Colorado State Prison

The cell is small, dark, and depressing. The only things in the tiny space are a thin, narrow mattress and a stainless-steel toilet. Solitary confinement cells aren’t meant to be cheerful or distracting; they’re designed to give the prisoner nothing to do but think about their actions and decide that they’ll never do such a damn-fool thing again.

They’re also the perfect place when you need to hold a little meeting that you don’t want many people to know about…

I tip my head back and study the cameras in the corners. Normally, when a prisoner is tossed into this boring little space, the cameras are turned on and a guard is assigned to watch the feed, making sure the prisoner doesn’t try to off himself. Officially, I’m not supposed to be in here. I bribed a guard to let me in, so the cameras shouldn’t be on, but I have no way of knowing if that’s true. And, to be completely honest, I don’t give a rat’s ass one way or another. It won’t be my reputation that’s destroyed if someone finds out what I’m about to do in this place.

Most people think getting thrown into prison is the worst possible thing that could happen to them. My father did, and there’s no doubt in my mind that my twin brother Jeremy, with his high moral standards and oh-so-charmed existence, believes it, but that’s not true. Getting my ass tossed into prison has been the best possible thing that could have ever happened to me.

Spending the past six years stuck in a small, boring cell where my every move is monitored, analyzed, and considered, taught me to really plan for the future and to consider things from every possible angle. My time as a guest of the state has cooled my hot temper, turning me into a guy who doesn’t make a single move without first weighing every possible angle and coming up with the best plan. My time in here has taught me the value of patience, good planning, and helped me make some connections.

I’ve also learned how valuable and motivating fear is.

When I finally walk out of this place, I fully intend to put every single one of those lessons to good use. The world won’t know what hit it.

Catcalls catch my attention. There’s only one thing that gets my fellow prisoners that worked up. A woman on the floor.

I cross my arms over my chest and wait. Over the past six years I’ve gotten very good at waiting.

A hesitant knock comes from the other side of the door.

“Come,” I call out.

It takes a long time for the handle to turn. I imagine the inner battle raging through the person on the other side and grin. I’m sure they think they’re between a rock and a hard place, but I know better. They may think they have a choice, but they don’t. I hold all the cards.

Finally, the door swings open, revealing the woman on the other side.

Her eyes meet mine. She blanches but still walks farther into the cell and quietly closes the door behind her.

With just a little effort, she’d be beautiful. But between the unflattering light, the few extra pounds she’s carrying, and the dark half moons rimming the underside of her eyes, she won’t turn any heads. But I don’t care. In fact, her current state of exhaustion works in my favor.

“Sheila, you’re late,” I say without breaking eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is completely devoid of emotion. “I was caught up with a prisoner.”

In two strides, I cross the room and pin her against the closed door. I trap her chin between my fingers. “I refuse to come second to any other man, do you understand?”

She nods as much as my grip allows. “Yes.”

I hold her in position a second longer before backing away. “Good. Did you bring the contract?”

She pulls a thin piece of paper out of her pocket, but instead of handing it to me, she clutches it to her chest.

My eyes narrow. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts.” I can’t force her into signing the contract, and if she backs out, there are other women who will take her place, but finding one that has the right personality, the right look, and is in the right set of bad circumstances takes time, and right now, that’s time I’m not willing to spend. I want to get this project underway – and I want it underway today.

“I … I just think … isn’t there another way?” Her voice trembles and her dark green eyes gleam with unshed tears. “This all seems so … I don’t know, Victorian.”

“Another way?” I bite out the words. “Haven’t you had enough time to find another way? Your son needs medical care, care you aren’t in a position to provide him, and certainly not without spending money you don’t have on either better health insurance or medical treatments.”

“But—” Sheila starts to protest.

“I have the money you need to ensure that your brat gets the help he needs.” I reach out a hand, placing it on her lower belly and squeezing. “And you have something I need.” She flinches and tries to squirm away from my touch, but the door again blocks her retreat. “Now give me the damn contract.”

She hands the paper to me. I unfold it and read through the bullet points. The terms are harsh, but they’re clear and – there’s nothing illegal in it. Not really. Once we’ve signed it, the only way she’ll be able to back out is by paying a huge personal price.

I hold out a hand. “Pen.”

She digs one out of her pocket and slaps it into my palm. I spread the paper out on the door, holding it just an inch from her ear as I sign on the dotted line.

“Your turn.”

I step back enough for her to turn and sign the paper. Her signature’s shaky, but it’s legit. I take the paper and return her pen. “As soon as we’re done here, I’ll get this to my lawyer and he’ll file it.”

She nods.

I glance at the thin cot and smile. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

She follows the direction of my gaze, translates the meaning of my words, and grows even paler. “Here?” she squeaks. “Now?”

“Is there any reason we shouldn’t?”

She rolls my words over in her mind. “I thought you’d want, I don’t know, tests.”

I shrug. “What’s the point? You’ve already proven you’re fertile. That’s the only thing I care about. Remember – you don’t have to do this, Sheila. It’s a choice.”

“But, what about—” she stammers.

“The sooner we start, the sooner you’ll fulfill the terms of the contract,” I point out, perfectly reasonably – to me anyway. The parole board might not see it the same way – but a little cash in the right palms should grease that door as well. “So what do you say?”

Sheila’s shoulders sag. “Okay,” she squeaks. “I’m ready.”

She crosses the short distance to the cot and lays down on it. She removes her panties and reaches her hand up under her skirt, preparing herself for me.

Grinning, I shuck my prison-issue pants before joining her on the cot. I shove her skirt up, bunching it around her waist, taking a moment to admire the sight of her hand between her thighs, before I nudge it away, making room for me.

I enter her in one long thrust, realizing as I slide into her pussy that it’s been six long years since I’ve had anything but my own fist around my cock.

The heat drives me mad and I lose all control of myself, slamming into her repeatedly, the force of my blows nearly driving her off the end of the cot. Her arms wind around my shoulders, hanging on as I continue to thrust.

A few seconds later, I spill my seed into her and collapse. I bury my face in the crook of her neck as I wait for my blood pressure to lower. We lie like that for several seconds, saying nothing. Each of us lost in our own thoughts.

A knock sounds on the door. “Mr. Conway?” The voice belongs to the guard I bribed to let us use this particular cell. “Time’s up.”

Sheila squirms out from beneath me. She moves to the tiny bathroom portion of the cell and uses some toilet paper to clean herself up, angling her body away from me as she does so.

Moving at a more leisurely pace. I tug the prison pants back on and fasten them.

A second knock sounds, summoning me. I move toward the door, but pause before opening it, glancing over my shoulder, watching as she steps back into her panties. "I guess I'll be seeing you this time tomorrow for a repeat performance.”

Sheila’s eyes widen, and she stumbles. “Tomorrow? Shouldn’t we wait? This might have been enough. I can take a test, have a doctor run one. Then we can …”

I shake my head and grin. “No, Sheila, I don’t want to wait for any test results. I’m just getting warmed up.”