

“Uh… sure,” I mutter, bemused. “I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up. No thank you, no pleasantries. The dude is weird as fuck.

“I gotta go down to the East,” I tell Rook, brushing my fingers over his throat.

“Okay.” He nods. “I’ll handle the lovebirds.” He grins, then his brows zip together. “You good?”

“I’m fuckin splendid, cowboy.” I smirk at him, dropping a kiss on his jaw before stomping away.

His voice catches me right before I leave. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hardy har har.” I roll my eyes, though my smile is unrelenting.

Waltzing into the East wing, I’m really not sure what to expect. I don’t really interact with Dr. Love much. Not since I found out some things from Ren, which if true, confirm my suspicions about his involvement in O’Malley’s murder and Dash’s escape. I don’t have hard evidence… so far, it’s all just conjecture. As is the fact that the Warden is well aware of it all.

Reaching the door to his office, I knock, waiting patiently for only a moment before he pulls it open and motions me inside. I step in and he closes the door behind me, not without first checking the hallway, I’m guessing to make sure no one else is around.

My eyebrow cocks at him as he turns to face me, looking slightly ruffled, which is interesting to witness since he’s always so… rigid.

I fold my arms over my chest. “Well? How can I help you? Some of us are busy…”

“Officer Chevelle, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye since my arrival here,” he begins. “And I’m aware that I haven’t made it… easy for you to trust me.”

He pauses for me to react, to which I simply nod. Because… yea. He’s right.

I don’t trust this fool. Not one bit.

“That said, I was hoping maybe we could come to an understanding,” he mutters, and then uncharacteristically chews on his lower lip. As if he’s nervous. “Because I need your help.”

I can’t help the scoff that bursts from my lips. “And why would I want to help you?”

“I believe we could help each other,” he replies.

My gaze narrows. “How so?”

“Manuel Blanco trusts me.” His eyes hold mine. “And it’s no secret he doesn’t exactly trust you. Not anymore.”

Facts. “So? I’m still in charge here. You’re just a guest on this island. One who, in my opinion, has overstayed his welcome. You were supposed to study The Carver for a few weeks and give your prognosis to his doctors. And yet you’re still here… Why is that?”

His expression remains blank, but there’s something curious in his eyes, as if he doesn’t know how to answer my question.

“I think Felix Darcey would be best suited to remain in my care,” he says firmly. “As someone who actually knows what the fuck he’s doing.”

I can’t help the way my brows shoot up. I’ve never heard him curse. Or speak with any sort of emotion whatsoever.

“Yea, well, the East doctors are full of shit.” I shrug. “We all know that. What does that have to do with me?”

His eyes harden. “I want them gone.”

A laugh bubbles from my throat. “Those are his guys. I have no control over them. You said it yourself, the Warden doesn’t trust me. And I’m not in a position to regain that trust. I won’t bend to him ever again.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He shakes his head. “I’m simply asking you to… look the other way. And when the time comes, you and your men vouch for me.”

“What would I get in return?” I ask skeptically.

“I can feed Manuel Blanco all sorts of information. And he’ll believe it… whether it’s true or not.”

I consider his words for a moment before shaking it off. “I’m still not sure how that would help me…”

“Officer Chevelle,” he sighs, the closest thing to a smile I’m sure he possesses quirking his lips, “Never underestimate the power of persuasion.”

I have no choice but to stare at him for several seconds. I’m not sure if he’s talking about me, or the Warden, or what. But this dude obviously has some stuff going on behind the scenes. And whether or not I trust him, it could definitely be beneficial to have him thinking we’re on the same side.

After all, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That’s something I’ve been living by for a long time, only truly working its reins in my favor recently.

There’s a lot I’ll need if I’m going to keep this ship on course. And regardless of Dr. Creepy’s motivations, I can’t deny that he has a bit of a point.

Making my decision, I nod and step forward, offering him my hand. “Alright. You’ve got a deal.” He shakes my hand, but when he goes to pull it back, I tug him forward. “But make no mistake, Doctor… he’s not the only one watching. My blinders are off. And I see everything.”

