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Neat rows of dough-lined the greased tray in front of him. “Nice and smooth,” he spoke, his intense, smoldering gaze traveling up and down my diminutive frame. “How do they look?”
“Your balls look great,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “Your dough balls, I mean.”
Holy shit! Your balls look great? What the hell was wrong with me? Humiliation burned its way up my neck and flooded my cheeks in bright, red splotches.
Bishop didn’t so much as flinch, but a roguish grin split his sensuous mouth when he responded, “I’m glad you like them.”
Thankfully, before I could die of mortification, Becker came to stand beside us. “What’s going on here?” the guard asked territorially.
While I didn’t appreciate his tone, his presence was a comfort after the fool I’d just made of myself. “Nothing,” I chirped, not wanting to rehash my stupidity. “I was just checking in on Mr. Wilmont. Everything seems to be good at his station. I’m going to go tend to the oven now.”
Scurrying away to the other side of the room, I found the oven was up to temperature. Setting the timer, I instructed the men to bring up their trays so they could begin baking off their biscuits. There was far more bread than our small group could eat in one sitting so any leftovers would be offered in the chow hall at dinner. In the interest of time, I demonstrated to half the class how to peel, cut, and boil the potatoes. The other half of the class was instructed on how to bread and season the chicken cutlets.
The next thirty minutes were a blur of instructions and timers. At the end of which, we had a fully functional meal. A large banquet-style table was laid and set out for the men. Too nervous to eat, I watched them take their seats and tuck into their plates with gusto.
The “oohs” and “ahhs” from around the room let me know that they liked what they were tasting.
Ramirez smiled and said, “Teach, this is amazing! If you lived in my house, I wouldn’t be so fucking skinny!”
Becker frowned at the man. “Watch your mouth around Ms. Wild, Ramirez.”
I smiled and shook my head. “It’s fine, I promise. I’m not that fragile.”
My eyes caught inmate Wilmont’s then. I’d tried to ignore him since my ridiculous faux pas, but the man had a magnetic quality about him that disallowed me to look away.
Shaking free of the lustful fog that had clouded my brain, I called out, “Who wants ice cream?”
When the men cheered and stomped their feet in response, it made me giggle. Not having much of a family of my own, it made me warm all over. I loved to cook. I only wish I had a large group of loved ones to do it for. This room of rowdy men gave me a taste of what it could be like. And, I had to confess, I loved it.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so nervous about stepping in for Bobby. Maybe, just maybe, this gig was exactly what I was supposed to be doing with my life right now.
* * *
Bishop
I returned to my cell that night full, but not satisfied. I was horny as fuck and frustrated that I couldn’t meet my needs my usual way. Between some pretty girl’s thighs, or two, rutting like the insatiable bastard I was.
Evie swam through my thoughts then. Those gorgeous moss-green eyes. That heart-shaped face. Her incredible tits and amazing ass. I was turning to fucking stone just thinking about her.
Needing to burn off some excess energy before lights out and I could take care of myself, I tugged off my shirt and dropped to the floor for some pushups. I’d been in good shape before prison. Now that I couldn’t do anything else but eat, sleep, shit, and work out, I was in the best shape of my life.
Banging out several dozen pushups, I moved on to crunches, then squats. Before I realized it, I was pouring sweat and two hours had passed. My shower time came and went, and I lay in my bed, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole and back to my Club. I missed the open road, my Brothers, and, most of all, my freedom.
I hadn’t been told what to do since I was ten years old. When my father died, I’d become the man of the house. I’d been responsible for helping my mother and taking care of my four sisters. Those had been some seriously lean years, but we’d made it through with a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Being locked up now felt like a betrayal of all that. Of the man I had become. But that was all about to be rectified. I was going home in twelve days. Twelve long, agonizing days. However, with the introduction of Evie into my life, that time seemed vastly easier to manage somehow. Like I now had something to look forward to in addition to returning to my old life.
Evie. Just the memory of the woman was hotter than the reality of all the Club girls I’d banged over the years combined. Taking advantage of having the cell to myself with Jones still in the infirmary due to his Chemo treatments, I shoved my pants down past my hips and freed my aching and swollen cock.
Wrapping my fingers along the base, I gave it a few rough tugs. Circling the head with my forefinger and thumb, I stroked the sensitive notch just below the mushroom tip with teasing pressure. Instantly, precum seeped from the slit. Jesus, that felt good! I imagined it was Evie’s hands on my dick now and not mine. As innocent as she was, I knew her face would be flushed, and her eyes would be downcast in uncertainty.
“Look at me, baby,” I’d command, chucking her chin up so our fiery gazes met. “I always want to see your face when your hand is on my cock! You got me?”
Cheeks pink, Evie would dutifully nod, wanting nothing more than to please me. And please me she would. All night long. In every way my filthy mind could conjure up.
After she’d worked me into a lather, I’d make her suck me off. “I want to feel your lips on my dick, Babe. Get on your knees and open wide.”
Like a good little girl, she’d do what she was told. Lowering herself until she was staring up at me, she’d blink her stunning doe eyes at me while awaiting my next command.
“Take down my pants,” I’d instruct.
