soft laugh turns into more of a bark, and he runs his hands through my hair again. I sit smugly in his lap, because I can tell that he’s really drawn to my colors.
“Did you know your hair color flashes when you come hard?”
“It does?” I ask, partly surprised and a little bit embarrassed.
I look at my ombré locks like they’ve betrayed my confidence.
“Mmm-hmm,” he purrs as he plays with the ends of my hair. “It might be one of my favorite things. Right after being inside of you and hearing you scream my name.”
I blush, and a giggle escapes me that’s really high-pitched even to my own ears.
Fucking hell, Sinclair, are you capable of playing it cool?
“So I’ve made your favorite things list already?” I tease, all too aware that he’s still inside of me.
Once again, our back and forth is taking on a level of intimacy that I’m not sure how to navigate. He touches me so affectionately; it’s like he thinks I’m the one that should be worshipped. He’s relaxed beneath me, his hair glowing softly, radiating pure contentment. The fucked up thing is...I feel the same way.
It’s bad enough that I just shit where I eat, or rather, fucked where I need to hide out, but if anyone finds out about this, that could cause serious issues. The other guards didn’t like me hurting one of their own, so I seriously doubt fucking one is going to go over any better.
Rook leans in and nips at my shoulder, his hips rocking slightly. Is he seriously getting hard already? How is that even possible?
I’m about to start riding him so I can test out just how hard he is—you know, for science—when static crackles to life in the cell, and a male voice rings out. “Rook, are you still here?”
Rook and I both jump as the sound intrudes on our moment and slams us both back to reality.
More static. “I thought you left a while ago, but someone said your truck is still in the lot. We could use some help if you’re still around,” the voice blasts from the speaker of Rook’s walkie-talkie.
He quickly lifts me off him and scrambles for the radio clipped to his utility belt. He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to compose himself and then presses down on a button on the side of the radio. “Yeah, Mac, I’m still here. I was getting my laundry done. What’s up?”
Static crackles. “Can you come to Block Black? You’ll know what’s up when you get here.”
“On my way,” Rook calls out casually, and then the radio goes silent. “Shit,” he curses as he starts looking around the cell for all of his clothes.
I get up and hand him his underwear and pants. He gives me a grateful smile and starts pulling everything on.
“I’m sorry,” he offers as he takes his shirt from my outstretched hands.
“It’s fine,” I reassure him.
I wonder for a moment if getting my laundry done is some kind of code. Do the guards fuck inmates often? Or do they really just have inmates do their laundry for them? I want to ask, but Rook is clearly in a hurry.
“How are you going to explain the no button thing?” I ask, as I watch him pull on his shirt that now gapes down the middle and shows off his muscular chest and abs, every single button long gone.
“It’s fine. Weird shit happens all the time when you work in a supernatural prison. Your cell block is nothing. The deeper levels and the other buildings for the serious criminals...shit is crazy over there,” he replies, and once again, I wonder what that means exactly.
He’s in such a rush that he hasn’t noticed that I’ve swapped his name tag again as a surprise and snatched the plain one again. He unknowingly brought me all the supplies I need on his last visit, and his name right now is surrounded by dick shaped jewels. The dicks glimmer under the bad lighting above us, and I wish I could see his face when he discovers them. I have to put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile.
I watch him wrap his belt around his waist and start buckling it into place. I stand there awkwardly, feeling his cooled and drying cum on my thigh, and all I suddenly want to do is take a hot shower. I love having sex bareback, but it’s messy. At least my shifter birth control is getting