Prison Snatch

by Cairo

  There was no fucking way he was going to let his partner know that he wanted her so badly. He wanted Heaven all to himself. He wanted to hold her beautiful tits in his hands and slide his dick between them and come all over her. He wanted to be the only one coming in her mouth, in her ass (if she wanted him there), and in her cunt.

  He wanted her.

  And he’d have her.

  Even if that meant he had to—

  Corbet’s growl yanked Martinez from his crazy thought of breaking Heaven out of prison, and he stared enviously—jealousy slowly brewing in the pit of stomach—as he watched the object of his desires swallow Corbet’s dick as he viciously gripped her by the head and thrust himself in and out of her mouth.

  “Aaah, aaah . . . aaah . . . suck that shit, bitch . . .”

  His body jerked and Heaven gobbled and slobbed and swallowed a glob of heated cream, then slowly licked around his head as if it were a vanilla-frosted cupcake.

  Martinez gritted his teeth.

  He wanted to punch this hijo de puta in his motherfucking neck.

  FIFTY

  If It Don’t Fit (Don’t Force It) . . .

  “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.

  FIFTY-ONE

  Stairway To Heaven . . .

  Officer Flores waited until close to two a.m., before he quietly snuck inside Heaven’s cell and startled her. It’d been several weeks since he’d had her moved over to 2 North. Though it was still a max housing unit, inmates had single cells. He’d purposefully taken his time coming to her. It’d killed him to wait, but he’d wanted to let her get settled in—first before he made his move.

  2 North was where he sold most of his cocaine. He also sold Molly and pills, mostly over on 4 East. But the majority of his prison sales were in weed. Half the inmates at Croydon Hill were hooked on the good shit he trafficked into the prison through the kitchen deliveries. A dime bag on the streets sold for fifty dollars behind these walls, and he was making a killing. And he had several civilian staffers on payroll to make sure his operation ran smoothly.

  “Ssh,” he whispered, placing a finger to his lips. “I’m here to collect on what you promised me.” He slid his hand over her sheet-covered ass.

  Heaven blinked him in, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark, and she saw a slow blaze beginning to burn in his eyes.

  She’d heard the cell door creep open, but had lain still, pretending to be in a deep sleep. She actually thought it was Officer Martinez again. He’d become her late-night pussy licker over the last several days. And she’d grown accustomed to him sneaking into her cell all hours of the night, and serving her up fifteen to twenty minutes of bomb head with his long, thick tongue.

  Martinez hadn’t fucked her, yet. But she wanted him to. She wanted to know what having Hispanic sausage meat felt like being stuffed between her folds. But seeing Officer Flores in her cell, his lids half-mast and filled with lust, was even better.

  “And what exactly did I promise you?” she asked coyly. “I don’t remember.”

  She tried to turn over on her back, but he stopped her, his hand squeezing her ass. “Don’t play, baby,” he said huskily. “You promised me a sampler.”

  Flores reached for her sheet and pulled it down from her body, and a low moan left him as he looked down at the lacy, feminine underwear—definitely not prison issued. He licked his lips and undid his pants, staring at the globes of her ass.

  Heaven grinned seductively at him over her shoulder. “Oh, right.”

  A deep muscle tightened low in his stomach. “Yeah, right. Now take off them drawers and let me see what’s on the menu.”

  “Know this,” she said, her voice slightly above a whisper as she kept her neck craned over her shoulder. “You can have your sampler. But if you want more than that, then you had better come right. You only get one round of free pussy.”

  She tried to roll over again, and he held her down.

  “Nah. I want you on your stomach. And I got you.”

  “Then you need”—she lifted her pelvis up off the bed—“to take off my panties.” Ass up, he groaned. He couldn’t resist touching it. He pulled her ass apart and put his face in it, inhaling her—ass, pussy. He kissed over her beautiful ass, licking along the edges of each cheek.

  Then he finally pulled her underwear until the slinky material slid down her hips, and slid them off her body, and then tossed them to the floor. His dick thickened imagining what she’d look like with only a pair of stockings and garters on.

