Page 43 of Convict's Game
“Jealous?” At whatever expression had settled on my face, he added, “Because I am over you. From first sight, I’ve only wanted you, and the thought of you pairing off with some other asshole in the game was enough to make me psycho.”
A huff of breath left me. “You mean more psycho. And I’m not jealous. In fact, I was just thinking how I could walk out of this room now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
He blinked, and his gaze jumped to the door. “Shit. You won’t.”
“But I could. Where’s the key?”
He bucked his hips. “In my pocket.”
I wanted that key. Lightly, I touched his waist.
Convict groaned. His dick moved in his jeans, and I stared, fascinated, losing my train of thought.
“How can you be so turned on by just being next to me?”
“Easy. Have you seen you?” He closed his eyes and shaped a teasing grin on his lips.
An idea came into mind, better even than snatching up the clothes he’d brought for me and walking out of here. I hadn’t really meant that. I couldn’t pretend I was only here because ofhis help. That would be a lie. From the first moment I’d seen Convict outside the window, I’d been all kinds of spellbound.
I slithered off the bed so he couldn’t see me.
“Hey, where’d you go?”
“I want your dick to go down so I can test something.”
His laugh was choked. “Not sure that’s going to happen, sweetheart.”
I scowled. “You mean my voice does it for you as well?”
“That, plus the image I have of you in my head.”
“What image?”
“I have a series of favourites I’m currently running through. Your pretty eyes through the window. You asleep on the bed while I watched you on the cameras. My dick disappearing into your cunt.”
A moan escaped my lips. I liked his dirty words. I liked his more romantic ones, too.
I knelt up to find his dick just as prominent as before.
“Try thinking of something less sexy. Your grandma, perhaps.”
“Literally can’t remember any relative.”
I sighed, because the one thing I wanted to do just couldn’t happen. I wasn’t forward with men. Certainly not ones I’d only known a week, and despite the strange circumstances I was in with Convict, I’d been raised a certain way. Those manners balanced on a precipice when it came to a more pressing issue. Exactly how much I wanted him. I’d never felt anything like it.
Hesitantly, I returned to perch on the bed. “Do the couples who win the game really have sex all the time?”
“Pretty sure they spare a moment to shower and eat. But probably the rest of the time. Put your hand on my chest.”
I obeyed. On my own, I couldn’t do it. I was too conditioned to hold back. But Convict’s instruction broke through thatreserve. His skin was warm, and his light dusting of chest hair tickled my palm.
He shifted under my touch. “Good girl. Now explore me. Take your time.”
I trailed down his belly. He let me play. His abs were solid, a rippling of muscle that was the opposite to my soft body. I got braver and touched his flat nipple.
He shivered. “Draw your fingertips lower to my waistband.”
I did, running my fingertip under the material of his clothes.
