“Trent dear. How are you doing? Your father told me you’ve talked to him the past few weeks and not me. Are you still upset?” she asked, with a pang of accusation in her cultured voice.
Trent rolled his eyes. As a child, he’d wished his parents had given him siblings. Now, the wish made complete sense—they would have had someone else to focus on. “I’m not upset, just been busy,” he said, truthfully. Sure, his mother’s pain-in-the-ass ways kept him from calling more often, but he didn’t dwell on her disappointment over him going against whatever plans they had for him. “How are you?”
“Good. You know, I went to the Swank’s fundraiser party last week and ran into Deborah. She asked about you.”
No. Not the ex-wife name-dropping bullshit. “I’m glad to hear all is well. Listen, Mom,” he said, his voice softer, “I need to go back to work, but I’ll email soon. Thanks for calling. Miss you.” He turned off his cell.
The small radio attached to his uniform produced the static sound he’d gotten used to. He fiddled with the device, frustration skating down his spine. He’d switched careers, lifestyle, and zip codes because he hated to follow any desire but his own.
Am I selfish or realistic? He rose to his feet, and grabbed the small set of keys. He needed some fresh air. Ever since seeing Mia the day before, something had changed. He’d wanted her months ago, but never acted on it. Hell, even thinking about it felt wrong.
Then why did a part of him entertain the idea of claiming her as his, even though he had no right? He glanced at the clock, and without delay left his office. A couple of guards greeted him on the hallway, and he waved. One commented about the game but his heart thumped so hard in this temples hearing anything else became impossible.
She should be gardening now. He marched through the inmates who planted seeds or picked the fruits and vegetables from the other sections of the large area. The sun shone down on the beautiful day, but the temperature barely hit the sixties. He scanned the place, and when he found her in the dirt patch, his heart flipped in his chest.
The stupid khaki top and pants did nothing for her. She seemed to blend into the crowd. He’d give anything to stroke her short black hair, to kiss her pert nose, and to have her sensual chestnut eyes look at him the way she had when she’d admitted she wanted him.
After a failed marriage to a neurotic narcissist in L.A., he’d decided a woman who didn’t play games was worth her weight in gold. Unless, of course, said woman happened to be an inmate and had the power to get his credentials stripped.
If you have sex with her, you will mess up both of your lives. You’ll be fired and she’s going to get in trouble. His white collar, lawyer family had opposed his wishes to quit law school and become a counselor. They’d have a stroke if they heard their freethinking son ended up sleeping with a convict and subsequently got fired. Rationalization stabbed at him, but shit, his body throbbed with need for her. He’d always followed rules, but now Mia made him want to break every one of them just to get into her pants.
“Inmate,” he said when he approached her.
She stood and shook the dirt off her hands. He’d seen her outside a couple of times, entranced by how her face softened and how her gorgeous eyes glinted when working with the earth. The women around her kept on working, and his restless legs didn’t let him just stand there. He walked and she followed him.
“You want to talk to me?”
“I… yes. About yesterday,” he said, and gave her a sideways glance.
She bit back a smile, and he noticed the dimples forming in her cheeks. “Are you going to report me?”
He cleared his throat. “No.”
She lifted her chin. “Then why are you here?”
A few inmates gathered their tools and went to the metal hand washing station south of them. He glanced away, her words dancing in his brain like notes from a song whose lyrics he didn’t fully know. “You haven’t been with a man or touched by one in a while. It’s common to have these fantasies,” he said, and flashed the most neutral smile he could manage.
“Oh yes, I’ve been having fantasies, all right,” she said in a flirty tone, and a shade of pink stained her cheeks.
His cock throbbed against his fitted pants, his balls heavy with desire. He scanned the area around them one more time, unsure if he needed to stop looking at her or scope the area. No one seemed to notice them. Counselors usually spoke to people in their offices, but sometimes they did rounds when filling in for manager on duty shifts.
