Chapter Two #2
“Fair warning, when it comes time for checks, you might need to… ya know…” He lifts his dark brows at me. My gaze narrows, and he makes a fisting motion with his hands.
The look I’m giving him is one of pure horror. “That’s disturbing. The thing’s like… four inches wide.”
“Oh, right. You’ve never gaped it before,” Ren sighs casually.
I can feel the way my face has contorted in even more appall.
“Ren…” Luthor scolds, rubbing his eyes.
“ Fine , I guess you could just clutch it between your cheeks.” Ren grins. “Do the ol’ credit card swipe.”
“Fookin’ nutter,” O’Malley laughs.
I can’t help cracking a tiny smile. It’s disturbed, but still… With Ren, it’s virtually impossible not to fall into the web of his charms, in one way or another.
Swallowing hard, I try to eat my food, though I’m now acutely aware of this piece of deadly contraband resting on top of my dick. They’re not exaggerating the risks. Velle would have an utter conniption if he found it. And the Warden…
A chill runs through me.
I’m not sure if the benefit outweighs the consequences on this one. But when I think about what I could do with a cellphone, my toes wiggle in my shoes. It’s the closest thing to freedom in here. The only opportunity for contact with the outside world…
Plus, I’m good at keeping secrets. Better than any of them.
After breakfast, everyone else is brought to the showers. But not us. ’Cause we’re special.
Someone grabs me by the arm, and I know who it is right away. Smallest hands of any guard on this island. Not to mention, the distinctly female scent you don’t get from anyone else in the general vicinity…
“Let’s go, homie,” Joy says, dragging me along while snapping at Luthor, Ren, and O’Malley to keep up. “I’m in the mood—”
“To get your ass kicked?” I cut her off with a smirk.
“I was gonna say to make you eat shit,” she teases. “But that’s the spirit. I like your confidence.”
I chuckle at her wise-assery while the five of us make the trek down to the basement.
I won’t go as far as to say I get preferential treatment in here, because I certainly deal with enough bullshit to understand my place on the food chain. But rec time is one thing I’m incredibly grateful for, and I think it’s safe to say, none of us would get it if it weren’t for Joy Jameson.
Joy and I bonded right away when I got here.
I don’t know that it’s just because we’re both Korean, but that didn’t hurt.
We also have similar backgrounds, though her family loves and supports her, and mine is…
well, the opposite of that. But because of our heritage, we have things in common that I’m not sure anyone else here would fully understand.
That, and we’ve both been super into Tae Kwon Do since we were kids.
We’re even close in age. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that if she’d grown up in New York rather than Boston, Joy Jameson definitely would’ve been my girlfriend.
Or, at the very least, she would’ve been someone I devoted my attention to.
Once in the basement rec room, we all scatter about, heading for our respective areas. Luthor and Ren grab the basketball, yelling at O’Malley, who’s more interested in the rickety old set of dumbbells, to stop fucking around and join them.
But Joy and I have our own routine. We’re immediately wrapping our knuckles and feet, getting ready to spar. The only problem is that I’m highly aware of the cellphone hidden in my pants. I won’t be able to fight with it in there.
Waiting for Joy to turn around, I quickly stuff it in between a stack of old mats no one uses.
“Come on, jeonsa !” she calls to me, and I jaunt over, putting the phone out of my mind for now. “Let’s dance!”
I’ve gotta say, I love this. Still, every time I practice Tae Kwon Do, in any form—even just fucking around with Joy—it feels like home. I feel centered, calm . I can block out all the bullshit of a prison sentence I still struggle with every day, though I pretend not to, and just move.
Breathe. Advance. Swing, left, swing right. Kick.
“That’s excellent! Look at you go!” I hear the familiar voice of my grandfather in my brain, his deep voice sounding almost regal with the accent. “You’ll be Master material, yet. My grandson, the warrior.”
