by Cairo
“God, yes,” she breathed out low. “Yes. Yes. Mmm . . .”
And then her hands were on his head; her fingernails raking over his waves, caressing his scalp.
He looked up at her. Her eyes were alit with fire and fixated on him, burning through his core. He loved how wild and uninhibited she was. So wanton, so damn freaky.
Precum trickled from the head of his dick, then glided down his shaft, slowly dripping onto her sheets. He felt his skin heat, felt it through his balls, which caused him to grind his hips into her thin mattress, his dick throbbing and swelling to maximum capacity.
He inhaled, wanting to breathe every part of her in. He wanted to wrap himself up into everything she was, connect to her soul, and become one.
Need.
Want.
His entire body hummed with it.
He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs scraped across her nipples as he lightly bit into her clit. Tugged it between his lips. Then dipped inside. His tongue licked around her lower walls, and she gasped low in the back of her throat, her back arching and her pelvis thrusting upward.
“Mmm, yes. Fuck me. Ooh, yes . . . fuck me.”
He sucked on her clit harder, his tongue sliding in and out of her juices. He groaned low as he absorbed her flavor melting on his tongue. He relished it with every swipe of his tongue. Just the taste of her had him leaking loads more of precum, and his dick harder than steel.
His hands slid back down her body, until they rested on top of her legs. He spread her thighs wider and then gently sucked her clit back into his mouth. His tongue moved rhythmically over her nub.
Yes, yes, right there, right there. Her pelvis tightened.
Almost . . . almost.
She was so close. God, so close.
She gasped.
Two fingers slid into her honeyed folds, and he stroked through her wet heat, spreading juices from her slit up to her clit. Then plunging them back inside. He watched himself fuck her that way, fingers gliding wetly and quickly in and out, in and out—then he extracted them from her greedy cunt and lifted them to his mouth and sucked them clean.
“So good, baby,” he rasped, thrusting his fingers back inside her. And then came his mouth, kissing her pussy all over again, sucking on her clit, this time harder, as his tongue slid back inside, fucking her slow and sensual, causing her ass to come off the bed.
Time was ticking, but he needed for her to get hers—all of hers, before he got his. He wanted to leave her spent, her head spinning long after he was gone. She writhed beneath him, pleasure searing through her pussy. She felt a scream catch in the back of her throat.
Sweet desire flowed through her veins as his middle finger caressed the inside of her cunt, while his thumb massaged her throbbing clit. Then he pushed further, finding her G-spot, causing her body to hum and shudder. Her nipples tightened, sending little tingles of pleasure ricocheting through her body. She came around his fingers.
He pulled out of her quaking body, wet fingers trailing from her pussy to the crack of her ass. And then he was kissing and licking her there, too.
And she loved it. God, she did.
Whispered sounds of pleasure escaped with each breath. No one had ever been this attentive, this loving with his mouth. She moaned and twisted restlessly, her body burning as his fingers danced over her skin, up her body, until they were cupping her breasts again.
Her juices splashed in his mouth, stealing his breath.
She let out a low whimper, more desire roiling over and around her clit, her breasts, the tender swell of her folds.
He was hard and aching, so aroused that his body nearly shook. His dick throbbed angrily, frustrated, that he had not, yet, sunk himself into her pool of juices. He pulled his fingers from her body as she softly begged him to fuck her.
“You ready for me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Where’s your condom?”
“I’m clean, baby. Aren’t you?”
Her eyes flared open. “Condom,” she said sternly. “Or no pussy.”
Shit. So much for going in raw. “You got that, baby.”
“Then fuck me already,” she hissed.
EIGHT
Truth Hurts . . .
That bitch. That self-righteous convict, Warden Kate thought as she burned a hole into her computer screen at the face staring back at her. It’d been close to a month since she’d seen inmate Lewis down in lockup. And, yet, her questioning words still rang loudly in her ears. How dare she try to insinuate she was an alcoholic?
