Fuck this place.
A tuneless whistle came from my lips.
Cameras followed my every move, the steady red eye unblinking.
Fuck ‘em.
But before I knew it, my feet were entering the prison library. This place was okay. A decrepit room, but books are books.
Because before, I had a massive library. Dozens of shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Volume upon volume stacked inside, anything you wanted. Rare books. Dictionaries. A first edition of some Ian Fleming shit.
Not that I touched any of that stuff. There was no time to read. It was just decoration more than anything, like wallpaper or a beautiful vase.
Instead, I listened to the news. CNN, MSNBC, and the like were constantly streaming in the background, acting as white noise. In the morning, I’d check in on the stock exchange, silently calculating my next move. By contrast, books were too time-consuming, plus there was no action. I like colors, pictures, and a voice speaking into my ear.
Books have none of that.
Now, however, I read like a starving man. That first edition of Man with the Golden Gun in my library? I’m devouring its sad, tattered cousin, a trade paperback that’s dog-eared with crinkled pages. The dictionary? Well, I still haven’t flipped that shit open. But it’s just a matter of time. I’m going through everything in this place. Ain’t nothing too good for my eyes.
But something was different today. As I stepped into the library, my fave chair was missing. What the fuck? That thing was amazing, practically a Barcalounger, huge and comfortable. Where was it?
And then I saw.
It’d been pulled over to the common area, a space reserved for events.
Because there are a lot of events at the prison, believe it or not. Swing lessons were offered on Thursday nights. Aspiring artists could paint landscapes on Monday mornings. Hell, there was even a sewing class that was quite popular among these hardened criminals, their stiff fingers fumbling with needle and thread.
It’s weird I tell you. This arts and crafts shit is hella bizarre, not to mention dangerous. Some of these guys are MacGyver types, cunning and patient. They’d be able to break out of this place with a toothbrush and a thimble. So why take the chance? Was someone asleep at the wheel? Who put together this programming?
But whatever.
Not my problem.
If you asked, the warden would probably give some bogus answer anyway. Something about helping inmates release energy so they don’t act up while they're behind bars. Bullshit. The real reason is that they just like to make us dance like ants under a magnifying glass.
Grunting, I ignored the event and settled myself into a chair. But the commotion was fucking annoying. People were setting up tables, piling them with notebooks, pens, and books. There was even an easel to the side.
Probably some literacy class. It’s hard to believe, but some of my fellow inmates don’t know how to read. Somehow they fell through the cracks way back in third grade, and never figured out how to spell their own names.
Sad, right?
How do you live without knowing how to read?
On a practical level, how do you get around?
I shook my head.
Again, not my problem.
So I turned back to my book, ignoring the growing crowd. But then a flash of color caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, a girl got up, addressing the small group of prisoners.
But I had no idea what she was saying.
Because my brain ground to a halt.
Holy fuck.
The brunette was gorgeous.
Goddamn amazing.
Curvy, with hips that filled out her tight-fitting skirt to perfection. One look at her and I already wanted to hike up that fabric. My arousal stirred as I imagined her voluptuous ass, swaying back and forth. It would look even better if I had her bent over the table.
I adjusted my position, cock already growing. It twitched when my eyes settled on her cleavage. Double D’s – at least – if not bigger. They strained against the buttons of her blouse like giant melons, begging to be kissed and sucked. Oh shit. I needed that. I imagined taking her supple mounds in hand and kneading them with my fingers, as the brunette moaned.
And oh fuck, but that giant butt bounced with every step. Her hips swung with a natural rhythm that just made me want to grab hold and take a bite. A big meaty bite that would make her scream.
Unaware of my gaze, the girl smiled at the crowd. With her brown, curly hair framing her youthful face, she looked like an angel. A sexy little angel with giant caramel eyes.
I had to have her.
Interest piqued, my ears tuned in.
Laney, as she introduced herself, was a journalist from a nearby paper. She and her co-workers were at San Nemo volunteering their time to work with inmates. The goal was to start a prison newsletter called the San Nemo Times.
Really?
My brow scrunched with disbelief.
Why would anyone volunteer for this?
Wouldn’t their time be better spent with friends and family? Or hell, even watching TV?
It was fucking weird.
But the world has a lot of strange people, so I continued to listen, eyeing the curvy female.
Shit, if she was leading this project, then I needed to be a part of it.
Casually, I got up, moving silently across the room to join the group.
The girl’s eyes flickered in my direction, the connection immediate.
Because there was a surge electricity. Not a tiny blip, but a giant arc crackling like a live wire between us. My body stiffened involuntarily, blue eyes going dark.
Fuck, she was gorgeous.
Absolutely stunning.
And Laney could feel it too. The girl stammered a little then, cheeks burning red.
“I’m sorry?” she turned away quickly. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that question again?”
The brunette shot me a sideways look, inhaling unsteadily, before trying to focus once more.
It drove me insane. All I could think about is having her lips wrapped around cock, fist tangled in her hair, pulling her further and further along my length until she choked.
