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Even though I’d tried to keep my table clean, I glanced around and noticed it looked like a bomb had gone off around me. Taking in my “creation”, I realized it too looked a fucking mess.
“Are you judging my masterpiece?” I teased the woman, noticing a trail of light freckles subtly spanning the bridge of her nose.
“Never,” she teased back, a sparkle in her eye that made me want to leap across my workspace, clear it of all the clutter, and bend her over it until I was seated balls deep in her wet, tight heat.
Wanting her to come closer, I handed her the spatula I was using to smooth out the frosting. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then, Teach.”
Taking up the gauntlet, Evie accepted the tool and proceeded to expertly smooth the cake free of any lumps and bumps. Closing in behind her to watch her work, I inhaled her sweet scent, and a shiver of need ran down my spine.
Fuck me! This woman was unlike any I’d ever encountered before. I felt like a goddamn animal in season around her, and I couldn't claim to dislike it. In fact, I felt like I’d just discovered my drug of choice, and I could barely contain myself from scoring on her ample supply.
“It’s all in the wrist. You just have to take your time and go slowly,” Evie lectured, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated on rectifying my abomination of a cake.
I imagined that tongue doing nasty, filthy things to me when I whispered back, “I’m familiar with the concept.”
Her gaze traveled slowly up to mine and her cheeks tinged pink like she’d just run up a flight of stairs at full speed when she gleaned my meaning. “Well, er…, here,” she said and thrust the spatula back in my direction. “I’ll let you finish that up then.”
I noticed that her fingers were shaking as my larger ones wrapped around her much smaller ones. Accepting the spatula, my fingers slid roughly across her skin. My smoldering gaze, latching on to hers, let her know exactly what our contact was doing to me below the belt.
A clang of a metal bowl spilling to the floor at the station directly behind us shattered the moment. Evie whipped her head in the opposite direction to assess the situation. Garrity, the guard supervising us today, had already swooped into action and was helping the inmate who’d dropped his frosting clean it up off the floor.
“Let me get a mop and bucket,” Evie kindly offered.
“Why don’t you go speak to Becker. He can show you the supply closet where everything is kept,” Garrity said. “I’ll radio over to him now and let him know that you're coming and what happened.”
Peeved that we’d been interrupted, I sighed in frustration, turned back to my cake, and tried to not undo Evie’s progress.
* * *
Evie
When I saw Becker standing at the doorway, I made my way over to him. “We’ve got a spill, I’m afraid. Garrity said you could show me where the cleaning supplies are kept.”
Becker swung his keys lazily on their ring as he looked me up and down. “That can be arranged. Follow me. It’s at the end of the hall. I’ll unlock it for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to fill the awkward silence between us as we walked. “How’s your day going so far?” I tagged on, hoping to sound like I actually cared about the answer though all I could think about was prisoner Wilmont’s beautiful aqua-colored eyes staring hotly down at me.
Holy cow, I had it bad for the man! Just one look and he could make me melt like butter on a hot, tin plate. That man could make me feel things I’d never felt before, and I was more than just a little unnerved by the intoxicating emotion.
“Oh, you know, just another day in paradise,” Becker quipped nastily. “I can’t wait until I get out of this place. It's a total dump, and my time is worth more than this.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that comment. It sounded like he had another job lined up and waiting for him.
Truly curious now, I asked, “Are you leaving Cantiville for another position somewhere else?”
Becker puffed out his chest. “I’m waiting for the Fenton police department to get back to me. I put in an application for the academy about a month ago. I should be getting a call any day now with my orientation date.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a police officer,” I replied with a bit of surprise.
“I sure as hell don’t want to work at this shit hole for the rest of my life,” the guard replied with a sneer.
Not wanting to anger him any further, I let the matter drop.
Becker keyed into the storage closet. “Here it is. Take whatever you want.”
I hastily dug out the supplies I needed to clean the spill. Becker relocked the closet and I rolled my bucket and mop silently back to the kitchen.
Stopping me just shy of the entranceway, Becker placed his hand on my elbow, giving it a hearty squeeze. “Would you like that?”
