She took a quick swig of her booze. Then another. Each time she swallowed the vodka, she felt a warming in the center of her chest spread through her breasts. She closed her eyes and took a third gulp, before opening her eyes and then quickly twisting the cap back on her flask. She would have loved to finish off what was inside, but she didn’t need to be staggering out of her office.
It was too early in the day for that.
“Captain Caldolini is here to see you.”
Startled, Warden Kate dropped her flask on her lap as her secretary Susan poked her head in the doorway as she pushed open her door—without knocking.
That was a close call. What if she had been caught with her coveted flask to her lips? Then what? She made a mental note to remember to lock her door, first, before she engaged in her nip fests.
She stared at Susan for a moment before she said anything. She simply adored her. She’d inherited her from the last warden, Mr. Duncan. And, thus far, she had proven to be quite efficient in her duties. She was hardworking and dependable. And she knew prison policy like the back of her hand.
Warden Kate valued that about her. But she didn’t appreciate the fact that this old bitch couldn’t remember to knock before she walked into her damn office.
Susan fingered the pearls around her neck. “Ma’am, did you hear me? Is everything all right?”
Warden Kate speared her with a sharp stare. “No. Susan,” she finally said, discreetly slipping her flask from her lap to her opened drawer, then sliding it back under the pile of folders. “Everything isn’t all right. For starters, you not knocking before walking into
my damn office is a problem for me. How many times must I tell you this? Knock. Then wait to be told to enter. Understood?”
The sixty-six-year-old secretary was speechless for a second. She felt chastised like some five-year-old and she didn’t like it one bit. Mr. Duncan had never spoken to her in this manner. She wasn’t accustomed to such disrespect. She had a mind to tell her so. Then put in her retirement papers first thing in the morning. But she needed the income. If she didn’t need the money to pay for her husband’s nursing home expenses, she’d tell the warden to kiss her tired, wrinkled ass, then slam the door in her face.
“My apologies, Warden. It won’t happen again.”
“I hope not,” she said sternly. She saw the look on Susan’s face, and immediately felt bad for being so brusque, but she was not in the mood to apologize. Follow damn instructions. Knock first.
“You can send the captain in.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No. That will be all,” she said as she stood. She smoothed her hands down over the front of her tailored skirt, and eyed Susan as she walked out the door.
A sigh left her. She couldn’t deal with her hurt damn feelings right now. At the moment, all she could manage to think of was Susan walking into her office and catching her taking a drink. But to smooth things over with her, she’d have flowers sent up from the prison’s florist shop.
She quickly reached into her top drawer and popped two mints into her mouth. There were two things she loved about vodka: it was colorless and nearly odorless. So she could drink throughout the day without anyone being none the wiser. She’d have a shot, or two, in her morning Starbucks coffee, then a little splash or two in her afternoon tea. Followed by several sips from her flask midday, depending on how badly these barbarians—or her staff, worked her nerves.
She swirled her tongue around the candy as it began to dissolve in her mouth.
Seconds later, Captain Nicholas Caldolini walked in. His olive complexion and dark-black hair—that always seemed tousled, along with those dreamy gray eyes of his, made most women swoon. He’d even had his fair share of prison pussy back in his earlier days. But he’d given all that up once he’d been promoted to sergeant.
In his early forties, the six-two MIT grad and former football star played running back in the early nineties for the Broncos. Two seasons later, his career was cut short due to a knee injury. Now here he was. A captain. Thanks to nepotism, he’d moved up the ranks rather quickly. Nonetheless, heat bloomed in her cheeks at the sight of him. Warden Kate found him irresistibly handsome and sexy. “Good afternoon, Warden. I understand you wanted to see me?”
Mm, yes. Naked would be nice.
She walked around her desk, gesturing with her hand toward the chairs situated in front of her desk. “Please, sit.” His scent flitted across her nostrils as she waited for him to take a seat. He smelled heavenly.
Her mouth watered—and not from the mints.
As he folded his muscular physique into one of the chairs, the warden hiked up her skirt a few inches, then sat on the edge of her desk, her body positioned toward him.
She swallowed. “You’re looking good these days, Captain.” Her eyes roamed over his body. “Are you hitting the gym harder than usual?”
He flushed. Was she flirting with him? God, he hoped so. He secretly had a thing for older women, especially mature black women.
He smiled at her, then said, “No more harder than usual. Thanks, though.”
She crossed her legs, and allowed the heel of her Prada shoe to dangle from her foot as she slowly slid her tongue over her lips, momentarily contemplating getting up and locking her door, peeling out of her skirt, sliding back on her desk and spreading open her legs, offering him up some of her lonely pussy. It felt so wet and empty.
God, she wanted so desperately to have it stuff full with cock.