Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. Actually, I'm willing to bet my dreams about the Twilight characters are a LOT different to hers. ;)
A/N: Sorry, sorry, SORRY! I know. I suck. Hairy dogs balls. I honestly didn't realise it had been so long since I updated. And I wrote this chapter a few times, but it was always to much too soon (damn horny characters!). AND, I've updated all of my other fics since I last updated this, so I have been a little busy! Am I forgiven? No? What about if I give you some fuckhawt fic recc's for when I am being fail? Now am I forgiven? Good. Fic recc's at the bottom :)
Now, I MUST thank my lifesaver/beta THE AMAZING Savannah_Vee. Without her, I'd probably shrivel in a corner and never update! Plus she writes sexy fic's. Uncomfortable anyone? Yeah, she is Queen. And a pervy queen at that. Gotta show her some lovin'.
Chapter 6 - Order. Control. The rulebook.
whistle for it: beg for it.
Warden Cullen's POV
The clock was moving through time too fast for my liking. I'd been sat in my office since 4am this morning, just watching the time tick away. Sleep had evaded me all night. After giving up on re-reading Isabella's file over and over at midnight, the previous night, I had tried to sleep.
Tried and failed.
Lying in my office bed had only made it worse. The image of Isabella on the very bed I was lying in, trying to ignore her existence, was torture. In the dark hours of the morning I'd been unable to shut my brain off, unable to rid images of her bent over my desk from my mind.
Fuck, she'd felt so good around my cock.
I groaned and shifted in my chair at the memory. Again. Every time I thought of her, of what we did, I became aroused. The woman was better than Viagra for my dick.
The glasses that she had left on my desk the day before were now in my desk draw, and in the calm, quiet of the morning I could almost hear them calling to me. I was losing my fucking mind over this prisoner. I needed to get a grip.
McCarty would be bringing her up soon. She would walk in here all feminine and murderess, and I'd be returned to a fucking teenager all over again. She set my hormones raging like a wild-fire. I'd never in my life lusted after someone so intensely. When I was around her I had no control and that was something I could not afford. I needed control. I lived, breathed and fucking obeyed at the foot of control. Fuck, I even planned what I ate a few days in advance. Order, control and the rulebook were what my life focused around. Well, until femme fatale extraordinaire Isabella Swan entered my prison, that was.
Now I was determined to regain control. I would suppress my desire for her body when around her. I would beat this attraction into submission. I didn't have a choice.
I heard voices in the next room - Isabella's office.
She had arrived.
Straightening my tie, and picking a pen up from my desk, I doodled idly in the note pad in front of me.
A glance to the clock was interrupted with a knock to my office door. I half-expected her to just enter uninvited, but she didn't.
"Come in, Isabella," - I continued doodling, determined not to look at her - "It's open."
She entered, wished me a good morning, then entered my make shift apartment. She left the door open and I listened as the kettle boiled.
I continued to doodle, but I wasn't focused on the page at all. I wondered if she was sat on my bed. I wondered if she was wearing a tight skirt. I wondered if I should bend her over my desk again.
The kettle made a noise alerting both myself and Isabella to the fact that it had boiled. Some clinking noises let me know she had grabbed my mug from the cupboard and had removed the lid from the sugar tray.
I doodled some more.
She entered with my tea.
"There you go, Sir. Milk, no sugar." I covered my pad with my arm as she placed the cup on my desk.
"Thank you, Isabella," - without looking up from my desk - "that is all."
I listened to her heels click against the hard wood floor as she was leaving, and I finally looked at her. I couldn't help but watch her arse sway as she walked from the office.
She caught me looking as she closed the door, and parted with a soft, but knowing smile.
I looked down at my notepad like a naughty child caught doing something against the rules.
All over my notepad I'd doodled varies little phrases. Mostly consisting of: 'Bella's arse', 'Bella's tit's' and 'Bella desk' over and over again.
Shit. I had it bad.
I hoped the Warden would have been over his little bitch fit this morning. I wasn't in the mood for his attitude. Rose had snored all night long and I'd barely fucking slept a wink. Not to mention Alice laughing occasionally as she slept – weirdest damn thing I'd ever heard.
I could forgo more sex with the arsehole next door, as long as he allowed me to keep my secretary job. I would be all 'manners' and 'diligent hard worker' to convince him it was best to keep me on. Anyhow, it was him who had the fucking problem, not me. I'd just caught him checking out my arse as I left his office. The uptight, arrogant prick. He could have had my arse again and again if he hadn't flipped the fuck out. Now he could whistle for it.