She reached for her flask and gingerly took a sip.
“Yes, bitch,” she hissed. “It’s vodka.”
Who the fuck was that felon bitch to judge her?
She wasn’t a drunk. She was a responsible woman who simply liked having a few cocktail sips throughout the day. Then if she wanted to, she’d have a shot or two before bed from the bottle she kept hidden in her nightstand, or the one in the back of her shoe closet.
That didn’t make her a damn alcoholic. She could stop anytime she wanted to, she reasoned in her mind. But she didn’t want to. She loved a good damn drink. Period.
Still, how had that little twat known?
“Vodka, right?”
She shuddered. Then her mind rolled back to images of Lewis in that sexy handstand, naked, baring her hairy cunt—the slightest hint of her mocha-colored flesh filled with a pinkish center—on display. God, it had been a sight to behold.
“Tell me, Warden. You like pussy?”
Subtle she was not. Yet, there was something refreshing about the inmate’s bold, saucy attitude. The thought caused a slow ache to roil in the center of the warden’s sex.
God, she’d love to be smothered in that wild, unruly cunt; her face glazed with her juices. Her mouth . . .
She swallowed. The tip of her tongue slid out of her mouth. She’d never licked a woman’s snatch before, never even kissed one. But she found herself growing consumed with curiosity. Obsessed with sex. Any kind.
Twosomes, threesomes, foursomes—hell, a whole gaggle of men and women—she didn’t care. She simply wanted sex. Wanted to be fucked the way she’d been seeing on those online porn sites.
Drinking, watching porn, and fucking herself to sleep had become her favorite pastimes. She was so lonely. She craved human contact. Yearned to know the taste of a woman. Ached for the stretch and burn of a dick bigger than what her husband had. He was eight inches hard. She sadly admitted to herself that she missed him fucking her. He’d always felt so good inside her. Good sex was always what they’d shared.
But fuck him now.
Now she wanted new dick. New experiences.
The ringing phone interrupted the dark desires floating around in her head, and she reached gratefully for it.
“Warden Kate here,” she greeted.
“What time will you be home tonight?”
No hello, hey . . . nothing. The warden frowned. “Why?” she asked curtly.
“We have Reggie’s retirement party tonight. Remember?”
What the hell? No, she didn’t remember. Though she adored her brother-in-law, Reginald, she’d actually put it in the back of her cluttered mind. He was retiring from the New York City Police Department after thirty years of service, and his wife and children were throwing him an elaborate dinner party at TAO—an upscale subterranean restaurant in the Chelsea district of New York.
Midtown traffic would be hell. God, she hated being stuck in traffic. She almost hoped he’d go ahead without her. Never knowing what side of his bed he’d roll out of, she never knew what he’d do from one day to the next. Hell, she wouldn’t have been surprised—or upset, if he had taken his floozy with him in place of her.
“Oh. That’s tonight?”
“Yes, it’s tonight,” he replied, irritation coloring his tone. “I told you this over a week ago, Lee.”
She bit her lip and squeezed the receiver of the phone. “I know you did,” she snap
ped tersely. “It slipped my mind.”
He huffed. “Yeah, like everything else.”
She blinked. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Othello?”
He sighed. “Look. I didn’t call to argue with you. I only want to know what time you’ll be home? I don’t want to be all night getting there.”
She had the mind to tell him to go fuck himself. That she wouldn’t be coming home. Instead, she glanced at the time. It was a little after one in the afternoon. “What time is his party?”
“Six-thirty.”
Oh, great. Now she’d have to rush to do something with her hair, and figure out what to wear. Damn him. Why hadn’t he reminded her last night when he’d come home from God knows where?
She looked at the flask on her desk. Then rolled her eyes.
“I’ll be home by four.”
“Do you at least know what you’ll be wearing? I don’t want you taking all night to get ready.”