In his hayday, my grandfather studied Tae Kwon Do under one of the most famous Grandmasters in the world. When I was coming up, a confused pre-teen, raging inside and searching for an outlet, it was him who got me into a program. And he stuck by me the whole time. Unlike my father…
Rafe Byron Jr. was my mother’s father, and he was my favorite person in the world.
Born and raised in London, his work as a very successful journalist brought him to New York, where he spent the remaining years of his life.
When I was two, he got sick, and my family moved from South Korea to be closer to him.
Rafe battled cancer for years. He was a tough son of a bitch, and I’m a hundred percent certain that he made me the man I am today—flaws, secrets , and all.
I used to call him Master Splinter—like from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles .
Sure, he didn’t teach me Tae Kwon Do, but he was my master.
Caring and patient, smart and cunning. He was an all-out awesome fucking guy, and he raised my mother to be the same way.
Which is why I’ll never understand how she chose someone like my father to marry.
“Headstrong isn’t a very good quality, adeul ,” my father said to me, shortly after Grandfather died. “When you are difficult, you are a project… You will not find a career or a wife behaving this way.”
Yea. Great way to encourage a boy on the cusp of becoming a man, grieving over the loss of the only supportive person in his life while struggling to figure himself out.
No wonder I spent so much of my life after that lurking in the shadows…
“Come at me, bro!” Joy huffs, out of breath, because I’ve been playing her defensively. Wearing her out. It’s a tactic of mine.
She launches a few more hits at my face, and I block every single one. We’ve been going at this for a bit, and I can tell she’s getting tired. That’s when I make my move.
Kick, kick, jab jab jab, then spin and wham! Kick to the head!
And she’s down!
Of course, we’re not beating the shit out of each other or anything. It’s not about that. But we also agreed when we started doing this to never hold back. It’s not in either of our natures.
Once she’s on the ground, I pin her down, breathing heavily with a triumphant grin on my lips. I’m man enough to admit she beats me more than I beat her. But that just makes moments like these all the more satisfying.
“I win , jagiya ,” I murmur, hovering over her.
We’re both panting, chests jumping up and down, exposed skin flushed and a little sweaty. It becomes painfully obvious in a split second that my dick is jamming into her, and not that it’s rock solid or anything, but it’s certainly alive .
Joy’s pupils dilate, and she licks her lip, glancing across the room at the guys, who are still messing around with their own activities. “Get off me, inmate.”
Her raspy little growl gives my dick a stir. I lean in closer. “Or what?”
She arches up. “Meet me around the corner in two minutes.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
Rolling off of her, I watch as she hops to her feet, removing the tape while skipping toward the locker room off the main area. I sit up, head spinning, checking on the guys myself.
It’s not news that Joy and I hook up from time to time. It usually happens down here, too, because she’s not one to let her sexual escapades be known to the rest of the prison, especially when it comes to fooling around with an inmate.
The guards hook up with the inmates here.
It’s just a fact. Some do it more than others, but the thing is that they’re all men .
Joy is the only female, so naturally, there’s extreme interest in getting at her, knowing she’s literally the only option for sex without crossing over into gay territory.
But unfortunately for every straight prisoner other than me, Joy Jameson is off-limits. She pointedly does not hook up with inmates. I’m the one and only exception to that rule, which makes me feel even more pretty and special.
If I were to guess why, I’d think it’s because she knows I’m well-versed in the premises of both keeping it strictly physical and keeping my mouth shut— when it’s not feasting on her pussy, I mean.
Even Joy’s other half—her partner in crime and her ex, John Chevelle—hasn’t so much as shot me an evil look pertaining to me messing around with his Cherry .
Of course, he knows. It’s widely understood that Joy and Velle pretty much share a brain.
But I also think Velle, more than anyone on this island, treats sex like the ultimate show of power.
Joy throwing me a bone, on her terms, makes me less of a threat.
I’m not exactly sure that’s true, but at the end of the day, I’d never do anything to fuck Joy over. She’s another one of my closest friends, like Luthor, Ren, and O’Malley. I trust her implicitly.
