Bound By Desire Pt 01

The first night I came back to my module, I saw her. Officer Lauren Caldwell. Blonde, petite, and carrying herself with a kind of rigid authority that said she wasn't here to play around. But beneath that badge, I saw something else--the way her eyes lingered on me just a second too long, how she glanced away when I met her gaze.

I had been locked up for four years, sentenced to twelve, most of my time spent in solitary confinement and they were finally letting me back on the mainline again.

The night I stepped back in the module, I noticed her.

And I knew.

She was watching me.

I didn't do much at first. Just observed. I was patient. I knew the game. These wome--these wives--they always carry that guilt, that hesitation, but also that curiosity. And I could tell, she was curious.

For months, I played it smooth. Every night when she worked the module, I made sure to be somewhere in her line of sight. I watched the way her fingers subconsciously toyed with that wedding ring. She tried to keep a distance, tried to act professional, but the way she never checked me the way she checked the others? That was her first mistake.

The second mistake was letting me get to close--real close.

I'd make small comments. "You work too hard, officer." Or when she brought my tray, I'd let my fingers graze hers. "You always bring my food personally? What I got a soft spot in your heart?" She'd roll her eyes, shake her head, but never shut it down. She just turned a blind eye, pretending she didn't feel it. But I knew she did.

Her home life? That was my in. I'd hear her talking on the phone, her voice low but sharp, the way her body stiffened before she hung up. It didn't take much to put the pieces together. A woman like her? Married for twenty years? Kids at home? And a rich husband who could keep his dick in his pants? I had been learning all about her over time.

She was holding on, but barely.

Then one night, six months in, I caught her at just the right moment. She had that look --lips tight, eyes distant, something sitting heavy on her mind.

"Rough night?" I asked when she passed my cell.

She hesitated.

"Something like that."

"Yeah?" I leaned on the bars. "You know, you don't have to act like you don't like me."

That made her nervous. I saw it in the way she clenched her hands, in the way her eyes flickered down--just for a second--before she forced herself to look at my face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But she did.

Nine months in, I was done playing. She was mine, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

When she stopped at my cell during roll call, I hit her with it. "So when you gonna suck my dick?"

She froze, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I leaned in, voice low, controlled. "I see how you look at me Lauren. You want me."

Her face flushed. She looked around making sure no one was paying attention, the whispered. "I'm married."

And?" Is marked. "That ever stopped your husband?"

That hit. I was the pain flicker in her eyes, the anger she tried to bury.

"I would never cheat," she snapped, her voice shaking.

That pissed me off. "So what the fuck you been doing then? Stringing me along? Acting like you don't feel this?"

She didn't answer. She just shook her head, "I can't", and walked away.

But she'd be back.

Time sat still for a while after that night. I didn't see her for a week or two. The night she came back she was late. I knew something was off the second she stepped in. Her eyes were red, her hands shaky, and even though she tried to fix her make up, I could tell she had been crying.

She made her rounds like usual, but when she got to my cell, she lingered.

I stepped close, real close, close enough to smell the faint trace of her perfume beneath the stale prison air. "He did it again, didn't he?"

She swallowed hard and didn't answer.

I reached through the bars, brushed my fingers against hers. She didn't pull away this time.

"You don't gotta say nothing." I murmured. "I already know."

She exhaled, her breath shaky. "I shouldn't be here."

"But you are"

The silence after was heavy, thick. Then she opened my cell.

She barely shut the metal door before I was on her. My hands found her waist, pulled her close, and she let me. She melted into me.

"You sure?" I whispered against her neck.

She didn't answer. She just dropped to her knees.

Her hands trembled when she unbuttoned my jumpsuit, when she freed my hard dick. But when her lips wrapped around me, all hesitation disappeared. She was hungry. Like she'd been starving for something real, something raw.

I groaned, my fingers tangled in that blonde hair, guiding her slow at first, then deeper. She moaned around me, her hands gripping my thighs.

I reached down, slid my fingers between her legs, and feet it-- soaking wet.

I smirked, ran my fingers over her lace panties. "Damn, you this wet for me?"

She whimpered, nodding, but when I moved to pull her up, to turn her around, she stopped me.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I can't. I'm married."

I stared at her still throbbing, still aching for more. But I saw in her eyes-- this wasn't the end.

She wanted it. She needed it.

And she'd be back.