Page 14 of Convict's Game

It didn’t escape my notice that the naked skin all around still did nothing to stir my dick. Even when the doors opened and the brunette stripped her bra in a provocative display of welcome to two early-bird old gents. She ushered them in, and I stared as hard at her tits as they did, waiting for a kick of anything in my body. Nope. Not a smidge of interest.

The lift arrived, and I returned to my room, shutting myself away with a sigh. Tiredness dogged me, yet I couldn’t help tuning back in to the Mila show.

There she was. My future emotional breakdown in a hoodie.

She hadn’t woken, but she’d extended her bare legs. My heart thumped, and I travelled my gaze up her calf and to her thigh.

Lust kicked in a rolling wave that heated my blood and sent it straight to my dick. Not at the naked tits or ready-to-go pussy on display downstairs. No, just for this woman.

I knew Mila. Either because I’d seen her before, though I’d believed her when she’d said she didn’t know me, or for a stranger reason. That, on first sight, my body had decided the lass was mine.

I passed out with my hand on my junk just to feel that it still worked, and the live feed running so we could sleep together.

When I woke, Mila was stirring, too.

I’d dreamt about her. Just talking as we’d lain in bed, then pulling her onto me for a slow morning fuck. Her mouth had mapped to mine, then she’d pushed me to lie on my back while she kissed down my body, on her way to toy with the ultra-hard dick that only seemed to like her.

Fuck it. I dialled the number of the phone I’d given her.

On the tablet screen, Mila jumped then snatched it from under the mattress. She’d hidden it. Good girl.

The call connected, and she listened but didn’t speak.

“If you aren’t a sex worker, what are you?” I muted the camera feed in case of feedback.

Mila’s posture relaxed, and her mouth curved. “Wouldn’t you like to know? And what makes you think I’m not a sex worker?”

“Are you?”

“Fine, I’m not. Actually, I have questions of my own, stalker. How did you get hurt?”

She’d been thinking about me. I extended my free arm and the white bandage that really needed to come off. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

That smile of hers grew. “This turned dirty quickly.”

She had no idea. I was hard again, just at the sound of her voice. Maybe my dick had never gone down. “Something about you does that to me, sweetheart.”

She climbed from the bed and moved to the window, peering out into the rainy afternoon as if I might be perched on the rickety frame again. “Is that why you asked if I’d recognised you? Like some kind of cosmic connection?”

“Pretty much.”

“Except you don’t know me.”

Her words gave me pause. And for no good reason, I found myself revealing the truth. “I didn’t know for sure. Here’s something real. I have amnesia. I can’t remember anything past a few weeks ago.”

Mila stilled, her hand to the window frame. “Honestly?”

“Entirely. And hardly anyone else knows.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because of how I react to you. There has to be something that’s familiar.”

On slow steps, she made her way back to the bed. “React how, exactly? We met once, last night, for a minute.”

I palmed my junk.

This was inappropriate. I should hang up, or at least apologise. But let’s be real, neither of those things were happening. I wanted her involved. More, I just wanted to keep her talking.