I wouldn't forget in a hurry what he had said, either. How he had insinuated that I was less of a woman because I was a murderer. Warden Cullen, the upper class idiot, could kiss my arse. He had no idea what led some people to do the things that they did. Anyway, at least I knew what I was. I didn't hide it or blame others. I could guarantee that The Warden was a man who blamed his weaknesses on others. He had probably spent the night convincing himself that I had seduced him because I was a wicked, sinful woman. He'd never admit the truth to himself - that in actual fact he had instigated it. With his looks of longing and domineering attitude, he was the one who had told me to strip.
Remembering last night, however much of a prick The Warden had been afterwards, brought a heat to my chest. Arrogant arsehole or not, he sure knew his way around the body of a woman. He'd wasted no time with sweet talk or petting. He was a straight to business man. I had the slight pain when I sat down in my lower area to prove it. Hard, fast and fulfilling. If only he wasn't so uptight...
After lunch the phone rang. It was a PO from another floor requesting a prisoner's file. These were kept locked in a cupboard at the end of the corridor and I needed The Warden to take me down to the room and supervise me.
I buzzed through to his office using the intercom, and informed him of what I needed.
"I'll be out in a minute," he responded, sounding less than pleased. Arrogant prick.
Waiting for The Warden, I rose from my desk and began smoothing down my outfit. I was dressed in what I hoped was a more appropriate outfit today: a white, loose fitting shirt, tucked into black high-waist trousers. I was wearing minimal make-up today: red lipstick and a hint of mascara. Of course I was still wearing heels, black five inch ones. I hoped that by wearing a loose fitted trouser outfit The Warden would see that I was no longer trying to coerce him into sex, and that I really was serious about this job.
It was just my luck that I was half bent over, picking a loose thread of white cotton off my trousers as The Warden entered my office.
I bet his eyes were bulging when he saw me.
"I'm ready." I straightened myself, trying to suppress a grin. The last thing I needed was for him to think I had done it on purpose.
She was doing it on purpose.
She was trying to make me lose control again.
There was no other explanation.
I entered her office to find her bent over in the middle of the room. In front of my office door.
She wanted it. Again.
Fuck, this prisoner would be the death of me.
"I'm ready," she replied. Casually. As if I did not just catch her bent over.
Definitely trying to kill me. Death by frustration. Why was she constantly trying to turn me on, knowing we could do nothing about it? She was the devil incarnate. She must be. Damn tease.
What I had to do next would be a serious test of my character. My mouth was dry, my palms slightly sweaty.
"I have to handcuff you." I sounded a lot more in control of myself then I felt.
She turned to face me, her eyes wide.
Don't. Question. Me. Isabella.
"Doesn't McCarty handcuff you when bringing you to my office? If not I will be having a serious talk with him regarding the rules."
She snorted. We were both aware of the hypocrisy in my sentence, but for her to blatantly challenge me on it...
"Something stuck up your nose, Isabella?" I raised an eyebrow at her. Daring her to disobey me.
She glared at me, I glared back. A silent stand off. This was ridiculous.
"Hold out your hands."
She obeyed me straight away, and I fastened the cuffs on her wrists.
The truth was that she did not need handcuffing to walk down a short corridor with me, but I didn't trust her. I didn't trust myself if she allowed her hands to wander...
Leaving her office, I locked the door. I instructed her to walk before me, and yes, I was fully checking out her arse.
She certainly had an arse to be admired.
"It's the room at the end of the corridor, on the left."
She continued on ahead of me, stopping only when we reached the door. She stopped so abruptly that I walked into the back of her. I should have concentrated on where I was going, instead of on her arse.
The worst part was, now she knew I was checking her out.
"Watch where you are going," I snapped at her.
She didn't reply, and she didn't turn to face me, but I was sure she was smirking. Or biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Using the keys attached to a ring around my belt, I opened the door. The long and narrow room was used as a cupboard.
"Which file, Isabella?" I asked as we entered, closing the door behind us. It locked automatically.
"Stanley, Jessica. B wing, Sir."
I knew of Jessica Stanley. She was a reasonably well behaved prisoner and was here for a minor offence. She was probably up for parole soon. Normally I would have been on top of something like this, but my mind had been elsewhere for a few days.
Scanning the shelves, I found the row labelled, 'S' and begin my search of the rows on the isle labelled 'J'. Finding Jessica's file, I pulled it from the shelf and blew the dust from the front and back of the folder. It was relatively thin, as she had been such a model prisoner. Stanley was one of the prisoners I had genuine hope for. She had learned her lesson. She would re-enter society and be wary of the rules in future, I was sure. Unlike Isabella, who was here for life.
