Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 10
Bright lights shining in my face.
I’m frozen, dick still in my mouth, just gawking up at him with wide, watery eyes, asking a wordless question. What do I do?? Followed by a silent plea. Please please please, don’t let them know…
The Warden swallows visibly. Then he scoots forward in his chair, removing himself from my mouth while shoving me underneath his desk with his legs.
“Come in,” he calls to whomever is knocking.
I’m terrified. Shaking so hard, my body is spasming. But I press my lips together and keep absolutely still. Staring at The Ivory’s dick while someone enters his office.
Jesus fucking Christ, what am I doing??
Whose life is this?!
The Warden tucks himself away—though it doesn’t seem to want to go away, a fact I’m not trying to think about right now—zipping up his fly with someone in his office. It’s fucking whacked. I have no goddamn clue what’s happening, but I’m radiating two very different things…
Explicit fear, and illicit thrill.
“Never you mind what’s happening in here, Officer,” he says to the person. Even from under his desk, I can hear a faint smirk in his voice. “How can I help you?”
But then I zero in on his words. Clearly, the person is suspicious of something… And why wouldn’t they be?? He literally just zipped up in front of them.
My limbs are jittering from nerves and the pain of being cuffed behind my back for so long, but I’m trying to hold them steady, to keep the cuffs from making noise.
“Wilkerson’s dead. Darcey,” the deep male brogue speaks, and I recognize it instantly.
It’s Velle. Fuck.
Fuck fuckity fucking fuck!
He’s the last person I’d ever want to find out about this!
Side note: Darcey killed Wilkerson already??
Damn, the kid works quick.
Holding my breath, I watch as The Ivory’s hands rest on his knees, and he leans back in his chair, obviously not fazed by his shirt still being untucked and his belt being open.
“Do you know what I’m going to say, Jonathan?” He speaks so casually, so polished and engaging… I have to stop from answering him myself. “Ivan Wilkerson was a waste of space, yes, but the fact remains. No one can know about this. Do you understand?”
Obviously, he’s not talking to me. But that sure is a purposeful thing to say when there’s literally another person in the room and they both know it.
“So you’ll have to take care of it.” He continues firmly. “Yourself.”
The room is silent for a moment, while I’m trembling, crouched under this goddamn desk, scared as hell of making a peep.
“I don’t want to do it again…” Velle whispers, soft and more vulnerable than I could ever imagine him sounding.
“But you must, Jonathan,” The Ivory counters. “You’re the only one I can trust to do so.”
This is nuts. This conversation I’m overhearing is almost as insane as the fact that I’m under the Warden’s desk right now, jaw sore from sucking his giant, evil dick.
It wouldn’t take a genius to decode what they’re sort of dancing around here.
Wilkerson’s dead. No one can know. You have to take care of it.
All signs point to The Ivory making Velle dispose of the body.
But Velle said… I don’t want to do it again. Meaning, he’s done it before.
My spine stiffens. How many times? How many bodies??
How often has Velle taken care of something for him?
My guess would be a lot.
I don’t have time to obsess over it any further, though. Because the Warden is slowly lowering his zipper once more.
Um… what?
Reaching forward, he grasps my jaw, tugging me back to his cock. And just like before, the hesitation is minimal. I give in easily and welcome him back into my mouth.
I mean… I’m already down here…
Might as well ride this wicked locomotive straight to hell.
Easing myself in between his legs for a better position, I pick up where I left off, losing myself in blowing him. Bobbing up and down beneath his desk, slurping on the Warden’s thick cock while John fucking Chevelle, Head Correctional Officer of Alabaster Pen and one of Manuel Blanco’s most loyal pets, is standing right on the other side of this sturdy wooden structure.
Watching…? I assume he is. I haven’t heard him move.
And the idea that he might be… intrigued by this little show, or maybe even aroused by it, has me pulsing even more precum into my already damp boxers.
I’m out of my fucking mind. Practically in outer space. This is so intense; I feel like I could come and cry and collapse all at once. In fact, there are tears streaming down my cheeks, and now my dick won’t stop leaking. My mouth is overflowing with saliva, helping me to suck sloppily. It’s probably loud, but I can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears.
“I know you’ll handle it, Jonathan. Because you’re strong… and capable…” The Warden goes on speaking, but his voice is echoey and muffled, being drowned out by the sounds of messy wet suction and my soft, eager little secret slut breaths.
He sounds sinister. In my head, he’s Satan.
And I’m on my knees, cuffed, under his desk… Sucking on the wicked dick of Lucifer. The fallen angel.
His fingers caress my face gently as he croons, “You’re just what I need, you know that, right?”
I nod frantically, sucking almost mercilessly on his big cock, sticking my tongue out to cradle the shaft, trying like hell to throat him deep enough to lick his balls.
Am I doing well for you?
Are you enjoying this?
Use my mouth… Fuck, please pour cum down my fucking throat, evil Daddy.
“Good boy,” he praises, and I fucking break.
Cum begins throbbing uncontrollably from my cock, soaking the entire inside of my boxers. It feels like I’m melting into a puddle, just trying to breathe through my nose and not openly weep on him while he asks Velle, “Will that be all, Officer?”