Her nose flared. “Then how about I meet you there, Othello. This way you won’t have to worry about having me on some damn time clock. God forbid I make you late for the party, Mister Always First To Show Up For Every Damn Thing.”
He hung up on her.
Bastard!
She snatched her flask from the desk.
“Vodka, right?”
She quickly tightened the cap and tossed it back in her desk drawer. But then she retrieved the flask again, unscrewing the cap and taking two more quick sips.
She wasn’t a damn—
The knock on her door forced her to quickly screw the silver cap back on her flask, and tuck it back in her drawer. She slid the drawer shut, then reached for two mints, popping them in her mouth.
The person on the other side of the door waited several seconds, then knocked again, louder this time. “Warden?”
“Yes? Come in,” she said, smoothing a hand over her arm as the sweet mints dissolved in her mouth.
The door handle jiggled.
Damn it.
She blew out her breath and stood, walking from around her desk toward the door. She opened it, and there stood—taking up the entire doorway—Captain Caldolini.
Where the hell was Susan?
He smiled, and his gray eyes twinkled at her. “Am I interrupting anything? Susan wasn’t at her desk, so I took a chance to see if you were in.”
The warden smoothed a hand along the side of her slicked back hair that she’d worn pulled back into an elegant bun. Oh how matronly she now felt standing here under his gaze.
She took a step back. “No, no. You’re not interrupting anything, Captain. I was just going through some files.” Her tongue clung to the remnants of her mints as the lie rolled from her lips. “Please. Come in.”
He shut the door behind them, then followed behind her, his eyes on the sway of her hips.
She waited for him to have a seat, then asked, “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Captain?” She glanced at her desk calendar. “Did we have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon?”
He shifted in his chair as he chased images of her body from his mind. He was tired of wondering, imagining. He wanted, needed to know for himself how soft and feminine she was beneath those damn clothes.
A warm feeling skittered over her skin as she took a seat behind her desk. She knew he’d been eyeballing her ass, and she felt a fresh coat of desire slide over her cunt. It felt good, damn good, to be noticed, perhaps even desired by someone.
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a sly smile. “No, ma’am. No meeting.”
Her sumptuously painted lips rounded into an “O.” She crossed her legs under her desk. “Well, if there isn’t a meeting, is there something you wish to speak to me about?”
He leaned forward in his seat. “Actually, Warden.” He cleared his throat. “There is.” He thrust a large hand into his hair, and she found herself grinning at the disheveled image. He was so rough, so rugged, so damn masculine and sexy.
She cursed the flood of heat sweeping through her body. God help her. She’d fuck him right here. No questions asked.
She eyed him curiously. “Well, Captain. What is it?”
“Well, ma’am. Forgive me for my forwardness. But I’ve noticed on several occasions that you haven’t worn your wedding band to work in a while. And I was wondering . . .”
Self-consciously, she slid her right hand over her left, and raised her brow in silent question.
“I don’t mean to pry. But I was wondering . . .”
She swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat as she intently focused her curious gaze on him.
“I mean.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What I’m about to ask you is so inappropriate, I know. And if you throw me out of your office, I’d understand. But . . .” He shook his head. “Hell, ma’am. I was wondering, if you’d like to have dinner one night this week with me? I’d love to spend some time alone with you.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here. Not in her office. Jesus, God, was this man offering her a night of good fucking? Did he want to slide his dick into her pussy? Give her a night of hot, slow lovemaking?
Lee Kateman, stop this, she admonished. It’s only damn dinner.
She blinked and refocused and saw that he was staring at her, waiting for a response. And another wave of heat crept up her neck.
“That was way out of line,” he said apologetically, rising to his feet. “I knew I shouldn’t have come. Forgive me, Warden. I knew this was a bad idea. I hadn’t meant to offend you.”
She leaned forward, giving him a slight glimpse of the mocha-chocolate mounds of her breasts, plumped up by the bra she wore, and a tortured groan lodged in his chest. He wanted to lick her there, kiss her there, slide his dick in between the delicate flesh and fuck her there.
