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“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.” —Sade Andria Zabala War Songs
“You don’t need to ask me for anything, Luscious,” he rumbles, gaze cutting into me like goddamn razors. “I’ll give it to you, regardless.”
“You messed up, inmate,” he murmurs, his breath hitting my face. It’s minty, which confuses me. “And now it’s time to correct you.” “Correct me?” I scoff. “What does that mean? What are you going to do, beat me?” “Mm-mm,” he shakes his head slowly, eyes dropping to my lips. “On your knees, 101. We’re gonna put that irresistible mouth of yours to work.”
I don’t want him to know some twisted part of me enjoyed some part of what just happened. I don’t know which part… It started out as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but my body rarely reacts the same way my mind does.
Plus Darcey’s with O’Malley right now… In the East wing. No one really goes there much. I don’t know why O’Malley is there. That’s all Velle. He just does what the Warden wants, and the rest of us have to follow their orders blindly.
He might be the one to settle my inner turmoil, and I think I could do the same for him. Maybe we’re two mangled, jagged pieces who could click together, despite all the fires burning around us.
I want Dascha Reznikov to be my broken toy, in all ways. And I have a habit of getting what I want, especially when it’s the thing that could be my untimely demise.
“Give in to me, Dascha.” He lifts his face to look down at me. “I don’t want to want you anymore than you want me wanting you.”
When I pick it up, I can’t help the elation blooming in my chest. It’s a three-pack of boxer briefs. Fucking Calvin Klein. The expensive ones…
It doesn’t make all that much sense, but my insecurities are getting the best of me. I don’t want him, and I don’t want him to want me. But I also don’t seem to want him to not want me. It’s very confusing.
My lips are shivering. “Don’t cuff me. Please. I’ll be good.” He lets out a ragged breath, blinking slowly. “God… if you want to make me come in my pants, by all means keep saying things like that.”
“Callum,” he whispers from behind me while I doze. “Hm?” My fingers reach up to touch his arm. “My name… is Callum. Cal.”
“King of your cock is a title I’d gladly accept, inmate,” he smirks. “Do you feel this?”
“What’s pretty about my cock?” I ask, meaning to sound sarcastic, though my voice comes out desperately inquisitive. I blame it on the contraption. He lets out a throaty hum then kneels on the bed next to me. “Well, let me tell you about it. Your cock is long, and straight and perfectly proportionate.” He straddles my thigh and when I try to sit up, he pushes me back with a large hand on my chest. “The skin is smooth, and it matches your complexion, except for that round pink head, like a crown.” He runs his fingers up my abs, dragging my shirt as he goes. “Your cock is majestic, like royalty.
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He’s Satan. That’s who he is. I’ve been fucking around with Lucifer himself.
I start walking away but Darcey’s voice catches me. “Dash…” I turn over my shoulder. “Just because we’re broken, it doesn’t mean we need them to put us back together.”
“I won’t hurt you, love. Not on purpose, anyway. I just want what no one’s ever had before. I need it.”
It occurs to me that he’s still inside me, but it doesn’t hurt. I feel sort of complete… Like a piece of myself I never knew was missing has been snapped in.
“Last night…” I swallow, rubbing his lower back with my hands while I grind into his ass. “Dascha, you’re a revelation. Do you know how incredible it feels to be inside you?” “No,” his voice scrapes as he turns his head. “Your ass is fucking Eden, baby,”
“You’re really going to leave everything behind… for me?” He gazes up at me, licking his lips. “I have nothing that I want as much as I want you,”
“Dascha… I love you,” he says, his thumb brushing the tattoo on my wrist. “I’ve never been in love before and yet I knew I loved you the second I saw you. I want to be here for you, and I don’t give a flying fuck what you’ve done. The world isn’t black and white, especially not with you. You’re a prism of color, reflecting every beautiful thing back, and I never want to let that go.
“I think you may suffer from Schizophrenia. But I don’t want you to be scared, okay? Because it doesn’t matter, that’s the point. It doesn’t matter what you think is damaged in your brain, Dash, because I want to fix it. Baby, if there’s any sort of wound inside you, then I’ll be your tourniquet.” He breathes out hard and lifts my wrist to place a kiss on the ink. “Let me. Please.”
“Yes. It’s alright with me. I love you, Kellan Kemper. Please don’t… forget me.” “I will never forget you, Dascha Reznikov,” he wraps his giant arms around me and holds me.