But the openness of the space made him want to flee. “Follow me,” he said under his breath.
He jammed his hand into his pocket, grabbed the master key, and took her to the old janitor’s shed. A couple of rats squeaked and skittered away when he opened the door. Inside, broken lawnmowers and other materials the prison no longer used had been stacked in a corner. Dust and mold covered the one small window and he was thankful they never found another purpose for that shed. He pulled her to him, and kissed her.
He had no right—that much he knew. But rationalization deserted him like a bullet train from a station when her tongue stroked his passionately. His body roared like he’d finally taken a lifesaving pill for a disease he’d never known he had.
He ran a finger along her jaw, then hissed out an incomprehensible sound and pulled her shirt over her head. She had on that hideous bra, but when he snapped it off, beautiful pert breasts popped out. Much fuller and bigger than he’d imagined. “You’re beautiful, Mia,” he said, and bent down to lick one. She massaged his head, her fingers stroking his scalp and sending tons of little currents charged with arousal down his body. His cock hardened, the pre-cum beading at the tip. When was the last time he’d been this turned on?
He lifted her onto the old workbench, after laying her shirt over it so no splinters bit into her soft skin. He pulled down her pants and underwear, taking a moment to draw back and admire the smooth apex of her thighs, her shapely legs. She was beautiful, and for the moment she was his. And he intended on taking every advantage.
Smiling, he leaned over her again, sucking the other globe while his hand examined her body. She let out a couple of low moans, so sexy and hot. Unable to resist, he lifted his head and kissed her, this time a languid, slow melding of mouths.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he said.
“So are you. I need to see,” she said, tugging at his uniform.
It’d take him a while to be fully naked. He opened some of his buttons so her hands could roam over his chest, and she did. She traced an invisible pattern on his flesh, and he closed his eyes for a moment, arousal blurring his vision. “If you continue like that I’ll come in my pants.”
“Please don’t. I’d much rather you came in my mouth.”
God. Did she even hear herself? “You dirty girl. I like that.”
He pulled down his pants and stroked his cock. She licked the corner of her lips, sliding off the table and kneeling before him. “I’ll take it from here,” she said, replacing his hands with hers.
An indecent amount of blood rushed down his body.
She palmed his cock, her fingers touching him like it was the first time she had touched one. She ran them up and down his length, without taking her eyes off him. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in her eyes. Who knew? Quiet Mia Singer was a sex goddess.
With the tip of her tongue, she licked the pre-cum leaking from his engorged head. He groaned, and his gut clenched. He wrestled with the need to fuck her hard and good. Right now, he needed some release to keep going with her.
She moaned. Knowing she too found pleasure in giving him head only enhanced his arousal.
When she brought him into her mouth he threw his head back, dizzy with the sensations filling him. She murmured something he didn’t comprehend, then continued to try and fit all of him into her mouth, off by a few inches. She didn’t seem to care. She sucked whatever she could manage, her tongue caressing his smooth skin, while her teeth gently grazed the
undersides, driving him crazy.
“You suck so good, baby.”
She replied with a lazy “Hhhhmmmmm…” as if she savored some sweet delicacy. She even put both hands on his hips. Encouraged, he pulled her by the hair, withdrawing his cock halfway from her mouth. She moaned in protest.
“You want more don’t you? You want me to fuck your mouth.”
“Yes.”
“Bad girl.”
He started to take his cock out and then thrust it into her mouth again. Thank God, she had no gag reflex… he intensified the rhythm, moving his dick in and out of her mouth, and down her throat. Sooner than expected, he convulsed, spilling himself into her. He groaned, wishing they were somewhere else so he could scream.
His legs shook, so he leaned against the workbench for a moment. His blood pressure had barely returned to normal, when she stood. He couldn’t let her go like this, unsatisfied. “Lie down,” he ordered, pointing at the workbench.
