Page 19 of Fragments

It’s unwise to assume that getting on my knees makes me powerless. If you’re giving it, it means you’re giving up your control tome, and in that moment, while you’re fucking my throat, or my ass, or wherever you’re trying to stuff it, Iownyou.

Truth be told, I rarely felt as powerful before I came here. Men are always easily manipulated, but these guards and prisoners are truly something special. They’re infinitely more susceptible to my skills than the high-powered guys I used to bone in the city. That’s not to say those men weren’t easy to control. They definitely were. But inhere, it’s a matter of boredom.

Sex is theonlyescape. There’s nowhere to go, nothing else to do. We’re all trapped, guards and prisoners alike. So my body becomes like a vacation home.

A nice little bungalow in Mykonos, or St. Barth, or Tulum… here to whisk you away from your problems. For a price, of course.

I’m scribbling on a notepad, sketching a new piece Byron asked me to do for him, when the familiar sound of the door opening at my end of the row catches my ears. Anyone else would probably stuff their contraband away, hide it somewhere under their mattress just in case a guard—usually Velle—is feeling particularly grouchy. But not me.

I’ve more than earned everything I have. By doing something, as Lexington so kindly put it yesterday, Iprobably would have been doing regardless.

I scoff at the memory, but my lips curve into a satisfied smirk. He’s just so…upsetwith me. Still, even after all these years. I don’t know how to feel about it.

Should I take heed of the fact that he still holds it against me, even after so much time has passed? Because I think it means he cares… right?Despite what he’s always saying, if he’sstillmad at me for being the way I am and dragging him into it, then that must mean he’s affected by me…Otherwise, he’d just get over it.

Or should I be more concerned? Because if he’s always in pain around me, then he could never feelpleasurewith me.

Clomping footsteps make their way over to my cell, and I peer up to the surly face of Officer Jasper. He pushes the bars open and steps inside, tossing a backpack at me. It lands on my bunk next to my feet, and my eyes light up because the thing looks stuffed to the brim.

“Took you long enough,” I grumble, unzipping the bag to peek inside.

“Spoiled fucking brat,” he sighs, shifting on his feet. My gaze slides up to him, and my eyebrow quirks. “There’s something in there from Rook too. He said you’ve been waiting for it…”

Fuck yea.

Reaching in, I push clothing, food, and a few magazines aside, my fingers brushing a case.

Well, if this doesn’t get Lex to come over, then I’m not sure what will.

“He couldn’t bring it himself?” I murmur in a teasing tone that’s only fifteen percent serious. “What, he doesn’t like me anymore?”

Jasper scoffs. “We’re busy. New inmate coming in.”

My ears perk at that. “The bank robber kid?”

Jasper says nothing, but the way he’s staring at me confirms my question.

Nodding, I think about that conversation I overheard yesterday between Kemper and Peters. It was… interesting.

Officer Kemper is the fuckhot guard who primarily works in solitary, so he’s not usually up here just wandering around, conversing with the guards in general population. He’s also theonlyone who doesn’t fraternize with us inmates, which is crazy since, from what I understand, he’s been here almost as long as Velle and Joy. And it’s a real bummer too, because the dude is fuckingfine.

I touched his dick once. Over the pants, but still. I wasso closeto crumbling him, but apparently, he spooks easily, like a horse. He scampered away, and I’ve barely seen him since.

Naturally, he didn’t notice me eavesdropping on his conversation with Peters. Which is good, because I was able to overhear all these details he was spouting off aboutDascha Reznikov. The way he was rambling made it seem like he’s super invested in the Russian bank robber. Almost to an… unhealthy obsession level.

I’m familiar with the notion.

“When’s Dascha getting here?” I ask Jasper, wondering if this elusive kid from Brooklyn will be the one to finally crack the hard-nut shell of Officer Kemper.

“Soon,” Jasper replies, inching closer to where I’m sitting.

I can tell right away, by his tense movements and the fact that he’s still just lingering in here, that he wants an orgasm. Gazing up at him, I lick my lip.

“I want a lighter,” I demand softly, reaching out to run my finger up his thigh. “Or some matches. Something to light my fucking cigarettes.”

Jasper chuckles wickedly, shaking his head, deep eyes glistening with an instant dominant desire. “Nice try.”

I tug my hand away and shrug. “Too bad. I’m feeling extrathirstythis morning…”