Page 82 of Convict's Game
“Then have me. I was going to play for longer but I can’t resist.” Lifting, he slid his dick over me then thrust inside.
I cried out and went up on my tiptoes, full and alive. He eased out then bucked again, going in deep.
His taunting words stopped. He was so thick and hard, he had to be going as crazy as I felt. Convict bent over me and reached for my clit, his thrusts never stopping.
My whole world centred on the way he fucked me. Publicly, relentlessly, and making his ownership clear. Maybe I liked being seen. Not by them. By him. Maybe I needed this to believe I was more than a means to an end.
My body knew his like it had been waiting for him. Crowd or no crowd, I just needed more. Of everything.More of the way he stretched me. More of his sounds of pleasure and how he used me hard and rough.
Desire spiked, and I cried out.
The man between my thighs kept his pace exact. He didn’t speed up or slow down. Just the same demanding pressure until my knees shook and I was unable to control my moans.
“Mine,” Convict gritted out.
Was he telling me or an audience watching us? The possession blew through my last tendril of reserve.
Through ragged breaths, I came hard, gripping the bar then draping over it, endless waves of pleasure following my spasms.
Nothing felt as good as what he did to me. It permeated every cell until all I knew was deep satisfaction.
Convict growled then held my hips to fuck me harder. Now I’d come, he needed to get there as well.
“Let me fuck her mouth,” someone said.
“Try it and I’ll slice off your balls,” Convict snarled.
I surged at his protective words, backing into him as much as I could in my restraints. Something in the knowledge that he’d hurt others to protect me lit up my brain like he was doing to my insides.
In a minute, I was wound up and on the edge of another climax.
I tightened around him, and Convict jacked into me a few more times then came, holding his dick deep inside while he throbbed. A new rush of sensation filled me, spilling over into another mind-blowing orgasm. The lack of a barrier between us pushed me over the edge. I cried out and shook.
Then reality kicked in. This had been shocking and fast, even if my buildup was slow. We were messy. People would be watching.
I shivered and tried to stand, but the stocks prevented it.
Soft words reassured me. “Hold on, baby.”
Convict unlocked the bar, straightened my clothes, and lifted me into his arms. He carried me across the club, and I tucked my head against his chest and blocked out everything but the strong beat of his heart.
In a room, he locked the door then put me on a counter and eased up my blindfold.
I blinked in the bright light. We were in a bathroom. Oh shit, and my breasts were still out of my dress. I flushed hot and wrestled them back in place. Standing between my legs, Convict caught my chin and kissed me.
My embarrassment faded. I adored his kisses. I was such an addict for him.
One last lingering peck had him inching back to regard my face. “The image of you spread out for me like that is never leaving my brain. You are perfect.”
My pussy leaked more cum. I pointed to the door. “Out.”
His eyebrows dove together, adorably quizzical.
I flapped a hand. “I need to clean up.”
A devilish smirk spread over his face. Convict hooked under my legs and tugged me to rest against the mirror at the back of the wide marble counter. He drove two fingers inside me, and all reason fled my brain. I set my heels to the counter edge, bucking into his touch.
“What if I clean you up with my mouth?”
