Prisoner (All of You Book 1) (6 page)

The nurse nods, and takes the card.  But as Doctor Dad leaves the room I see the guard take it from her.  “We won’t be needing this, because you aren’t going to be sick again, are you Vaden?”

“No, ma’am,” I reply, compliantly.  This is totally not me.  I am not some weak, submissive person.  I’m a fighter.  After a little more than a week in jail, I can barely recognize myself.

“You’re a good girl, Vaden.  Keep it up and you’re going to have another fantastic night tonight.  How many times did he fuck you last week?” she says as she leads me back to my cell to wait.

As she’s closing me in, I reply honestly, “Too many to count.  You should try him.  He eats pussy better than any woman.”

“I don’t think my girlfriend would agree.”  She chuckles, and flicks her tongue at me.  I knew there was a reason she’s been paying special attention to me.

Chapter Nine

Lani

In the back of the car, I’m as excited as a teenager going on her first date.  I can almost remember the tangy scent of him.  I can definitely remember the feel of his skin.  I can’t picture his tattoos though.  I mean, there were so many.  And I was basically focused on his dick, his long, hard…

“Hey, Jenna, if your guy doesn’t win, you want to spend the night with the guards?  How much to go first?”  De Soto asks from the front seat.

I glance over at the woman then.  Is this the woman who was supposed to have been in a fight with my sister?  She’s got to be about five feet tall, if that, and less than a hundred pounds.  There’s absolutely no way this woman broke my sister’s ribs, unless she somehow had my sister down on the ground and kicked her.  Even then, I don’t think she could break her bones.  Her legs probably aren’t even as big as my arms.  She is what I’d describe as a crack whore.  Or maybe she’s a meth whore, from the sores on her cheeks.  Why would anyone voluntarily have sex with her, much less pay for it?

“Hey, Jenna, why do you always seem to end up at the jail right in time for the fights?”  De Soto asks, rhetorically.  He even chuckles when he says it.

“The prison guards are easy.  I mean, they’re all in one place, right?  I don’t have to stand out on the streets.  Plus, I get a bed and a hot meal after.”  She turns to me and smiles, and I turn away.  I don’t even want to think about her teeth.  Jesus, if she had that mouth on my pussy I’d have to disinfect it.  “What the fuck is wrong with you, princess?  You think you’re better than me?”

Yea, I think I’m way better than you
.  “I don’t judge.  We’re both sleeping in the same place tonight.”  I say it as diplomatically as I can.  But I don’t look at her again. 

“I like Vaden,” Hughes counters.  “She doesn’t argue, and she doesn’t fight.  She looks like she’s too good for this shit, but deep down she knows the score.”

“Yea,” I agree.  I’m learning the score, anyway.

Tony

I’m more focused on the man across from me than I am on the windows toward my right.  I assume that’s where they watch.  I mean, they don’t have the girls from the jail down in with the rest of the crowd, do they?  People would question that, right?  Probably not.  If they’re here betting on whether I live or die, I’m sure they’re not worried about a couple of girls from the jail.

The man they’ve pitted me against this time looks like he knows how to fight with his hands.  “I’m guessing you’re ex-military?”  I yell.  The crowd is already pretty rowdy, whooping and yelling.  We’re in the ring together, but they haven’t introduced us yet.

“Army, you?” he calls out.  He doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.  He’s about six feet tall, not as muscular as me.  He’s a white guy, and he’s got a tan line where his wedding ring used to be.  He hasn’t been in prison that long.  He doesn’t deserve this.  Neither of us deserves this.

“SEAL,” I reply. 

“Fuck,” he groans.  “I’m still not rolling over and letting you kill me.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I reply.  The PA announcer begins the introductions, and I’m shocked by how many people scream for me when my name is announced.  I mean, I’d almost feel good about it, in other circumstances.  Now, all I can concentrate on is the man across from me.  I don’t hear his name.  I don’t hear the crowd.  I just hear the blood pounding in my ears.  The adrenaline is already flowing.

When the bell rings, he comes at me.  He gets in one good punch, on my jaw, then another on my cheek.  It’s almost like a wake-up call.  I take a swing at him, and hit him in the throat.  I don’t care if it’s a cheap move.  I’m not losing this fight.  He puts his hands up to his neck, and I hear him struggling to breathe.  Right now, I have no feelings of mercy inside me.  I punch him in the nose, and he stumbles backward.  Then I punch him in the stomach, which is a little soft, and I keep punching him, until he leans forward and spits blood all over the mat.