Velle mumbles a weak, “Yes, sir.” Then I hear him stomping away, leaving and closing the door behind him.
My sucking has slowed way down, but I’m still on it, basking in the high of what just happened. A wave of vitality washes over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. A fullness, completion, but also control. I’ve never felt so powerful… It’s wild.
This… is what Ren feels.
This is what he felt.
The Ivory scoots back just enough to gaze down at me. His dark eyes are glittering with ravenous desire.
“This is an exceptional mouth,” he rasps, swiping a wetness from my cheek with his thumb. “You nearly had me spilling into you while he was standing right there.”
Please please please please please…
More.
“Keep going, wicked boy,” he whispers, closing his eyes and reclining in his chair. “I’m sending you back with a belly full of cum.”
In this moment, I’m watching myself from outside the glass…
Through the window, I see myself, sucking the cock of a villain. I’m gazing with eyes widened in disbelief.
I see myself in the bedroom with the dark-haired stranger. He’s on top of me, pushing my legs open…
What the fuck…?
God, fuck me…
The Ivory stiffens, his lids growing visibly heavy. He bites his lip. It’s… so pink.
Then he lets out a sweet, breathy grunt before his long cock bursts, and he spills hot cum into my throat. It’s pulsing in waves, and I’m gulping them back, swallowing and sucking, so far outside of myself, I’m not sure I’ll ever make it back.
Of course, I do. It only takes a few moments for the high to wear off. And a thick bout of nausea overtakes me, smothering me like a weighted blanket.
“Shush,” The Ivory says, still petting me as he pulls his softening dick away and tucks it back into his pants. “Calm now. No need to panic.”
My head is shaking back and forth. I’m freaking out, on the verge of a massive anxiety attack.
I just want to get out of here.
Let me out…
I want… out.
Crawling out from under his desk, I go to stand, wobbling so bad I nearly fall down. He stands before me, steadying me with his hands on my waist.
“D-don’t t-touch me,” I stammer, lightheaded. “Just let me… out.”
“Byron, look at me,” he snaps, grasping my face. I blink over and over to stop unwanted tears from bursting out of my eye sockets.
I don’t understand… what that was.
Who am I??
What am I doing??
What… am I?
“Fuck off,” I growl at him. “You… forced me to do that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be boring. You sucked my dick, Byron. And you loved it. You came all over yourself, and do you know why?”
Because I’m fucking sick too…
“Because you’re hungry,” he rumbles, eyes set on mine while I tremble and fight for breath. “You’ve been starved, and I fed you. Simple as that.”
I bite my lip.
“It’s okay to want in secret. It’s okay to play in secret, to unleash in secret… To let go in secret. Just remember that who you are in the shadows is also who you are in the light.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss on my lower lip. It’s so unexpected, it stops my shivers, like the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers. “And who you are… is my property.”
Another knock at the door has me squirming again.
“Come in,” he says with the brush of his thumb over my lip.
He steps away from me just as Hancock comes trudging into his office. I’m not even sure how he knew to show up right now, but I’m too busy gawking at the Warden and praying to whoever wants to listen that no one notices the huge wet spot on my pants.
“Bring Mr. Kang to solitary,” the Warden says to Hancock, smirking at me. “He needs some time alone with his thoughts.”
You… fucking… monster.
“Ghost Rider”
Here’s the thing about conformity… To a certain extent, it’s primal. Part of human nature is to bond with your fellow species.
Animals do it. They flock, or pack, tribe or clowder. And while human beings are evolved enough to value individual identity, we still possess this baser instinct to bond with others. To be accepted by the group.
Even though I knew I’d never be like my mother and father, or my sister and her husband, I still found myself on the outside looking in… Wondering if maybe there was some way I could make them accept me, even just a little.
That was why my relationship with Rey was so important. Being with her made me a real person. Not only in my family’s eyes, but in my own too. It was like I’d finally found something that brought me out of the shadows.
A relationship with a beautiful girl, one who I could bring home to my family. It was just what I needed. For that reason more than anything else, I could not accept that Rey was sleeping with someone else. It just didn’t fit the picture I’d created of us in my head.
As far as I was concerned, everything had been fine until she started fucking that guy.
I mean, who even was that asshole?? Where did he come from??
I was in an emotional tailspin. It was insufferable. I had to do something. I needed to know more.
So I fell into my default mode and went back to following her. All of my spare time was spent watching Rey, stewing in frustrated consternation. The obsession had become stronger than my feelings for her ever were, and that only served to piss me off more.
Then one night, when I was outside watching her window from the street, someone familiar showed up. It was the guy.
That asshole who’d been fucking my girlfriend. The one who ruined everything.
I watched him enter her building, barely waiting two minutes before I was climbing up her fire escape to spy on them through her bedroom window again.
He looked to be about my age. White guy, maybe twenty-three to twenty-five, with dark hair and these pretty-boy dimples I just wanted to smash repeatedly with my fists.
Not ten minutes into him arriving, they were already getting naked. I could barely fucking see, I was so irate.
