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And then . . .
Suddenly, she knew what it was, that familiar look.
She saw . . . her.
“Yeah, Warden. One more thing,” Heaven finally said.
“What is it, Miss Lewis?”
“Vodka, right?”
The warden blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your drink of choice,” she said. “It’s vodka, right?”
The warden’s eyes hid their surprise; she kept her composure.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Heaven gave her a pitiful look. “They never do. Denial is a terrible thing, Warden.”
The CO shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as the warden stood there, eyeing her, her jaw twitching.
And in that moment, Heaven saw her mother’s reflection staring back at her. Hidden behind expensive cosmetics and her designer suit, she saw the warden for who she was. She saw the woman beneath the mask.
A closeted-alcoholic.
Just as her own mother had been.
SEVEN
After The Candles Burn . . .
Shortly after the eleven-to-seven shift captain assigned to solitary made his one a.m. rounds, then signed the black logbook, he left the unit.
The CO waited another thirty minutes, then quietly made his way toward cell twelve. At the far end, tucked in the corner. He’d come in early for overtime.
And some pussy.
It’d been almost three days since he’d been inside her clutching heat, and he was practically going out of his mind with want. His dick didn’t discriminate. He’d had his share of many flavors, attached to all types of women—white, Asian, Latina, Caribbean, German, Italian, Moroccan, Egyptian, French, and the notches on his bedposts went on.
Good pussy was good pussy no matter who it belonged to. But her pussy was top-notch. In fact, it was banging. Even with a condom on, the shit was superb. Tight, juicy, deep, hot as fuck. Not many broads had been able to make his toes curl by just fucking. Yet, she’d managed to—not only curl his toes, but make his vision blur every time he bust inside her. Every time he fucked her, his release was an endless stream of nut, thick and hot, flooding his condom to capacity.
She undid him. Every time. Her whispers, her gasps, her low moans, begging for him to fuck her, harder, deeper, rang in his ears long after he was done with his shift.
He couldn’t deny how he loved the way her body spasmed around him. Loved the way she bit his neck; clawed at his back, his ass, marking her territory. Fuck if he didn’t want to know how she felt raw.
And tonight—if she’d let him, he would.
His heart pounded as his breath escaped in an excited rush. He could literally see her on her bunk, her legs spread wide, her sweet cunt already glistening with desire.
He knew the officers in central control, and the ones in the small control room outside of solitary were too busy doing their own dirt, to keep up with what was about to go down. He wouldn’t be missed for at least another half hour. And he’d have his radio on low in case someone needed to reach him.
He’d already made it his business to sneakily keep her cell door unlocked when he’d had her out last for her shower, before the lights went out. He’d walked her back to her cell, then shut the door, sliding his key into its lock and pretending as if he were locking it.
The captain diligently came through to complete his rounds, but he never checked any of the cell doors. He trusted the CO to keep things running smoothly and all inmates properly secured in their cells.
He made another quick round on the unit, door-to-door, peeking in to see which inmates were still up. Everyone was in her bed, except Goldie Malone’s fucking gang-banging ass.
