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I’m John Chevelle, Head Correctional Officer of Alabaster Penitentiary. And simply put, I fucking own this place.
Harley.
I’m not afraid of men. Never have been.
It’s a game, and I don’t know the rules.
Life
How can his touch unravel me like that?
“Well then, you taste like the city boy I was never supposed to have…”
“You’re like a rollercoaster, baby. Scary as fuck, but just the best shot of adrenaline.”
“Don’t underestimate someone with nothing to lose.”
No lube, no goddamn neck kisses to at least make me feel like a human being. I’m getting raw-dogged with stress, responsibility, and turning down the stuff I truly crave.
“Raw dogged with stress and responsibility” hahaha
Karma. What goes around fucking comes around.
A super-anti-hero.
“I will fucking fight for you, Jonathan Chevelle. I’ll fight for both of you. He’s not taking you again… He’d have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”
“I’m obsessed with you,”
“You’re my greatest weakness…” he tells me with wonder in his tone. “But I think I want it. Knowing you’ll catch me makes me want to fall.”
“I promise you, when you fall to your knees for me, I’ll always pick you back up. And I have no problem kneeling for you in return. Because I love you. I’ll never take from you without giving in right back. We can let go… together.”
“You’re living your best #whychoose life, huh?”
“I get murdery when I’m nervous.”
