30. Chapter 30
Iwas practically walking on air, the heavy iron keys at my hip clinking a rhythmic tune that felt entirely mismatched to the bleak concrete corridors of Blackthorne.
That morning, I had finally done it. I turned in my two weeks' notice. When my supervisor asked for an explanation, peering at me over his spectacles, I offered a perfectly rehearsed, hollow lie: I found another career opportunity.
Just a bullshit excuse to escape the stench of iron and bleach.
Yet, as I neared the maximum-security wing, a treacherous heat sparked beneath my skin.
The numbness that had dictated my life for the past month and a half was instantly incinerated the moment I approached his cell.
I no longer felt the bone-chilling, stricken fear that used to paralyze me at the mere echo of his voice.
Now, it was replaced by something far more dangerous.
Anticipation.
It had devolved into a wicked cat-and-mouse game.
He would prod and tease, testing my boundaries until I grew defensive, only to pull me into the shadows where his fingers and his tongue had me seeing stars against the cold brick wall.
It was a shocking, humiliating truth: no lover in my past had ever undone me the way the Jester did.
In a prison cell, nonetheless.
I stopped outside his cell, my heart hammering against my ribs. The heavy steel slid open with a groan, and I stepped into the dim, familiar shadows.
The Jester was leaning against the far wall, his ankles crossed, watching me with those terrifyingly perceptive eyes. A slow, knowing smile stretched across his lips.
"Look at you. You’re practically vibrating, little bird. Did something exciting happen today?"
"Nothing that concerns you," I answered nonchalantly as I reached for my mop.
Instead, he moved with that fluid, predatory grace, closing the distance between us.
"Oh, but it does concern me, doll. Everything about you does. You seem different today. Are you trying to fly away from me, Elara?"
"I'm doing my job," I gritted out, my jaw locking as he stepped directly into my personal space, trapping me between the heat of his chest and the solid steel of the cell door behind me. It was so bizarre how I couldn’t seem to allow myself to yearn for his touch.
Yet I secretly hoped he’d close the distance.
“Liar,” he whispered. His fingers brushed against my jawline, a feather-light touch that made my breath hitch. “You love what we do in this cell.”
Irritated by how easily he could read me, I snapped. I grabbed his wrist, shoving him back against the wall.
"I told you to back off."
The Jester didn't flinch. If anything, the rough treatment only fueled the dark, manic fire in his eyes. He let out a low, breathy laugh, his gaze dropping to my lips before locking back onto mine.
"There she is," he whispered, her voice laced with an intoxicating approval. "Hit me harder if you need to, doll. I can take it."
"Shut up," I hissed, but my fingers dug deeper into his skin.
"Don't hide it," the Jester murmured, leaning his head back against the stone, yielding to my aggression while still holding all the power. "You have a darkness in you, sweetface. It’s right there, swimming in your eyes–begging to be let out. It’s in the way you look at me.
It's okay to want it. It's okay to embrace it. "
His words tore through my last shred of restraint. The denial, the loneliness, the rage at the world—it all melted into a desperate, feral need.
I dropped the mop stick, the metal clattering against the floor as I lunged forward, capturing his mouth in a bruising, chaotic kiss.
The Jester groaned into the kiss, his hands instantly gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of mint and something dark and forbidden.
I didn't let him take control this time.
Driven by a sudden, demanding urge to overpower him, I slid my hand down, my fingers tearing at the coarse fabric of his jumpsuit. When my hand found him, swollen and aching, I—
The shift happened in a heartbeat. Suddenly, his fingers tangled deep in my hair, a brutal yank that forced my head back and bared the vulnerable line of my throat to the dim light. A sharp hiss tore past my lips from the sudden, stinging pain.
"Get on your knees, doll."
The words weren't a request; they were an eviction of my control. The authority in the room completely flipped, and a bitter taste flooded my mouth as the realization settled in.
"Like hell I will," I spat.
I tried to wrench myself away, but his grip only clamped tighter, anchoring me in place. Then came a light, mocking slap across my cheek. It wasn't enough to truly hurt, but the sting of it ignited a fire in my chest. I narrowed my eyes, glaring up at him.
Only to freeze.
