Page 22 of Imprisoned

Forty-five uninterrupted minutes.

We haven’t crossed any physical lines yet but in my mind? We’ve crossed them all. Multiple times. In multiple ways. Each fantasy is more forbidden than the last.

I’m cracking. I know it with the clinical clarity my training provides. Yet I can’t stop—don’t want to stop—this freefall into whatever darkness awaits me in Axel’s arms.

12

AXEL

The ink flows from my pen, staining the page with my craving for Willow. I smirk as I write, recalling her flushed face and the way she tried to hide her arousal. My beautiful doctor is so innocent and pure on the surface, but I see the storm brewing beneath. I intend to unleash it.

Two months of our sessions, and I’ve watched her walls crumble. What started as clinical detachment has become something else entirely. The doctor thinks she’s hiding it well, but I see everything.

In my cell, I pen a letter, my words dripping with vulgarity.

My dear Dr. Matthews,

After two months of our sessions together, I find my thoughts consumed by you in ways I never anticipated. What began as a diversion has become an obsession that keeps me awake at night.

I find myself unable to stop thinking about you. My mind wanders, painting vivid pictures of what I’d do to you if you were here with me. I’d start by pressing you against the wall, your soft body crushed against the hard concrete. I’d ravish your neck with my mouth, marking you as mine. You’d try to resist, but I’d whisper in your ear, telling you all the filthy things I plan to do, and you’d melt into my arms, unable to deny your craving.

I’d strip you slowly, teasingly, savoring the anticipation. I’d explore every inch of your body with my hands and mouth, mapping your curves, tasting your sweetness. I’d make you beg for more, plead for me to satisfy the need I’ve awakened in you. And when you’re on the edge, I’d enter you, claiming every part of you as mine.

But that’s only the beginning, my sweet doctor. I’d restrain you, binding your wrists and ankles to your thighs, leaving you vulnerable. I’d use your body for my pleasure, taking what I want how I want it. I’d have you screaming my name, begging for mercy, but I’d show you none. I’d own you, body and mind, which makes my blood rush.

These walls can’t contain the fire between us. It’s only a matter of time until you belong to me completely.

Anticipating our next session,

Axel

I fold the letter, my pulse racing with anticipation. Sliding it into an envelope, I imagine her reaction, the conflict in her eyes, and the desire she tries to suppress. I know my words will haunt her, feeding the flames of her forbidden lust. And when we meet again, I’ll watch that fire consume her, burning away any resistance she has left.

I slip the envelope to Martinez, who will deliver it to the janitor. He presses a pack of cigarettes, which houses a fifty-dollar bill, into his palm. “Make sure Dr. Matthews gets this. Directly to her office.”

“You got it, Morrison.” Martinez tucks the letter into his uniform. Another guard in my pocket—amazing what money can accomplish.

The anticipation of her reaction makes my skin buzz. Each session over these past two months has been a careful dance—pushing boundaries, then retreating just enough to keep her coming back. I’ve memorized every detail of her responses. How she bites her lower lip when she’s uncomfortable, crosses her legs when I say something particularly filthy and pretends to write notes but just scribbles nonsense to avoid meeting my eyes. It’s time to see what happens when I reach her outside our carefully structured hours together.

The cafeteria buzzes with the usual chaos when I enter. My crew occupies our usual table, but something’s off. Rico, my second, catches my eye and gives a subtle head tilt toward the far corner. Marcus Kane and his thugs have spread out, taking up more territory than usual.

I grab my tray and stroll past Marcus’s table. “Getting comfortable in my space?”

Marcus’s tattooed neck tenses. “Last I checked, this was my prison.”

“Funny.” I lean in close. “That’s not what the warden’s wife said when she visited me last month.”

His knuckles go white around his fork. Everyone knows Marcus has been trying to get in good with the administration through the warden’s wife. The fact that I got there first must be eating him alive.

“Watch your back.” Marcus’s eyes narrow. “Accidents happen all the time in here.”

I laugh, the sound echoing across the cafeteria. “They sure do. Like what happened to your last cellmate.” I straighten up, noting how the guards shift nervously. They know what I’m capable of, what strings I can pull even from behind these walls.

Taking my seat with my crew, I notice how the other inmates give our table a wide berth. Rico slides closer. “Marcus’s been recruiting. Got three new guys transferred in from D block.”

I bite the tasteless meatloaf, my mind already working through the implications. Marcus is making moves, trying to upset the delicate balance of power I’ve established. But he’s forgetting one crucial detail—I didn’t get to where I am by playing nice.

I survey my crew as they gather around our table. Each has been handpicked and serves a purpose in my carefully constructed hierarchy.

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