Chapter 7
SLOAN
I gripped my cock tight in my hand, staring at the picture of Conall on the disposable phone.
The green collar wasn’t as vibrant as the red, but the silver spikes on it were superior, a sign to my men that my pet was in charge by my authority.
They didn’t have to know the significance of the collar to understand I’d given it to Conall and what it meant.
A flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, while the smirk on his face was delectable, his eyes shining wickedly.
That was all it took for me to get hard.
I’d retreated to my cell and pulled out my cock, coating myself with spit, before getting to work.
The pressure of my hand on my rigid length wasn’t enough to imagine Conall’s warmth, but it was sufficient for the circumstances. I wouldn’t be in here for long.
I shoved the phone under my mattress before I settled in again.
I fantasized about Conall’s mouth—wet and hot—and how eager he always was.
For someone who hadn’t sucked cock before me, he loved it when he got on his knees in front of me.
His lashes fluttered and his eyes darkened with lust as he sucked on my flushed tip, tongue darting out to steal a taste.
“Please, Boss?” he whispered in a pleading voice, caught between acting innocent and taking what he wanted.
People underestimated Conall. Once, he didn’t have the drive, and now that he did, he was unstoppable.
He always got what he wanted, and all it took were some coy words and a simple look.
And that was a lot sexier than anything else.
Eventually, everyone fell for his act, even me, though I always saw his careful manipulation for what it was.
I closed my eyes and lost myself in the fantasy, smirking. “Go ahead, Pet. Take what you want.”
He darted his tongue out to trace the weaving veins across my cock before taking it into his mouth.
He sucked softly at first before his desperation for a throat full of cum grew.
The noises he made were frantic and needy, like he’d die if he didn’t swallow my load.
The sinful sounds were always enough to nearly send me crashing over the edge.
Holding back took every ounce of my restraint.
Conall was the first and only pet that drove me absolutely insane.
A sharp pounding outside my cell had my eyes snapping open, and I glanced toward the unlocked bars, where Hanson stood with a mean smirk. He leaned against the threshold, arms crossed and eyes sharp.
“Get up, Killough. Yard time.” His lip curled into a sneer.
I gritted my teeth but offered him a curt nod. “I’m nearly finished.”
He laughed abruptly and stepped in, placing a hand on top of the baton stuffed into his utility belt. “Now, Killough. I’m in charge here, not you.”
I let go of my throbbing cock and tilted my hips to yank up my pants. Slipping out of the poor excuse for a bed, I gave him a wry smile. “Sure thing, Officer.”
His gaze dipped down my body. I wasn’t stupid—he wasn’t interested, this was a ploy for dominance.
From the moment I’d entered Rikers, he’d hated me.
The man lived off fear, and right now, I was scarier than him in this place.
Criminals looked at me with trepidation and scurried to get out of my way.
This was my territory, even if I was locked up.
“You can call me boss.” Hanson yanked out his baton and slapped it against his palm. “Go on, I’ll wait.”
Anger thrummed at my temple. Most guards avoided causing issues with me because, sooner or later, I would be out and would inflict horrors worse than any damage they could cause in here. But Hanson was built different. His arrogance won over his survival instincts.
Raising my chin, I smirked. “You’re not my boss.”
Hanson chuckled and went to turn away before he swung around again and slammed his baton across my right knee. I grunted and my legs gave out, causing me to land on the floor in front of him. Agony radiated from where I’d been struck.
Hanson rested the tip of his baton under my chin and raised it so I was staring up at his face. “Who am I to you, Killough?”
“Officer,” I sneered. “Nothing more than the shit under my shoes. I’m going to make your life hell when I get out of here, Hanson.”
Hanson laughed loudly and raised his baton.
I kept my head up. I wouldn’t cower for this arsehole.
“Hanson!” Taffart strode into the cell and grabbed the baton before Hanson could bring it down on me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Hanson ripped the weapon out of Taffart’s hold and turned toward him, squaring his shoulders. “I’m reprimanding an inmate. What are you doing? Don’t like how I’m talking to your boss, Taffart?”
Taffart snarled toward Hanson and grasped a fistful of Hanson’s shirt, dragging him out of the cell. Hanson shoved him, and they faced off with each other while I forced myself onto my feet, regardless of the pain that vibrated from my knees.
