by Gage Grayson
My high heels click on the linoleum floor as I begin my slow stride. Here and there, I am catcalled.
“Hey, hot mama!”
“Nice tits!”
“Oh, fuck me, baby, I’m yours.”
“I’ll take you for a ride, princess.”
The guard yells for everyone to shut up.
Then Jaxon turns. His lips are puckered, as if he was about to wolf-whistle, but I’ll never know. His mouth flattens in an instant when he realizes it’s me.
His face, for once, appears unguarded, and I note each successive expression with some of my usual detachment. Surprise, longing, anger, and frustration fly over his features before his face and body settle into positions of dominance.
In a flash, he is up, his hand in the air calling for silence with the sheer authority of one who expects to be obeyed. The voices die out as if muted.
His eyes flare with heat and hunger as he takes me in.
For reasons known only to my subconscious, I left my kitten heels at home today. Instead, I wear my glossy black patent pumps with the four-inch heels—the surface so shiny I wouldn’t be surprised if you could see up my skirt. They’re the closest thing I’ve got to ‘fuck me’ pumps.
I watch his face again as he quickly looks me up and down and then does a double take on my shoes. He gives me a once-over again, but this time the look is languid.
His eyes rake over me with such force, it feels as if my nerves are tingling everywhere his eyes touch. As he makes his way up, I feel my nipples harden and my breasts grow heavy. Though I have nothing to reference, I do believe I’ve just been eye-fucked.
It thrills me.
However, we aren’t alone. We’re surrounded by other inmates and guards, and I am his doctor. No matter what’s churning beneath my skin, my outer surface must be calm, cool, and collected.
I can feel my mask slip into place as I give him my blandest smile. “Mr. Covington.”
“Dr. Hughes.” He inclines his head slightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I frown at him slightly, just to see what he’ll do.
“Come with me,” I say, my tone clipped. There is the tiniest look of hurt and confusion on his place before it’s replaced with his usual sardonic smile.
“Of course,” he says, eyebrow arched, before he bows slightly at the waist. “Lead the way.”
I turn on my heel and head out, not bothering to check if he’s following me. I know he is—not because he’s submissive, but because he’s intrigued. Good.
The sound of my heel clicks seem to echo too loudly in the still silent room. The chatter doesn’t resume until we leave and I notice, out of the corner of my eye, Jaxon giving a signal.
We are halfway to my office before it dawns on me that everyone was waiting for his permission to speak.
Jaxon
She stares deeply into my eyes, and I can see her pull herself back together. It’s a visible act of will.
It’s so goddamn sexy. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“Jaxon. We need to actually find the root of your trauma. If we don’t, you will always be sick. I’m here to help you.”
“I’m not traumatized.”
“So you say. But you must have something behind the emotional trigger.” She looks through her papers. “For instance, can you give me more detail on how your father was abusive to you and your mother?”
“No, not really. He was just a cunt.”
“So, it’s true that he threatened you with changing your name on all the legal documents, forcing everyone to call you Jack?”
“It might be.”
“Your mother. What type of duct tape did she use to pin you to the wall?”
I snort with laughter. “What?”
“You said she used to duct tape you to the wall. What type of tape did she use?” I lean back and stretch, linking my hands. I crack my shoulders and knuckles.
“No fucking clue.”
Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “Are you prepared to discuss your issues with the fairytale rhymes associated with your name?”
“They’re just fairy tales. They don’t mean shit.”
“You’ve mentioned it every time I ask you about your emotional response to being called ‘Jack.’” She looks at me as she says it, as if she can trigger me.
It doesn’t. It’s not in context. She’s not disrespecting me.
“You have some interesting books in here,” I respond. “Can I borrow some? The library cart has six different bibles, but no mysteries.”
She sighs and slams the papers down on the desk. “Jaxon! You have to help me, or I can’t help you! Don’t you know I’m under a tremendous amount of pressure here? Don’t you care?”
I return my focus to her, lounging against my chair. I don’t give her the satisfaction of softening up or leaning towards her.
“I appreciate that you have some level of stress regarding my case.”
“Then please, help me to help you. Talk to me. Why do you hate being called Jack?”
I’m staring off into space. Whatever is in front of me, I can’t see it.
“It’s not my name…” I whisper softly.
“What? Jaxon, I didn’t hear you.”
I take a deep breath and pinch my nose as I sigh, leaning forward.
“Okay. You want the truth? There was this kid in boarding school. He used to call me Jack-sprat. Yes, the fucking fairy tale thing again. It is true that Jaxon is a family name. Has been for awhile. We also have a considerable history at this school.
“This little punk is from a rival family. We always donate millions to the school so we get our names on everything. Well, this little cunt went around in the night and anywhere the name ‘Jaxon’ appeared, he changed it to Jack. Just with magic marker.
“Can you imagine? Plaques and wall hangings, trophies, certificates. My great uncle Jaxon and grandpa Jaxon would have been mortified.”
