◖ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ◗

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𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋  ❷ ⓿ ❷ ❷

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𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋  ❷ ⓿ ❷ ❷



               Keys jingled and inmates wolf whistled as the woman correctional officer with tawny brown skin and hair brushed up sleekly into a knot-bun, she footed down the two-a-inmate cells, ignoring their expressions and approaching the correct cell.


               She stopped in front of the cell, eying the chocolate-toned inmate on the ground doing push-ups, with his biceps flexing every time he raised his body. The other inmate laid on the too bunk, blanket covering his whole body, as he slept.


               "Booker."


               At the sound of his last name, he stopped mid-raised and set his dark brown eyes on the correctional officer. He stood, standing in the prison-provided sandals and shirtless. The sight of his toned abs made her take a quick bite of her bottom lip.


               "What up wit it?" his rich, baritone voice asked.


               "Put your shirt on." She instructed, "You have a visitor."


               His neat and thick eyebrow raised as he grabbed the white crewneck T-shirt and pulled it on. "Whatchu mean a visitor? Ion' accept 'em."


               "Yeah, well, this one must be important. He's wearing a suit. Hands." She told him as he put his hands through the hole of the cell and she cuffed his wrist in front of him.


               Confusion was written all over his face as he took a step backward to allow her to unlock the cell. It opened, she grabbed his muscular bicep and shut the door back. She was walking him down the corridor as he smirked.


               "If dis a excuse to get me to the supply closet, baby, it's all you had to say."


               Still hanging onto his bicep, she tried to contain the smile threatening to plaster on her full lips. "That sounds very nice, Booker. But not today. You really do have a visitor."


               "Hm." the smirk stayed on his thick lips, stopping him in front of the attorney visitation room and turning his tall body to face her. "Then how bout afta'? I can put these handcuffs 'round yo' wrist. You fuck wit kinky shit?"


               She chuckled softly, unlocking the handcuffs. "Go meet with your visitor, Booker. Could be important."


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