Page 14

Chapter twelve

Kace

Present Day

M y chest heaves, struggling to catch my breath as I looked down at Nadia. Sweat slicks her milky skin, dark hair fanning in every which direction as she lays beneath me. The round globes of her ass on full display and bright red from my hand. I thought she was beautiful before, but now? Now, she is so fucking gorgeous it hurts. Each breath squeezes my heart in a way that it feels like someone is ripping it out of my goddamn chest.

The way her cunt squeezes me, like I had anything left to give, leaves me mindless. If I am not careful, I am going to get addicted to this she-devil. What a way to make my time here worse, salivating over my guard—yeah… MY... guard.

I’m a fucking goner.

Reaching out to her, I brush sweat-slicked strands of hair out of her face, needing to see her before we have to head back to gen pop. I also want to help her clean up a bit, but first I have to escape her devilishly tight grip. My other hand runs up her spine from the small of her back until it reaches the back of her neck. Curling my fingers around her nape, I lean forward and blanket her frame with my own, pressing the softest kisses to her cheek and temple. I long to care for her. We may have just fucked somewhere deep in this gross-ass prison, but she still deserves more than being left on the cold hard floor.

“You alright, baby?” I whisper near her ear.

“Mhmm,” she mumbles, the satiated reply makes me smile; I could get used to her cute little sounds.

Leaning back up, I trail a series of soft kisses along her spine before pushing myself up from the floor and re-situating my jumper, buttoning it up to my naval.

With an outstretched hand, I help the demon up, her clothes barely clinging to her curves as my eyes eat up the way she looks all disheveled. I can’t help but smile at the way she stands there, allowing me to finish dressing her, hiding the cum I spilled across her back with her uniform.

It feels good to take care of someone else. A little too good but thank God it won’t happen often.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Kace.

Once her shirt is buttoned and tucked back in, pants fastened and belt attached, I cup her face with both hands and stare down into her dazed eyes.

Cock drunk looks so damn good on her.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you at all, baby. If you need to take it out on me later, I completely understand.”

I don’t wait for her to respond before ghosting a kiss across her lips once more. We need to go; we have been missing for far too long. The fire is likely out and the lockdown lifted which means another count will be taking place soon. I just can’t stop looking at her; my heart doing some weird shit in my chest. Despite the past few years and all the bullshit, I really like her. She is cunning, vicious, and so damn beautiful.

“You good to walk? I don’t want you stumbling.”

“Ye— Yeah,” she murmurs.

If she goes out there all doe-eyed like this, someone is going to get on her ass, and we can’t be having that. They can fuck with me all they want and say I did shit to her against her will; I don’t care, as long as they leave her the hell alone. That means, I’m going to have to get her good and riled up before we head out. She seems so damn content, and as much as I hate having to put her back in a bad mood, she needs to return to grumpy-Nadia mode.

What I am about to say next will likely put her on a rampage, and I know I’m going to pay for it, but that’s alright as long as no one finds out we have just been together.

I won’t lie; this is going to fucking suck.

“You were such a good lay, Nadia. Now I know why you’re so damaged. Had I known that you took cock so well, I’d have pinned you down a long time ago.”

Her body instantly goes stiff, and she leans back away from me. Those silver eyes of hers now a storm of anger and hurt. Mission accomplished, even though I hated saying that.

I’d nev…

“Turn the fuck around, inmate,” she orders, grabbing my arm and spinning me only to slap the cuffs around my wrists. The sound of metal clinking and grinding is normal and somehow comforting. I don’t struggle or resist, laying one wrist above the other as she cuffs them together, securing them and pulling to test their hold.

“You ever fucking say some shit like that to me again, I’ll cut your goddamn tongue out. We clear?”

“Crystal, snitch, crystal.”

We were out the door and down the hall within a few moments. Her speedy steps leading the way, making me smirk; she was so forceful when she was grumpy. If I didn’t like giving up control during sex, I’d definitely let her take me for a ride but that’s not going to happen. Just like we can’t repeat what happened. I need her to stay away from me, and not because I didn’t thoroughly enjoy it, but because her livelihood is on the line. I am in a cage, and she has freedom, I refuse to jeopardize that. Not for her, not for anyone.

“Pierce!” a deep voice echoes down the remainder of the hallway.

“What!?” Nadia rings out with a snap.

“The fuck are you at? The lockdown lifted five…”

Dammit, it’s Zurita.

“Why the fuck are you with Patton?” He asks, accusatorially.

“He was in the library with inmate Winston and took off running when I attempted to escort him back to his bunk for the count.”

I feel her shift behind me a little then move up to my side, almost like she’s making herself visible yet still staying safe behind me.

Smart girl. Good liar.