I release his hand and he hums a sound that’s trying to be a breathy laugh, but it’s not quite there. “I’m counting on it, Officer.”

I stride past him, reaching for the doorknob to leave, but I pause. “What’s your endgame?” I turn back to squint at him. “Is this place really worth it for you?”

“This island is special. And the people on it…” He cocks his head. “But I don’t need to tell you that.”

I nod. He’s not wrong.

“For what it’s worth, I like you better off his leash,” he says.

I let out a huff. “I don’t care about being liked, Doctor. My main concern is keeping my people safe.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” he responds.

Winking at him, I turn to leave the office. Before I exit, though, I notice something out of place.

A pair of black-framed glasses, resting on the side table, by the couch. Just like the ones Darcey wears.

I know for a fact Darcey can’t see shit without his glasses. He has to wear them, and he was wearing them this morning when I brought him his breakfast. So why is there a pair of identical frames on that table?

It’s odd, but I choose not to comment on it as I waltz out of the doctor’s office, back up the halls of the East wing. I’m not sure about that guy. I’ll be keeping an eye on him, just like I’m keeping an eye on everything else on this rock.

Eyes all over the place.

It brings my attention to the cameras and I glance up. Of course the thing is following me as I move. I simply smirk at it.

Hope you got my good side.

Just kidding. All my sides are good.

Checking my watch, I make my way back toward gen-pop. Only a couple more hours until I can go home and be with my two. It’s amusing to think that I have a reason for all of this shit now. Something tangible to hold on to; something real to replace the manipulations and blackmail.

I have regrets. Of course I do. If I could go back, I would’ve made damn sure to spend as much time with my mom as possible. I think I’ll always harbor guilt over what happened to her.

And not being there for her when she needed me the most.

Rook and Joy tell me constantly that it’s not my fault, and I’d love to believe them. But after meeting their parents and getting all the overwhelming love that comes with such things, it just makes me wish I’d been able to introduce them to Tammy.

She would’ve loved Rook. Probably poked his dimples and made some sort of inappropriate comments. And for all the years I’ve known Joy, my mother had never even spoken to her on the phone. It’s weird. I’d spoken to Joy’s mom on the phone before I met her.

Tammy was always preoccupied, and that also hurts my heart to think about, every damn day.

I should’ve tried harder to protect her… To save her from herself.

I’ll never make that mistake again. I’ll lay down my life for Harley and Joy. It’s my job to make sure they’re safe and happy at all times. And that’s a job I know I can do.

Up in general population, I lean my back against the wall, staring down one row of cells. The noise envelops me, the shouts of inmates carrying between the concrete walls. This place is a form of Hell, sure. It was made to be nothing more.

Thing is, even Hell needs someone wicked to guard the damned.

And when you’re surrounded by fire and brimstone, you gotta ask yourself… what’s the good without a little evil?

Is it The End…

Or just the beginning?

EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK OF BRAINWASHED: ALABASTER PENITENTIARY, VOLUME 3

Felix

I don’t necessarily believe in God, nor have I ever believed in divine intervention.

But from the moment I laid eyes on Kieran O’Malley, I knew I was meant to kill him.

What set him apart from my other victims, you might ask?

Nothing in particular. He was a ruthless criminal, just like me. Maybe he didn’t suffer from the same afflictions… Maybe his tastes varied from my own. In fact, I know they did.

Because he did something to damn himself to this insufferable hell-hole they call Alabaster Penitentiary that I would never do. Something between my crimes and which I draw a non-negotiable line. Something that segregates him from those of us who were born this way, and those who take a different kind of insurmountable pleasure from killing.

He murdered the innocent. A child.

In that way, I suppose he’s similar to many of my others. He was like most of the depraved lunatics who met my blade, in that he couldn’t control himself when it came to those who couldn’t defend themselves.

I’m not sure I believe that conscience, or some minute form of empathy, is what separates me from them. There are people who do believe that… I’d certainly like to agree with them, but I’ve never been one to necessarily upend myself from what I’ve done.

