Seven Wet
Sienna
My clit is throbbing when Osiris hangs up. I don’t care that I’ll never have him in person, that conversation was the hottest thing I’ve ever been involved in. Maybe it wasn’t the filthiest, but knowing we were being listened to? Knowing he was getting hard for me in front of a prison full of inmates? Knowing he’s powerful enough to end someone and yet just the thought of me naked brought him to his knees...
Okay, that part is a little extra fucked up, but reason goes out the window when you’re this desperate for release. There’s a big horny line separating rationality from absolute delusion and I just did a cartwheel across it. I wonder if he did, too. Is he sitting there in his cell right now thinking of me? Tugging his sweats down low enough to let his cock spring free, leaking and searching for me? Fuck, I bet it feels good in his hand.
Something tells me my fingers aren’t going to cut it today. I need something bigger, something roughly seven inches in length that’ll help my delusional ass feel like Osiris is really inside of me.
Grabbing the only dildo I’ve got with a clit massager, I swipe my fingers through the mess I’ve already created and coat the shaft of the toy. When you’re this wet, the need for lube basically vanishes. I feel a little relief when it finally slips inside of me, but there’s no mistaking the angle. It’s me and a toy, not me being bent in half and railed by a man who has been locked up for years.
It’s not enough.
Groaning, I turn on the vibration and spread my legs a little further. Finally, it’s good enough that I can close my eyes and picture his flirty little smile, the deep timber of his voice as he says my name. The jawline, the tattoos. What he would look like hovering over me as he makes me beg for his cock.
The orgasm hits me before I’m ready for it, but the rolling, pulsing release feels better than anything I’ve experienced in years. I guess I just needed a felon to fantasize about.
Relaxing against the mattress, I check the time and realize I have another hour before I have to clock in. That’s plenty of time for a post-orgasm nap, right? Even if it’s not, I don’t think I care a whole lot right now.
Maybe I’ll finally have a dream worth remembering.
––––––––
Over the next week, Osiris becomes the sun. He’s the thing I plan my day around, the thing I look forward to. Lydia can laugh at me all she wants for being so wrong about this, I don’t care — I still know this is going to end in heartbreak, but I made a decision to enjoy every second while I can. Nothing at all lasts forever.
So at 5:15, I’m sitting on my couch and waiting patiently when he calls. “Hi,” I say like always. “Is Sonny still giving you shit?”
“Swear to fuck, I’ve never met a more self-centered human and I’m in prison . That should tell you how fucked this dude is. I’m not gonna make it, baby. I’d make a murder-suicide joke, but something tells me whoever is screening these calls won’t find it funny.”
I don’t either, but not for the same reason. It sucks knowing he’s struggling even more than he has to be in there. To go from a cellmate he likes to one who constantly harasses him is terrible. “I’m sorry. Is there anything you can do that doesn’t involve adding even more time to your sentence?”
“Yeah. I can call my woman and feel better just from hearing her voice. How was work? Did you go off on those young bitches?”
I wish. “In my head, maybe. I’m just afraid if I start, I’ll end up saying something that’ll get me fired.”
“That’s bullshit. You should be running that place, and they’re lucky they even have you. I was hoping our conversation this morning would set your day off right.”
I can hear the smile in his voice which just makes me blush deeper. It did, but in the way that made me calm enough to deal with the new girls rather than flip out on them.
“Oh, it was good. Great. Best way to start my day.”
“Yeah?” I hear him shift a little before lowering his voice. “Did you play with yourself, beautiful?”
Fuck. He’s never asked. I’ve been using our morning conversations as motivation for a week and he hasn’t asked once. “Yes,” I admit in a whisper. “Again.”
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Thinking of me right? Only me?”
“Only you. Always,” I admit quietly. “Wishing it were real.”
“Me too. You have no idea.” Osiris releases a sigh that sounds almost pained. “If only you could come for a conjugal, huh?”
