Any way I can get you. Miranda’s slit throbbed as she imagined all sorts of ways he could get her. If she hadn’t just been in a place that was crawling with hepatitis alphabet soup, she would have pulled over to the side of the road and had her fingers in her cunt, bringing herself relief. Then she could have been on about her business. The knowledge intruded on her fantasies of him. No, she wouldn’t have fucked him in the conference room. Or against the wall or anywhere in the prison. She knew what lived on every surface in the place: MRSA, hepatitis, crabs, gonorrhea and only God knew what else. That was a splash of cold water to all of her heated thoughts. But rather than cooling her lust, her fantasies changed. He could have bent her over the hood of a squad car like a perp, ass in the air and feet spread wide apart, drilling into her from behind, his big hands filled with her breasts.
