Page 34 of Convict's Game
Instinctively, I knew if I rushed him, he’d let me pass.
What if I didn’t?
What if I just let him catch me?
He cleared the last of the steps, reaching me before the others along the gantry who were blocked by the two still throwing fists.
My lost boy picked me up and clamped me against his heaving chest. “Little gangster. What battle are you fighting? Who put you in here?”
I couldn’t answer. His gaze claimed and held mine. My heart thumped in a frantic beat.
One of the men ahead of us downed his opponent, clearing the way for the pack.
Convict swore. “New game. I caught you, I get to keep you. Just understand I need to do this to stop them.”
He lifted me into his arms and reached between us to free his dick. My eyes closed of their own accord. My legs wrapped around his waist.
“I’d say I was sorry, but it would be a lie.”
He fucked into me in one hard thrust that ended the game for all.
Everything that happened next came in flashes. The thickness of him pushing inside me, and my gasp of…what? Shock? Relief?
Certainly pleasure.
Yells of outrage and anger. The doors unlocking, then the jubilant victors carrying out their prizes.
In Convict’s arms, I wilted. He pulled out of me and stripped his shirt, draped it around my shoulders and concealed my nudity. Outside the doors, we passed an exit where the cool air was filled by the cheers of a crowd. I kept my eyes closed tight.
Steps followed, going up. We were staying inside the warehouse. I was glad.
Someone shook Convict’s shoulder. “Fucking hell, that was wild.”
He didn’t stop. Not for that guy, and not for the others who apparently knew him and wanted to give us both their well wishes. All I could do was huddle into him like a scared animal.
“Peachy,” he muttered in a low rumble. “Just exercised my caveman right to claim a woman. Honestly, I feel enlightened.”
Despite his words, he held me closer, like possessing me mattered.
A deep voice hailed Convict, this time causing us to stop. “Congratulations. That hit you took?—”
Convict cut him off. “Probably knocked sense into me.”
“Or cracked your head open again.”
I peeked at his friend, blocking out all the other faces around. He was a huge man with dark-blond hair and a concerned expression. He palmed Convict’s face to turn it, but the man who’d been inside me only a minute ago shoved him away.
“I said I’m fine.”
His friend frowned and looked at me. “Watch him for signs of concussion, Mila. Double vision, sickness, dizziness.”
He knew my name. I didn’t have the presence of mind to question how.
Another man pushed through the crowd, meeting us at the entrance to a lift. He raised a tattooed hand to scrub through his dark hair, his expression troubled.
Convict centred on him but didn’t put me down. “I’ll leave if you order it.”
The tattooed man shook his head. “I’m not asking that. Not after last time. But, Con…”