I do know, however, that there isn’t a great deal of sport in killing someone who hasn’t even developed fully yet, cognitively and such. What does the Bible say, again? When I was a child, I spoke like a child, acted as one.

Still not religious. I’ve just read a lot.

No, what made Kieran O’Malley a different sort of kill for me was the how of the matter.

The reason why I was able to kill him.

I’d only been residing in Alabaster Pen for four days before I met him. For some reason, the Warden made the decision to keep me separate from the rest of the inmates, but I don’t think it was necessarily because I’m more dangerous. It was almost as if he was keeping me on a pedestal; like a shiny new treasure, to be held in its own vault. And since I’m no simpleton, it didn’t make me feel special. It pissed me the fuck off.

I’ve always valued human interaction, though I’ll be the first to admit I’m not very good at it. Still, I’ve spent my life chasing it, like an overbearing, needy adolescent, and when I finally catch some, I usually end up squeezing too hard.

But that’s not the point we’re making right now.

I hate being alone, and my curse is that I always end up that way, especially now that I’m on this desolate island; loneliness personified.

I always assumed I’d end up in prison someday, but never in my wildest nightmares could I have anticipated a place like this. And because of the media circus surrounding me in my final days of freedom, I stepped into Alabaster Penitentiary like the new kid who just moved to town. The one with a reputation.

All the other inmates were immediately itching to prove themselves around me. Prove they were harder, or more dangerous, I suppose. Maybe they wanted to impress me.

Who’s to say? But it made my first few days here quite interesting, simply put.

One morning, I was dragged up from my private cell to the main cafeteria for breakfast. The guard yanking me along was gentle in his ways, which I had to appreciate. He was a large, rather attractive fellow. And he smelled good. I remember leaning in closer to him, stealing whiffs of his scent, peeking up at the mussy strands of golden hair, the darkness of his blue eyes, almost black in the unflattering light.

I was so busy staring at him that I barely even noticed all the commotion in the room at my arrival. Until he was using his large body to block me from sudden danger that pulled me swiftly out of my daze.

Inmates were jumping up and dashing toward me, screaming and hollering. It was a big mess.

I couldn’t help the smirk that settled on my lips as the giant, tattooed blonde man shielded me, giving me even more opportunities to sniff him, and feel his muscles grazing various parts of my body.

I felt like a celebrity. The attention went to my head fast, and I had to close my eyes to remind myself of the truth.

They don’t really love you, Felix. They’re pretending.

They want to hurt you. They all do.

A few of the other guards rushed over to contain the wayward inmates. And then the biggest guy, the one in charge—I now know him quite well as Officer Chevelle—commanded the room with a voice booming louder than thunder, Glock in hand, probably ready to shoot the next person who made a move.

That person was Kieran O’Malley.

But he wasn’t rushing over to me the same way the other animals were. Rather, he tackled the inmate closest to him, pouncing on him while throwing blow after blow to his face, before anyone could even react.

I remember being stunned at how quickly his fists moved. Rapid-fire punches swung from his arms like the wings of a hummingbird, a sick smile on his face all the while. It was fascinating.

By the time a different guard was hauling him to his feet, he had a Taser pressed to his neck. The shocks instantly racked his body as he seized and twitched, my wide eyes stuck on him in awe.

“Fuck you, Timmy!” He snarled as the officer cuffed him, thrashing about in his hold. “You made me do it!”

I had no idea who Timmy was, but judging by the confused look on the face of the inmate he’d just been attacking, it wasn’t him.

My curiosity was piqued. All the other inmates who’d jumped up were trying to get to me, while this pale, black-haired guy with a discernible Irish accent was just trying to get to anyone.

As the guard dragged him past me toward the exit of the cafeteria, I assumed to throw him in solitary, his eyes met mine.

Time slowed down. The color of his irises, murky green like a swamp, beckoned to me as I held my breath.

And then he whispered, in a hushed and jagged tone, “I’m nothing like you.”