This is what she was blowing me off for? Mediocre sex with some random fuckboy?
Really, Rey?? Him??
What the fuck is so special about him?!
I watched them with every muscle in my body stiffening. I didn’t exactly want to see what they were doing together, but I couldn’t make my eyes look away from his hands on her. The way he pushed her legs apart and tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth before rolling it onto his…
Fuck, I felt sick. I was dizzy and sweaty, and I had to grip the railing to make sure I didn’t fall off the goddamn fire escape.
Who are you? I wondered, jaw clamped as I watched his hips move, pumping his cock into her, over and over and over.
Lost in a haze of strife and internal doubt, I couldn’t move. My breathing shallowed, though my heart was leaping up my throat. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. I was in some sort of trance, physically unable to drag my eyes away from the prick who’d stolen my girlfriend. The pretty boy with the chiseled body and the silky hair… Ruining my life without a care in the world.
The next thing I knew, they were done, and he was leaving.
Pfftt. Pathetic. I lasted like four times longer.
Snapping out of it, I made a quick decision to climb down from the fire escape and jog over to my bike. As soon as the fucker came out of her building, without a moment’s hesitation, I followed him.
He drove a black Mercedes AMG… I’m sure that made him feel superior to a lot of people. Having a car, especially a nice one, is a flex in New York City, due to how expensive it is. He was probably some rich boy, a theory that was confirmed when he drove that thing all the way up to Harlem and parked it in front of a townhouse. He hopped out of the car and went inside, like the obvious narcissist he was.
As if I wasn’t smoldering enough already, when I strolled inconspicuously over to his car, I found it parked in front of a sign that read City Government Permit Parking Only.
What the fuck?? Either he works for the city, or he’s so entitled that he just parks wherever…
But sure enough, there was a City of New York Gov parking pass sticker on the inside of his windshield. Plus, he had special license plates.
Bemused, I peered at his building. Who the hell was this guy? He didn’t look old enough to be working for the government… Unless he was an intern? Or maybe someone from the mayor’s office?
I was beyond confused and itching for details. The dude clearly had money, and some sort of important job, two things I didn’t. We were comfortable because of my grandfather, but that didn’t exactly equal townhouses on St. Nicholas Ave.
A ping on my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. It was an alert for a DoorDash order in my area. One Michelangelo Russo had ordered from the Just Salad on Columbus, to be delivered to—
I blinked at the address on the screen, my gaze lifting to the building before me.
119 St. Nicholas and 126th.
Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle…
My lips twitched with a pure, serendipitous thrill as I accepted the delivery order.
The entire way to pick up the food, my head was swirling. I wasn’t positive that the person I was about to deliver to was the guy. It seemed too good to be true. Still, even getting into the building would be helpful. I began concocting a story, making up things to say in the event that there was a doorman or something.
With Michelangelo’s crispy chicken poblano in tow, I whipped Raph back into Harlem, all the while fizzling with nervous excitement. I couldn’t stop wondering if this could be him… Michelangelo. I really hoped it wasn’t. The fuckface who’d been screwing my girlfriend didn’t deserve a cool name like Michelangelo.
The silliest of the Ninja Turtles, but an integral part of the team. He’s a party dude. Can’t blame him for being the jester of the group.
Scoffing at my thoughts, I turned onto his block, contemplating what I would do if it was him. Would I confront him for sleeping with Rey? Maybe punch him in the face?
I wasn’t sure, but I was allowing the adrenaline to fuel me. It felt good. Something about this was a hell of a lot more exciting than my usual stalking game. Maybe it was the idea of revenge…
Sucking in a breath, I grabbed the takeout bag and stomped up the stoop. When I checked the intercom system at the door, it had only one name… Russo.
Son of a bitch… He owns the whole place?? How??
Lifting the visor on my helmet, I pressed the call button. And the next thing I knew, the door was buzzing. I pushed through the front door, stopping at a second. A thin pane of glass allowed me to see inside the extremely fancy apartment of opulent decor and wide-open space. Just… a massive townhouse, indicative of old New York. Old money.
That toolbag can’t possibly own this place.
But sure enough, there he was. Padding over, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only gray sweatpants, his dark hair the same manner of tousled it had been when he left Rey’s.
My teeth ground together as he pulled open the door, wrath clouding my brain and tightening muscles all over my body. I felt pretty confident that I might attack him…
Until he smiled.
“Hey, thanks so much,” the dude rumbled politely.
His voice was deep and sort of raspy, those few words spoken in the tone and perfect diction of an actor on Broadway or something. He certainly looked the part…
Blinking myself out of whatever had just frozen me solid, I extended the arm holding his food, and he took it. Our eyes met through the small opening in my helmet, and it was the strangest, most insane thing I’d ever felt… As if my lungs were shriveling.
All the air just whooshed right out of me.
His head cocked, and it took me a moment to realize I was still holding the bag. His blue eyes fell to my hand, fingertips exposed by my fingerless gloves.
“Sorry,” I croaked, barely audible as I released the bag quickly.
He chuckled, then hummed teasingly, “No harm, Ghost Rider.” The dimples were even more intense up close. “Have a good night.”