I don’t hold Zurita’s gaze per se, but I’m not necessarily backing down either. Trying to act as normal as possible even though my heart is racing out of my fucking chest. If he sees any marks on her, due to how heavy handed I was, or he finds out about anything, I am on a one-way ride to seg.

I’m being paranoid right now. She won’t let him find out, will she? I know I talk a lot of shit, but being labeled a rapist in prison is a death sentence for me. I don’t know if I want my tenure to end now–now that I’ve had her.

Nadia, the defiant little shit, stares back at the man. Never backing down. I need to know what happened to her. Why she has a spine strong enough to stand up to men bigger than she is, yet unable to handle someone saying anything about her past. No matter what happens between us, I’m going to wrench it out of her. One way or another.

“Well, let’s go. We need to do another count since he wasn’t present. Then we can release everyone to dinner, and you can go home afterwards.”

“Alright, sounds good,” she replies.

Nadia brushes against me, and with a pull, begins to lead the way back to C Block; home sweet home.

Once we finally march up to my cell door, I step inside with Ronald, and he looks up at me unimpressed, as always. Nadia right behind me, uncuffing me, and then gives me a hard shove. She-devil is big mad—I want her to be. That anger will help her maintain her reputation. Walking over to my shelf, I dig through my clean clothes and pull out a new shirt, dragging the one I have on up and off, and dropping it down in the dirty pile. As much as I want to be covered in Nadia, I need out of these filthy clothes.

Pulling the new shirt on, I jump up on my bunk, allowing my legs to dangle over the side while Zurita repeats the count.

“The fuck were you, Patton?” Ronald asks.

“I was busy.”

“No shit, numb nuts. Were you off with Officer Pierce?”

“I was, and that’s all the hell you’re getting. Don’t put your fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He clears his throat and keeps quiet. This is our friendship, and I like it this way; he is like an uncle who wants to pull the parent card but decides it is best to not push any further. We return to sitting in silence until the guards' shout and let everyone know that they are clear to go to the cafeteria. Ronald is out of his bed first, never missing a meal, and I jump down to follow him out. When we step out of the cell, I notice there are a few guards lingering around the door.

“Inmate Patton,” Officer Clark calls out, his partner and a rookie trailing behind him.

“Yeah?”

“Search time,” Clark announces.

“What, why?”

“Protocol,” says the rookie.

Boy, he is going to have one hell of a time here, I can tell that already.

The rookie seizes my arm and twists me around. My hands reaching out to press against the cinder block wall next to my cell door. Instinctively, I step to the side so he can get to the areas he needs to pat down.

Starting at my ankles, he rakes his hands up both legs, then moves on to the front of my hips. The back of my hips came next, followed by my waist. As he starts patting there, his movements begin to slow, and I look down, watching what the fuck he is doing.

“Sir,” the rookie called out, slipping his hand into my front pocket and digging around. When he pulls his hand out, there is a bag of coke, and my go wide.

What the fuck, where did that come from?

“What you got?

“Contraband.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know what the fuck that is or where that came from,” I rush out. Anger rolling up my neck in a wave of heat. He hands the baggy of white powder over to Clark where he inspects it. Opening the tiny zip-loc type closure, he scoops out a tiny bit and smears it across his cobalt thiocyanate test that all COs carry; the damn thing lighting up bright blue just as I figured it would.

Fucking great.

I stare at the white painted wall, trying to figure out at what point I was close enough for someone to plant that on me. I can hear them behind me, chattering and calling shit through their radio about transport, but nothing can drown out the absolute fury in my head.

“No, Pierce isn’t escorting him; we got him. Waiting for a cell to be unlocked,” Clark states.

“Hold on, what are we doing? You honestly don’t fucking think that’s mine, right?”

“It was on you, found on you; so, it’s yours, Patton. You know the deal.”

“Oh, give me a damn break! You know that was planted. I’ve been here for years and have never got in trouble outside of a couple of fights.”

“Who the hell would plant cocaine on you then?”

Good fucking question.

“Beats the fuck out of me. I’ve only been with Ronald and Pier….”

Son of a fucking bitch… Nadia goddamn Pierce.

The walk down to solitary confinement is arduous. I never thought I would make it here, but then again, I never thought I would go to prison either. Seems like this life is just one wrong turn after another. Once we pass through several checkpoints, I come face-to-face with the small hole I’m going to be thrown into for however long. All of this over a bag of coke I know that fucking snake of a woman slipped into my pocket.

I am directed into the cell, the door closing behind me, then a small seven-inch by twelve-inch access port drops open, Clark calling through it.

“Back up to the window, inmate.”

Doing as he instructed; I feel him grab hold of my wrist and start unlocking the cuffs. I can’t begin to describe what it’s like to be shut in a room with no window, no space, and a single thick metal door keeping you locked away from the entire world as I know it.

