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Don’t think about her pussy. Don’t think about her sweet, juicy young pussy!
“Go on, then. Ask your questions, Miss Sophomore,” I grate out.
A tiny frown appears between her eyes at my tone. She gets over it quickly though, clearing her throat before shifting in her seat.
“From my notes, I see you’re almost done with your sentence.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is there a question in there?”
Now that I’ve decided she’s off limits, I need this thing over and done with quickly so I can return to my lonely cell and spend the next three months jerking off to the memory of that mouth, those peach-smooth cheeks, those perky tits rising and falling in tiny agitated movements beneath her shirt. Those fucking spectacular legs. Her silky hair.
That little spot beneath her lower lip that I want to lick so fucking bad.
God, the spank-list is endless.
She flashes me an irritated look from those gorgeous baby blues, her luscious lips pursing. “In your opinion was your sentence a fair one?”
I hitch my shoulder. “I haven’t given it much thought. I got what I got and I’m doing my time.” Lies.
I was bitter as fuck about it for the better part of two years, until I realized being bitter was eating away at me and sapping all my energy. That I was better off counting the days and looking forward to getting out of here, putting this place in my rearview.
She frowns. “Three of your cohorts got much tougher sentences when they were eventually apprehended. You don’t think your term was lighter compared to theirs?”
I narrow my eyes and fury swells through me at the thought of the bastards who’d landed me in prison. Once my brothers-in-arms, I’d trusted them. Believed in their cause to do right by the widows and families left behind by our fallen comrades.
Only it’d turned out to be bullshit.
A shiny gloss slapped on a cause hiding much murkier intentions. Greedier and deadlier intentions.
“Hell no. They deserve to rot in prison for the rest of their lives.”
Her eyes widen and she tilts her head at me, pen poised over her notebook. “Why is that? Weren’t you a co-conspirator in the robbery?”
I grit my teeth at the summary judgment everyone I know has happily heaped on my head. Including my old man, who was just waiting for an opportunity like that to disown me. Not that he ever truly claimed me.
I shrug. “According to the indictment, yes.”
She chews on the tip of her pen as she consults her notes again. Jesus, does she know what she’s doing to me, twirling that fucking pen between those pillowy lips?
“It says here that the judge reduced your sentence only because you saved an old woman from being shot by one of your cohorts during the robbery, getting yourself shot in the shoulder in the process.” Her gaze frantically rushes over me as if looking for the bullet wound covered by my prison jumpsuit. The scar that’s a permanent reminder of their betrayal. Then it drops back to her notebook. “And that before then you’d personally saved three families from being made bankrupt by the bank you eventually robbed. Do you believe mitigating circumstances matter when there was clear, pre-meditated intent?”
“Are you asking if I saved the little old lady just to win brownie points if I got caught?” I ask, fury and incredulity mounting.
Have to hand it to her. She’s spunky for asking bold questions others would shake in their boots before they dared to ask.
Her gaze rises and boldly holds mine. “Did you?” she asks brazenly.
“Look here, little girl?—”
“I’m not a little girl,” she snaps.
I force myself to relax. To take her in again. Slower this time. Savor her.
My initial impression doesn’t change. She’s hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time. Hell, ever.
I traveled the world enough times in my army days to have seen and bedded my fair share of beauties.
Her blonde hair holds a natural gloss I’m sure didn’t come from a bottle. The thick strands are pulled back and knotted at the back of her head, with enough loose strands to frame her face, drawing attention to her high cheekbones and the glory of her gloss-free, luscious lips.
