Chapter Nineteen
ELIJAH
S kimming through the latest reports from Cato and Nicco, I sigh. Staying in Ogmore wasn’t luring out our traitorous little rat quickly enough, and I was becoming restless. I wanted to crawl into bed beside Ava each night, instead of watching her sleep on a screen. I wanted to shower and shit on my own. I wanted ten minutes away from the stream of consciousness that was Beans. Soon, I tell myself as I rub my eyes. Very fucking soon.
The reports tell me nothing new. The Cartel is pushing the boundaries, trying to expand beyond Meadowville, and they seem to think that with me behind bars, Newtown is up for grabs. How foolish they are. I reply to Nicco, authorizing a little show of force to remind them just where the lines lay.
Flicking through Cato’s surveillance of Ava, there’s something that's been bothering me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
“Kal said he’s shifted the magazines and snacks.” Beans says as he wanders into our cell, holding a little slip of paper between his fingers. “He also has the information you want.”
“About time,” I grumble. While I didn’t strictly need Kal, or the information he could get me, I knew the importance of loyalty and chains of command. If I didn’t establish myself now that I'd handled Tiny and landed him in solitary, I ran a risk of being a target when he was eventually released with the rest of us.
The information I’d requested wasn’t exactly top secret either, I’d simply asked for a list of security camera blind spots and the guard rotations. Now, I’d done nothing but observe since arriving at Ogmore, which means I already knew those shift patterns like the back of my hand. Getting the blind spots also wouldn’t be a huge difficulty, but I wanted to build those networks inside these walls.
Glancing at Kal’s ugly scrawl, I work out that my best option is to wait until this evening, when they would play a movie in one of the recreational rooms.
It turns out I’m right as one inmate starts a bit of a brawl during the showing of The Lorax, meaning that the guard's attention is diverted. With a small switchblade tucked in my sleeve, Beans and I slip from the room and begin walking towards a small corridor just off the recreation rooms to the left. It’s an older part of the building and while there is a security camera, apparently it hasn’t been working properly for a while now, but the powers that be haven’t bothered getting it repaired.
As we walk past the recreation room that Louis, Sanchez and a few other Cartel members like to use, I slow my pace. I’m like catnip to these fuckers, and no doubt they’ll want revenge for Tiny if they think they can get it.
“Hey!” Sanchez calls, following us into the corridor, but I don’t turn around. “I said, hey!”
A large hand lands on my shoulder, spinning my body, which is such a rookie move as I shift into the motion, pulling out my knife and pinning him to the wall. Sanchez swallows, his neck moving against the tip of my blade.
“We don’t want no problems,” he grunts, holding out his hands in surrender.
I can’t help the bitter laugh that leaves my lips. “That’s why you followed me out here? You hear that Beans? They don’t want any problems.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Beans, the scrawny little thing that he is, has pinned Louis to the wall is pressing a metal file against the man’s pulse point.
Turning back to Sanchez, I tut. “See, that in itself is an issue. Because I want to send a message, and I’m going to carve it on your skin. But that’s more of a ‘you’ problem.”
As I sink the point of my knife into Sanchez’ cheek, I hear a struggle behind me. Sanchez clenches his teeth and makes a straining noise, but he knows better than to move.
My blade might be small, but it cuts through flesh like butter, as I draw out the White Rabbit logo. There would be no mistaking the message I’m sending when The Cartel bosses see a rabbit on Sanchez’ face.
The sound of someone being slapped reaches my ears over Sanchez’ heavy breathing, and without bothering to turn this time, I hiss a quiet warning. “Louis, my friend! Sit still because you’re not leaving this unscathed either.”
“There are bigger things at play out there than us,” Sanchez spits through almost gritted teeth as I finish up on the rabbit’s ears. “You have no idea who’s pulling the strings, and when they come for you…”
Blood trickles down his cheek, flowing freely as I go back and retouch some of my lines. Well, I might be able to draw on paper, but cutting into skin was a different thing entirely.
Pulling away, but keeping hold of his face in a firm grip, I turn his face to get a look at my handiwork. When I’m satisfied, I bring my knee up to his stomach and knock the wind out of him, leaving him to crumple on the floor.
Glaring up at me as he struggles to catch his breath, he rasps, “I’m going to watch you choke on your own intestines, Left Hand. I promise you that.”
Chuckling, I begin adding my masterpiece on Louis’ plump cheek. “Can you even spell intestines, Sanchez? Do you know where in your body they're found, because I’d be happy to show you.”
“Now, tell me who the puppeteer is?” I’m almost finished with my art as Louis’ whimpering loudly, sounding more pathetic than Sanchez’ restrained huffs had been. Over my shoulder, I sing-song, “Don’t go quiet on me Sanchez.”