The desire that floods through me surprises me. I do want to meet him. I just... can’t. “Those are real?” I deflect.
“Yeah,” he responds with a chuckle. “Not without legit paperwork though. They won’t count our marriage, unfortunately.”
And not even I’m foolish enough to marry someone I barely know just to get laid. “Oh. That’s a bummer.”
“For sure. I have to ask though, if we were in the same state, do you think you’d visit me? Just a regular visit.”
What a loaded question. My stomach squirms as I stare at my feet and really give it some consideration. Originally? Hell no. But now... being able to see him and that flirty grin in person, even through glass or in a supervised room sounds amazing. But how much of my infatuation here has to do with the fact that I know I’ll never have to look this murderer in the face? Either way, a little white lie might make his day and won’t hurt me at all. I can do that for him. “If I lived close enough, yes. I would. Would you want me to?”
“Hell yeah,” he breathes. “I’ve never had a visitor that wasn’t a lawyer, so you don’t even know how much that means. It’s enough just knowing you would.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, making my delusional ass want to actually go out there. Blackridge is probably a twelve hour drive so it’s not really feasible, but the things I would do to keep hearing that smile... “Do you think you’ll ever get transferred or anything?”
“Nah. I wouldn’t want to anyway at this point. Every transfer has this adjustment period that fucks everything up, and I’m relatively comfortable here. Sonny keeps giving me shit on how I sleep, but he’s the one that snores, and I don’t have many issues other than him.”
I’m insanely curious about how he sleeps, but it feels like information I probably shouldn’t know. It’s almost too intimate. “What about parole or anything? Are you eligible?”
“I’m technically eligible, but you have to have a place to go home to, so I haven’t tried. Felt kind of pointless.”
My heart breaks for him. I may not have much in the way of real family, but my friends would have my back if I ever needed a place to go. I’ve never felt truly alone like that. “I’m so sorry, Si. I wish there was something I could do.”
The smile in his voice is back. “I know, beautiful. I believe you. So tell me what you’re doing this weekend? No drunk messaging other dudes, right?”
God, he’s territorial. It has me tucking my bottom lip between my teeth. “Nope. Not me. I wish I could drunk text you, though.”
“Me too. I’d just end up tracking you down if you did. Can you give me your address? I wanna send you something.”
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me at the idea of him tracking me down. The idea is so hot, but in reality? I’d probably be terrified. “Yeah, I’ll send it to you. What are you sending me?”
“You’ll see. Patience, Sienna. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
His tone is so teasing it’s hard not to let my mind wander. Did he figure out a way to send something more explicit? I doubt the money I’ve been putting on his commissary is enough to merit him getting me any kind of gift, so what could it be? “Can’t wait. If I send my address today, am I allowed to ask how long I’ll have to wait?”
“Uh... probably like 2 weeks or so? Maybe a little more. You can try and guess all you want, but I promise you won’t get it.”
I put him on speaker and send my address through Lock & Key so I don’t forget. “Is it a honey bun?”
“Shit! How’d you guess?” I can tell he’s lying, but I’ll play along anyway. “Bet you won’t guess the other thing at least.”
“A... cup of noodles? No, wait... a love letter.”
“Okay, stop guessing. You’re getting close and I’m over here thinking I’m being romantic. Maybe it’s just a spanking.”
Snorting, I try to picture how that would work. “Like a singing telegram, but one that spanks you?” I laugh.
I hear the phone slip out of his hand and clatter around, and when he comes back, I’m happy to hear he’s still smiling. “I’ll figure it out. Something like that.”
“Please don’t send a stranger to my house to spank me,” I mumble. “I’d end up in jail with you.”
Suddenly, his tone is more serious than I expected. “You think I’d let anyone put their hands on my woman? Shit, I’d break out of here and end up right back in.”
It’s not an idle threat with someone like him. He’s done it before and doesn’t seem to have a lot of remorse, so what’s stopping him from doing it again?
And more importantly... how is he going to react when this reaches its inevitable end?