Page 5 of Bishop

Jesus! I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and spank it later to the memory of this bitch. I’d never been so excited to masturbate before. However, with her as my inspiration, it was going to be Goddamn epic!

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Becker returned unconvinced. “Just keep your drooling to a minimum, pretty boy. You’re here for the cooking lessons, nothing else.”

I think Pecker here had himself a crush. I couldn’t blame him. This woman was the finest piece of ass I’d seen in memory. I was a bit shocked to realize how angry that knowledge made me. Deciding it was because I hadn’t seen a real-life woman in months and my animal instincts were rising to the surface in response to being starved of sex for so long, I stuffed down the pesky emotion alongside my lust. Now was not the time, or the place, for those types of fantasies.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” the beautiful brunette greeted, as we all found an empty table to work at. “I’m Evelyn Wild, but you can call me Evie.”

Yes ma’am. I’d call her whatever she liked if she let me lick that sweet as-hell pussy of hers. Christ! I needed to stop thinking about her pussy. I wasn’t going to be able to focus if I was sporting wood this entire class. Discreetly, I used the table to adjust myself behind as I listened raptly to her melodious voice.

“Unfortunately, Bobby couldn’t be here today. But she asked me to step in for her while she’s away recovering from surgery.” Her pretty face flushed red with excitement as she brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.

I’d love to make her blush like that. I knew it wouldn’t take much, either. Evie had the body for pleasure, and I knew how to give it. First, I’d spread those luscious thighs of hers, then I’d bury my head between them. Next, I’d tease her clit with my tongue. Nice and slow at first, then harder the more turned on she got. Make her really beg and work for it.

“In honor of this being my first day with you guys, I wanted to do something special for you.” Evie paused, a genuine smile gracing her full, pink lips. “We’re going to make an entire meal today. Not just a single component of one.”

Evie’s wide, mossy green eyes landed on me then and she paused. I stared back hard like a starving man does at a feast after a long famine. Fuck the food. This goddess was meal enough for me. The mental image of me spreading her out on the table, eating her out before bending her over and fucking her raw, made me stiffen painfully.

Ramirez, a slight Hispanic guy with a tight fade and wiry build, called out, “What are we making, Teach?”

I swear, she must have seen my filthy thoughts, because she swallowed hard, touched her flushed neck, and nervously tore her gaze from mine.

Clearing her throat, Evie pasted a smile back on her face and said, “Fried chicken with mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, and, for dessert,” she paused, her hands steepled together with childish glee, “I’m treating you guys to ice cream cones.”

I’d died and gone to heaven. This angel of a woman was checking every fucking turn-on box I had. Hot. Check. Curvy. Check. Sexy as fuck. Check, check. And she could cook? Jesus Christ! I was on hormonal overdrive.

Evie excitedly ran her palms together in anticipation of what was to come. “Is everyone ready to get started?”

Hell yeah. I knew I was.

Chapter 3

Evie

What was wrong with me? I was totally crushing on one of the prisoners. And not just a little bit, either. I’m talking full-on, panty-melting, want to climb in his lap and call him “daddy” kind of crushing.

Every part of my body felt electrified. Alive! Heat coursed through me and I could feel a familiar dampness settle between my thighs. I’d never had this kind of reaction to a guy before. Especially not a felon. I wasn’t the bad boy type. I liked my men strait-laced and squared away. But something about this guy pulled me in and begged me to take a closer look. And I was guessing that something was positioned a few inches below my belt.

I knew he was feeling it, too. I’d glanced over at the gorgeous man while I was talking and I’d nearly lost my train of thought when I saw the pure lust radiating from his eyes. Thankfully, I’d been able to recover, but I knew he’d seen my equally excited gaze before I had.

The inmate was tall, blond, and handsome. Like a fairytale prince, he had a strong jawline, chiseled physique, and captivating aqua-blue eyes. The only thing that wasn’t so Disney-esque about him were his tattoos. They peeked out of his uniform, giving him a much rougher edge than any of those fabled characters I’d read about throughout my childhood.

His prison uniform, Evie, I not so subtly reminded myself then. I had to remember that before I did something stupid like offering myself to him like the virgin sacrifice I was.

As I showed the men how to make the dough for the biscuits, I was careful to avoid his stare. And there was no doubt about it. He was staring. Hard. At me. Giving me the impression he wanted to gobble me up like a Thanksgiving feast. And boy oh boy, did I want to let him.

Reminding myself that the man probably hadn’t seen a woman his age in years and that his interest wasn’t a compliment, I tamped down my lust and tried to focus on the task at hand. Making biscuits. However, as I moved around the room, checking on the progress of each station, I simply couldn’t ignore him any longer.

Visiting his table last, I gave in to the temptation to look up. Way up, as he was a full foot taller than me. My green eyes found his aqua-blue ones and my heart began to thud. Overwhelmed by everything he was making me feel, I quickly dropped my gaze back down to his supply table like the coward I was.

Licking my suddenly dry lips, I scanned his neatly assembled ingredients. “How’s it going over here?”

The man’s delicious heat radiated from his powerful body as he shifted closer to me. I could smell his clean scent, and it distracted me almost as much as his incredible looks did.

“It’s going great now,” he spoke in a low, sensual timber.

The nametag on his shirt read “Wilmont”. Somehow, the color and fit of the otherwise plain garment suited the dangerous man. And I didn’t doubt he was exactly that. You didn’t end up in Federal Prison for jaywalking. You came here for hard crimes and harder time. At least, that’s what my dad used to say.

“Everything looks in order here,” I noted, in an effort to redirect the conversation away from the heat in our combined stares. “How’s your dough rolling out?”

---