All Chapters of Cellblock Heat : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Jordan Bill ordered me to begin my yard duty in two days, but out of agitation and the quick need to escape Quinn's presence, I began the next day. Starting from the night after Bill summoned us to his office, I began keeping my distance.What shouldn't be, wouldn’t be.I won't ruin myself more than I already have.I won't ruin him too—and fuck yes, I really wish I could.But I can't.The whole reason I'm doing all this is because, out of the corner of my eyes—which I refused to keep on him—I saw a look resembling disgust.He never expected that day—the kiss—to happen.I didn't either.I just had to join the dots of my fantasies together. I wanted my fantasies to play out, to come to life.And that, in turn, caused Preppy to recoil.Never again. I feel like I've got to flush my dirty thoughts down the fucking toilet.The sting of metal cleaner filled my nose as I scrubbed down the warehouse walls, but still, it was nothing compared to the sting riding my chest all damn morning. The w

Edward The hotel Myles booked for us wasn’t my usual one in Berlin. I specifically made it clear to him that I wanted one of those discreet, ivy-covered properties tucked behind wrought-iron gates where nobody asked for last names and the staff seemed allergic to eye contact. The kind of place where secrets could lounge comfortably in the velvet chairs without being overheard.The strange man, fifteen years older than me—Grayson, walked silently beside me through the lobby. He acted as though he’d been here a thousand times before. My guards carried our luggage up, but I barely noticed them.The words he’d left me with in the jet still scraped against the inside of my skull. I know the men behind Quincy's arrest.He’d planted it like a landmine and then had the audacity to sit beside me for the rest of the flight reading a newspaper casually like nothing had happened. He felt he held information that made him seem untouchable. Maybe he did. I had asked Myles to run a background check

Stacy I never believed in fate until that stormy night.It was one of those rainstorms that soaked the whole city in less than five minutes. The kind where people abandoned umbrellas and just ran with coats over their heads, their shoes slapping the wet pavement. Unfortunately and fortunately for me, my car chose that day to be the best to malfunction. It had broken down hours earlier, and I’d spent the last of my patience arguing with a greasy mechanic who swore the spare parts wouldn’t arrive until morning. And God help me, all I wanted was to go home, take a warm shower and curl up in bed—the best remedy for my tired muscles.And in order to do that, I had to find another alternative. The car could wait by the side of the road, while I go home to fix my body and soul.I looked up to the dark angry sky, thunder rolled from a distance. And if my guess we're right, there would be a downpour in an hour or two.I dug my cold fingers into the pocket of my coat and fished out my phone.

Quincy I must say, I had successfully passed the death phase for the last two months of my stay in Prisoneyland. But this one, this one had the higher chances of drying me up from the inside until I'm left with just my carcass. And the cause of the element is not an entity dwelling in the person.It's the sun.If hell had a second cousin, it was the prison yard at noon.The sun wasn’t just hot—it was angry. It scorched down like it had a personal vendetta against my very existence. It toasted the top of my head until I swore I could hear my hair follicles screaming. My shirt clung to me like a second skin, sweat running in thin rivers down my spine, pooling at the waistband of my pants.Trust me, taking off my shirt would literally help. But only will it serve as a natural tan, it will invite those goons on the lookout for guys they feel they're inferior. I'm ticking my boxes of the list of Mr Goodie. I've flopped just once with Malik’s case, and I won't let it happen for the second

StacyIt’s been two days since my encounter with the strange scarred woman, and I swear I can’t even summarize how these last two days have been. I needed someone to talk to—someone I could relate to, who would understand. My mom.I didn’t even realize I’d driven straight to her house until I was already in her driveway, headlights bouncing off the chipped white paint of her porch.My hands were still trembling on the steering wheel. My heartbeat hadn’t slowed since the moment that woman’s scarred face bent over my table, her voice dripping venom into my ear.I don’t even remember unlocking the door. One second, I was outside, and the next, my mother was standing in the hallway, holding a mug of tea, her brows knitting together the moment she saw me.“Sweetheart…? What is it? What happened?”I couldn’t answer right away. My voice caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat. I could still see the small gun, the way her fingers caressed it like a favorite pet.“Mom… Mom, I’m scared.”