Don't Trust the Warden

The sky burned in deep gold and orange, the kind of sunset that made everything feel suspended in time. The boat drifted slowly across the water, the motion gentle but constant and rocking beneath her feet. She didn’t remember getting there. She only knew that she wasn’t alone. He stood at the far end of the boat, half-hidden in shadow and light. The fading sun traced across his naked body in shifting lines, catching the breadth of his shoulders, the solid definition beneath his skin, leaving the rest obscured just enough to make it feel unreal. He moved toward her without hesitation; steady and unhurried, like he already knew she would stay. And she did. Something in her stilled as he came closer, her breath catching without reason. There was no fear in it. Only awareness. Too much of it. He sat at the stern, leaning back slightly, his gaze fixed on her. Then, without a word, he gestured for her to come closer. Liv hesitated only for a second before moving toward him, drawn by something she couldn’t explain. The space between them closed quickly, and before she could think, she was right in front of him. Too close. Her pulse quickened as she lowered herself onto his lap, her body settling against his in a way that felt natural and unfamiliar at the same time. The moment she did, her breath caught sharply. He was warm. Solid. And real. Her thighs pressed against him as she adjusted her weight, while her palms instinctively slid up to his broad shoulders. The firmness beneath her fingers sent a strange, electric awareness through her body, as if every point of contact had suddenly sharpened. She shifted slightly, trying to steady herself, but it only brought her closer. A soft sound escaped her before she could stop it. His hand came to her waist then, slow and deliberate, holding her there with quiet certainty. Not pulling her in nor forcing anything. Just keeping her exactly where she was. That somehow made it worse. Her chest rose unevenly as she leaned forward, drawn in by something she didn’t understand. Their faces were close now, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that the distance between them felt unbearable. She didn’t think at all. Her lips crashed into his, the kiss immediate and consuming. Heat surged between them as her mouth moved against his, urgent, searching, her tongue slipping past his lips until it met his. She tasted him, deepening the kiss without restraint, losing herself in it. The impact hit her harder than she expected. There was nothing hesitant about it, nothing unsure. It pulled something out of her instantly, something raw and instinctive, her hands tightening against him as she pressed closer without even realizing she was doing it. Her arms slid around his neck, holding on as if she needed the support, her body reacting faster than her thoughts. She could feel everything—the heat of him, the strength beneath her, the way his hand at her waist steadied her while her own movements became less controlled. She shifted again, unconsciously this time, and the movement sent a sharp, unfamiliar sensation through her that broke her breath. A hard, sudden pressure drove between her thighs, filling her with an intensity that felt too much, too deep, too wide for her to fully comprehend. The fullness between her thighs lingered, stretching her awareness in a way she couldn’t quite grasp, making her tense even as she held herself there. She wasn’t naive about what happened between the sheets. She knew enough. But knowing was distant, abstract—nothing like this. Nothing like the way her body reacted without asking her permission. It didn’t feel like something she should understand. And yet—her body didn’t resist it. Instead, her body leaned into it. Her hands moved over him, over his shoulders, his chest, as if she needed to feel that he was real. Every touch only made the feeling worse—stronger, deeper, harder to ignore. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t take control. He let her move, let her come closer, let her react on her own. And that loss of control only pulled her further in. Her breathing turned uneven, her body tightening with a sensation she couldn’t name, couldn’t place, but couldn’t stop chasing either. She pressed closer without thinking, as if something in her needed more, even when she didn’t know what that meant. “Liv.” The voice cut through everything. It didn’t belong there. The warmth shattered instantly. She pulled back, her breath catching as the world shifted around her. Justin stood there. Watching. His expression was wrong. Too still. Too sharp. “Don’t trust the warden.” Her chest tightened. “Don’t trust the warden.” Everything slipped—the boat, the light, the man beneath her—and she woke. Liv shot upright in bed, her breath uneven, her heart racing far too fast for a dream. The room was quiet. Still. But her body wasn’t. Heat lingered under her skin, her breathing shallow as she tried to steady herself. Her face flushed, warmth rising up her neck as the memory of it lingered—too vivid, too real. She pressed her thighs together instinctively, dampness gathering between them, confused by the way her body still reacted, like the sensation hadn’t fully faded. She swallowed hard, dragging a hand through her hair. It was just a dream. It had to be. And yet—she could still feel it. The warmth. The closeness. The way her body had responded as if it already knew, as if it had been waiting for something she didn’t fully understand. Her palms still tingled, holding the memory of his warmth, the faint echo of that contact lingering beneath her skin. Her chest tightened slightly. She had never felt anything like that before. Nothing even came close. A quiet unease settled in beneath the lingering heat. Because she knew where she was going today. To see Justin at the prison. Her fingers tightened slightly against the sheets as the words echoed in her mind. Don’t trust the warden. Her brow furrowed. Warden? She didn’t even know any warden. And yet—the image of that man lingered. Tall. Broad. And unfamiliar. And somehow—it didn’t feel like it should have been.