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So far, she had three years in and another nine years and ten months to go before she was eligible for parole. With her long blonde hair, milky-white complexion, and eyes a lucid greenish-blue that matched the color of a tropical island, the women on the unit referred to her as “White Chocolate” because she had a sweet tooth for tall, dark, chocolaty men. To her, size didn’t matter. Only that it was thick . . . and black. Her motto was: the darker the dick, the sweeter the nut.
And since being incarcerated, she’d already managed to screw at least two corrections officers thus far. And, from what Heaven gathered from her observations, Sabina had her sights set on, yet, another hard, black dick.
What a whore. She spent more time talking about all the fucking she’d done out on the streets that Heaven was convinced she was a horny, dick-crazed ho.
But she liked her.
“Lewis. You have a visit,” said a voice approaching her from the left. Without thought, she felt her toes curling in her shoes. It was Sergeant Braddock.
The sound of his deep, raspy voice made her nipples strain against the lace cups of her bra. She stuck her chest out further, allowing him to take in the view. He stood well over six feet, and, as she looked up at him, she tried to envision what he’d look like without his annoying crisp uniform shirt on. She imagined a smooth expanse of brown skin stretching over his torso, his broad shoulders, his—what she imagined to be—rippled abs.
She looked at him. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his mouth and chin, and, for some odd reason, she stared at his dimpled chin, and wanted to swipe her tongue over it.
He wasn’t someone she initially considered a potential mark, but standing here now, taking him in, in all of his manly delight, made her pause, and she almost forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Perhaps she would need to reconsider it as a possibility. It would be nice to have someone with a bit more rank—and pull—than a measly CO.
However, there’d been no rumors of him being shady or crooked. And she hadn’t heard of any gossip about him fraternizing with inmates.
He always came across strictly by the book, but not overly rigid. And he was also very engaging and respectful, but never too friendly. She liked that. He typically treated the inmates fairly. She wondered what he was like outside of these walls, and out of his uniform. She wondered if he had a feral wildness that hovered somewhere beneath the surface.
Oh how fun it would be to find out. But she knew cracking his shell would be a challenge; one she wasn’t so sure she was up for. Yet, by the way he was looking at her, with a simmering fascination, she had to wonder if he could be persuaded to step on over to the wild side with the right amount of mental foreplay. And, if she were able to find a crack in his chiseled armor, she’d happily oblige him in a night of forbidden sex, and gladly become a notch he could add to his pussy count.
“Who is it?” she asked, her forehead creasing. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Sure, she’d finally put in her visiting card once she’d gotten out of lockup, listing the few people—only six—she’d want to come see her. So far, no one had bothered to visit.
He shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’m not on visit patrol.”
But are you on pussy patrol?
His gaze locked on her breasts as he subconsciously licked his lips. In his mind’s eye, he saw her reaching for his dick, rubbing her fingers along the edge of his zipper until he grew under her touch, long and hard.
Shit. He felt a tingling in his balls as he held on to the intimate visual for a few seconds more, before clearing his throat, his eyes darting from her face to the tops of her breasts practically spilling out of her uniform. Alterations to a prison-issued uniform were a violation of prison policy, and could ultimately result in institutional charges, but he didn’t give a damn. He loved the view, as did almost every other male officer with a pulse.
But, fuck! He couldn’t get caught up in any shit. Braddock had never fucked an inmate. A few female COs over the years, though. But if he thought he could get away with it, he’d pound the shit out of her sexy ass. He’d heard from COs assigned to the Ad-Seg unit how she’d blatantly masturbate in front of whomever was on duty.
Lucky bastards.
He wished he—
Whoa. What the fuck? He had to shake himself out of the lusty fog that was slowly beginning to cloud his mind.
“Why you fuckin’ with me, Lewis?” he said in a voice so low that she barely heard him. He had to fight to keep his gaze from wandering over her body. And, despite the heat beginning to stir in his groin, he felt a shiver skid up his spine. Shit. Inmate Lewis was trouble. Feral, alluring, feminine trouble.
He swallowed, hard.
He’d need to keep his eye on this one, and deal with her with a long-handled spoon. He shoved his hands in his pockets as an attempt to keep himself from doing something reckless, like tracing a finger along her slender neck, then following it up with his lips and tongue.
His deep voice and his masculine, woodsy scent made her nipples tighten. “Oh, is that what I’m doing?” she asked coyly, pulling him from his thoughts.
He smirked, his gaze sweeping around the tier, before landing back on her. “Yeah, a’ight.” His lips curved into a crooked grin. “You know what you’re doing. Don’t have me write your ass up.”
Yeah, right. Lies.
Her gaze traced downward. To what appeared to be a bulge in his uniform pants that hung just right off his frame. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sir,” she replied innocently, batting her lashes. But then she gazed up at him, a smile hovering over her lush lips. She seductively licked over them, before pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. He eyed it hungrily.
“Yeah, okay.” He pointed to her uniform. “You might want to go change before you get down to visiting.”
She flashed him a sexy grin. “Anything for you, Sarge.”
“You’re a trip, Lewis.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t help giving her one last side-eyed glance as he resumed making his rounds through the unit.