The man takes another swing at me, but his arm falls downward before it gets near me.  I lift my arms over my head, and let out an inhuman roar.  That’s how I feel right now, inhuman.  But everyone in the crowd screams out “Gladiator!” in response.  It’s a rush, a high.  And then, I realize there’s no bell coming to stop the fight.  I have to kill him.  I close my eyes for just a moment, not wanting to finish it.  That’s when he rushes me, and knocks me onto the matt.

I don’t stay under him.  I roll over quickly, and climb on top of him, and hit him until he stops moving.  Then, just to be sure, I snap his neck.

I sit there on top of him for several moments, until the guard grabs my hand.  I allow him to cuff my wrists, and then I stand and allow him to lead me out of the ring.  The crowd is going crazy, reaching out to touch me.  I jerk away from them.  I’m not celebrating this man’s death.

Lani

“Looks like you’re the lucky girl, Vaden,” De Soto says as he leads me and Jenna both into the prison.  We’re both blindfolded, but we also both know where we’re going.  We’re just two obedient prostitutes, selling our bodies for different reasons.  She’s selling hers for money, and I’m selling mine to stay alive.  Then I hear the door open, and I realize I’m not doing this just to stay alive.  The butterflies are again trapped in my stomach, and they’re there because I’m going to see
him
.

“Here’s your girl, Roman,” a man says, as he removes my handcuffs.  It’s not De Soto. I guess he’s standing first in line for Jenna.

“She’s not my girl,” he says forcefully, right before I’m shoved into the cell with him and the door closes behind me. 

I remove the blindfold to find him pacing his tiny cell.  He’s breathing heavily, and rubbing his right fist with his left palm.  This is not the calm, almost cerebral man I met last week.  This man is hyped up on testosterone and practically climbing out of his own skin.  “Hey, it’s Lani.  Remember me?” I ask in my most serene cop voice.

“Of course I fucking remember you,” he growls.  His eyes are two angry slits, and his nostrils are flared.

“I remember you, too,” I admit.  “I’ve remembered you all week.”  That gets his attention.  He exhales loudly, and stops pacing.  “Did you wash your knuckles?”

He moves his left hand off his right, and looks down at them.  I can see the blood on them from where I’m standing.  I assume he doesn’t get medical treatment after a fight, just a piece of ass from the jail.  “No,” he says hesitantly.

“Why don’t you do that for me?”  I’m still talking in the tone I would use on a scared victim.  “Why don’t you wash in cold water, and I’ll wrap it up with my bandana here.”  I hold the purple cotton square out to him. 

He looks at me, and I can tell that he’s relaxing a little.  The muscles in his jaw aren’t as tense, but the muscles in his neck are huge.  He walks toward the sink, and turns the water on.  “This is…”

I couldn’t hear him over the water, so I take a step toward him.  “What?”

He jumps when he hears me, and feels me so close to him.  “You’re quiet.”

I chuckle at that.  “Sometimes.  I’m sure my ex-boyfriend wouldn’t agree with you.”  He frowns at the thought.  “I don’t mean…”  I stop there, because I don’t want to get into what I mean with him, not in his hormone driven state.  I gently take his right hand, and begin to wrap the bandana around his knuckles.

But he lets it fall off, and his fingers go to my hair, and push a few errant strands over my ear.  “This is not who I am.”  His touch is too gentle for him to be a killer.  The heel of his palm grazes against my cheek, and I turn my head toward it.  Not that I’ve slept with many killers.  But I’ve had one or two in my interrogation room, and I didn’t think either of them would be as gentle a lover as this man is.

I can’t tear my eyes away from his.  They are glittering with emotion, and not all of it is good.  “This isn’t who I am either,” I admit.  The fingertips of his left hand are on my cheek, then they move slowly to my lips. 

“Who are you, Lani Vaden?”  His voice is rich, and husky.  I bet he smoked once upon a time.  I tear my eyes from his, and explore his face.  His cheekbones are almost too high.  His black hair is shorter, but still a little too long.  He looks like he took a dull knife to his beard.  I reach out to touch it, and it’s still very soft.  His face is wide, and his nose is too, and slightly flat.  His ethnicity is a mystery, but he’s exotically sexy.  I bet his ancestors are from an island in the South Pacific.  Maybe he’s Hawaiian. 

“Right now, I’m whoever you want me to be.”  I reach out, and grab the waist of the light gray smock he’s wearing.  He exhales sharply, as I pull it up over his body.  He lifts his arms up over his head, and I uncover his abs, his ribs, and his pecs as if I’m unwrapping a present.  He has those wide muscles under his arms at his sides, and they’re all flexed out.  The shirt is gone, and I reach out to touch his stomach.  His abs jerk before I even touch him.  “I’m whatever you need me to be.”

