Tom Kaulitz

I've been in this prison for several years, where there's no room for the weak, everyone's looking to screw you over somehow. I held the power within these walls. They feared me, they adored me, they hated me, but they were all at my feet.

Something unexpected happened: they decided to convert the prison into a mixed-gender facility. They transferred women from another prison, women just as dangerous as us, or so they said. That's how I met Jaz, and after meeting her, I understood why everyone talked about her so much. She was lethal. Her gaze, the way she moved, her posture. And it was clear she wasn't there to put up with anyone's crap.

The problem is, I don't like putting up with crap either.

Every time we argued for any reason, my body burned with desire. It wasn't just anger, it was attraction. I liked her attitude more than I thought I would; I love it when someone doesn't hesitate to obey, but she was incapable of it. But Jaz hated me, or at least that's what she showed.

We were just arguing, nothing unusual.

— What, are you going to hit me, sweetheart? I approached

— Don't call me that, it disgusts me.

I sighed and moved closer. — You don't look very upset.

— Go away.

— Make him do it. I said, looking at her coldly, as I leaned closer to her face. The atmosphere was very tense, and what I liked most was that she wasn't afraid of me.

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