I lean forward, looking at her earnestly. “He didn’t just deface history. He defaced me. My future and the future of our whole family. Generations worth of good standing, ruined by one dumb little prick and a magic marker in one night.”
“But surely you understand that he didn’t actually deface the achievements? That that’s impossible. The kid only defaced himself. Made himself small by showing what a threat you were to his own personal security. Surely you understand that?”
I look at her. Deeply. My eyes are locked on hers, and I’ve got that feeling again.
Like we’re both outside of reality, and only our bodies are here, being socially acceptable. Our souls are somewhere else, dancing in the dark.
“I never thought of it like that,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
It’s all bullshit. Maybe she knows that.
I don’t really care.
“We seem to be making some headway now.”
“Yes, I think we are.”
“Jaxon…do you feel that you have violent tendencies? I’ve asked you before. You say you don’t, but you clearly react violently. You need to examine this.”
“Is that line of statues on the bookshelf an original art piece? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“Jaxon, I asked you a question.”
I turn and look straight at her, palms on the desk. “And I asked you one. Have you forgotten our deal?”
She laughs softly. “No, not really. But you are court-ordered to answer my questions.”
“You think I give a fuck about that?”
“You should. My assessment of you will determine what happens to you.”
I can’t help it. I laugh out loud. It actually hurts my guts.
“You think that’s funny?”
“Yes. I really do.”
“Do you think your money can get you out of anything?”
“It has so far.”
“I might add to my report that you are so deranged, your surroundings literally don’t matter to you. That your psychosis is so advan
ced, you see yourself as a god, even in prison clothes.”
I smile coldly. She’s firing up. Trying to get a reaction out of me.
The cool, calm doctor is fleeing, and the red-hot woman is coming out.
“You certainly could say that.”
“Jaxon! Take this seriously!”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Is your mental health a joke to you?”
“Not at all. I think it’s vital to overall happiness.”
She sighs, closing her eyes for a second, using both hands to rub at them. “You agreed to advanced psychotherapy.”
“You agreed to answer my questions.” I’m feeling quite comfortable now. I can feel the balance of energy shifting.
It’s happening.
I’m getting the real Alison.
While she tries to recover herself—unsuccessfully, I might add—I get up and wander around the room. I pick up the little crystal statues. They’re finely made in the shapes of animals.
“Honestly, I have a taste for fine things, and I’ve never seen these. Where did you get them?”
She looks up, exasperated. “A gift from my father. He meets all kinds of artists.”
“Interesting.” I run my hand over the shelf. Looking at her books.
“Jaxon, sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Why?”
I turn and face her, crossing my arms. “Because I’m not running from my emotions. I can feel the heat between us, and I’m honest about it. Look at you, sitting there, going on about emotional discovery.
“It’s a crock of shit. You can’t admit how you really feel about me. How the fuck do you expect to fix me when you can’t even be honest with yourself?”
She stands up and strides towards me.
Her cheeks are flaming. Her mouth looks red. Her eyes are blazing.
“Shut the fuck up,” she hisses at me.
Oh, lovely. She’s losing it.
“Make me.” I lean my face towards hers.
She looks furious. Her body is ridged as she glares at me, getting almost on to her tip toes.
Maybe she’s going to slap me? The idea is incredibly arousing.
I try to think of something provocative to say that might force her hand. She’s so emotionally tied down, I’m impressed to have gotten her this far.
Then I see it. Her mouth twitches slightly, tongue coming to the edge of her lip. Her body seems to soften and bend towards me, even though she doesn’t move.
She’s looking at my mouth. She’s thinking of kissing me.
Again, I get that sense our souls are connected, outside of reality.
“I’m just a puzzle to you,” I whisper. “A problem. I’m not even real. Not even a person. Not a man.”
Her lips tremble. Her hands twitch. She wants to, I know, she wants to.
I lean forward and kiss her. It’s like electricity as our mouths touch. I feel that soft bend go through her whole body, and I put one hand behind her head and grip her around the waist with the other.
She moans, just lightly, into my mouth. A groan escapes me, and I push forward, losing my feet as I kiss her harder. Caught off-balance, she steps back, and we slam against the wall.
Her hot tits slam into me, bouncing across my chest. She leans against the wall, head going back, mouth opening, back bowing, legs opening. Through our hot breath, she whispers.
“Jaxon.”
I run my fingers up her neck and into that wild, red hair as my other hand goes around her waist. I grind my hips into her, grabbing at her ass. She twists against me, moans coming out of her, sounding like sobs.
Her body is alive and twitching with arousal. It’s like I can feel it in my own body, the tightness of her nipples, the heat in her clit, wetness of her pussy.
My cock is raging hard—ridiculously so. I rock against her again so she can feel it, and she gasps, making needy little sounds. I see the drowsy blink of her gorgeous eyes, and I know I’ve got her.
Emotion has finally come and swept her away, broken all those locks society forced on her. She’s all woman now.
And she’s mine.
Alison
I’m pinned between Jaxon and the wall. The pressure of the cold concrete behind me and his hard, warm body in front of me is a contradiction of sensations. I’m inflamed from the bones to the skin.