The breath caught in my throat. His eyes had changed—the irises completely swallowed by an ink-black, abyssal dark.
"I suggest you listen, sweetface," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "Remember, good girls get rewarded, and bad girls get punished."
"What do you want?" I seethed, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and adrenaline.
"Isn't that the million-dollar question?" He tilted his head, a sickeningly intrigued expression washing over his features as he drank in my pain. The monster was enjoying this. He thrived on it. "I want you, on your knees."
What?
I blinked, momentarily paralyzed, but he only leaned closer until his cold breath brushed the shell of my ear. "Do I need to repeat myself?"
The power dynamic felt entirely wrong. While I was no stranger to the heat of submission—enjoying the view from my knees and the taste of him—it had always been my choice.
A game played strictly on my terms. This cold dictate stripped all of that away, and a dangerous rebellion began to curl in my stomach.
Sensing the sudden, defiant glint in my eyes, the Jester's expression hardened. He struck my cheek again—once, twice—the steady crack of flesh against flesh echoing in the quiet space. Before I could react, his hand locked around my jaw, his fingers digging into the bone with bruising force.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, doll. Your choice."
For a long, agonizing moment, neither of us broke custody of the other's gaze.
My mind raced, weighing the odds against the obsidian depth of his stare.
Finally, letting out a slow, defeated sigh, I stepped back.
I let myself sink toward the cold floor, intentionally measuring each inch of the descent until my knees hit the ground.
A smirk of pure satisfaction cut across his face. Pleased with his victory, he slid down the wall, settling onto the floor with his back braced against the concrete and his legs spread wide.
"Now," he purred, beckoning with a single, crooked finger. "Crawl to me on all fours, like a good girl."
Oh, hell no.
Every instinct flared. I braced my weight, preparing to lunge back to my feet, but his hand moved down to the fly of his pants. His fingers cupped the heavy, unmistakable ridge of his hardened length through the fabric, tracking the line of his desire.
"Elara," he murmured, his voice dropping into a mocking, sing-song cadence that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I'd love to punish you. But I'd also love to have you riding my cock, baby.
" He licked his lips, his gaze tracking my sudden pause like a predator watching prey hesitate.
"I want to fill you up deep. But first...
" He curled his finger toward himself again, the gesture slow and hypnotic. "I need you to come here first."
I narrowed my eyes, my chest heaving as I calculated my next move, caught between the urge to claw his eyes out and the dark, heavy pull of temptation.
"Tick, tock, doll," he drawled, his lips pulling back into a shadow of a smile. Then, the humor vanished, his voice dropping into a low, predatory rumble that vibrated through the floorboards, "I'm not always a patient man."
I glanced instinctively toward the heavy iron cell door, gauging the distance.
He didn't miss it. A dark, knowing amusement flickered across his features.
"You can try. I always love a good chase. But you won't like it when I catch you, sweetheart."
Any thought of escape evaporated, my mouth going instantly dry as he reached down.
With a slow, deliberate scrape of metal, he unzipped his trousers.
He reached inside and freed his length, already swollen to a thick, aching ridge that throbbed in the cool air of the cell.
He wrapped his fingers around the base, stroking upward in a slow, rhythmic slide that put the sheer size of him on full display.
I bit my lower lip, my teeth digging deep into the flesh as a war waged inside me—a fierce, desperate battle of pride versus pleasure.
His eyes locked onto the movement of my mouth, narrowing into dangerous slits as he tracked the nervous swipe of my tongue.
"Move, Elara, before I come and get you.
" The words didn't just rattle in his throat; this time, the growl erupted, vibrating against the tight concrete walls.
The playful Jester was gone. In his place sat a ticking time bomb, the tension in his coiled muscles warning me that he was ready to detonate at any second.
Letting out a sigh, I finally surrendered. I lowered my palms to the gritty floor, bracing my weight on my wrists before dragging my knee forward to take the first agonizing step.
The silence in the room became absolute, thick and bated.
He stopped tracking everything else in the universe, his gaze pinning me to the floor as I took another slow step forward, and then another.
My face burned with a sudden heat. I swallowed hard, praying to whatever gods were listening that nobody was watching us through the heavy viewing grate.