Page 45 of Convict's Game
Yet Convict had gone quiet. He’d closed his eyes.
I slowed. “Are you okay?”
“Only terrified that you might stop. Keep going, I’m begging you. Think I might die if you don’t.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling too big. His words brought a startling thought. It wasn’t just my own pleasure I was seeking. I wanted his as well. I wanted him frantic underneath me. Begging me.
I ground on him again, so wet that I soaked his dick which made for an easier ride. This was wild. Sex had never been like this in the past. My other experiences had been led by the guy with my pleasure last on the priority list.
My lost boy encouraged me, moving slowly with my touch. “Sweetheart, if this is a torture method, I confess to everything. Keep doing that. Right there. Fuuuuck.”
I needed more. I couldn’t fuck him. Not fully. It was a step too far on a confusing evening, but I absolutely needed to come. I ran my hand under the shirt that covered me and touched my clit.
Convict bucked, his chains clanking. There were no dirty words this time. Only an intense seeking of contact that I shared.
I rubbed myself, my hips working and my thighs clamped around him. My fingertips grazed the end of his dick, and at his moan, I slid my other hand down to touch his shaft. It was an instinct. I had no idea what I was doing. Only that it felt so, so good.
“You’re going to make me come,” he warned.
It didn’t slow me any. In fact, my moves got faster, wilder. I needed that. I needed the release an orgasm would give. I had no choice in the matter because my body was barrelling towards that direction. I clamped him to me and jerked my hips a few more times, my eyes closing as the first wave of pleasure struck me down.
I moaned, and Convict gave a choked growl, the sound distant to my senses where I gasped then draped onto him, caught up in my own pleasure. A rush of sparkling happiness and relief had me reeling while I pulsed and clenched and almost wished he was inside me.
My body practically sang with good feeling. When I came back to earth, I lifted my head, my smile hard to hide.
“Fuck,” the man under me drawled. He repeated the word, elongating the sound, then bucked between my legs. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He hadn’t come yet and was harder than ever. His steel-rigid dick surged in repeated hot slides. Unable to stop myself, I lifted the shirt out of the way so I could see him thrust against me.
My breath hitched. Convict swore again and arched to get a view down his body to where we touched. Every one of his muscles bunched. His thick thighs beneath me. His strong arms pinned above his head.
At the sight, he stilled then dropped back and came. Hot cum lashed my hand, my thighs, and the outside of my pussy, and I stared, mesmerised and still so turned on, even with my release.
He was beautiful. I’d thought so at first sight, but seeing him like this—vulnerable in his position below me—was something else.
Yet I couldn’t keep the doubts at bay, along with a healthy dose of self-judgement at how I’d let myself be led by emotion.
With care, I climbed off him, my breathing slowing and embarrassment creeping in.
But my captor didn’t let me slope off without a parting speech, spoken through a smile that almost made me want to jump on him again.
“That was fucking incredible. The image of you coming is now branded in my brain. I told you my body knows yours. Maybe not in real life, but in every other form of recognition. You’re mine, Mila. Sooner you realise it, the better.”
Chapter 17
Dixie
Sex noises came from Convict’s bedroom, the twin sounds of two people energetically fucking.
“Good for you, don’t break anything off,” I snarked, passing the door on my way to the lift.
I was happy for him. Okay, fine, I was Miss Jelly McJealouson. Not of the man himself. Just of what they’d done.
I hadn’t been able to touch a man since the attack that ruined my body.
I had a new job which involved no dick for the first time in my life, and for a woman who’d lived by pussy power, I hadn’t even touched myself since. My brain was fucked.
Nothing was right.
