Page 35 of Judas

“You’re not? You mean to tell me it wasn’t the idea of me touching your pussy that made you wet? What was it then, the blankets? Did they scrape across your skin like I do?”

Leaning into her, I drag my mouth and right cheek roughly against her neck.

“Was it the air conditioning? Cold against you when you were hot and needy? If it wasn’t me, then what was it? Because I’m pretty sure it was the idea of my fingers rubbing your clit and spreading you apart again.”

The sharp breath, groan, and how she wiggles against me tells me everything—like I didn’t already know. Grabbing her hips, I still her and step forward, pinning her harder between my groin and the counter. She’s going nowhere, not while I’m in the middle of playing with what I own.

“Go on, you have more to tell me.” Egging her, I want to see how detailed she’s going to get.

As she retells the way her hand slid into her shorts, I follow suit. Each description she gives, I deliver. Replacing her fabricated memory with the real thing. My hands on her, my fingers sliding through her wet labia, teasing over her throbbing clit and dipping into her sweet fucking pussy.

Taking my time like I said I would, I drag two digits in and out of her. Scissoring them in intervals to spread her for me. And if I’m being honest, feeling her squeeze around my fingers is making me harder than I think I have ever been. Can’t wait to have her wrapped around my dick but first, she’s going to comefor me, just like she did in the privacy of her room, and she will beg for it.

My opposite arm wraps around Nadia’s waist when she starts to melt into me, desperate moans fill the shower room as she starts to come apart for me. My lips press so close to her temple, eyes staring at her through the time-aged mirror, filling her ear with filth.

“Fucking look at yourself, Nadia. You’re soaking my hand, and any time I draw back, your greedy cunt clamps down. Refusing to let me go. Is that all you need? To be full? For me to keep your cunt stuffed with parts of me? My tongue, my fingers, my cock?”

Her head tilts back to my shoulder and I lean in, grazing my teeth along the side of her throat. My forearm is beginning to tighten and burn from the methodical strokes I’m maintaining. Truthfully, though, my hand is covered in her arousal, to the point I can feel it soaking into the crotch of her BDUs—my mouth salivating as she drips. I’d kill to taste her, to have her swollen clit throbbing between my lips as I bite on the sensitive flesh.

“Do you want to come, Nadia?” I ask, just as I curl my fingers into her G-spot and give her a slight jerk.

“Fu—fuck yes,” Nadia squeals, her pinned hips trying to rock but still firmly restricted by my own.

“Beg.”

With another sudden jolt, I alter my stance just enough to change the angle of my arm and pump harder into her. Not fast, no, not that. Harder. Don’t get the two confused. All while my other hand unzips her tactical vest and pushes it apart. ‘Guard’ is written in white across the front of her T-shirt, the decal stretching at the very edges with how snug it is stretching over her tits.

“Fucking beg, Nadia! Or I’ll send you out of here without so much of a backward glance.” Growling the threat, sheknowsI’ll follow through with it. Something she’s done herself—threatening an inmate. Without follow-through, the rest of the prison population would not have any respect for her. Respect and power is a non-negotiable for Nadia, and she uses that to wield her baton like a sword.

“P… please, Kace. Please make me come for you,” she responds, voice higher-pitched, breathy and short.

Perfect.

Tilting away, I yank at the back of her vest. Her arms move in time where I can drag it off her upper half and toss it to the floor with a clatter. Pieces of her gear scatter as they slide across the tile. We can worry about that later. I keep pumping her harder, stripping her one bit of clothing at a time. By the time I’m done, her BDUs are down to her knees and the shirt is pulled up over her chest. Finally, I have her sports bra rolled up to help pin her shirt out of the way.

Naked from the collarbone down to her knees, I stare in awe at Nadia. Utterly unprepared for how striking she is. Inch after goddamn inch of silky smooth skin. Nipples standing on end, squeezing the barbels that are pierced through them—not surprising at all. Small scars here and there, normal stuff for a rough and tumble kind of woman she is. It’s my mouth flooding more at the sight of her pink-flushed cunt.

“Mine—“ I grunt out, seeing all of the woman before me. I’m one lucky bastard to call her mine, to feel her, to see her.

To fucking love her.

“Mine—“ Unable to stop myself from saying once more, my hand finally picks up speed, thrusting fingers deep between her spasming walls. Powering through the fire building in my muscles.

“Who do your orgasms belong to, Nadia?” I could come like this. Spill my cum into my jumper again, just like the dayshe stroked me in the hallway. Lose my fucking mind being privileged enough to feel her.

The lust drunk thing slips up. “You, Kace. I bel…they… they belong to you.”

“Ohhhhh, baby, I heard that. And yes, they do, and so do you. Now come for me.” A feral grin creeps across my mouth at her accidental admission. Between you and me, I knew from the get go—she was going to be mine. Her slip up only proves it.

“Kace!” Nadia screams and I let her. I need to hear how she sounds without having to cover her mouth and muffle her. And good heavens, she sounds so pretty—profound.

“That’sss it, baby. Just like that.”

She’s so damn tight around my fingers—pulsing violently. Her walls milk me but I press on, wringing out every damn shudder and twitch from her as she progresses through her orgasm. Ragged breaths cause her naked tits to rise and fall rapidly as she tries to catch a deeper one. The slick sheen of her release glistens along the vein-pronounced skin of my hand. Her exposed body is splotchy with rose colored blemishes from her blood having risen to the top of her flesh from the heat between us.

She’s incomparable.

Once she starts to relax and lets up, my hand withdraws. Lifting my arm, crossing her chest like some sort of muscular seat belt, I shove my fingers into my mouth. Licking, sucking the taste of her off my flesh. A feral sound rumbles behind my Adam’s apple and deep into my chest, now pressed hard against her shoulder blades. Still staring at her reflection in the mirror, she watches me while I do it. Her mouth parts with the breaths she’s trying to regulate—failing as I consume her as much as she does me.

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