“I say no, of course I’d say no.”

“Good, because you’re mine.” Sebastian gestured down at himself. “Now, I’m gonna take you into the other room, and sort this out.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Rory leaned down, yanked up his pants, then allowed Sebastian to stalk him into the bedroom. The back of his knees met the edge of the bed, and Sebastian pushed him down.

It had been six months since they’d been inside the prison, but the double bed still felt odd. They had room to work with, different positions to try, and afterwards in the glow of orgasm, they could lay together.

The Vaseline pot had been replaced by a bottle of lube, and instead of unscrewing the lid to get Rory hard, all Sebastian had to do was tap the bottle on the bedside table.

It turned Sebastian on to always have Rory on standby, and even though he cursed Sebastian for training him like some horny dog, he gave in to Sebastian’s desires.

He never had to ask for another kiss, Sebastian eagerly gave them, and he responded with enthusiasm whenever Rory pressed their mouths together.

Sometimes it was the softest of pecks, or the hard push, and pull of desperate lips. Sometimes it was the gentle glide of a tongue, or the sharp nip of teeth. Sebastian had a hunger for kissing, and even after they were coated in sweat, tied up in the sheets, and panting for breath, Sebastian still rolled onto Rory’s chest and kissed him hard or soft, rough or smooth. It was the intimacy of the kissing that made Rory feel loved, he didn’t need words when their mouths expressed it better, and when their mouths met, Rory finally believed Sebastian’s words.

It was gonna be okay, and he wasn’t on his own.

The End

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EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

THE FRESHMAN

Louise Collins

Copyright © 2018

Chapter One

Chapter One

Alfie thought about hurling insults, he thought about punching Ryan in the face, but in the end, he rolled his eyes and stomped his heel to the floor. The angry clomp didn’t stop the snort of amusement from the man strolling away.

For the past few months, Alfie had been subjected to hundreds of colorful new names. Being called a dipshit arse-wipe by the prisoners was preferable over what the staff called him. Rookie, newbie, fish, tender meat—they were a few of his new names from his colleagues.

“It’s Alfie.” He hissed, then turned and leaned against the metal gate.