Everything she wrote about me—without using names or identifiers—was nothing but the truth. Being insidedidmake me form a quick attachment with my first outside contact, but it doesn’t change that Aspen being herself is what drew me to her. If anyone else was on the other end of those letters, I wouldn’t have wanted to see them. I wouldn’t have requested a photo and then approved her visitation request.
Ithankthe program, her thesis topic, and the fact she signed up for it. Without any of that, I wouldn’t have met her. I wouldn’t be standing here, finally about to taste her.
I shut the laptop and toss it onto her bed, my gaze dragging the extra space she so sneakily slid back to. Letting her believe she’s in any sort of control is fun. After all, she’s had hers with this paper; I’ll claim mine through her body.
She’s chewing on her bottom lip, watching me like I’m a threat. By the time I get my hands on her, I may very well be. She’s flushed already, her blood pounding hard, and we haven’t even started.
“Come here.”
After the slightest hesitation, she crosses the room and folds her arms—partway between defiance and obedience. Good thing for her, I enjoy both. But right now, I prefer her obedience.
“It’s a well-written paper.” Nothing but the truth, and sparks of life flare into her eyes, confirming what I’ve known for a while.She blooms with compliments, which I’ll be more than pleased to provide. “You signed up for the program with the intention of using my letters in your research, used me for a school project, and then ended it. For what it’s worth, hope you got an A.”
Do university papers even get letter grades? I don’t fucking know. Higher education was never in the cards for me.
“Yes, and I’m sorry you’re hurt by it.”
“But not for doing it?”
It’s a test she passes with her firm “No.” A woman by my side, in the life I lead, should only ever be confident in her choices. “I needed the insight,” she adds, “and you gave that perfectly.”
“If you did all this for a paper, why visit? If you forget, it was you who offered.”
“Because I wanted to. It may have begun as a project, but Iwantedto meet you. When it started to feel like too much, when I got worried what continuing to be in your life would do, I called it quits.” She pauses, rolls her lips together, and admits, “I was scared to see you as a friend, whereas to you, maybe I was merely entertainment while you were locked up.”
Oh, sweetheart, you were so much more than that.She ended it to protect herself, without realizing she wasn’t only entertainment, but the beat the rest of my life would attune to.
I can respect her defending herself. And I damn well admire her for what she’s done for her education.
“I answered your question, so now it’s your turn.” Her chin lifts up a fraction. “What was today about? Who left me the notes? Who’s your friend, and why’d you feel the need to have him protect me? Who are you really?”
“You honestly think we’re already moving past what you’ve done? I’m not over it, Aspen. Not by a long shot. Get on your knees.”
She stares, her fight faltering. Her pupils constrict with the temptation of what I’m offering, and yet, she’s still the girl whosat across from me in a visitation room. Still as spunky, as vivacious, and she doesn’t move.
“On. Your. Knees. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Not until you tell me something. The truth, to start with.”
“The only important truth is how loud you’re about to moan my name.”
Expression flattened, her silence breaks. Her defiance ends. She lowers to her knees, and half my fantasies kick off.
“So youcanlisten. Good.” Burning ignites within her, and she visibly trembles, a preface of what’s to come as I slowly pace towards her and grasp her neck, to tip her face up to mine.
Early in my imprisonment, one of the guys who’d been in there longer asked me what I live for, what I see when my eyes close each night. There was nothing, and he recommended finding something because it helps make the days go by. Envisioning what, where, or who is waiting beyond the bars might leave the anticipating dread behind, but it keeps us going. Keeps us alive.
I’d never found my something until that September when her first letter came. By the time she left me the following Valentine’s Day, it was this right here that got me through the long nights of my final year. The moment she’s in my grip, on her knees, being such a good girl awaiting her reward.
My hand on her neck has my cock thickening. When getting her name tattooed, the anticipation of this moment was nearly too much. I’m branded with her, and seeing the evidence heals my shattered heart.
Next, I’ll get my name etched somewhere on her body. Beneath her breasts would be beautiful, but then the space between her pussy and stomach will ensure she understands who’ll ever be there. Or maybe somewhere more visible, like her wrist, so I’ll always be able to see it.
“Your essay is well written. I skimmed through to the end. You clearly put a lot of work into it, and you better be as proud of yourself as I am.” She sinks deeper into my hold, having not expected a compliment, which is okay because it means I get to keep her upright and prove I’m the man for her. “But what you never calculated in that smart brain of yours is that a school assignment means fuck all to me. I don’t care that you signed up for the program only to use me for research. It put you into my life, and that’s all that matters. You became a light in my darkness. While you were out living and I was stuck behind bars, it made no difference. I was counting the seconds until able to return to you.”
Her lips part. Her throat moves against my hand before she admits, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you changed me too, in unwelcome ways. Whenever thoughts about you consumed me, I’d go out with someone. I only used them as a distraction from you.”
Well…She stuns me silent. I certainly didn’t see that one coming. “How’d that work for you?” I ask, guessing the answer.
