Chapter 8
STEVIE
But the man goes by Frost, which is exactly what he is—cold and calculating.
His actions and words are nauseating. A battle brews inside me between being repulsed and enticed that he’s a biker.
Nerves coil from holding it all in. I refuse to let him see the terror I’m experiencing.
I’m not oblivious to the fact he’s dangerous.
The guard’s quick departure proves it. The people outside this fortress have no problem messing with my life on his behalf.
So instead of fighting him, I let him touch me.
Kiss me. And a small part of me enjoys it.
He smells of soap and cigarettes. His stare holds me captive to his charms, and his touch freezes me in place.
The fact I find this convict biker appealing angers me to no end.
This guy has messed with my life, and he clearly wants me to understand the reality of my situation.
His property.
I’d jump off a cliff before I become his or anyone else’s property.
Sure, I want to marry and have someone to care for me, but that sure as hell is different from being seen as property.
After caring for my mother, and cleaning house and putting food on the table for Noel, I want someone to love me and keep me safe.
To be their everything, not a commodity they can trade at a later date.
Despite his looks, this inmate is far from a man. He’s a soulless biker beast who is dead set on wreaking havoc on my life.
Only seven more months, Stevie, and you can move away from Gears and the rest of these nutballs.
Working at Times Up, I’ll have enough money by then to put a decent down payment on a condo or a small house. And while I’m shopping for a home, I’ll save more for utilities and furnishings. If I can humor this guy, without completely handing over my body, then I’ll be all right.
I’ve shown up at the prison for five months now, and it’s been the same routine.
He requests the cigarettes and smokes. Has me sit across from him.
Moves me closer and takes off my coat. Touches me.
Grazes my nipple over my sweater. Kisses me.
Little is said, and when he speaks it’s vulgar regarding his plans on what he’s going to do to my body.
The man is debauchery at its finest…and I confess…
I love the dirty talk. No amount of inner scolding can stop the tremors and wetness, yet I refuse to give in to him.
To let him know what his touches and words do to me.
I’m his chess piece. Five months of methodic repetitiveness has me prepared for what’s brooding.
Something I’m not going to like. Or maybe I will.
This is the sixth month, and I’m already used to what will happen, waiting for the next surprise which hasn’t come yet.
I’ve continued to refrain from shaving, so I’m gorilla material right about now.
Plus, I bought a pair of granny underwear and put a pad inside to add repulsion to the mix.
He might not have gone past my coat yet, but I’m ready for anything.
The tendrils of smoke drift upward while he smokes, eyeing me.
I’m surprised he hasn’t tired of eye-fucking me.
Noel was quiet, but more like a don’t bother me quiet.
Frost might not be exhausted of these charades, yet I am.
Instead of staring back at him, I look out the window and count the guards.
Or the number of fences. Or the dogs. Anything to pass the time.
My coat is already off, our chairs pulled close, and the warmth of his breath drifts across my face.
His lips, which I’ve grown to appreciate, dampen my skin.
Then his fingers creep underneath my sweater, over my t-shirt, snapping my attention back to him.
The cocky convict smirks and winks at me.
A kind of a gotcha wink. He pinches my nipple, and I hunch forward and sit back against the chair.
“I’ve given you five months of comfort, Rebel.”
I laugh. “Of comfort? You think coming here for five months, having you do the same thing, touching and kissing me without consent, is comfortable?”
“The way your body reacts, says differently.”
For the first time since early on, I touch him by grabbing his wrist, guiding his hand out from underneath my sweater.
We’re in a stare down, except he’s amused.
Frost catches me off-guard when he grabs me by the waist and stands me up.
He backs me up into the wall, buries his face into the crook of my neck, and inhales.
My heart is pounding. The surprise is here and something else will follow.
Sure enough, he works at the button and zipper of my jeans.
My hands fly over his, attempting to stop him, which only has him working faster until the front of my jeans are open.
His mouth clamps down on my shoulder, and he bites.
“Stop!”
I’m pushing at his chest, but the man is a tank. The bite hurts. Then his tongue runs over his teeth marks. Like a fucking animal. My chest rises and falls similar to low tide, creating punchy breaths. Disbelief and the unknown of what’s to come has me trembling.
“Calm, Rebel.”
Before I can respond, his possessive mouth takes mine, forcing my head against the wall.
Frost has me under his control, nipping and licking my mouth, jaw, and throat.
It’s raw and shameless. Someone must have unplugged my mind, because I moan and soften at his dominance.
I’m so lost in craving this sexual ache that his hand inside my underwear doesn’t register right away.
It’s been so long, I’ve fallen prey to a convict when I should have invested in a clit vibrator.