She did as she was told. He planted her feet at the edge and leaned down. Her thighs trembled before he even touched them, and he smiled to himself. He licked her skin, the scent of her arousal a heady invitation. She shifted on her back, but he held her in place and licked her folds, savoring her. God, she tasted delicious. Hungry for more, he parted her lips with his finger and worked his tongue up and down her delectable pussy. She quivered, encouraging him to intensify his rhythm on her, and he flicked her clit with his thumb. Because they didn’t have much time, he teased her with his tongue and finger in tandem, the rising and falling of her chest clued him in to a nearing orgasm.
He watched her body tremble as a wave of delight poured over him. A need to see more of her body stabbed at him. He shook his head to will away a much more dangerous concern, being with her obviously made him forget about all the consequences. Was the unfamiliar abandon a blessing, or a curse?
Chapter 3
Mia’s breathing slowed at last. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. He flashed her a delicious lopsided smile and a stupid part of her melted.
“Are you ready for round two?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. She’d walked the line the past several months, so she hoped screwing her counselor didn’t mess with her karma. She had never orgasmed like that, ever. When he touched her he ignited all her cells, and burned up her flesh.
He pulled her to the edge of the workbench. She watched as he rolled a condom onto his huge cock. Maybe she should think about it another other way—because she had behaved so well in prison, the universe decided she’d earned a good fuck. Now that made complete sense.
He didn’t waste any time, and nudged her legs apart. She swallowed, still savoring some of him inside her mouth.
When he rubbed the tip of his cock against her pussy, a thrill of shivers rolled down her spine. When she’d had him in his mouth, he’d been generously thick and big. She longed to welcome him with the most intimate part of her.
She lifted her hips in a silent demand for immediate penetration. His lips curled at the corners of his mouth, no doubt aware of her desperation.
He thrust inside her, a powerful and deep plunge. She gasped, her inner muscles stretching to the max to accommodate him. He gave her a moment to get used to him, and she inhaled. Inside her mouth had been one thing…
“You’re fucking tight. I can’t wait to slam this hot pussy of yours,” he said. “So good.”
His dirty talking only made her slicker. She exhaled, pain shifting into pleasure. He must have sensed that, because he started moving inside her. With both legs stretched and reaching his shoulders, he drilled into her, continuing that incredible dance back and forth, each time plunging deeper, stronger into her. He touched her breasts, his hands cupping them as she arched herself to him. “Yes. Yes.”
“You’re close,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Come for me, Mia. Come for me.”
“I…” she said, then he started flicking her clit as he continued to impale her, the workbench creaking under the pressure. Soon, any words coming out of her mouth became incoherent as he slammed her so hard she felt tears coming out of the corners of her eyes. The intense sensations rode her, and her body broke in glorious convulsions.
He suppressed a growl, then draped himself over her. She sighed, her heart racing. She positioned herself so that her heart was at the same level as his, and for a moment they beat in tandem, the relaxing vibration made it hard to know whose heartbeat occupied her body—hers or his.
“We should move,” he said, getting off her. “You’ve been gone for too long, and I don’t want anyone to find us.”
“Yeah,” she said, a cool draft replacing the sweaty warmth of his body.
“Mia, I need to ask. Is there something you want from me?”
Did he just insinuate she was a hooker? “Excuse me?”
He ran his fingers down his face. “I’ve never been involved with a coworker, let alone a prisoner. I just want to make sure I’m not reading the signs wrong.”
She quickly put on her clothes and smoothed her hand over the khaki top, hands shaking. “I don’t want anything from you. Scratch that. What I wanted, I just got. Thanks,” she said, and left the shed before he had a chance to respond. What would he have done if she said she wanted him to bring special snacks, or do her a favor?
She’d heard of a couple of inmates who used sex as leverage to get drugs or contraband from guards. Maybe Trent expected something similar from her. A guy like him probably never got involved with someone with baggage, someone who’d confessed to possession of cocaine, or whose ex-boyfriend was one of the worst dealers in Portland. A hot tear fell down her cheek but she wiped it. She had succeeded in prison by hiding her emotions and acting like nothing disturbed her. Spending time with Trent challenged her game plan, but she’d stick to it, because if she changed her strategy now it could cost her everything.
