I wanted to make it go away, I really did.
But with just the two of us there, the opposite happened.
With no one watching, slowly my body moved. My back arched, pushing my chest out even further, until those melons were front and center, the tips bright and hard for his viewing pleasure.
And another smile played at those sculpted lips, blue eyes gleaming.
“So you like writing?” he growled, one hand below the table. “This is your first year on the job?”
What were we talking about? Oh right. This was supposed to be a discussion on journalism and prisoner interests, and how to mix the two. We were supposed to be professional and business-like, totally kosher. And instead, here I was pushing my breasts out for him to see. I wanted him to see. I wanted him to know how hot I felt inside, how my pussy ran wetly in front of this gorgeous man.
Because he’s a monster, right?
Mr. Evercore’s in prison.
They put you here for a reason.
But my body wouldn’t obey. My melons swung, huge and ripe, beckoning for his touch.
Enjoy me, they whispered. Make me wet.
And the alpha did. With each word that dropped from his lips, each small, subtle gesture, my temperature ratcheted up. Juices flowed from my private chamber, thighs going sticky, my nether region deliciously sticky. More and more and more, until I squirmed in the chair.
Oh god!
The hard plastic was probably drenched with female nectar.
I had to stop.
I had to wipe it away. My skirt was surely a mess.
But amazingly it wasn’t. Because when the session ended, I pulled scarf forwards to hide my jutting tips. Thank god the silk fabric was on hand, otherwise my co-workers would see.
Plus, my skirt was fine. It’d tented out around my body, leaving just my panty-clad pussy pressed against the plastic.
But what I hadn’t counted on was the chair.
Because oh shit, the plastic was wet.
Sticky trails of pussy cream smeared into the hard seat, a pungent aroma heavy around us.
But what could I do?
Quickly, I pushed the chair in so that it was tucked under the table. There, no one could see now.
But Mason knew. I could tell he knew.
That patrician nose crinkled a little, nostrils flaring as he sniffed.
And those blue eyes turned to me, knowing.
Oh yeah, he knew.
He knew that I’d creamed while talking to him. The effect of the alpha male was so powerful and magnetic, that my pussy had lost it right there in the prison library.
But the man didn’t do anything. Not at that moment, at least.
He merely stuck a big hand out.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Evans.”
I took it, breath fast in my chest.
“You too, Mr. Evercore,” were my trembling words, even as I tried to smile professionally again. “Until next week.”
And instead of replying, the alpha merely nodded, that strong jaw tilting down.
At that moment, Karen, the office busybody ran over, practically yanking me away.
“You have to be careful!” she admonished, shooting Mason the side eye. “These people are criminals!”
“Shush!” I said out of the corner of my mouth, cheeks scarlet. Oh god. Karen was always sticking her nose in things where she had no business. I hope Mr. Evercore hadn’t heard her words.
But if he had, he gave no indication.
Because as the door opened, I couldn’t resist one last look over my shoulder.
And what the alpha did made me gasp.
He was looking straight at me, those blue eyes holding me captive. And pulling the chair out, the big man swiped one square finger over the seat before lifting it to his lips.
Oh my god!
Did he really …?
He did.
Mason knew everything. He knew exactly how hot I was. How hot I’d been. How much I wanted him, and my body’s involuntary reaction.
And he was telling me he knew. Those blue eyes never left mine as he licked his lips discreetly, a sly smile crossing that handsome face.
“Tastes good, baby girl.”
I could almost hear the whisper from across the room.
“Your pussy juice tastes real good, sweetheart.”
And just like that, it happened again. I creamed right there into my panties once more, our gazes clashing across the space. My co-workers continued to file out around me, laughing and chatting with no idea.
But he knew.
And I knew.
The aroma rising around my form was pungent, heavy and sensual, a tiny rivulet running down my thigh.
And then reality snapped back once more, jolting me forwards.
“You ready?” chirped Marie, a cute copy editor who was perennially happy. “Ready to go?”
I turned to my friend with a fake smile, trying to look like nothing was wrong.
“Um sure,” I said, my cheeks lifting with a forced grin. “Sure, let’s go.”
And just like that the connection was broken. Marie and I walked down the hall, the big man still in the library, his massive frame unmoving.
But out of sight didn’t mean out of mind.