My heart jumped. It leapt behind my ribcage, and my face turned to watch him being carted out of the room, all the while swarmed with thoughts. The intensity happening in my head was thick, transporting me back to a time and place far from this one.

I’m doing this for you.

I blinked heavily, shaking myself out of it when I realized I was still in the cafeteria at Alabaster, and the good-looking blonde guard with the dark blue eyes was speaking to me.

I focused on how straight and white his teeth were as he spoke.

I’m nothing like you.

Why would he say that? Did he want me to know something about himself?

Was he telling me his truth, there in the stale-smelling room surrounded by noise?

And even after I snapped back into reality, and finally responded to the guard who gave me food and helped me eat it at a table by myself, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Irishman.

The way his face moved as he spoke to me. The curves and lines of it… So intriguing.

Almost as intriguing as his words.

After that, I spent much of my time wondering what he’d done. Why he felt that he was nothing like me…

Was he right?

Many events of my life have led me to believe that there’s a reason for all of it. Each and every step we take carves out our destiny. Purpose is given, adjusted, and instilled. We’re guided into everything we do.

Months later, I was planted in an exam room right next to Kieran O’Malley.

Weeks after that, I was given the keys to his cell.

That was when the fun began.

Stay tuned for more Darcey… Coming in 2022!

A brute, a ninja, and a cowboy walk into a bar…

So how do we feel? How many pairs of panties did we go through?? That Warden, huh? What an evil being. And how about the Doctor? Are we excited to learn more about him? What about Luthor and Ren?? Gasp!

Like I mentioned in the foreword, this book definitely wasn’t as twisty as Distorted, nor was it dark in the same kind of way. But I sincerely hope after reading you can understand why.

The setup Joyless brings for the series is paramount, and I assure you, each and every thing that’s happened up until this point will come into play. I’m meticulous in my details.

Hopefully you recognized and appreciated seeing certain Dash scenes through the eyes of the guards. Those are the things I told you would be answered after Distorted, when everyone had all kinds of questions about how he escaped.

But let me be clear, we’re far from done. The timeline of the entire Alabaster Pen series will be overlapping, meaning the whole series spans over less than a year’s time. Maybe a year, but not much more than that. So we’ll always get to see what everyone is doing, and how all the characters are reacting to the chain of events Distorted began. We will continue finding out things about Dash’s escape and the events leading up to it.

The Joyless timeline mirrored that of Distorted for the most part, even though Joyless technically started a few months before Distorted. That was done for a reason. But even so, there is still much more to be uncovered. This is an interconnected series, after all. Not all questions are going to be answered in books 1 & 2. *Struggles not to roll eyes*

Moving on from that, I always put a little bit of myself into my characters. Usually tiny tidbits sprinkled here and there. But in this book, I weaved so much me into this perfectly imperfect trifecta. Mostly with Joy.

Joy is me, in many ways. Or rather, she’s who I strive to be. Such a badass, so strong and loyal. Independent to a fault, on the outside especially, though she’s always secretly craving what she insists she isn’t. The thing I love most about her, though, is how she stays true to herself. Her character arc is one more subtle than say Velle’s. I think she’s very similar to Rook in that way. They grew within themselves, and in their ability to stay strong while everything crumbles around them.

But Velle… Now that boy was one of the most fun, interesting characters I’ve written in a long time. I think many of us can relate to desperately wanting to give into something that seems worlds away. He had so much on his shoulders throughout this book, I was hunched over by the end of each chapter. And he came through it, standing taller in the end. His redemption was oh-so satisfying.

And yet… we haven’t seen the end of it.

The How I Got Here chapters were very important to me. I didn’t want to just do flashbacks, but rather have the guards telling their own stories in past tense, in order to help you guys understand what happened to lead them to Alabaster Isle. They each told an individual story, giving us prime glimpses into their lives before A.P.