When he releases me, I pull my hands back to the front and begin to rub them, attempting to regain the feeling in my fingertips and to get the redness to go away. There’s not much room in here, but I still take a moment to look around and try to just breathe.

The air down here is thick, like you’re trying to breathe in pure fog. It’s humid, it’s stifling, and it’s dark. I can barely hear the inmates down the hall; some soft coughing, and one of them is crying.

Hopefully, they’re not going to keep me here too long. I’ve always been surrounded by people, even in here where I prefer to be alone, but the ominous feeling of being locked away like I don’t exist is daunting. I can’t help but feel a shift in prison life as I know it.

Day 1 - Solitary Confinement

It took me a long while to get comfortable, but I finally found a corner where I was able to sit down and prop myself up against the wall. At my height, there’s no room to lay down without hitting the broken toilet. Therefore, to maintain cleanliness, I opted for sleeping in a sitting position.

That was a fucking mistake.

My back is in so much pain from my ass being on the floor all night that I can barely lean forward in a normal position without aches trailing down all of my limbs.

Lunch came around at some point, but don’t ask me what time because clocks and the sun are non-existent in seg. I got buttered toast, a single slice of bologna, and a cup of water, but it’s better than nothing.

The day drags on, eventually, I feel myself being pulled under as a blissful sleep takes over, at least until nightmares fill my dreams.

God, I hope this doesn’t last too much longer.

Day 3 - Solitary Confinement

I decided to lay with my head by the door; I couldn’t stand sleeping in a sitting position anymore. The hard, flat surface of the floor provided a little relief while sleeping last night, even if the areas where my bones were closest to the surface scream with discomfort.

They didn’t bring any food yesterday either, only a single cup of water that I downed then quickly scolded myself over because there is a chance that I may not get another.

Hearing several pairs of boots stomping down the hall, I move over to the drop-down port to see if I can get a glimpse of anything through a small opening I managed to find yesterday. Seeing who the boots belonged to--guards and a single inmate–tells me I’m not leaving today either. This guy looks like he has been to hell and back. His jumper is covered in blood splatter and ripped in a few places, too.

Poor guy.

Settling back, I’m almost on the verge of falling asleep again when the broken toilet I tried to use yesterday bubbles and groans from its old plumbing; the stench making my stomach churn.

I’m going to be sick.

Day 6 - Solitary Confinement

Curled up by the door, my knees press into my chest while my back aches against the wall. My hands squeeze and pull at my hair. I am going insane. I just know there was a point in time yesterday when I heard whispering right next to me, but when I went to whisper back, I was met with silence.

Obviously, no one was there, right?

Couldn’t be, I’m locked in a concrete box. There’s no in or out. Only me, the thoughts I have running through my head, and my cramping stomach. I am sure seg is listed under ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ according to one of the past Presidents. If it’s not, I need the human rights people to come back; the ones that closed down the basement of the prison that Nadia told me about.

Maybe we all need them.

I don’t know how much longer I can go without food, let alone water. I think it’s been three days since my last cup and my lips are so dry they’re beginning to crack. Don’t even get me started on my empty bladder. I am glad that I stopped needing to urinate, especially since the toilet is out of commission. I bet they won’t clean it when I leave either. They’ll just use it as another means to torture the next poor guy that comes in here.

How do other inmates do this over and over again? Something has to be seriously wrong with them if they find joy in this or are willing to come back for whatever reason.

Day 7 - Solitary Confinement

I can’t do this.

I need the fuck out of this cell. I am losing my fucking mind. The whispers came back last night and then I could hear one of the inmates a few doors down screaming like something had taken hold of him and ripped off an arm. I know that’s not what happened, at least I hope it wasn’t like that. I could have missed the sounds of guards walking in because I’m so fucking tired it’s unbelievable.

I spent the better half of last night dissecting the sex I had with Nadia. I miss her. I wish I can go back to the days where she’s being a bitch and throwing her officer privileges around. Yet the more I think about her, the madder I get. She did this to me. All I did was pop off about her past to make her angry. Serves me right; I won’t be doing that shit again, but neither will she. I’ll be getting my retribution for this shit, but first she’s going to cry for me, and tell me what in the hell happened to make her the way she is.

“On your feet inmate, then feed your hands through the port.”

Great, another person leaving while I sit here and rot.

“Inmate!”

Wait, is he talking to me?

“Huh… I,” I choked out.

“Get your ass up and get your hands through the port or you can fucking stay here for all I care.”

I move as fast as my body will let me, my shoes nearly sliding across the dingy floor and almost make me smack my face on the back of the door. I scramble like my life depends on it, I guess in a way it does. I can’t stay down here a day longer. I am not made for this. I need people around me.

I need a smart-mouthed, annoying, going to beat the ever-living shit out of her, brat.

Though I’m furious at her, I need her.

What does that say about me?