I opened the file, curious now to find out what Stanley had been locked up for in the first place.
I scanned the pages until I found the header.
On Jessica Stanley's sheet, it read:
Sentenced for: Drink Driving.
No injuries to others.
£3,000 damage to local Church.
Skimming a brief history of her time in prison I was happy to find she had not been in trouble once since I had last encountered her, on her first day inside.
I wished more of my prisoners were like Jessica Stanley.
Closing the file, I turned to leave, and was surprised to bump straight into Isabella. The force of my shoulder knocking into her pushed her to the floor, and I dropped Stanley's file immediately to help her up.
"I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't hear you behind me." I offered her my hand.
She looked at me, smiled sweetly, then took my offered hand and I raised her from the floor. She began brushing off her trousers, to rid them of dust. I made a mental note to have this room cleaned.
I watched Isabella brushing dust from her trousers, and was surprised to find myself reach a hand out to help her. It was as if my hand moved of its own accord.
In silence I helped her wipe the front of her trousers down, then turned her around to wipe the back free from dust.
When my hand brushed across her arse cheeks, things became intense. Or awkward. Possibly both. I'd acted on impulse, and it was only now computing with me exactly what I was doing.
This was beyond inappropriate.
Order. Control. The rulebook. Focus, Cullen.
I finished wiping off her backside, pretending like it was the most natural thing in the world for a warden to do to his prisoner.
"There you are, Isabella. I apologize for knocking you off your feet." Even though I was the one completely in the wrong in that instance, I managed to make myself sound perfectly reasonable.
She looked like she wanted to say something. Her face was flushed, and her breathing was slightly laboured. How hard did she have to make it to resist her? Why did she get turned on just as easily as I did?
Apologizing again, I retrieved Stanley's folder from the floor and side-stepped her, heading for the door.
Three more days. Three more days and I would assign her to another job. I could make it three more days without fucking her.
"Well, that was an insightful therapy session, Mr Whitlock."
He smiled, the lazy smile that made my girlie parts tingle and burn.
"It was a pleasure, Alice. As always." He winked, his smile turning into a smirk.
"No, I assure you, Jazz, the pleasure was all mine." I leaned forward and whispered this in his ear, nibbling the lobe slightly, before pulling away.
He moaned, taking a step back to allow some space between us.
"How much longer, Alice?" He rested his head back against the door to his office.
"Soon. I'm just waiting for Alec and Felix to finalize the details, then I'll be out."
The truth was that they were taking a lot longer than necessary. I'd given them an ultimatum last night. Either they had everything ready for 'my transfer' in two months time, or I'd have them killed.
"I miss you," he complained. "And I fucking hate working here."
I brought my hand to his face and stroked his cheek.
"I rather enjoy you in your psychiatrist get up," I joked.
He smiled again, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I just want you back on the outside. I want to marry you, and fuck you in a field. Outside. Anywhere outside." He leaned his head off the wall to look into my eyes. "Hurry back to me, baby."
"I will, I promise," I told him, then placed a quick kiss to his lips. Webber would be there to collect me soon. I needed to put my game face back on.
A/N: Bout time we had some Jasper/Alice, don't you think? ;)
As promised, here's some fic's you SHOULD BE READING.
Trouble - Savannah_Vee
'I was startled to see a boy, from the lecture obviously, standing before my desk. He had a grin that rivaled the Cheshire cat. Trouble, I thought.' Professor Cullen tries to resist troublesome Edward Masen, but the boy makes it almost impossible...
http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6784847/1/Trouble
It's CARLWARD. It's a hot o/s. Trust me on this.
Hating Paul - Aspirations of Whimsy
AH. Bella and Paul live two lives: One at school and one behind closed doors. -Written specifically for Navygirl14. Thanks for being such a great reviewer, girl!
http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/5684148/1/Hating_Paul
I know. Bella/Paul is not something I would normally read. But AOW has we converted. Read this. Let it own you, because it will.
Fold your wings - Jadalulu
"The liberties he assumes with my body should enrage me, anger me beyond my own sanity. But it's just not that simple." Encounters born of need. Consequences neither saw coming. Guard your hearts. Not the ExB you're used to. AH
http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6636749/1/Fold_Your_Wings
I know you are probably already reading this. If not - dewwwwww it! Roughward will make a h00r out of you. Seriously. Run. Read. Worship!
A/N: I'll leave more fic recc's next time. For now, enjoy these :)