Moseying over to the locker room doorway, I’m trying to be as subtle as possible, whistling like I’m not doing anything sneaky. Just casually walking into this private area, following the sounds of running water. Nothing to see here…
Joy is already in one of the showers, and I have to pause and gulp because she’s naked and dripping wet… And her body is insane .
We’ve fucked before, but we don’t usually have sex. Her rule is that if I beat her, I eat her. You’d think it’d be the other way around, but no. Eating her out is my prize, because I never get to do it anymore.
I’m surrounded by dick. Dick dick dick, everywhere. Dick and ass. That’s it.
Spending some time with tits and pussy is a welcome treat.
In seconds, I’m naked too, joining her in the shower.
It’s a bit dirtier down here than the showers upstairs, so you have to be careful where you step, but no matter.
Right now, I’m more focused on getting us both off; making this good, but more importantly, making it quick.
She can’t exactly leave the others alone for long.
Though, I’m sure Velle knows every inch of what’s happening down here and is more than prepared to crack skulls if anything goes sideways.
I start out kissing Joy’s mouth and neck, licking up her sweat mixed with the cool water, because it tastes good. Next, I’m at her tits, savoring them because, goddamn , it’s been way too long. And lastly, the main course; her sweet little pussy.
There are many sensations flooding my body when I do this, things I never thought I’d feel while eating a girl out.
It’s crazy to me how different it starts to feel, because of how rare it is…
It’s like the whole time is spent hurdling through all the ways this is different from the other sex I have here.
The other details I hold close to my chest.
Maybe that’s why I enjoy hooking up with Joy so much. There’s no risk of getting swept up in memories, like there is with Ren. With Joy, I can be the old Byron again.
It reminds me of simpler times.
Only five minutes with my tongue putting in mad work, and she’s clenching her thighs around my head, yanking my hair so hard it hurts. I like it.
When she’s done coming, and all gushy, I hold her up against the wall with her legs around my waist and rub my dick up and down through her wetness.
“Where should I come?” I whisper out fast and hoarse, fisting my cock and beating it rough.
“Come on my tits,” she breathes.
“Fuck yea,” I growl, succumbing to the sensation. Stroking faster and faster.
Closing my eyes… Seeing tear-stained cheeks and a waiting mouth.
Shit…
I force my eyes open. Shit shit shit…
And then I’m coming, shooting all over her perky tits, biting my lip to keep the desperate hums in.
“That was awesome,” Joy sighs as I put her down, immediately washing up.
“Mhm…” I gulp.
Yea, it was. It felt great, because orgasms always do. And it was hot. Duh.
It’s… comforting with Joy. Like being a musician on a comeback tour. There’s something satisfying about going back to your roots.
Fooling around with females is my original repertoire.
Shaking off the weird feelings bogging me down, I get redressed, then follow Joy back into the rec room. If the guys noticed us disappearing together for ten minutes, they know better than to comment on it. Especially in front of Joy.
I’m certain she’d give them a nice bonk with her billy club.
“Alright, maggots.” She claps her hands together, austerity shifted carefully back into place. “Time to go. Chop chop.”
I hang back just enough, lingering by the mats where I stashed the cellphone.
Tugging it out quickly, I check the screen.
It has full service down here, which is a minor miracle.
Without another moment of thought, I stuff it back where it was, scurrying after the others.
Keeping it hidden down here seems much safer than carrying it around with me or keeping it in my cell.
As we make the long-ass journey back up to general population, I get a shove in the side from my cellmate.
“Where’d yeh put it?” O’Malley asks. I lift a brow, and he gives me a look. “You know…” He holds his hand up to his face, making the international gesture for talking on the phone.
Eyes on Joy, I whisper, “I left it down there. Tucked between those old mats up against the back wall.”
He nods, but says nothing.
I’m not too worried about it. O’Malley’s a freaking nutjob, but he’s still one of my best friends in this place. I trust him.
That might be a loaded statement, but we’ll see how things play out.