Page 36 of Convict’s Game (Skeleton Crew #1)

I waited for humiliation to creep in. It didn’t. Only a growing need for him to fuck me.

He didn’t keep me waiting to start playing. Yet the first touch to my core wasn’t his dick. It was his tongue. With his fingers, he spread me open and lapped me from behind, his hot tongue sliding into me.

I made an ungodly sound of pleasure and backed into the touch, though the stocks restricted my movement. Convict rumbled approval against my body and thrust his tongue again, pressing on somewhere inside me that caused a gush of wetness.

“Can’t believe I haven’t done this until now,” he groaned.

While he ate me out, he toyed with my clit, and I whimpered, so wound up from the events of the night. The strip show, the way he’d kissed me when he came back from his meeting, the visual of people having sex around us, and my exposure.

He gave me no peace. Each lick and suck perfectly timed to drive me insane. So much I could hardly bear it.

“I need you,” I begged.

“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?”

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.