Jo Meneceo. Formerly Fiona Andrews. Originally Jocasta Larvin or should have been if my father had bestowed me with his royal name. He never did, so I took my mother’s last name. Jocasta Kelly.
I should have been a daughter to a king. A princess. Instead, I’d lived as a pauper, an unwanted bastard, a liability at risk of losing her life at any time. And now, at twenty-three, I was officially a slut. I literally was driving home with a man’s cum on my pussy. A man, my own student, came on me, in a prison.
I’d never felt dirtier in my whole life, yet it didn’t bother me. In fact, I had this silly grin on my face all the way back to my apartment, and I’d thought I’d never smile again. Not after all the trauma and sadness I’d known nothing but in my life. And not after Tirone. Not so quickly, anyway. All it took was having an orgasm by the hand of a gangster biker as he shot his cum on my pussy in a wild place like prison while fifty people surrounded us, some of them holding weapons.
Yup, a total slut.
Staring at the boxes cluttering my bedroom, I found myself going back and forth about finishing packing them. Part of me still thought starting over somewhere else was the right and the safest thing to do. Another part, the one possessed by a mind haunting orgasm, was dying to go back to San Quentin—to Furore—tomorrow, without an ounce of fear or worry of what might be the consequences.
My hand traveled to my panties, reminding me of the epic debauchery I’d just indulged in, like I’d ever forget. No matter what, I’d always remember the day I pulled my skirt up for a prisoner, pulled my panties to the side, let him come on me while he rubbed the shit out of my clit until I came for him, too. I stared down at my soiled underwear, the evidence this wasn’t a dream or a scene from a book I loved so much I pretended I lived it for real.
I should take them off, though. I should shower and take the prison smell off me. My nose skimmed the fabric of my shirt where Furore’s scent lingered. I expected he’d be filthy, but he didn’t smell bad at all. Yes, there were hints of cigarettes and sweat, but the majority of it was him, his so manly scent that had set my vagina fluttering then and now at the reminder.
I circled my clit on top of my panties, my eyes hooded at the feeling. What would happen if I touched myself while his cum was still on me?
You’re so dirty. Just go shower and finish packing so you can put all this behind you and go.
While I agreed with the sane part of my inner voice, I found myself stretching on the bed, sprawled with my hand sliding into my center. “Just one more time, then I’ll go.”
I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my breast out of the bra. Then I flicked my nipple and squeezed. Something I’d have loved if he’d done. I rubbed at my clit, picturing the plum sized crown of his massive cock doing the work. I wished I’d had the courage and peeked under the table to see him so I could have the full picture now.
My lip curled under my teeth as I imagined his cock with the jewelry on. I’d looked up cock piercings on my way home. The website listed a set of benefits to the jewelry for the sexual partner that I’d love to experience. And I had to admit they looked hot and whoever had them must have been a fearless badass. It seemed I had a thing for dangerous, badass men who rode bikes, were over the top jealous and possessive and didn’t care enough for the law.
Don’t you dare think about Tirone. Ever. Just Furore. Just this one time and then never again.
Closing my eyes, listening to Laius’s voice talking dirty in those husky whispers, I touched myself. Seeing only the dark arousal in his gaze behind my eyelids, I moaned. My fingers lifted to my nose for a second so I could smell his seed, the little souvenir he’d left for me and marked me with, and the pressure gathering down my belly intensified.
God, I shouldn’t desire Laius Lazzarini as much as I did, but he was taking over me without permission. He was so hot, in command, powerful, and above all he was protecting me even though he didn’t have to. He liked me for me, and he wasn’t afraid of who I was. After all he’d learned about me, he liked me. He wanted me. He demanded I stayed.
I don’t want just a taste. I wanna fucking devour you until you come all over my mouth and then lick it all off.
I clenched hard, rubbing frantically, chasing the orgasm—
Ring!
My eyes snapped open. Ring! Ring!
Swearing at the timing, I darted a glare at the drawer when I hid the burner, but that wasn’t where the ringing coming from. That was the goddamn landline. Who would call me on it? Nobody ever did, not even the school.
