When she folded her arms over her chest, I could finally see a hint of the shape of her tits under that ugly suit she chose to wear whenever she came to class. Same style, different bleak colors. As if she’d gone to the most prudish store in San Francisco and bought the same suit in all available colors especially for San Quentin.
Today, the suit was gray. It hid everything her figure was supposed to show. She must have thought this place was full of dangerous monsters that didn’t have any pussy in a while, and a fucking suit was shapeless and wouldn’t flaunt her curves. At least, that was her logic because who the fuck wore a suit in July?
But in reality, even in that old school principal outfit, the brunette hiding behind those lame ass shades had curves she couldn’t hide even if she was wearing a potato sac. I bet every motherfucker in this room had been taking measures in their heads and beating their stinky little meat to them, even the fucking guard. I knew I had.
“You will not pass this class.” Her mouth was pressed into a hard line, daring me to defy her. And when she raised a brow, thinking she could play a power game with me, even threatening me, all I could think of was tossing those goddamn shades on the floor, looking her deep in the eyes—which by the way had a bet going what color they were—while my fingers fluttered inside her, and watching what fucking power she would have left to even stand straight and not fall to her knees.
I let my gaze travel lazily down her body and then back up until it crashed with her blushing cheeks. Even though she stood firm, not moving an inch, her skin was too fair to hide how flustered I’d made her feel.
My cock twitched against the denim to that attitude…and that fucking blush. Damn.
As if I’d just undressed her for real and not just with my eyes, she fixed her jacket. “I expect you have that assignment ready by next class.” She lifted her chin and sauntered back to her desk, blessing me with the sight of the sexiest curve to an ass I’d ever seen.
Wrapped in pig-sweating rags or not, she was curvy in all the right places, with an ass that would look spectacular with the imprint of my hands all over it. I smirked at that perfect image.
She ignored me, rather didn’t dare look at me, for the rest of the lecture, and I went on scribbling in the notebook until time was up. The guard barked for us to leave our pencils and notebooks and prepare to be hauled back to our cells.
As everybody lined up for the door, I headed straight for her. She looked so tiny when she sat behind her desk, and I towered a good ten inches over her and carried, at least, fifty pounds more than what was on her bones.
She cocked that brow again, and I was sure she was glaring at me behind her shades. “Is there a problem, Laius?”
Laius. Nobody called me that anymore. It sounded strange, as if it was some other man’s name, one I no longer knew or ever wanted to be. But when it came out of those bare pink lips, I wanted nothing but to be that man she moaned his name while squirming under.
Ignoring the motherfucking hard-on for now, I leaned forward enough to smell her sweet breath but not to get the guard’s panties in a twist. “I have a question. Do you think people have the right to keep secrets?”
Her lashes dropped behind the shades, and I didn’t miss the quiver of her small fingers. She rose and busied herself with collecting her books and papers and shoving them inside her bag. “I know where this is going. You’re still required to finish the assignment and deliver it by next class.”
“Without secrets, we’re fucked. You of all people should know and respect that.”
Her head snapped up at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not fair to ask us to pour out our secrets and tell you why we’re really here when you won’t do the same. Why are you here, Miss Meneceo?”
She chuckled. “This is not how it works. This is my class. I decide what’s fair and what’s not, what to share and what to keep. Why I do anything isn’t any of your business. You’re a student. I’m the teacher. Don’t ever forget that.”
The bitch likes her power play… Fine. Game on. She has no clue what trouble she’s just gotten herself in.
She finished packing her stuff. “But to answer the obvious, what your intellectual abilities haven’t allowed you to grasp on your own, I’m here to teach. It’s my job. That’s what people do. Their jobs.”
Is she calling me stupid? I snorted. “And I’m studying with you to go to fucking college like a good boy.”
“That’s—”
“A lie…just like yours.”
That fucking brow again. “Excuse me.”
“You’re not here because it’s your job. There’s something else.”
“Even if you’re correct, it’s none of your business.”
“Let me ask you something simpler then for the sake of your intellectual abilities, Miss Meneceo? Are you Italian?”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “It’s obvious from the name.”
“And you write your first name with a J?”
“Yes,” she stressed impatiently.
With a smirk, I leaned a little bit closer, watching the guard approaching in my peripheral vision. “Allora, my dear Miss Meneceo, the Italian alphabet has twenty-one letters, but J has never been one of them.”
She blanched in a heartbeat, a hitch to her breath.
“Lazzarini, stand straight, and I don’t have all day. Gotta go,” the guard barked.
I took a blank piece of paper she’d missed from the desk and stretched two fingers at her, the ones I used to get a tight pussy dripping. “A pencil per favore.”
She obeyed without a word. Good girl. As I took the pencil, my fingers touched the side of her knuckle and lingered. The little gasp that escaped her mouth and the heat coming from her skin went straight to my cock. Bare skin to a naked flame, only I wasn’t afraid to burn or get burned.
She withdrew her hand quickly as the guard came to the desk and spied what I was writing. “Writing notes outside your notebook isn’t allowed, Lazzarini.”
I put down the pencil and waved my empty hands at him, moving away already. “Relax, babe. It’s just homework.” I glanced at her over my shoulder and nodded at the piece of paper as he grabbed my arm to push me outside. “Here’s your precious assignment…Jo.” Puckering my lips slowly, I whispered her name, and fuck me if it didn’t taste so sweet. “Ci vediamo,” I winked and whistled an old Italian tune on my way out.