It’s like my pussy is running with electricity. I can feel tremors from deep inside myself.
He kisses me hard and deep, and I can’t do anything but give myself up to it. The shaking is coming out into my extremities, and my fingers are trembling as I run my hands over his hard shoulders.
“Ali.” His voice is a whisper of breath onto my lips.
I can feel myself shuddering to the core. I’ve never felt this kind of need before—yes, he wants me. But he also needs me in a way no one ever has before.
It’s this, more than anything, that has me running wet like a river.
As his hands roam down my waist, I can’t help but open to him, my hips rocking back and my legs parting from the hips.
His hot lips delve into my own. Searching fingers grip at my breasts, at my hips. One hand goes to the small of my back and pulls me towards him as the other slides between my legs.
I feel his fingers slip around the fabric of my panties and push against me, sliding on the wetness. My clit is burning as he pushes on it. All the ferocity of him that I have seen, that I have found so exciting, is now directed at me, solely at me.
His fingers probe deeper and start to push inside. His mouth covers mine, and his hard hands pull me nearer as he desperately tries to get his fingers into my pussy. I feel a moment of horrible panic, and I struggle away against the wall.
I get my face up and gasp for air breathlessly.
“Jaxon, don’t!”
Immediately, he stops. His hands trail gently over my waist. He’s breathing hard, his mouth so red. His eyes stare deep into mine.
“Are you okay?” He kisses me—just gentle, sweet lips on mine. A sweet sixteen kiss.
My head is swimming. I shake my head, but I don’t know if I’m answering the question.
The burning in my nipples, the fire in my clit, and the deep, deep aching is ruining my thoughts. Panic is running like fire through me.
But I don’t want it to stop. The lack of touch where his hands had been hurts worse than his firm touch. I feel empty and scared, like to stop him now would be to reject a very special gift.
He needs me, I realize. He needs me in a way no one else can.
I’m trying to think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t do this. I even look for the words in my mind.
None of it makes any sense. Not the way his hands on me do. He leans in, and I respond to his kiss, reaching up for his lips and bending from the waist as his hands go around me again.
He buries his head in my neck. His lips whisper to me.
“I…need you Ali. I’m obsessed with you.”
His words so sad, so needy and desperate.
To think that he’s so fierce. That he’s a wild creature, something as feral as the ice over a still pond or the wolf that walks upon it.
And he does need me. He is stayed by my hand, my word. For me, this vicious, wild thing will tame his nature.
I feel my eyes stinging as his head moves down, one hand fumbling my buttons clumsily. He can’t stop, but he’s waiting for my word.
I raise his head up to mine and stare into his eyes.
“Jaxon. I…I’ve never been with a man before.”
I swear his eyes glaze with tears. One hand strokes my face, so gently.
“It’s up to you, Alison, my darling. My treasure. I will do as you ask me to do.”
He starts to pull away.
I reach out and grab his arms, pulling him back to me so forcefully that my back slaps painfully against the wall again. I stretch up, pressing my lips against his and stroking with my tongue hesitantly, but determinedly.
“I want you… I want you, Jaxon. Yes…yes, do it.”
He growls, and his lips and teeth attack my neck, gently biting and kissing down my chest. His hands roam over my breasts, my thighs. I roll back against the wall, head lolling, arms loose.
I’m completely ridden by the desire flooding through me that I’ve kept at bay for so long. I can’t fight it.
This is the first thing in my life that has ever felt real. Alive with sensation. Crippled by lust.
He sinks down on his knees, breath coming hard with a slight cry as he runs his hands along my thighs, pushing up my skirt.
With both thumbs, he rubs my clit through the panties. My hips rock wildly, and he looks up at me and smiles.
A sharp, quick smile of pure delight.
He teases me some more until I can feel my panties getting wet. He runs his fingers up to my hips, gripping the edge of the fabric and pulling my panties down.
I feel horribly exposed, frightened, but so aroused that I can’t think. Emotions and sensations roll through me faster than I can process them.
Then he reaches his head under my skirt and presses his lips to my clit.
I exclaim in surprise and delight, one hand snapping down to grip the back of his head as he mouths into me. I open my legs wide, and his tongue searches deep inside my pussy, lapping at me.
I could scream. I want to scream. But all I can do is pant breathlessly, eyes locked on the door, praying no one comes in.
There’s a roaring in my ears as I start to thrash on the wall. Jaxon’s hands on my hips steady me as I lift up one leg to let him in. Deeper.
He moans into me, and I cry out. I can’t help it. His need is filling me, his desire irresistible.
Has a woman ever been wanted, needed, as much as he needs me? Some of his cries of delight sound like sobs.
He mouths at my clit again, gently, sliding it under his lips and tongue. He slides up a little, arms wrapped around my lower body as he holds me tight against him, his head resting on my lap.
“Ali.”
It sounds like a prayer. I look down as he looks up, and the fire in him awakens the same in me.
