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She sighed inwardly. He wanted an answer. Damn him.
“I’m in prison. An inmate. What type of relationship do you really think we can have? It’s not like I only have another year or two and then I’ll be out. No. I have years to go before I’m out of here.”
“I know that, baby,” he said. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. Shit, this is one of the most unconventional relationships that I’ve ever wanted. But, I still want it. With you.”
God, no, please. She’d said months ago, that she’d never be with a man like him. And, now, here she was, lying on her bunk feeling conflicted about her feelings—about him, about this predicament she was in.
“Listen to me,” she said, feeling herself becoming irritated. Not with him, but herself. She was trying to give him an easy out. But he wasn’t seeing it, or maybe he was ignoring it. Either way, he was making it difficult for her to end things.
“I’m not getting out for at least another eight-and-a-half years,” she pushed. “Any chance of parole is gone now because of those two fights I’ve had.”
“Listen, baby. I hear you. But nothing worthwhile comes easy. You’re worth whatever struggles, whatever obstacles, we might face. I’m in it with you. All I’m asking is that you trust me.”
Trust? She wanted it. But somehow she was starting to believe it was overrated.
She inhaled, then slowly exhaled. “I need—no, want—sex,” she admitted. “Lots of it. But, unless I . . .” She lowered her voice to almost an inaudible whisper. “Unless I spend my entire bid in lockup, I can’t get that good dick as much as I want it.”
She felt him grinning through the phone. “Oh word? You think this dick good?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Real good.” She stifled a yawn. It was going on three in the morning. “Tell me what you think about this pussy? Why are you so in love with it?”
“?’Cause it’s like heaven, baby,” he said real low, his voice coating her senses like warm honey. “When I’m inside of you, all I wanna do is lie up in it and float away.”
What more could she say?
She simply closed her eyes, and slipped her hands into her panties.
FIFTY-ONE
Stairway To Heaven . . .
Officer Flores waited until close to two a.m., before he quietly snuck inside Heaven’s cell and startled her. It’d been several weeks since he’d had her moved over to 2 North. Though it was still a max housing unit, inmates had single cells. He’d purposefully taken his time coming to her. It’d killed him to wait, but he’d wanted to let her get settled in—first before he made his move.
2 North was where he sold most of his cocaine. He also sold Molly and pills, mostly over on 4 East. But the majority of his prison sales were in weed. Half the inmates at Croydon Hill were hooked on the good shit he trafficked into the prison through the kitchen deliveries. A dime bag on the streets sold for fifty dollars behind these walls, and he was making a killing. And he had several civilian staffers on payroll to make sure his operation ran smoothly.
“Ssh,” he whispered, placing a finger to his lips. “I’m here to collect on what you promised me.” He slid his hand over her sheet-covered ass.
Heaven blinked him in, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark, and she saw a slow blaze beginning to burn in his eyes.
She’d heard the cell door creep open, but had lain still, pretending to be in a deep sleep. She actually thought it was Officer Martinez again. He’d become her late-night pussy licker over the last several days. And she’d grown accustomed to him sneaking into her cell all hours of the night, and serving her up fifteen to twenty minutes of bomb head with his long, thick tongue.
Martinez hadn’t fucked her, yet. But she wanted him to. She wanted to know what having Hispanic sausage meat felt like being stuffed between her folds. But seeing Officer Flores in her cell, his lids half-mast and filled with lust, was even better.
“And what exactly did I promise you?” she asked coyly. “I don’t remember.”
She tried to turn over on her back, but he stopped her, his hand squeezing her ass. “Don’t play, baby,” he said huskily. “You promised me a sampler.”
Flores reached for her sheet and pulled it down from her body, and a low moan left him as he looked down at the lacy, feminine underwear—definitely not prison issued. He licked his lips and undid his pants, staring at the globes of her ass.
Heaven grinned seductively at him over her shoulder. “Oh, right.”
A deep muscle tightened low in his stomach. “Yeah, right. Now take off them drawers and let me see what’s on the menu.”
“Know this,” she said, her voice slightly above a whisper as she kept her neck craned over her shoulder. “You can have your sampler. But if you want more than that, then you had better come right. You only get one round of free pussy.”
She tried to roll over again, and he held her down.
“Nah. I want you on your stomach. And I got you.”