  She looked like a fucking goddess. His. All his.

  That’s what he wanted. Her. His prison whore.

  Heaven panted lightly as her body tightened. She felt it between her legs. That ache—sweet agony blistering through her cunt; he reached between her thighs and found her swollen clit. He kneaded it gently. Then slid his hand over her pussy, his palm brushing every part of her. She was wet, very wet, and hot. Damn.

  And he hadn’t even really touched her—yet.

  And then he was easing his long, thick dick deep inside the tight, wet passage of her body until he was balls-deep, until she felt it traveling up in her spine—the heat, the burn. She groaned as his hips slowly seesawed up and down, his deliciously long dick, stretching through her body, her hips joining the pulsing rhythm of his.

  She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe out as she felt him go deep, deeper than any dick had ever gone, and she gave herself into the red-hot intensity of unadulterated pleasure.

  Ecstasy—mm, yes . . . white blinding heat—permeated him as she moved her hips with his, as she took him deep. Goddamn. Shit. Fuck. He thought he’d go up in flames from her cunt’s heat.

  “Uhh . . . oooh, yes, yes, yessss,” she purred.

  She closed her eyes and gave her body to him not for any other reason than because she wanted to; because she felt like being a prison slut.

  Beautiful . . . he whispered into her ear. So fucking . . . sexy . . . wet . . . juicy . . . sweet baby . . . and a string of other words that clung to every part of her as he moaned in her ear and blanketed his body over hers; his heat, his sweat—and melded every part of himself into her body.

  She came. Then came again, and again, and again; her climax crashed around him, her body absorbing his thrusts so fiercely that she wanted to growl and bare her teeth. She bit down on his arm, and heard him groan in response, causing his dick to swell more inside her body, throb more.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured in her ear, before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. He nipped at it, then sucked and licked on the back of her neck

  God, she felt so fucking good; so tight, and so goddamn soft. He knew he wouldn’t last long. After months of waiting, he’d been primed to have her all night, ready to finally be inside of h
er. And now she was here with him—with his dick in her.

  He groaned low in the back of his throat. His weight pressed her into the mattress and he closed his eyes as she used her slick walls to grip his shaft, drawing the length of him in and out of her snatch until he could stand it no longer and he—

  “Aaah, shit . . . motherfuck it . . . good fuckin’ pussy . . .”

  With a cry, Heaven clawed the sheets and bit her bottom lip and breathed in the excruciating pain, until she almost broke skin and drew blood. The fluid motion of his hips caused her to whimper. He was by far the biggest dick she’d ever experienced inside her cunt, yet her mouth was another story.

  Her pussy cried out for help, begging her to free it from, from, from—oh God, oh God, oh God . . . yes, yes. Her body shook as his hands bore down on her hips and his dick quickly slid in and out of her body, stretching her, burning her, fucking her cunt raw with an exquisite pain and horrifying pleasure that she’d never experienced in her life.

  Instantly, she filled the entire cell with her scent. Warm juices sluiced out of her body, wetting the sheets beneath her. His dick jerked excitedly.

  Inmate or not, she was so fucking perfect. And she was his. All his. He slid his dick into her body, and drove his point home, pounding, thrusting, and hungrily fucking into her wet fire.

  He pounded into her, pulling out and plunging back in, digging his hands into her hips as he sank deep inside her, retreated, then did it all over again and again and again.

  “That’s right, baby,” he rasped. “Take all this dick, like a good little prison bitch. Mmm, yeah . . . I feel you comin’, baby . . . I feel you soaking my dick . . .”

  And then he bit back a groan and curled his toes as liquid heat tore through his body and exploded inside Heaven, while her own orgasm spread through her body, coating her quaking walls.

  “I need two hundred dollars,” she said on a moan. “Need it . . . mmm, yes . . . in my . . . ooh, yes . . . account.”

  He emitted a low growl, caught up in the fires of ecstasy as her walls gripped and milked him. Her pussy was addictive. She was addictive. He felt himself getting lost in her heat, his body melting over her silky curves, everything about her enfolding him into her seductive web.