“Hope them muhfuckas over there aren’t trying to get in them drawers,” CO Rawlings said, out of nowhere. Well, it hadn’t really been random. It’d been brewing in the back of his mind of late. Not seeing her as much was fucking with him. And he saw how motherfuckers like Flores and Martinez leered at her, and he didn’t like that shit one bit.
But he had to play it cool.
Still, he needed more than videos. And phone sex—from her. He needed to be inside that pussy, at least once a week. But—fuck, the lack of available overtime was making it difficult for him to make moves. So he couldn’t get to her the way he wanted, and he didn’t like the fact that she was over on 2 North with motherfuckers like Corbet and Martinez. Both them motherfuckers were snakes.
He didn’t want anyone coming at his woman crazy. And he damn sure didn’t want any of the motherfuckers up at the prison trying to get at her.
And if she was playing him . . . God help them both.
Silence fell over the line. And then Heaven blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Nah. You heard me,” he stated, his tone biting. “Who else you fucking in there?”
Heaven frowned. “I don’t like your tone. And I don’t like what you’re insinuating. I’m not fucking anyone else.” Well, okay—she was lying. “But since you want to question me. Maybe I should be asking you who you fucking. Since you want to accuse me.”
“Chill with that. I’m not fucking anyone.” He paused to let his words sink in. “This dick is yours, all of it.” He sighed. “My bad, baby,” he apologized. “I’m fucking bugging. Not seeing you got me feeling some type of way.”
She rolled her eyes. How cliché. She’d heard that line before. More times than she cared to remember. “I don’t know that,” she said.
“Yeah, true. But I’m telling you.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m telling you the same thing, but you don’t seem to want to believe that. So why should I?”
“You right. My bad.” He blew out another breath. “It’s just that . . .”
“And why didn’t you tell me that you are the warden’s son?”
There was a deafening silence between the two of them, before he finally spoke. “Who told you that?”
“Well, is it true?”
“Yeah, but how’d you find out?”
“That doesn’t matter. But what matters is you being the warden’s son. And you not saying anything.”
“I’m a CO, baby. Intimately involved with you. An inmate. And you expected me to tell you that I’m related to the warden? Really? That’s the last thing I wanted you to know, at least while you’re still incarcerated.”
“I understand,” she said a beat later. And she really did. “I’m sure she’d lose her mind if she found it.”
“Which is why she won’t. Not until you’re released. We gotta keep this on the low, baby. I’m not trying to lose my job. Or end up with charges.”
Heaven bit back a laugh, imagining sitting at the warden’s dinner table for Thanksgiving. “She’ll never accept this. You. Me. You do know that, right?”
“Let me worry about that,” he said.
She shook her head. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with this knowing, this information, yet. She’d said nothing to him until this very moment. Why had she not confronted him before now? She didn’t know. But what she did know was, she wanted to smear this news in the warden’s face—that she was fucking her son, but not at the risk of hurting him.
“I miss you,” he said in a low raspy voice.
Heaven finally smiled. “What you miss?”
He grinned. “What you think?”
“You miss this pussy,” she said for him. Of course you do.
“You got me bugging, baby,” he admitted. “You’re all I think about. That shit ain’t cool. You’ll have me fuck around and bust a muhfucka in his head over you.”
Heaven swallowed. She felt her heart sinking. She felt guilt rising up in her like bile. This news of being the warden’s son could be used to her advantage. But she didn’t want to hurt him.
Shit. Truth was, she found herself liking him more and more as the months went on. But she was in prison. And they’d never be able to have any type of real relationship (well, anything with substance) as long as she was incarcerated. And there were still a few other dicks she wanted to straddle down on. That was what she had to keep telling herself. She needed to keep justifying—and reminding herself—why she was doing what she was doing with him.
He was a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less. Period. She couldn’t lose sight of that. But she knew she was lying to herself. He was becoming more. And that could pose a problem for her, for him.
“I thought this was only about sex with us. Are you saying it’s more now?”
“Yeah. It is. At first, yeah—I admit, I only wanted to smash because you’re fine as fuck; and that ass was looking real right. But, then . . . I started wanting more. More of you, and definitely more of the pussy; but it’s not about that anymore. Fucking. I wanna build with you.”
She blinked. He wanted to build with her.
“Maybe we should stop this,” she whispered, clutching her cell. “I don’t want to get hurt. And, obviously, neither do you.”
“Nah. I’m not trying to stop anything. Is that what you really want?”
Heaven went still, and licked her lips, suddenly feeling them go dry. She knew what she needed in the right here, right now. But what she wanted? Well, aside from her freedom, that was a whole other matter.
She still believed in love. Still believed in the beautiful complexities of a relationship. She wanted love. Wanted to be in love. She wanted a man whom she could trust, a man who understood the intricacies of a relationship, of monogamy.
She didn’t want to end up alone and lonely, becoming some old bitter bitch who sat around watching Jeopardy and reruns of Oprah and The Golden Girls.
By the time she got out of prison, she’d be forty—ohmyfuckingGod . . . forty-six and childless. Her eggs dried-up raisins. She wanted a husband and a home. And two, maybe three, babies. She wanted to be someone’s wife, and the mother of his children. One day.
But for right now, all she wanted was . . . to survive.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, snatching her from her tormented musing. “And I’ll fall back. But know this: If this—me—is what you want, baby, I’d never hurt you. I’ma ride this shit out with you. All I’m asking is for you to keep it one hundred with me, no matter what. And, if you’re doing shit with another muhfucka behind my back, all I’m asking is that you don’t let me find out about it. Respect me—as your man.”
Whelp.
“Oh, so you’re my man now?” she asked, dodging his question as she plopped back on her mattress. She couldn’t answer him, not yet. She didn’t want to make any hasty decisions. She needed to weigh her options. Assess what other opportunities might lay ahead of her.
Translation: Was there a way she could keep him, and still make moves?
“No doubt,” he said. “Thought you already knew. But you tell me. Am I your man?”
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.