The next morning, Derek could barely look at Stiles without his face burning. Every time their eyes met in the hallway, he remembered the night before—her fingers buried in her dripping pussy, her filthy moans, the way he had stroked his cock like a desperate man while watching her. It had been so unprofessional. So wrong. He was a prison guard. She was an inmate. Yet his cock twitched every time he thought about her pink lips and that soaked cunt.

Stiles, on the other hand, was loving every second of his embarrassment. She made sure to brush past him extra close during breakfast line, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “Morning, Officer Derek~ Did you sleep well after shooting all that thick cum for me last night?”