Page 213 of Felonies are Forever

And then I crush my lips to hers.

THREE

Lenore

“Call me Daddy,”he orders after retreating from my lips, leaving me breathless and dizzy. His thick fingers weave into my hair, gripping the side of my head and tugging it painfully to the left.

Wetness streams, heated and needy, between my legs as a pitiful sound seeps from my throat. My eyes are glued to the thickness behind his blue prison pants as I force the words over my suddenly dry lips.

“Daddy.” I hiss whisper letting the world linger on my tongue.

The room is fuzzy and wavy all of a sudden, as though that one word was a drug. As soon as the name is there between us, he spins me around, my face smacking on the chilled metal of the exam table, the letters still crushed against my chest.

“Say it again.” Anger seems to tighten his grip on my hair and I wonder what I’ve done wrong but follow his instructions again, trying to put more emphasis on the word.

“Daddy.” I enunciate, clicking my tongue at the end swallowing the lust that’s banking in my throat wondering if I’m going to get out of here alive.

His booted feet kick against mine until they are a yardstick’s width apart, the cotton of my panties digging into my upper thighs as I hear the clink of a belt buckle, the hoarse rattling of his ragged breathing behind me, my heart coming into my throat, choking me.

My skirt is flipped over my ass. He made it clear in his last letter that pants were out of the question, and if I showed up in a pair, they would be cut from my body. Ease of access was his goal and as much as my instincts told me to not show up here today, my fantasies were driving the train, so here I am.

I’ve worn out my blue silicone vibrator thinking of this. Being taken by him, thinking I only wanted the fantasy, but here I am, shaking and drooling, bent over an exam table in a prison ward with a man twice my size and age with his hand at the center of my back, making me his bitch.

And, God, what a bitch I will be.

“Get a letter out. Read to Daddy while I take the edge off.”

Goosebumps prickle on my skin. I struggle to slip the gathered papers from under my chest as my panties are ripped down my legs only as far as my spread thighs will allow.

Salvatore curses, and I suck in a harsh breath as my insides clench and my clit throbs. There’s the click, a tug at the tight fabric pulled between my legs, then it falls to the floor and there’s the metallic skittering of a switchblade still open as it settles next to my head on the table.

“Read. That filthy one about how you wanted Daddy to give you a bath and teach you how to make that aching feeling go away.”

The sound of a zipper coming down mixes with my heaving breaths and the rushed scratch of paper against stainless steel,until I can read the jagged, angry black handwriting on the worn page. I’ve used the letter a hundred times with my fingers between my legs, seeking relief while I read the shameful filth he’d written.

The letters didn’t start this way. No, it was sweet, and I thought I was helping a poor, misguided inmate with some contact to the world outside. But soon, there was innuendo, and then I received this letter and nothing was the same after that.

“Read, now, I need to calm the fuck down. Fucking this tight little girl pussy while I listen to your voice is what I need right now.”

The pressure from the head of his cock makes me convulse as he lines up and holds himself there as I struggle for my voice.

Impossible need shakes me to my bones as he holds at my opening. Thick fingers dig into my hip while the other hand pushes between my shoulder blades, reminding me how impossible it would be to try to escape this dangerous man.

How did I get here?

I clear my throat as I squeeze the shaking paper between my fingers and stutter on the first words.

“I can hear you in the bathtub again. You’re singing I’m a Little Teapot, and splashing around behind the door where my forehead is pressed, my hand on my cock, praying to God to take away the thoughts that plague me night and day.”

“Fuck.” He bellows as he thrusts forward, driving the air from my lungs as he fills me in one hard pump. Pain dots my vision. His size stretches me beyond my limits, but I take it, the feeling of being full blocking out the pain. “Keep going,” he growls as he starts to pump inside me, moving in demanding thrusts, joining us in long, wet motions.

The words on the page jerk as he takes me from behind, and I focus, finding my voice, giving him what he demands.

“The prayers don’t help as my fingers turn the knob, I hear the click, then I’m there. With you. In the warm steam of the bathroom, your green eyes wide, curious, as I close the door, clicking the lock closed.‘Daddy?’Your little voice tells me what a monster I am, but it’s your budding body that calls to that beast making any civilized thought impossible.‘Yes, baby. Daddy’s here to help. I want to be sure you are good and clean.’

“Swallowing is impossible as I step to the tub, your innocent, trusting eyes on me as I kneel down, slipping one hand into the bubbles, enveloped in the hot water as I cup your cheek with my other hand.

“‘Have you washed everywhere, like a good girl?’

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