EIGHTEEN
Rubin
After another long day of waiting to die, night came and the men headed toward the pods, ready to bed down.
Before, a single cell had been a blessing.
Now the men slept two and three to a cell, and none of them slept comfortably.
The air conditioning had quit hours ago, naturally, perhaps, or due to interference from Merrick and his men.
Either way, the air on the block had gone thick and stale, and without the constant hum, I could hear the creak of pipes, the unending sound of something above.
Something that would come down eventually.
Simone walked past me, a thin yellow foam mat rolled under her arm.
“Where are you going?”
She stopped and looked back at me like the question was stupid.
“To Aaron’s cell to sleep,” she said slowly like it was obvious.
“No,” I said.
She turned, her face questioning. “No?”
“You don’t sleep here,” I said.
She furrowed her brows. “Why not?”
She should have left it, but not Simone, who I’d given more leeway than anyone ever. Leeway she seemed intent on exploiting.
I grabbed her chin and tilted her head up.
“Because, Simone, you do what the fuck I say.”
Anger exploded behind her eyes, bright and true. Was extinguished just as quickly.
Regret lay heavy in my chest. I wanted the fight, wanted to pretend this was about discipline.
Simone didn’t give it to me.
She let out a breath and settled into herself, shoulders down, eyes lowered. A good imitation of fear and submission. As fake as that fucking chain her precious Aaron wore.
“Fine,” she said, low and soft. “Where do you want me.”
My cock was hard before she finished the sentence, and I had her by the wrist, her pulse slamming against my thumb, in the next instant.
Then I was walking her backward off the tier toward the warden’s office. The foam pad dropped somewhere behind us. I didn’t look back for it.
I pushed her inside and kicked the office door shut and turned her by the wrist and put her back against it.
She had handwashed her shirt and hung it dry, so it was stiff to the touch. I didn’t give a fuck as I shoved the cheap polyester-cotton blend off her shoulders and looked down.
There they were, tits I’d glimpsed exactly once, the memory of them taunting me all day.
They lay against her chest heavy and dark, her nipples beaded under the white satin of her bra, tight and straining toward me before I even touched her. I sucked one in my mouth, satin and all, and she gasped and arched off the door.
I pinned her flat with a forearm across her chest and then worked her. Tongue, then teeth, gentle swipes before I bit down until she hissed, then soothed the sting with more gentle swipes.
Hopefully it would confuse her as much as she confused me. I pulled back enough to pull off her bra. I filled my hands with her, her tits flowing and abundant and so fucking beautiful, I wanted to spend weeks learning every millimeter of them.
I squeezed, rolled, and pinched until her breath broke and nipped at her skin, leaving marks I would smile at tomorrow.
I took her nipple between my teeth and pulled until she came up on her toes, then flattened my tongue over the ridge and moved to the other and did it again, back and forth, learning which one made her hiss and which one made her push her chest up into my mouth like she couldn’t stop herself.
I dragged my mouth down the underside of her breast and sucked hard, then slow, then hard again, proud of the bruise I would leave there, happy that every time she brushed that tender spot, she’d remember me.
I could smell her already, the fragrant scent of her pussy cutting through the stale air.
My cock throbbed furiously behind my zipper. I ignored it.
“Rubin…” she whispered, her hands hovering near my shoulders like she was trying to decide whether or not to touch me.
“Shut up,” I said against her skin, and dropped to my knees.
I dragged her jeans and underwear down and shoved her thighs apart with my hands and looked at her fat pussy, her pretty little pearl peeking out.
Bare and swollen and slick.
And mine.
All mine.
I leaned in.
“Wait—”
I scoffed. “You don’t say wait, you say thank you.”
Then I dove in.
She cursed and then moaned loud, her whole body jerking up off the door.
Again I stilled her and ate her like the feast she was.
I dragged my tongue through her slow, hole to clit, tasting all of it, and did it again, and again, until she was slick down to the seam of her ass and the sounds of it filled the room, wet and filthy and loud.
I hooked one of her legs over my shoulder to spread her wider and fucked my tongue as deep as it would go.
She pulled me closer, then looked down at me, surprised.
That was a part of her game, too. But her body’s reaction didn’t lie, and I memorized every tremor, every swipe of my tongue that chipped a little more away, searching for the thing that would break her.
I found her swollen pearl and rolled it on my tongue, then flicked it hard.
Sucked it into my mouth, only stopping to lap up the cum that leaked out of her.
I pushed a finger into her, then a second, slow, and felt her clench and flutter around them.
I curled them up into the spot that made her whole body seize and worked them there while my tongue kept moving on her pearl.
Her thigh shook against my ears. Her heel dug into my back.
Simone couldn’t lie to me now. That beautiful brain and smart mouth could do nothing but take what I gave her.
She was so close. I could feel it.
I lifted my mouth off her and stilled my hand, fingers buried deep, and lifted my thumb off her clit, holding her one stroke short of bliss. She bucked against my knuckles as best she could, but she got nothing.
I looked into her eyes. “Say thank you, Rubin.”
The anger was back, but I saw the dampness that wet the curls that covered her mound. Saw the rotation of her hips.
“You like being my fucktoy, don’t you?” I said.
She looked down at me, those delicious tits almost pulling me to distraction.
“You don’t have to admit it, Simone. You just have to say ‘thank you, Rubin.’”
I swiped my tongue across her clit, and she moaned.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I bit the inside of her thigh. “No.”
She frowned down at me, her nostrils flaring.
“Thank you, Rubin,” she said. Those words cost her, so at least this, I could pay back.
I pressed my tongue against her clit then buried two fingers in her pussy and fucked her until she flew apart, her cream wetting my face.
She came loud enough that every man on the tier heard whose mouth was on her and exactly what it was doing.
Her pussy clamped down on my fingers in waves and gushed hot over my wrist, and I didn’t ease off—fucking her through all of it with my hand and my mouth, wringing every last pulse out of her until her legs buckled and she hung off the door on my shoulder, twitching.
Done. Only then did I drag my fingers out of her, slow enough to feel her flinch at it.
I stood, and she collapsed against the door. I let her rest there for a moment and took in the beautiful wreck, her chest heaving, thighs streaked and shining, my marks already coming up dark on her tits.
My cock was so hard it hurt, and I couldn’t wait a second longer.
I pushed her to her knees and fisted my cock with one hand, the other braced against the door.
I was already close. Had been close since the first taste of her.
“Look,” I said, and she did. She watched me stroke my cock in rough, erratic pumps until I came, striping her tits with my cum.
She didn’t even blink. It was me who looked away first.
I sank against the door, and when my heart slowed, I pulled her to her feet.
We didn’t speak further. She cleaned up and folded into one of the chairs in the warden’s office and fell asleep.
I didn’t.
I just watched the door and listened to her breathe.