Her face scrunched in what looked like dismay, and she shook her head a bit. Oh, hell. He’d gone too far. Shit. Perhaps he should have kept his fantasy of spending time with her to himself.
Her nipples tautened, and the muscles in her pussy tightened. She took a steadying breath, then pushed out, “Captain. I think you should leave my office”—she stood and walked around her desk toward the door—“before I forget I’m the warden and do something naughty. But tomorrow night”—she glanced back, catching his gaze on her ass again—“say, seven o’clock. I can be as naughty as I want to be.”
His smile widened as his eyes burned into her, concentrating on her lips.
God, he wanted to kiss her, taste her lips. And she wanted him to.
In wet panties, her lips parted and she sucked in a minty breath as his finger trailed down her cheek. “I’m counting on it, Warden.”
She swung open her office door and ushered him out. When she shut it behind him, she sagged against the door and closed her eyes, reaching for her aching breasts and pinching the tingling heat knotting around her nipples.
A groan escaped her as she hiked up her skirt.
NINE
The Saga Continues . . .
Heaven yawned and stretched sore muscles. She’d been doing calisthenics for most of the night as she’d been doing most nights if she wasn’t getting that good CO cock. Holy fuck, yes!
Every chance he got, he was creeping into her cell fucking loose her pussy juices.
Mmm. She momentarily closed her eyes, relishing the thought of being dicked down almost every other night. All she needed was her television and commissary and she’d be fine.
She yawned again. She was exhausted. She hadn’t been able to get much sleep last night, thanks to several rowdy bitches spending most of the night, well into the wee hours of the morning, yelling out their doors, while others banged on theirs.
She stretched again, kicking off the rough sheet that had covered her body. These fucking sheets felt like sandpaper across her skin, as did the toilet paper she had to use to wipe her ass.
A twinge of sadness nipped at her as she thought about all the simple things in lif
e she’d taken for granted, like wiping her ass on cottony-soft toilet paper and the luxury of being cocooned beneath silk sheets.
She missed her bed. Her shower. Oh, God, yes, her shower, with the nine pulsating jets that flowed over her body in all directions. These prison showerheads here were worthless pieces of shit. But, at least she didn’t have to worry about sharing the shower with a bunch of other women while in lockup.
She guessed that was one of the perks of being in solitary. She got to shit and shower in peace.
She missed her kitchen. The privilege of cooking what she wanted, when she wanted. Her stomach rumbled. Oh what she wouldn’t do for a plate of scrambled eggs with Pepper Jack cheese, and several slices of turkey bacon right now.
She closed her eyes, sighing. Eighty-five percent of ten years equaled one hundred and two months.
Her heart panged in her chest. Eight-and-a-half fucking years of her life would be spent behind these concrete walls. That’s if she were granted parole. So far, the way things were going, she’d end up doing her whole ten years behind bars.
Two violent fights in less than a year surely didn’t make for an ideal parolee. She cursed under her breath, realization finally setting in. She needed to figure out a way to stay out of the crosshairs of crazy bitches. Or learn how to fuck them up, when they came at her sideways, without getting caught.
Being fake and kissing ass would never work for her. But, she was socially competent enough to manipulate others into getting what she wanted. The problem was, she’d made a lot of enemies in such a short time. And she already racked up numerous “keep separates” because she had so many hoes wanting a piece of her for her assaults on Snake and that Coletta bitch.
She was quickly learning that there were prison rules, and then there were the unwritten rules, rules that if broken could get your head bashed in, or worse—killed.
She hadn’t come to prison to only end up leaving out in a body bag. No, no, no. These bitches were ruthless. She’d have to watch her back at every turn now, thanks to all her new haters.
She groaned inwardly.
There was nothing she could do about that fact, now. She’d already made a host of enemies and tarnished her prison record. And she damn sure didn’t give a shit about any of these females hating on her. What else was new?