My fantasy became intense, picturing all the naughty things we’d do together. I’d have her screaming my name before long, begging for it. I’d have her on the floor, writhing and panting, swaying that big bottom.
A man can dream right?
But when our eyes met again, it was pure heat.
Damn, this wasn’t a fantasy.
The girl was gonna be mine.
Suddenly, the crowd began to rise, papers rustling, a couple jokes ringing out here and there.
“Aw yeah, I’m gonna do photography,” Little Mickey bragged. “I had an instant camera back in the day.”
John Gun barked hoarsely.
“You fucker. They don’t even use instant cameras anymore. Ever heard of digital? Yeah loser, you been in here too long.”
It was sad, but true. We’ve lost touch with the outside world, some more than others.
But Laney took charge then.
“Alright, could everyone who’s interested in writing for the newspaper please step forward? We’ll be breaking into one-on-one sessions to discuss specific interests and potential projects.”
One-on-ones? Oh yeah. This was my opportunity.
With some skillful maneuvering, I managed to muscle my way to the front of the line. A few of the other inmates glared, elbows sharp, but I shot them warning looks. And they caved. Oh yeah, my dominance and control are relentless even here in San Nemo, those fuckers reduced to grumbles and shuffling feet.
Because live with it assholes.
That’s my girl.
You ain’t gettin’ a chance with her.
And with a winsome smile, Laney gestured.
“Sir, over here,” she said. “You’ll be meeting with me.”
Oh fuck.
She was calling me Sir?
&n
bsp; The word was exactly right on her lips.
Confidently, I stepped forward, sitting across from the female. And incredibly, the girl was even more beautiful up close. Big brown eyes. Chestnut curls. And don’t even get me started on that body. Curvy and luscious everywhere, hills and valleys to spare. Just sitting there made me want to jump that sweet form and pummel her hard.
For a moment, Laney just stared at me, like a deer caught in headlights, lips slightly open and trembling.
Good girl.
Feel scared.
Feel aroused.
Because you’re getting it.
But then she shook herself, as if waking from a dream.
“Hi, I’m Laney,” she managed, holding one small hand out. I took it in mine, giant fist enveloping those small fingers.
She swallowed then, brown eyes wide, staring up at me once more. And in response, my own breathing grew hoarse, raspy and hard.
But I’ve been with a lot of women. This sweet thing wasn’t going to get under my skin.
“Hey,” I growled. “Mason Evercore. Nice to meet you.”
She nodded, a slight tint of pink flushing over those cheeks.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Evercore,” she said. “Please sit. Now before we begin,” she said shyly. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I almost laughed aloud. There’s no food or drink around these parts. And not just because it’s a library. It’s because this is the San Nemo, a federal prison, and not a five-star hotel.
But the girl continued like nothing was wrong.
“The warden’s provided bottled water,” she said, nodding to a table by the side. “Can I get you one?”
Oh shit, oh shit. I was wrong. They’d pulled out all the stops for this event, and sure enough, there were twenty bottled waters lined up, standing like sentinels against the wall.
“Naw, I’m good,” came my rumble. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Okay sure,” she said in a firm voice, trying to remain professional. “So let’s talk about you. What excites you about working for a paper? Do you have a background in publishing, any special skills I should be aware of?”
I almost choked with laughter again. My conglomerate owns the San Antonio Herald as well as the Austin Star Gazette. Publishing experience? Please honey, I got it in droves. But there was no need give things away so soon.
“Naw,” I said smoothly. “Just like to read. Seemed like a good fit for my interests.”
She nodded, business-like.
“That makes sense,” the girl said. “I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing too, from all the way back when I was a little girl. Any type of book was good, from the Babysitters Club to Agatha Christie. I still love those books, even today,” she admitted with a shy blush. “You never leave your first love, you know what I mean?”
I nodded.
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” came my drawl. “Although I’m not exactly reading Babysitters Club.”
“Oh of course not!” she flushed. “But tell me, Mr. Evercore. What kind of books do you enjoy?”
I thought to my latest. I’d been reading some business crap, studying how market indices are created either using a company’s capitalization or its price. But that was too much. That was giving away the egghead within, and it was too early to start off on such a heavy note.
So instead I smiled.
“Just some James Bond novels,” I said. “You know, The Man with the Golden Gun, From Russia with Love, that stuff.”
Laney nodded, eyes sparkling.
“Oh I love Ian Fleming too,” she exclaimed. “My favorite is The Spy Who Loved Me, I think it’s his most romantic. Although they’re not romance novels at all, they really are spy thrillers.”
But then the girl got a hold of herself, blushing.
“But enough about James Bond. So what do you think you’d like to write, Mr. Evercore? If we can’t write about spy adventures, what do you think we could cover here at San Nemo?”
That was a good question. There wasn’t much going on at the prison. There was my job in the laundry room. There was Silky Slim who wanted to hook-up with the prison nurse. Totally inappropriate in every way.
So I went with something safe instead.
“How about prison food?” I asked. “Maybe we could write about how it’s made.”
She nodded.