He places both of his hands on my neck.  I trace my fingers up his ribcage, and over his nipples.  He jumps, and hisses.  I’d almost forgotten how sensitive they are.  Then my hands are on his shoulders, and I trace the tattoo on the right side of his chest. 

“What’s the story behind the tattoos?”  I remember to ask this time. 

“I got that one thirteen years ago, after my third trip to the sandpit,” he says. 

As I look closer, I find a name on his right bicep: Lucy.  “Wife?”

“Ex,” he chuckles.  “Lucy, which is short for Lucifer.”  Under it are two sets of initials with dates.  “Kids,” he provides, before I ask.

“I thought so.”  He just stands there and lets me explore his body.  This is a huge difference from the man who was prowling around like a caged animal earlier.  “You’re beautiful.”  He scoffs.  My eyes immediately return to his.  “Whoever told you otherwise should be smacked.  Tell me who it was, and I’ll smack them for you.”

“I have eyes,” he counters. 

“Get them checked, because you’re extremely attractive.”  I lick my top lip, and hope that he finally kisses me.  I mean, if I wanted to kiss him, I’d need a step ladder.

He takes a few steps forward, causing me to take a few steps back.  I feel the wall behind me.  The butterflies that were trapped in my stomach spread across my chest.  I can feel my heart pounding; I can hear it in my ears. 

He hooks his hands around my thighs, and lifts me easily, until my legs are around his waist.  I grab his neck, and hold on tight.  Then he kisses me.  His lips are so tender on mine, so soft and warm.  His palms cup my ass, then his hands move up to my waist.  I wrap my feet around his thighs, pulling my body in closer to his.  And that’s when I feel it.  It’s as big as I remember it, maybe even bigger.  I moan against his mouth, and open my lips.  He’s still holding back.  So I allow my tongue to snake out, and touch his lips, to coax them apart. His fingers move up over my breasts, but they don’t linger.  His big hands move around my ribcage, to my back, and with his forearms under mine, he pulls me into him, and sucks my tongue into his mouth. 

Tony

Slowly, she calmed me.  With her soft voice and her sweet, doe shaped eyes that could never lie, she tamed me.  And then with just the touch of her fingers she makes me wild again.  I strain my hips against her thighs, and she moans from deep inside her.  Her hands travel over my neck to my shoulders, and then her fingernails graze my back.  She’s seen the beast inside me, and she’s not afraid of it.  I think maybe she wants it.

I turn around, and holding her close, walk both of us toward the cot.  She is kissing me as if she can drink in my soul.  She’s holding on to me like I’m her favorite possession, like she’s never going to let me go.  I can almost believe, while she’s touching me, that she actually wants to be here, and they aren’t forcing her.

I don’t even know why she’s in jail.  Maybe she’s a hooker.  She tried pretty hard to convince me last week that she’s not a cop.  Maybe she’s not.  Maybe she’s a high-class call girl. 

Once she’s sitting on the cot, I slide down until I’m on my knees in front of her.  She smells so clean, and feminine, and I bury my face in her lap and close my eyes.  I just want to lose all of the ugliness, because I don’t want my sins to touch her.  She continues to rub her fingers over my back, my shoulders, and my neck.  She even rubs her hands through my hair. 

“You don’t have to do this,” I say.  But really, I don’t want her to say no.  And even if she did, I’d probably continue trying until she said yes.

“Shhh,” she whispers.  “I want to.”  She crosses her arms, and grabs her own light purple smock, and pulls it over her head.  I reach up and grab her big breasts, through her plain, white bra.  She bends down toward me, and she kisses me again.  She wants this.  No, she wants me.  This gorgeous, incredibly sexy woman wants me.  God alone knows why.  If she’s faking it, she’s a damn good actress; or a really well paid call girl.

Right now, I don’t care.  I would give her anything she wanted for her kisses.  The way she kisses me makes me feel like I’m the only man who’s ever touched her.  I hear her moans and sighs, and I reach around her body to undo her bra.  Her hands go down to her pants, and she pulls her knees up to her chest, and then she’s wiggled out of them and her bra.  She’s suddenly completely nude in front of me.  She leans back against the cinderblock wall, scoots her pretty ass toward the edge of the thin mattress, and twines her fingers in my hair.  She’s gazing down at me, and tugging slightly.  Her chest is rising with each intake of breath.