I should take them off, though. I should shower and take the prison smell off me. My nose skimmed the fabric of my shirt where Furore’s scent lingered. I expected he’d be filthy, but he didn’t smell bad at all. Yes, there were hints of cigarettes and sweat, but the majority of it was him, his so manly scent that had set my vagina fluttering then and now at the reminder.
I circled my clit on top of my panties, my eyes hooded at the feeling. What would happen if I touched myself while his cum was still on me?
You’re so dirty. Just go shower and finish packing so you can put all this behind you and go.
While I agreed with the sane part of my inner voice, I found myself stretching on the bed, sprawled with my hand sliding into my center. “Just one more time, then I’ll go.”
I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my breast out of the bra. Then I flicked my nipple and squeezed. Something I’d have loved if he’d done. I rubbed at my clit, picturing the plum sized crown of his massive cock doing the work. I wished I’d had the courage and peeked under the table to see him so I could have the full picture now.
My lip curled under my teeth as I imagined his cock with the jewelry on. I’d looked up cock piercings on my way home. The website listed a set of benefits to the jewelry for the sexual partner that I’d love to experience. And I had to admit they looked hot and whoever had them must have been a fearless badass. It seemed I had a thing for dangerous, badass men who rode bikes, were over the top jealous and possessive and didn’t care enough for the law.
Don’t you dare think about Tirone. Ever. Just Furore. Just this one time and then never again.
Closing my eyes, listening to Laius’s voice talking dirty in those husky whispers, I touched myself. Seeing only the dark arousal in his gaze behind my eyelids, I moaned. My fingers lifted to my nose for a second so I could smell his seed, the little souvenir he’d left for me and marked me with, and the pressure gathering down my belly intensified.
God, I shouldn’t desire Laius Lazzarini as much as I did, but he was taking over me without permission. He was so hot, in command, powerful, and above all he was protecting me even though he didn’t have to. He liked me for me, and he wasn’t afraid of who I was. After all he’d learned about me, he liked me. He wanted me. He demanded I stayed.
I don’t want just a taste. I wanna fucking devour you until you come all over my mouth and then lick it all off.
I clenched hard, rubbing frantically, chasing the orgasm—
Ring!
My eyes snapped open.Ring! Ring!
Swearing at the timing, I darted a glare at the drawer when I hid the burner, but that wasn’t where the ringing coming from. That was the goddamn landline. Who would call me on it? Nobody ever did, not even the school.
I straightened up and fixed my clothes, panting, swearing again. I was this close to coming. Whoever was calling was going to get a piece of my mind. As I clawed at the handset, a sudden fright invaded me. What if it was Ty?
My heart thrashed as I tried to control my breathing. My eyes squeezed as I picked up the phone. “H-hello?”
“Hello. This is a collect call from Laius Lazzarini, an inmate at San Quentin State Prison. This service is provided by Tel Communications. For rate information, press one now. To accept this call, press three now. To block all future calls, press—”
I pressed three fast, relieved and a bit stunned.
“Call accepted. Thank you for using Tel Communications. This call will be recorded and is subject to monitoring at any time. You may begin speaking.”
“Buonasera,Miss Meneceo,” Laius said, and despite the frustration I was interrupted at the worst of times and the slight moment of panic this call had caused me, a huge grin hurt my cheeks along with the heat the burst in them.
“Good evening to you, too,Furore.” I tried to make it sexy, throwing in a pathetic Italian accent, as he always did with my name, but it sounded like an embarrassment.
“Your Italian is getting better.” He chuckled. “I prefer Laius from you, though, baby. Say it for me.”
“Laius,” I whispered, butterflies in my stomach as if I were a shy school girl getting her first call from the quarterback who had just said he liked her. Except the quarterback was an outlaw biker, twice my age, and I was his teacher.
He groaned. “Fuck… You know I haven’t washed my hand yet? I keep sniffing at it like a crackhead. Did you shower?”
I cleared my throat, my whole body burning with shame and arousal at what he’d said and what I’d been doing right before he called. “Um…this call is monitored. How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways. Don’t be shy on me now. Tell me.”
I shook my head as if he could see me. “I…I was about to. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to take the phone with me or describe anything for you when I’m in the shower. ”
He laughed. “Why didn’t you do it right away?”
“How do you know I haven’t just arrived home?”
“Baby,” he said as if saying,“C’mon, are you kidding me?”