Joy’s was very true to her character. Velle’s was sort of heartbreaking in its gore; what he put himself through in the name revenge, and how it changed him forever. And Rook’s… well, his was meant to be a bit shocking. He’s always such a cookie, it was startling to see the almost Velle-like side of him. But those are always my favorite types of characters. The ones who seem sweet and straight-laced on the outside, but they harbor something dark, just beneath the surface.

That’s why those back-stories were so pivotal. And as I’m sure you picked up, there’s one common denominator in all of their tales…

Manuel Blanco is still a mystery, and he will be until his book. We certainly got to see another side of him here, though. But believe me, it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

We also got to explore a little more of the Ivory Mansion, which we’re not done discovering, by a longshot. Still, I urge you to check out my Pinterest boards if you’re looking to get a visual vibe on the mansion, and the island as a whole. It’s a strange place with a lot of history we’ll get more and more juicy morsels of information on, leading to the finale.

Lastly, I have to mention Velle’s mother. The untimely passing of Tammy Chevelle was a shock to me while I was writing. It wasn’t part of the original plotting. It just happened, and it gutted me as much as it did my big beast, because as someone who has her own experiences in the realm of addiction, it’s such a wicked disease that overwhelms everyone involved. Velle will carry his own guilt, just as the rest of them do.

This book is such a pivotal stepping stone in the series, and I hope you guys enjoyed it. The guards are equally as important as the inmates. And as we’ve seen now firsthand, they’re just as evil at times.

I just have to say that every single point in this series is carefully planned out. In this book especially, there are little details scattered all around that will tie into the rest of the series. Each move I make, from the covers, to the story design, to even teasers… Literally everything has meaning. Some of it won’t make sense right away, but I assure you it will eventually. Nothing is by accident.

A storm is on the horizon…

Where do I even START?!

I guess I’ll begin in the obvious place… With the person who’s had to deal with me and my endless lunacy while writing this book… My fiancé. None of what I do would be possible without you, and I’m so grateful for your undying support. For letting me bend your ear night and day about these characters and my ideas. For listening intently when I know half the time you’re struggling to remember which character is which, which book I’m talking about… It’s not your cup of tea but you sip it regardless, and I’ll never stop saying thank you for that.

To my editor, Katie. The one who’s stuck by my side longer than anyone else. Who’s grown with me, learned with me, changed and adapted and done it all in the name of Nyla-freaking-K… Dude, I honestly have no idea where I’d be without you. You’re the Joy to my Velle.

To my wonderful PA, Amber. Your excitement over my books and characters is unparalleled. I’m so fucking lucky to have an honest to God fan helping me each step of the way, talking me off constant ledges, reading my stuff and giving me encouragement. You’re a sexy little badass angel, just like Joy. No wonder you crushed on her so hard.

To Frances O’Brien, my bestie times a million. Girl, I don’t know what I’d do without our lengthy voice messages. You keep me sane half the time. Seriously, there’s something real to be said for having someone to confide in. Someone to just listen to me ranting and raving and supporting me no matter how off the rails I can be. Love you, babe. Our first drinks will be had so soon!!

To Kenzie from Nice Girl Naughty Edits… Homie, I’m fully positive I wouldn’t be able to do half the shit I do without you. Encountering your genius has been the ultimate blessing in my career. For all the fantastic teasers and graphics, the BEST proofreading ever, all the endless images you save for me, the voice messages, the listening to my crazed ramblings when I get stressed… You’re like my fairy godmother. Simple words can’t describe how fuggin awesome you are. I grant you one night with Rook, Velle and Joy as a thank you. If you can handle the mess. LOL! ;)

To Champagne Book Design for the beautiful and masterful interior formatting. You rock!

To Ashlee from Ashes & Vellichor for this BOSS cover. These books look so sick, I’ve never been more excited to have you working on this series with me. Your talent is insane. You’re insane, and it’s freaking hypnotizing.

To Wander Aguiar and his team for the amazing cover photo. Gio, the model, for being the perfect physical embodiment of Velle. And Donna for hooking me the eff up. You guys are fantastic.