I straightened up and fixed my clothes, panting, swearing again. I was this close to coming. Whoever was calling was going to get a piece of my mind. As I clawed at the handset, a sudden fright invaded me. What if it was Ty?
My heart thrashed as I tried to control my breathing. My eyes squeezed as I picked up the phone. “H-hello?”
“Hello. This is a collect call from Laius Lazzarini, an inmate at San Quentin State Prison. This service is provided by Tel Communications. For rate information, press one now. To accept this call, press three now. To block all future calls, press—”
I pressed three fast, relieved and a bit stunned.
“Call accepted. Thank you for using Tel Communications. This call will be recorded and is subject to monitoring at any time. You may begin speaking.”
“Buonasera, Miss Meneceo,” Laius said, and despite the frustration I was interrupted at the worst of times and the slight moment of panic this call had caused me, a huge grin hurt my cheeks along with the heat the burst in them.
“Good evening to you, too, Furore.” I tried to make it sexy, throwing in a pathetic Italian accent, as he always did with my name, but it sounded like an embarrassment.
“Your Italian is getting better.” He chuckled. “I prefer Laius from you, though, baby. Say it for me.”
“Laius,” I whispered, butterflies in my stomach as if I were a shy school girl getting her first call from the quarterback who had just said he liked her. Except the quarterback was an outlaw biker, twice my age, and I was his teacher.
He groaned. “Fuck… You know I haven’t washed my hand yet? I keep sniffing at it like a crackhead. Did you shower?”
I cleared my throat, my whole body burning with shame and arousal at what he’d said and what I’d been doing right before he called. “Um…this call is monitored. How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways. Don’t be shy on me now. Tell me.”
I shook my head as if he could see me. “I…I was about to. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to take the phone with me or describe anything for you when I’m in the shower. ”
He laughed. “Why didn’t you do it right away?”
“How do you know I haven’t just arrived home?”
“Baby,” he said as if saying, “C’mon, are you kidding me?”
It felt good that he was keeping an eye on me. Since Tirone left, I hadn’t felt really safe. Not until I met Fort the other day and knew the Night Skulls were watching over me. Not until I knew the smell of Laius Lazzarini’s hug and the feeling of his protective arms.
“Okay. Well, I was…um…reminiscing…but your call stopped me at a crucial timing, and now some parts of me, two to be exact, are blue.”
There was a pause. “Fuck. You’re driving me crazy, baby girl. I hate that you need me, and I can’t be there yet.”
You’re here now. I didn’t say it. There was no way in hell I was going to have phone sex over a prison collect call.
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise,” he said.
“What makes you so sure I’ll be there tomorrow?” I teased.
“Because I said so, and you’re my good girl.”
My nipples hardened and a fresh gush of arousal melted my panties. “No, I’m a very naughty girl. I think we’ve established that today.”
“Oh yeah? I gotta punish you then.”
“Is that so? How?”
“No more reminiscing until tomorrow. Until I show you the rest of my punishment.”
Fuck. I could come just at the anticipation of what he planned for me the next time I saw him. “Laius…I don’t know…”
“You can’t be that cruel, baby, and let me miss you like that.” His voice dropped, the playfulness gone.
I sighed. I was going to miss him, too. I was missing him already. How could that be happening? We’d only known each other for a few weeks, when we practically fought every time we met, when I thought he was an enemy about to destroy my life. How could everything change in one day?
“Jo? Still there?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what I said today before you left?”
You’re mine now. My cum in your panties proves it. You’re mine, and you know it. “Every word.”
“Good. Because I don’t like to repeat myself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you can’t run from me. I won’t let you. So you’d better be there tomorrow, baby girl.”
The threatening tone of his, while toxic, wreaked havoc on my body. I blamed Tirone for it. He was the only boyfriend I’d ever had. My first love and the boy who took my virginity. My body responded to his toxicity no matter how much my brain resisted it. He was always threatening me because of his jealousy and over the top possessiveness. Furore was exhibiting the same tendencies, and while I should be running as far away from it as possible, I was drawn to it like moss to a flame. “Or else?”
“If the mark I left on you isn’t enough to make you understand you’re mine, I’ll have to claim you some other way, baby. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle the next time, though.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come tomorrow, and you’ll never have to know. Wear something pink.”