“Hey, chica, what happened to you earlier?” Ana Hernandez asked her. Ana had been at Leland for at least two years before Mia’s arrival, and she had helped her settle in. A mother of four and a recovering addict, Ana always had dirt on inmates and a funny story of her wild days as a stripper to tell. “Did you get in trouble? Did you get a shot?” she said, referring to the warnings guards handed out whenever inmates acted out. Too many of them warranted a visit to the prison’s disciplinary board, or worse, a stint at the maximum-security prison up the road. The one that no one wanted to visit.
“No. My counselor is doing this new thing where he tries to talk about my life in public surroundings. He wants to make it casual so I’ll get ready for my release.” She rolled her eyes for maximum effect. Maybe she should consider performing arts after she left Leland.
Ana shook her head. “Stupid board comes up with these ideas. Give us hot water and better mattresses. Then we’ll talk.”
She chuckled. No shit, her friend had a point. The mattresses—she used the term loosely— were a bit thicker than a toddler’s nap mat. “I agree.”
“I hear there’s a line of girls who’d tried to change counselors since Sex Stick joined,” Ana said, using the nickname an inmate had created for Trent. They’d started with Sex on a Stick, but then Sex Stick was a lot catchier.
A tingle traveled down her spine. If only they knew… If she could, she’d tell them that Trent surpassed any of the other four men she screwed in her lifetime. She hadn’t been much of a porn person prior to incarceration, but she doubted any well-endowed actor outperformed him. Her clit throbbed at the memories assailing her. Memories she had to guard and not share. As much as she liked Ana and a few other girls, telling them this kind of thing would never be an option.
For the next three days, she made no attempt to communicate with Trent. Once, she saw him talking to an inmate when she walked past him in the hallway, but then she looked away and sped up. The previous day she had an appointment with him she never attended. Maybe, deep down, he preferred things this way… less messy. In a matter of weeks she’d be out of here.
She finished her meal in the cafeteria when a guard came for her.
“Singer,” Bruce said. Some guards were less of an asshole than others. Bald and short, Bruce always seemed on the edge, like someone hadn’t let him in on the joke and he resented everyone because of it. “Your counselor wants to see you now.”
She looked at her half-eaten strawberry Jell-O, no doubt the best part of her crappy meal. “Can I go later?” she asked, without stopping to see the expressions of the women who sat next to her. Let them think she was having an emotional breakdown or something, and the counselor was worried.
Bruce snorted, then he slammed the metal table, making her tray vibrate and the water in her cup splash. “Do I look like a fucking messenger boy? Now,” he raised his voice, and that ugly vein on his head flickered.
“Okay,” she muttered, stood, and carried her tray to dispose of the trash. She followed him, and with every step a new wave of anger moved through her. Why did Trent want to see her so urgently? First, he asked what she wanted for having sex with him, then he acted like she was some second-class citizen who should be pulled from lunch for no good reason except making him feel like he had the power.
She glanced at the bulky door. Maybe missing her session hadn’t been the best idea. What if he thought she’d given him the cold shoulder because she intended to report him to the warden? She shook her head. No, she’d never jeopardize her release by not obeying his summons.
Whatever he needed to tell her, she’d have to listen. Besides, he did have the power—just not in the way he imagined.
Bruce’s raspy voice sounded through the intercom, and Trent okayed his entrance. He’d leave his door opened if it weren’t so damn heavy and impossible to keep that way. “Singer,” he said, managing to sound casual when she entered his domain. Bruce stood behind her, nodded at him, then left and closed the door behind him. “You missed your appointment yesterday.” He tried to maintain an even tone, but some of his frustration leaked in.
Forbidden Inmate Page 2