“Fuck off. Now. Before I get the warden.”
Taffart pushed Hanson, and despite Hanson taking a step forward, he hesitated before he let out a frustrated growl and spun on his heel, stalking past other cells and away from us.
Taffart turned toward me and winced. “Boss, you okay?”
I gave him a sharp nod but gritted my teeth as I grabbed my jacket and slid it on. It was cold outside and I’d need it. I did the same with my gloves. “I want you to get word to my pet and nephew. Hanson is to be handled.”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “While I agree with you, sir, I don’t think now’s the right time. You’re still in here and that could cause issues. If a corrections officer is killed, the warden may not look too kindly on you for it.”
I hated that he was right. The warden was fickle, and while he was fine with being used right now by exchanging favors, that could quickly change if we brought down heat on him by killing one of his men.
“We can handle him for now. Until you get out.” Taffart glanced around and stepped in closer.
“I’ve talked to your lawyer, and he’s close to getting information on the judge that’ll take your arraignment.
Right now, the date’s a long way out, but they are working on bringing it forward.
As soon as we blackmail the judge, your men will handle them. ”
“And the gun?” I asked.
He nodded. “Our contact’s working on it. He’s close to making it disappear. Your captain’s got cold feet and won’t do jack shit.”
Then, we’d have to get rid of him, too. I didn’t have cowards on my payroll. Once you were in with the Company, you couldn’t pick and choose when you helped us. That wasn’t how it worked with any criminal organization.
“Tell them to expedite it. It’s time to leave this place.
” I strode past him, making a point of not limping while ignoring the pain that throbbed through my knee, and followed a line of cons that were filing out toward the yard.
I pushed past men to get down the stairs, and they bolted out of my way, giving me space.
The men I’d personally chosen to guard me in here sidled in beside me.
They were all Company employees who’d taken a fall for us at some point or another, and they would be rewarded for their loyalty.
I took care of the men who took care of us.
I led them to the weight bench where a con was already lifting.
The moment he saw me, he cleared his throat and carefully stood, giving me a small head tilt of acknowledgement before walking away.
I grunted, my mind still caught on Hanson.
He’d also said something to my pet and that wasn’t allowed.
I could handle that bastard, but Conall was off-limits and everyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that.
There weren’t any ifs or buts—when I was out of this place, I’d handle him personally.
I lay on the bench and waved my hands toward my guys. “Put three-fifty on.”
I closed my eyes as the men got to work adding the weight to the bar. Rubbing my now soft cock, I mentally cursed Hanson. There weren’t many people who could get under my skin, but he’d successfully done it. He was going to regret it, too.
“Ready, sir,” Gallagher said. His dark hair glinted under the morning sun and he towered over me even when I was standing.
He had to be at least six foot six. Covered in tattoos and brutal, he was the type I usually had on the streets scaring the shit out of people who owed us money.
He came to us from an Irish family in Chicago seven years ago and was arrested for assault after he beat the shit out of a Russian for talking shit about me.
He would be rewarded well when he got out.
I gave him a sharp nod. “Gallagher, you spot me.”
“Sir.” Gallagher shifted to stand behind me as I grabbed the bar.
I lifted the weights, straining for a moment before I lowered the bar toward my chest and pushed it up again. My first set of reps was twelve, and despite my arms trembling, once I got to the twelfth, I lifted the bar to sit it on the cradle.
Someone behind me whistled, and my men straightened, shifting to move in front of me. I sat up, not needing to look. I knew who it was.
“Reyes. You’re like a bad smell. I can’t get rid of you.”
“Do you want to build a snowman?” Reyes laughed as he strolled past my men a little too gleefully.
I turned my head to blink at him, not quite sure if he was referencing something or being a smart-arse.
“Let’s go and play.” He grinned as he danced his way over toward me.
Crazy arsehole.
Gallagher went to move, but I shook my head. Reyes wasn’t a threat in here. He made it his mission to piss me off, but it wasn’t going to work.
“Or we could braid each other’s hair?” he teased as he stopped in front of me. “I’ll do you first. Although, yours is looking particularly brown lately, Killough. You’re almost looking human. Almost.”