Chapter 7 7. Alma - The prison 7

The right corner of his mouth lifts. “The shower was free, but everything else comes with a price. A towel will cost you.”

I glare at him, trying to make him see how cold I am, but he doesn’t care, which only angers me.

“¡V-vete a la m-mierda!” I curse at him. Go to hell.

He shrugs before stepping away.

He’s not planning to leave me in here, is he?

When he starts picking up his clothes from the floor and heads for the door, I let out an enraged scream and yank hard on the hook, hoping it will finally give in. It doesn’t—the damn thing holds.

“If you change your mind, let me know,” he says from the adjacent room.

Hell will freeze over before I let him manipulate me. But as the minutes drag on and I’m still unable to free myself, I’m forced to accept that I can’t have it my way all the time.

Plus, I need to play nice until I learn what the hell is going on in this place—which is easier said than done since I do have quite a temper, and sooner or later, he’ll be the one begging.

“F-fine. Y-you w-win!” I yell.

I expect him to come back right away, but he makes me wait at least five endless minutes before returning—no towel or clothes in sight. He’s no longer naked, but his hair is still wet, drops of water trailing down his shoulders.

Instead of freeing me, he leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. His gaze sweeps over my body, not caring how badly I’m shivering.

“I would have been happy with a handjob in exchange for the towel,” he says calmly. “But you made me wait, and I hate it when people do that. Now I want you on your knees, sucking my dick until I finish in your mouth. And you’ll swallow every drop of my cum. If you refuse, I’ll take you to the courtyard and watch while you get fucked by every man in this prison.”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes at him because if he wanted me to get fucked by every man in this prison, he would have taken me to the courtyard by now. So I glare at him, wanting him to know that I’m aware of his little game and that he can go ahead and suck his own dick if he’s so obsessed with it. Still, I say, “F-fine.”

Between getting sick and giving a blowjob, I choose the latter—even if it means doing something I swore I’d never do again.

He waits a moment longer before stepping forward and freeing my hands from the hook. The handcuffs stay on.

“Get on your knees, kitten,” he instructs me.

Despite how hard I’m shivering, I manage to put on a smile, but he has no idea how badly I want to kick him in the nuts—except that I already tried that, and el cabrón didn’t even flinch. I could bite him, but he’d probably come right away because he’s that sick in the head.

I’ll find his weak spot. And when I do, he’ll wish he never met me. Because he’s not the only one sick in the head.

I slowly sink to my knees, holding his gaze, wanting him to know that I’m doing this because there’s no other choice.

Not that he cares.

Not at all.

Once I’m on my knees, he cups my cheek, his thumb slowly stroking my skin as he looks down at me. His eyes flash purple for a brief moment, letting me know his angel is watching.

“Unzip my pants,” he orders.

Pushing away the bad memory of the first time I was on my knees before a man, I reach for his fly. My hands are trembling so badly that it takes a few tries before I finally manage to open it. His cock springs free, already hard.

“Now, show me how badly you want a towel,” he purrs.

I show him my middle fingers before I try to wrap my hands around his dick, but he pushes them away.

“Since you insist on being a naughty kitten, you will use those two fingers you just showed me to make yourself come while you suck my dick.”

The urge to shove my finger up his ass is almost impossible to ignore, but I resist, because no doubt this motherfucker would refuse to give me clothes if I try anything funny. Besides, my first priority is to get warm.

I take a good look at his dick. From up close, it looks even bigger. He has a Prince Albert piercing, but what really catches my eye are the ridges along its length.

I’d heard that Dukes love pearling, but I never believed it until now. For some reason, I find his dick beautiful—but I quickly shove that thought aside because there’s no way I don’t find it repulsive.

“Like what you see?” he asks, smirking.

“N-no,” I lie.

He laughs. “Sure you don’t. That’s why you’re looking at my dick like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. Well, kitten, start sucking, because I don’t have all day.”

“Mamabicho,” I grit out—Puerto Rican for dick sucker.

God, I’m so cranky when I’m cold.

Giving a blowjob shouldn’t be that hard. Right? I’ve already done this once.

But the idea of being on my knees in front of a man fills me with rage, and it has nothing to do with the officer before me.

Just this once, and then never again, I promise myself.

I exhale sharply before my lips part, and I wrap them around the head of his dick.