I free my lips from his, panting and say, “Don’t.”
Frost ignores me. His finger slips between my wet lips, gliding from clit to opening.
I voluntarily arch my back, while my head disagrees, so I reason about this situation.
Just because my body is excited doesn’t mean I’m consenting.
Anyone who played with me now, would achieve the same response. Wouldn’t they?
His finger slides inside me. “Ah, you make this too easy, Rebel. Your pussy latched onto my finger like a fucking boa constrictor. Hungry.” I attempt to turn toward the window, except his hand wraps around my throat, holding me in place. “Nope. Eyes on me.”
Frost’s lips graze mine while he studies my face, resting his gaze on mine. The intimate gesture throws me off while his thumb rubs my clit, and his finger pistons inside of me. There’s no way to quiet my whimpering. I’m dizzy from sensory overload, and my eyes drift closed.
The increased pressure on my throat has my eyes springing open. “Fuck my hand, Rebel. Don’t be shy. Drench it in your cum, so I’ll be licking it off for the rest of the week.”
My pelvis grinds into his hand, but I press my lips together during my release. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing all of my ruin. His thumb wiggles between my lips and clit as I ride out my release. When I’m done, he brings his fingers to his face and licks them.
“Mmm. Sweet tasting pussy.”
One by one, a digit disappears into his mouth, removed and replaced by another. With one of his fingers, Frost dabs my lips and pushes into my teeth until I open. I’ve never tasted myself, but I don’t fight him. All I can hope is for this to be it for today.
“Taste good, don’t it, Rebel?” His lips caress my ear. “And it’s begun.”
I’m not sure what he means by it. The guard Stevens comes into the room while I’m still flush to the wall, Frost and I staring at one another.
Stevens shuffles a foot back and forth, and clears his throat. “Times up, Tate.”
Frost plants a kiss underneath my ear and walks out without turning back. The cold air hits my clammy skin, pebbling my nipples. A rush of blood shoots to all my extremities, and I start thinking again. Closing my jeans, I leave the jail in a daze and disgraced.
Two more months are a replay of the first five months.
He requests the cigarettes and smokes. I sit across from him.
He moves me closer and takes off my coat.
Touches me. Grazes my nipple over the sweater.
Kisses me. There’s no mention of what he did in the sixth month.
The way I gripped his finger and rode his hand like a rocking horse.
How he tasted me and forced me to do the same.
Now, it’s the ninth month, the length of a pregnancy, which isn’t what I hope he’s aiming for today.
I’ve heard of breeding kinks, and he’s so full of himself, he probably thinks the world could use more of him.
Frost’s lack of conversation has me on edge.
Every. Single. Time I come here. He’s an unpredictable animal.
Wild. Captivating. If I let my guard down, he’ll eat me alive.
So far, it’s the same drill. His hands and lips feast on me as I focus out the window, counting whatever comes into view. Frost dislikes when I ignore his advances, because the next thing I know, he’s carrying me to the bed, away from the window.
“What are you doing?”
Frost ignores my question, laying me down on the bed, removing my shoes, but when he starts on my jeans, I kick my legs at him.
This has him standing over me, laughing.
I roll to the side, slipping under his arm, and head for the door.
He’s quicker. His arms wrap around my waist, bringing me back to the bed as I’m kicking and punching his arms.
He tosses me on the bed, jumps on top, and says, “Easy.”
“I assumed you love a challenge.”
Resting on his forearms by my head, he brushes the hair from my face. “It’s my balls I’m worried about.” He shifts his hips and legs until mine are open, and he’s nestled between them. “It’s been a long time for the both of us.”
“Who says?”
Frost bends his head down, clasping my nipple in his teeth through my sweater. He lightly grinds his teeth back and forth, and lets it go. I release an audible sound, angry at myself for being weak, yet it causes him to smile.
“Wasn’t it you who fucked my hand several months ago? Full of cum. I enjoyed the finger licking good for a week.”
Biting down on my teeth, I hiss out, “I didn’t have a choice.”
“No? We all have choices, Rebel, and you chose to make yourself come, using my hand.”
I turn toward the wall, but he slides a hand underneath my head, gripping my hair to hold me at his will.
“Now, I’m in control.”
“I’m not touching your cock.”
His pelvis circles mine, and the tip of his erection nudges my clit with every round. “Rebel, you’re not ready for that yet. Not everyone can handle my dick, so I’m working you slow and steady.”
Frost lifts up his hips, undoes my jeans, and returns between my legs.
I blurt out, “I’m hairy.”
“Don’t matter if I’m cutting marble or wading through a jungle. I love all kinds of pussy.”
Dammit!
“I have my period.”
“Love me some bloody war.”