“We could interview the vendors who provide the raw materials, and then do an investigation on what ingredients go inside. Like if they’re using GMO products. I’d be really curious.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from my throat then.
“Sweetheart, this is the San Nemo. Rest assured, they’re feeding us whatever they want to feed us. We’re at the bottom of the food chain here.”
Laney’s forehead scrunched, those brown eyes confused.
“So does that mean you’re eating genetically modified foods then? The stuff that no one else wants?”
I shrugged my broad shoulders. She was so innocent that it was a shame to burst that bubble. But hey, prison food was the least of it. This wasn’t gonna hurt too bad.
“No, what I mean is that we’re literally the last stop. What people don’t want any more is what we get. Odds and ends, leftovers from supermarkets, that type of thing. So it could be GMO foods, or it might not. There’s no consistency.”
Laney sat back, eyes dawning with realization.
“I see,” she murmured, scribbling something down. “This is more complicated than I thought. Which is good,” she said quickly, raising her eyes to meet mine. “Because we’ll actually have some real reporting to do. We’ll have to talk to people and do some digging to get the skinny.”
And I smiled lazily at her then.
“Sure baby girl. There’s lots of possibility,” I agreed amiably.
Her cheeks flushed pink then.
“Well, thank you Mr. Evercore,” she said quickly, flashing a look at me from beneath those long dark lashes. “This has opened up possibilities that I never dreamed existed.”
I leaned back in my chair, huge form massive.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Just ask, and I’ll answer.”
Laney blushed again, her chest rising slowly. And oh shit, but those nipples looked stiff under her form-fitting sweater, the hard beads totally visible. Realizing what had happened, Laney jerked her scarf a little to cover the stiffness, flushing even brighter if possible.
But I looked right back into those caramel pools, an alpha male in charge.
“It’s a shame sweetheart,” I drawled so that only she and I could hear. “I liked seeing that.”
Those brown eyes went wide, her soft pink pout opening slightly. But then another woman came by, interrupting the hot scene.
“Laney?” the middle woman said sharply, eyeing me with suspicion. “It’s time to go. Come on,” she barked. “Get your purse.”
I would have been pissed in a normal situation. But it was no big deal because I already had my girl hooked. That’s right, after a fifteen minute one on one, I knew the brunette would be back. I knew Laney would be thinking of me during the car ride back, during her day at work, and probably tonight too, touching herself under the covers.
Because that’s the way Mason Evercore rolls. I’ve got the women eating out of my hand, and this pretty little girl wasn’t any different. Those nips told the story, loud and clear, and my cock jerked in my jumpsuit, pleased. Good thing they make these things loose and bulky, otherwise Mr. Happy would have been caused an uproar around here.
But it was fine. Laney looked down, blushing while gathering her things.
“Gotcha Karen,” she said hurriedly. And then taking a deep breath, the girl swung her bag over her shoulder and held one small hand out.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Evercore. Thank you for attending the intro session today. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
I stood, big form looming over the two women. My shadow literally cast them into darkness, towering over the
females. But this wasn’t the time to wreak havoc. This was the time to play nice. So I smiled back, flashing even white teeth.
“Likewise Ms. Evans,” was my smooth growl. “See ya next time.”
And with that, this Karen person grabbed Laney’s elbow and practically dragged her away.
“Did you see that man?” she whispered, shooting a look over her shoulder at me. “You have to be careful. These are prisoners, and that one looks dangerous!”
Laney shook her head, dismayed, unaware that I could hear.
“I know, Karen, but it’s fine. I’m fine. We were just talking, that’s all. Besides, why did we come here if not to work with the inmates? It’s the right thing to do.”
I closed my eyes momentarily as the journalists departed. But when she got to the door, Laney shot one quick look my way, hesitant and unsure.
But I was waiting. Oh yeah, I was waiting. I nodded once, slowly, never looking away, letting my gaze trail over that curvy body.
She flushed, gasping slightly, and then the door closed, breaking the connection.
No worries.
She was going think of me for the rest of the day.
Oh yeah, Laney would be dreaming of my massive form. The breadth of my shoulders. The way my voice snaked out and wrapped itself around her heart.
And later on tonight, her boobies would rise with excitement, wetness pooling between her thighs as she moaned my name in her sweet, virginal bed.
Because Mason Evercore takes what’s his … and Laney was mine.
CHAPTER TWO
Laney
As the sun shone weakly through the slats in my window, I took a tentative sip of cold coffee. Guck, gross. Sighing, I got up and headed for the break room, popping my mug into the microwave.
And he entered my mind then.
Mason Evercore.
Huge. Dominating. Gorgeous, even in an orange jumpsuit.
Because we’d gone to the San Nemo this afternoon to volunteer our services with the local inmate population.
Is working with prisoners crazy?
Maybe, but it was the right thing to do.
After all, I’m a newbie journalist at a small-town newspaper. Realistically, my place in the world is insigificant. Just one girl among billions who hasn’t done much with her life. But I wanted to change that. I wanted to make a difference in the world.
Prison Fling Page 2