Am I falling in love with her? I don’t know, man. But I will tell you this. Three weeks ago, if you'd have asked me that question, I would've either laughed at you or hit you in the fucking nose depending on who you were and where you were asking. But now? Now…I’m just going to shrug it off and tell you I don’t know the answer to that question.
It’s not just the sex, either, if that’s what you’re thinking. Sure it feels unreal fucking Kerri and sure she’s got the body of a fucking angel that gets my cock so big and fucking hard that it ends up with its own heartbeat.
But that’s not the only reason I’m falling in love with her. I know that for sure.
The way she looks at me when I’m inside of her. When she can’t talk. When she can’t breathe. When she’s gasping for air. In the throes of her fucking orgasm. The way she makes herself vulnerable. After everything she’s been through. It takes a lot of fucking courage to let yourself be vulnerable like that. I could never do that.
The way she makes me feel calm. At peace. Like the world isn’t such a shitty place that chews you up and fucks you before tossing you out like fucking trash. Like there’s a little bit of hope left. A little bit of goodness left in people that hasn’t been trampled and stamped out by cruelty and malice.
She makes me want to be a better man, even in here. She makes me feel regret that I had to meet her in here. That I couldn’t have met her on the outside.
But I
need to fucking snap out of it. I'm inside. There’s no denying that fact. And no amount of fucking daydreaming and happiness is going to change that.
The best I can do is protect her from what she doesn’t understand. What I hope she’ll never have to understand.
The only way I can do that is to become the one thing that scares her. An inmate. A criminal.
Yeah, pretty fucked up, right? Ain’t got no fucking other option in this joint, babe. No other way.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I walk up to where Grinder is standing in the prison yard. He’s talking animatedly to Spider. Three other people stand around him. All mob guys, all part of the same gang I used to be in. Shaved heads. Tattoos up and down their arms. I know a few of them. The tall, fat guy—his name’s Earl. The skinnier dude with the close-cropped blonde hair, that’s Slim. And the short guy with the big ears and weasel-like face is called, you guessed it—Weasel.
That leaves Spider and Grinder.
Grinder has his name because he’s built like a fucking truck. His arms are the size of steel beams and he’s got a barrel chest that's deep like a tree trunk. He’s bald, and has jail tattoos all the way up his body, neck, and face. And his face. Jesus fucking Christ. It’s contorted in a twisted approximation of evil. His eyes are dark brown, basically black. And they turn toward me, his entire muscular frame moving as he sees me walk up to him.
No one really walks up to groups like this in prison. Not unless they have a wish to get hurt.
But me? I couldn’t give a fuck what people did. I have a mission today. And it's fucking important that I carry this shit out.
The circle of men opens up to face me as I take the last few steps. It’s all in now. No turning around and going back. No pretending that this was all just a mistake.
I take my last step and look at Grinder. He’s quiet, looking at me as well. Studying me. I turn my glance to Spider.
“Deal’s off,” I say simply. “Can’t get the bitch to go along with the plan.”
There’s silence for a moment. Spider seems a bit nervous all of a sudden.
“W-wh-what the fuck are you talking about, Stone?” Spider asks, giving anxious glances toward Grinder. “We had a deal.”
“And that deal is now off,” I say calmly. “I wanted to tell you before you started making any more plans.”
It’s been a week since Spider told me about the plan and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what to say and do to keep Kerri safe.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my fucking head. We’ve even been finding a way to meet up in the Alcove every day now. We get maybe an hour, tops. But that’s fine. It’s long enough for me to bend her over, grab her by the ass, and pound her with my cock as she moans lewdly. To slap her ass until she groans with the lascivious sounds of pleasure. To suck her clit and make her claw my hair and back as she thrashes in the midst of multiple orgasms. To leave her legs wobbly and shaky after she impales herself on my tree trunk of a cock. All 10 inches of it, buried inside of her.
Afterwards, basking in the afterglow, we talk. She tells me about her life. About her ex-boyfriend who she caught cheating. About her parents. Her job. The ways that she’s trying to get stronger. And I listen to her. Listen to the words of a woman who could be with any man in the world, and she chose a caged beast. And each time I hear her I swear to fucking God that I will do everything I can to protect her.
“You can’t back out on a deal, Stone,” Spider says, emboldened by indignation. He jars me back to the present from the reverie I'm in. “You’re committed.”
“Listen Spider,” I say, giving him a stare that should intimidate most men. “You never really asked me if I wanted in on the deal, but I spent a fucking week trying to figure out how. It’s just not possible. End of story.”
I’m going to leave it at that and I turn away, taking two steps.
“Now wait just one moment, player,” Grinder finally speaks and I immediately stop. Good. I’ve been waiting for this.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?” Grinder asks me. “You want out of here just as much as we do, and we need you for the first part just as much as you need us for the second part when we’re at St. Simons.”