Page 83 of Convict's Game
I didn’t get a chance to answer, as his lips were parting my lower ones and he licked me then sucked on my clit like he hadn’t just destroyed me in his sex club. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out of me, adding a third that had me panting.
Shamelessly, I linked my ankles behind his neck to keep him close. I didn’t dare look at him, though. That would be too much. It was far easier to just feel everything he did to me.
Convict worked me until he’d kindled that heat all over again, then he sent me over the edge with a growl of pleasure at how quickly I fell.
I breathed through a spinning mind, not all that much cleaner but a whole lot more relaxed.
He kissed my thigh. “I want you to wear my cum when we go back downstairs.”
“I don’t have any underwear. What if we see people?”
“Then they’ll understand your wet thighs and blissed-out expression. Everyone is expecting this. They’ll welcome the sight of a claimed couple getting down and dirty at every opportunity.”
I glowered at him and grabbed a handful of paper towels from a dispenser then wiped myself partially clean. “I’ll play your game and meet you fifty-fifty but I’m not dripping all the way home.”
He smirked. “Bargaining with me. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Then his mouth was back on mine, and it took long minutes until we left the room and the club behind us. I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone.
We travelled back down in the lift, Convict’s eyes flaring when I adjusted my hem to ensure I was covered. The lack of underwear felt more exposing out here than being half-naked in the club.
The doors opened on the main ground floor corridor, and Convict directed me to the office.
“I asked Tyler for a catch-up.”
“I’ll be sure to sit with my legs crossed,” I grouched, but my heart rate picked up again and for a different reason.
Convict’s side of our deal had neatly taken the burden of finding Jacobs off my shoulders. The worry about it had never left me, though. Not with dozens of messages from hard-up relatives and the fact my grandmother still hadn’t called.
Yet it was tempered by another fact.
Convict told me he’d stay with me and he had. He assured me no one else would touch me when I was vulnerable and he’d delivered. I trusted my lost boy. Not just to help me but in everything he said. That was a startling and happy realisation. One I let myself accept.
Chapter 29
Convict
Behind the huge desk, and with a bandanna around his throat, Tyler waited for us to settle. I fixed the bright light so it wasn’t in my eyes and collected Mila’s hand in mine then gave it a squeeze.
“Do you have news?” she asked.
Tyler’s gaze carried a weight. He had something to say, and I suspected it wasn’t good.
“Jacobs is still missing. If he went home after the game, he hasn’t come or gone since, or switched the lights on at night. Nor is he at his workplace, which is a single rented office in a municipal block where no one can tell us anything. He also isn’t staying with the woman he was known to be dating. According to her, they were never a true couple and he’d stopped returning her calls weeks ago. We can’t find that he had any family, and there’s no one checking on his place. He’s a loner.”
Mila’s exhale told me of her disappointment.
I grumbled. “I assume you have cameras up all over?”
“I installed them myself. Here.”
He handed over a tablet displaying an array of CCTV panels. I passed it to Mila, and she tapped through the different views ofJacobs’s house and his office building, lingering on the view of the front of his property.
“I’ve been to this house numerous times since seeing him at my grandfather’s funeral. He never once came to the door, even when there was a car outside. It isn’t there now.”
Tyler nodded. “I have an alert set up for it, so if it’s picked up on a numberplate camera, we’ll know. Our guess that he’s in some kind of trouble makes me assume he’s done a runner. He failed in his strategy to gain skeleton crew protection so he moved on to another option, a secondary plan he’d already decided on and utilising a route without cameras so he can’t be traced.”
“Suggesting not a major motorway,” I observed. “Maybe a boat, or a taxi to an airport. Do we have any clues on the shite he found himself in?”