Finishing Louis bunny leaves him in a bawling mess of tears, snot and blood. I don’t bother hitting him. The fucker can barely breathe on his own, let alone if I buried my knee in his gut.
Beans coughs awkwardly, “Uhhh, Creed…”
Turning to see what the problem is, I’m met with Hari Houdini practically sitting on Sanchez’ chest, as the man lays unconscious on the floor. He’s holding Sanchez’ tongue between his thumb and finger, and I can see he’s cut several slices into the pink fleshy muscle. A slow grin spreads across his face and for the first time, I get a glimpse of why he might be behind bars.
“Christ, where did you come from?” I shake my head as he admires my rabbit, bending down to lick up some of the blood. “You know that’s disgusting, right?”
“This is why he’s called Houdini,” Beans shrugs. “He just seems to pop up.”
“Houdini didn’t randomly appear dipshit, he was an escape artist.” My gaze ping pongs between the two. “You’ve got it the wrong way around.”
“Oh,” Beans seems to deflate, and I feel a little bad for correcting him.
“Why did you cut his tongue?” I ask as Houdini gets to his feet with a lazy grin.
“Were we not doing that?”
“Christ.” I exhale, rubbing my face, before grabbing Louis by the hair. “Louis, you better cough up a name before I set reverse Houdini on you.”
“Six Suns,” he stammers out, trembling in my grip.
I roll my eyes and shake him by his hair. “Nope, we already know about them.”
“T-T-Tian,” he mumbles, looking down at his unconscious gang mate. “Rightful heir to the Six Suns. Owns some tech company. He’ll stop at nothing to take down the current leader.”
The pieces click into place as I think about all the problems we’ve been having recently, with routes being blocked or uncovered by the feds, Cartel divisions encroaching on our boundaries, and our people randomly ending up behind bars. It was all part of a larger scheme from some fucker named Tian.
“Including helping you.” I nod, stroking my stubble. If he could make shit happen, that meant he had power, influence. He wasn’t some small-time gangster. “You give him men and territory to hide behind, and he helps you expand. How original.”
Wrapping my hand around Louis' throat, I squeeze, cutting off his air until he passes out.
Looking at the two men staring at me expectantly, I nod my head back towards the main corridor. “Let’s get back to the rec room and hope no one missed us.”
As we sneak back into the room, taking seats at the back, I hear Beans whisper, “Uhhh, Houdini—you’ve got a little something on your face. There. You got it.”
B eans spends the next couple of days watching over his shoulder like some sort of twitcher, jumping every time someone comes too close. He doesn’t understand that The Cartel won’t try anything, not until they’ve cleared it with their higher ups, and I was willing to bet that they’d been told to stand down.
I skim through Nicco’s latest update about the businesses in Meadowville that had been targeted. The Cartel was going to be too busy cleaning up the mess to be worried about little old me.
There’s a restless itch under my skin as another day passes without seeing Ava, but thankfully, she finally puts me out of my misery.
It’s not unusual to be occasionally pulled out of duties by another officer or for visitation, so only Beans seems to care as I’m escorted out of the maintenance workshop. The other inmates are jealous that I’m getting to leave behind my tasks, and since today we were working outside in the rain, I saunter past them with a giant grin on my face.
Officer Foxx is the one delivering me to my woman, and I take great pleasure in that as he knocks on the door and motions for me to enter while he waits in the corridor.
She stands as I enter the room. She’s wearing the same skirt as last time instead of trousers. I wonder why; I think to myself with a smile, knowing exactly the reason.
There aren’t many ways of smuggling something into prison without getting caught. As an officer, she still had to be patted down and walk through a metal detector when she arrived for work each day. She could still be caught.
Closing the door behind me, I lean against it and stroke my chin. I hadn’t shaved in a few days, and I wanted to leave her with more than just hickies today.
I wonder if the risk got her off? If she drove to work, clenching around the contraband. If walking made her sensitive as she went through the security checks. If she made small talk with her colleagues, knowing what was hidden in that tight cunt of hers.
“Did you get them?” I ask, with a curious tilt of my head even though I know the answer. She wouldn’t have called me here otherwise.
She nods, biting her lip.
Raising a brow, I’m impressed by my little white rabbit. Being a prison officer, the daughter of a judge and a general goody-two shoes normally meant that morals were unshakable and worn like a badge of honor. Every second we spent together just proved that she was like me, a creature of the shadows.
My voice is low as I stalk towards her and ask, “Where are they?”
“I haven’t...removed them yet,” she replies, straightening her shoulders. A blush spread across her cheeks, almost hiding her cute freckles as it continues to blossom down her neck.
God, Ava Bishop was going to be the death of me. She was perfect. And mine.
