AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m a CO, baby. Intimately involved with you. An inmate. And you expected me to tell you that I’m related to the warden? Really? That’s the last thing I wanted you to know, at least while you’re still incarcerated.”
“I understand,” she said a beat later. And she really did. “I’m sure she’d lose her mind if she found it.”
“Which is why she won’t. Not until you’re released. We gotta keep this on the low, baby. I’m not trying to lose my job. Or end up with charges.”
Heaven bit back a laugh, imagining sitting at the warden’s dinner table for Thanksgiving. “She’ll never accept this. You. Me. You do know that, right?”
“Let me worry about that,” he said.
She shook her head. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with this knowing, this information, yet. She’d said nothing to him until this very moment. Why had she not confronted him before now? She didn’t know. But what she did know was, she wanted to smear this news in the warden’s face—that she was fucking her son, but not at the risk of hurting him.
“I miss you,” he said in a low raspy voice.
Heaven finally smiled. “What you miss?”
He grinned. “What you think?”
“You miss this pussy,” she said for him. Of course you do.
“You got me bugging, baby,” he admitted. “You’re all I think about. That shit ain’t cool. You’ll have me fuck around and bust a muhfucka in his head over you.”
Heaven swallowed. She felt her heart sinking. She felt guilt rising up in her like bile. This news of being the warden’s son could be used to her advantage. But she didn’t want to hurt him.
Shit. Truth was, she found herself liking him more and more as the months went on. But she was in prison. And they’d never be able to have any type of real relationship (well, anything with substance) as long as she was incarcerated. And there were still a few other dicks she wanted to straddle down on. That was what she had to keep telling herself. She needed to keep justifying—and reminding herself—why she was doing what she was doing with him.
He was a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less. Period. She couldn’t lose sight of that. But she knew she was lying to herself. He was becoming more. And that could pose a problem for her, for him.
“I thought this was only about sex with us. Are you saying it’s more now?”
“Yeah. It is. At first, yeah—I admit, I only wanted to smash because you’re fine as fuck; and that ass was looking real right. But, then . . . I started wanting more. More of you, and definitely more of the pussy; but it’s not about that anymore. Fucking. I wanna build with you.”
She blinked. He wanted to build with her.
“Maybe we should stop this,” she whispered, clutching her cell. “I don’t want to get hurt. And, obviously, neither do you.”
“Nah. I’m not trying to stop anything. Is that what you really want?”
Heaven went still, and licked her lips, suddenly feeling them go dry. She knew what she needed in the right here, right now. But what she wanted? Well, aside from her freedom, that was a whole other matter.
She still believed in love. Still believed in the beautiful complexities of a relationship. She wanted love. Wanted to be in love. She wanted a man whom she could trust, a man who understood the intricacies of a relationship, of monogamy.
She didn’t want to end up alone and lonely, becoming some old bitter bitch who sat around watching Jeopardy and reruns of Oprah and The Golden Girls.
By the time she got out of prison, she’d be forty—ohmyfuckingGod . . . forty-six and childless. Her eggs dried-up raisins. She wanted a husband and a home. And two, maybe three, babies. She wanted to be someone’s wife, and the mother of his children. One day.
But for right now, all she wanted was . . . to survive.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, snatching her from her tormented musing. “And I’ll fall back. But know this: If this—me—is what you want, baby, I’d never hurt you. I’ma ride this shit out with you. All I’m asking is for you to keep it one hundred with me, no matter what. And, if you’re doing shit with another muhfucka behind my back, all I’m asking is that you don’t let me find out about it. Respect me—as your man.”
Whelp.
“Oh, so you’re my man now?” she asked, dodging his question as she plopped back on her mattress. She couldn’t answer him, not yet. She didn’t want to make any hasty decisions.
She needed to weigh her options. Assess what other opportunities might lay ahead of her.
Translation: Was there a way she could keep him, and still make moves?
“No doubt,” he said. “Thought you already knew. But you tell me. Am I your man?”
