All Chapters of Cellblock Heat : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

QuincyNo, I’m not some barbarian who experiments with strange antics simply because circumstance has me swinging that way. That would be uncouth. That would make me exactly what they already whisper.It’s a new dawn. If my calculations are right, Jordan is probably prepping to head to Bill’s office.Yesterday I never reached a conclusion—give in to his bargain or stay silent and be branded the mastermind of the killings.Yesterday Jordan saw everything leak out of me. Fear. Guilt. Lust. They circled like vultures, one at a time, then all at once.Before now I could still imagine I was back on the basketball court, crowd roaring, Jordan’s voice drilling into my skull. But it’s only the low rattle of the air vent above my bunk, the shuffle of feet from the tier below, grey light bleeding through the slit window, slicing the cell in two.My whole body aches—ankles, calves, the back of my neck where his fingers curled last night. Even my lips are still raw from that savage kissing sessio

Quincy The bleachers are cold from the night before, rough against the backs of my calves. Lenny’s laugh bounces off the yard’s high walls, and Manny’s hands are busy sketching shapes on his journal while he talks about a casino in Reno he claims he once broke even in. I can’t decide if he’s lying or if he’s just good at telling stories. Ray's quietly doing his planks. It's like he's almost invisible. I’m folded up small—arms looped around my ankles, chin resting on my knees—trying to disappear into the noise of their banter. They’re running through the usual topics: last night’s basketball game, a guard’s new car, a rumor about a food shipment that might actually be edible. Their words wash over me, but none of it sticks.All I can think about is Jordan.I haven’t seen him since I walked away from the table this morning. It took every ounce of willpower not to follow him, not to chase after his impossible demands, not to give in to that strange pull he has. Now, I’m scanning the a

Quincy A fog of pleasure swirls around my head—hungry and dangerous—as yellow spots line my vision. Jordan slides his briefs down and kicks them away until he’s only in his birthday suit. I try to look away, but I realize with daunting clarity that it’s virtually impossible to ignore the man in front of me. During the past months, I had to stop myself from studying his extravagant tattoos, because that would mean I was staring lecherously—and I couldn’t possibly be caught doing that. Right now, however, I don’t seem to care. Could be because I just let him give me yet the second-best blowjob of my life. I could deny it all I want, but the truth is: Jordan Vexley is… good-looking—inside and out. I wasn’t one to get jealous of a man’s physic, but Jordan’s is one to envy… and drool on. And I’m saying this because the undeniable truth is that, right now, I’m salivating as if I’m staring at him like he’s a hot Margherita pizza. What makes him more ethereal is the beautiful yet dangerous

Quincy I believe everyone’s programmed in different ways to fuck up in diverse situations.No one’s perfect. And if anyone was, they may be seated with Jesus up in the heavens.Earth’s where men like me fuck up—from masterminding the murder of two men while incarcerated, to cumming down my cellie's throat. And I crowned it all by performing fellatio on my cellie.The most upheaval month of my entire existence.I don’t know what hits harder—the rush of pleasure still wrung out of me, or the tidal wave of horror slamming against it. My body hasn’t stopped trembling, even though the mess we’ve made is cooling fast against my skin. My throat tastes of salt and slick heat, and my chest heaves like I just sprinted a mile. I fell limply next to Jordan on his bed after coming down from that high, his menthol balm pressed against my ribs. The main reason we went back into our cell was long forgotten, swept over by lust.I’m frozen, staring right back at his bright blue eyes like he’s some sor

Jordan My ankle still throbbed, but compared to the fire it had been a week ago, it was a dull ember now—annoying but bearable. I’d learned to walk without limping too much, at least when people were watching. So when the guard escorted me back down the hall toward Bill’s office for the second time in as many weeks, I made damn sure I looked like I owned the ground I was stepping on. He should see that I'm fit for the “investigation” One day of massage and a mind-blowing blowjob was enough to dull the pains in my ankle a little. I've gotten more than what I wished for after hurting myself intentionally. The truth and pleasure packed in a wave of hysteria. Bill’s already leaning back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, tie loose like he’s been wrestling paperwork all morning. He greets me with that half-smile of his—the kind that says he sees more than he lets on. “Jordan,” he says, eyes flicking to my leg, “Kid, I'm hoping to get a good report about that leg of yours after exhaus