To my badass Street Team! The Flipping Hot Street Hoes… You guys give me LIFE. Honestly, I could NOT do anything I’m doing without you lovely ladies. Each and every one of you are so damn important to me. I hope you know that. And I need to give a specific shout-out to Katie Wilmore, because of her feverish Rook obsession, without it, I wouldn’t have coined the nickname Rookie Cookie, which is just awesome. I love you guys.

To all the amazing authors who read Distorted willingly without me even asking, and continued to support me in this series, despite having your own books and characters to worry about. You guys rock my damn socks off, and I mean that whole-heartedly. You all are what makes this community awesome, and I’m so damn grateful.

And of course, to my readers… My wonderful, beautiful, smut-loving readers. You guys are legit everything to me. Each and every one of you who have stuck by me since the early days, and those of you who are new, you make the Nyla K world go round. My lovers of all things sexy and deep, dark and taboo, you unapologetic BOSS BABES… I love you all. You are the Cherry to my Lucky, the cowboy to my Officer Gorgeous. Thank you so damn much for always being here, and being excited about what I bring to the table. I say this every time, but we ain’t finished! I’m kidnapping you all for this wild ride, so shackle up and get ready for the chaos.

Flipping Hot Fiction for LIFE.

LGBTQ RESOURCES

The Trevor Project: www.thetrevorproject.org

Addiction Support:

groupsrecovery.com

(888) 385-4078

And my DM’s are always open. We all need help sometimes. We all need a friend.

Thank you for reading

The Midnight City Series:

Andrew & Tessa’s Trilogy

(Forbidden/Age Gap, celebrity romance, suspense. Read in order)

Midnight City (TMCS #1)

Never Let Me Go (TMCS #2)

Always Yours (TMCS #3)

Alex & Noah

Seek Me (TMCS #4—Standalone, Friends to lovers/Angst)

Unexpected Forbidden Romance:

PUSH (Standalone, Taboo/MMF)

To Burn In Brutal Rapture (Standalone, Taboo/Age Gap)

Alabaster Penitentiary:

Distorted, Volume 1 (MM)

Joyless, Volume 2 (MMF)

Brainwashed, Volume 3 (MM)—Coming in 2022

Fragments, Volume 4 (MM)

Ivory, Volume 5 (mystery, *wink wink*)

Twisted Tales Collection:

Serpent In White (A drug cult MMMF retelling of The White Snake) Coming November 19, 2021!

Twisted Christmas: A Taboo Christmas Anthology

Unwrap Him by Nyla K (An Age Gap, Taboo MM) Coming December 1st 2021!

Romance After Dark Taboo Anthology: Darkest Desires

Double-Edged by Nyla K (A Taboo MMM) Coming March 21st, 2022!

Don’t forget to share and leave a review! It means the world!

Hi, guys! I’m Nyla K, otherwise known as Nylah Kourieh; an awkward sailor-mouthed lover of all things romance, existing in the Dirty Lew, up in Maine, with my fiancé, who you can call PB, or Patty Banga if you’re nasty. When I’m not writing and reading sexy books, I’m rocking out to Machine Gun Kelly and YUNGBLUD, cooking yummy food and fussing over my kitten (and no, that’s not a euphemism). Did I mention I have a dirtier mind than probably everyone you know?

I like to admire hot guys (don’t we all?) and book boyfriends, cake and ice cream are my kryptonite. I can recite every word that was ever uttered on Friends, Family Guy, and How I Met Your Mother, red Gatorade is my lifeblood, and I love to sing, although I’ve been told I do it in a Cher voice for some reason. I’m very passionate about the things that matter to me, and art is probably the biggest one. If you tell me you like my books, I’ll give you whatever you want. I consider my readers are my friends, and I welcome anyone to find me on social media any time you want to talk books or sexy dudes!

Get at me:

AuthorNylaK@gmail.com, or my PA amberbookobsession@gmail.com

Instagram:@AuthorNylaK

Facebook: AuthorNylaK

Tiktok: @AuthorNylaK

Twitter: @MissNylah

Goodreads: Nyla K

BookBub: @AuthorNylaK