Not only had she done as I asked, but she’d waited for my permission to remove the contraband from inside her. She wanted to prove to me I could trust her, that she would do anything for me…and she’d succeeded. This woman amazed me.
“Allow me,” I murmur with a grin.
Pulling her in for a quick filthy kiss, where teeth and lips collide with a hunger I’ve never felt before, I wrap my hand around her waist, grab her and throw her onto the desk.
Getting comfortable in her chair, I push myself between her legs, spreading her thighs wide apart until she tosses her head back with a soft moan.
Shoving her skirt up around her waist, I remove her ugly work shoes, tossing them over my shoulder. I take my time peeling off her awful black tights, treating it as if I was unwrapping a gift, peppering her exposed skin with kisses. Occasionally latching on with my teeth, sucking a mark into her creamy flesh until there’s a trail of my touches. I let the tights drop to the floor, placing a kiss on her ankle.
The panties come off next. They’re fucking drenched and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself, tucking them inside pocket for later. This was all for me.
“Did you peek inside?” I murmur against her pussy, sliding a finger into her wetness until I brush against something hard.
“Mmmm, no. You told me not to,” she whimpers as my tongue flicks over her clit.
I gently tease the first plastic ball out with a soft pop and she groans as I do. There’s a reason I chose this task, I think to myself as she arches her back and spreads her legs wider.
Biting down roughly on her thigh, the soft creamy flesh tastes sweet as I suck another mark. She lets out a small squeal which gives way to a moan and as I return my mouth to her clit, licking and sucking until my face is soaked and I free the second ball.
“Undo your shirt,” I demand, standing.
She unbuttons the blouse with a speed I’ve never seen before, desperation and need driving her. She’s wearing a simple white lace bra, no padding, only thin fabric covering her perfect tits. I’ve never cared about size, big or small. It was all the same to me, but there was something about seeing her tiny tits with the pink hardened tips poking at the fabric, begging for my attention.
Using my teeth, scraping gently against the sensitive skin, I pull the fabric down and uncover one breast. My tongue laves over her nipple, teasing her before I take it into my mouth and suck, hard.
If Bishop wants to play my games, she needs to learn that there is a very thin line between pleasure and pain, and not always in equal measures.
Instead of pulling away with a hiss like I expect, she makes a quiet mewling noise and moves her hips, looking for friction. I continue sucking her tit while my right hand moves down her body between her legs. I resist the urge to thrust two fingers inside her, in case I accidentally force the third ball too high, but that doesn’t stop me from rubbing her clit with my thumb and gently sliding my fingers inside her halfway.
Her body clenches around me, eager for more as I suck another love bite into her skin, right between her breasts. The wetness coating my fingers and the begging noises she makes are making it so very, very hard to stay in control. I want to bury myself in her. Bind her to me, force her body to submit to me over and over again. My White Rabbit. My drug.
Hands snake into my hair as she bunches it up into her fists and squirms against my mouth, my teeth still embedded in her skin. I pull away from her breasts and move upwards, kissing and biting as I find my way to the curve of her neck.
“There’s still one ball left,” I whisper, my lips pressed against her neck, just below her ear as my fingers tease the ball lower. “Come for me. Push it out with that tight pussy of yours.”
My words should repulse her, but she loves it. I can feel the slickness between us, telling me how much she wants this. Instead, she tilts her head back, giving me full access to bite down on her neck as my fingers work faster. There’s a low hum that vibrates in her throat against my mouth as she gets closer, and I know she’s struggling to keep quiet as her body starts to shudder and buck as she yanks on my hair.
“Fuckkk…” she hisses as the last ball slips out, her orgasm taking over as she clamps down on my fingers. I don’t pull away, instead I lighten my touches, letting her ride out the waves until her breathing slows.
Ava leans back, using me to steady herself, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. Beautifully corrupt, and I did that. The pink in her cheeks, the look of lust in her eyes, heaving breasts and glistening pussy on display—that was all for me.
Pushing my pants down to my ankles, I ignore the way her eyes widen when she gets a look at my cock. She hadn’t seen it properly in the art supply closet, half shrouded in shadows, but now, in the daylight of her classroom, there was no missing it.
The head of my dick is a flushed pink color, and pre-cum drips from my slit as my cock throbs. It’s all for her. Using the wetness gathered on my fingers, I slick up my shaft before rubbing the tip between her pussy lips, making sure to swipe over her clit with every pass.
When my cock is sticky and glossy with the remnants of her orgasm, I wrap my fist tightly around my shaft and fuck into my hand. My thrusts are furious and fast as I chase my orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse as my climax barrels into me like a freight train. Hot spurts of cum cover her, landing in ropes all over her bruised thighs and swollen pussy.
Using my fingers, I swipe through the mess, gathering it and push it inside her. Where it belongs. Because she’s mine.