Claimed by the Thief

by Eliza Lockhart

“Not exactly. I am willing to do what needs to be done. I like to be in control.” Al seemed to think this was enough of an explanation even if I didn’t. Before I could respond his lips were once more pressed against mine, his body coming down on top.

  My legs were already either side of him, giving me little ability to force him to stop if this ventured somewhere I didn’t want, but as his hands roamed they were needy, efficient at pushing my clothing out the way, but not rough, not painful.

  I decided to yield. Maybe someone else being in control, someone I’d chosen, was exactly what I needed.

  After yanking my top off and undoing my bra he pulled back a moment, his eyes roving over my exposed flesh. That characteristic smirk came back before he grabbed both arms and pushed them above my head.

  With one hand he pinned them there, his mouth giving me a final brief kiss before diving lower, taking a nipple and running his tongue over it.

  I gasped at the sudden direct contact, my hands instinctively trying to move to protect myself. His grip was too firm for my reaction to achieve anything and he continued tasting me as if I’d not reacted, his tongue exploring every last detail.

  I groaned as he moved to the other, heat flushing deep inside me. Involuntarily I bucked my hips up against his groin, feeling his hardness.

  In response he bit my nipple just hard enough to make me gasp, but not painful enough to make me cry out or want him to stop.

  When I flicked my hips again he repeated the action.

  “Lie still,” he said. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready and not before.”

  I complied before my brain could suggest I shouldn’t. Every inch of me already wanted him, wanted to feel him inside me. But I was willing to do this on his terms. I wanted this to be real. A part of me didn’t want this to just be a quick screw to satisfy a need. I wanted to feel like we were discovering each other.

  “Better,” he said a moment later, the way a parent might to a naughty child who was now behaving. “Trust me, I’ll make sure you enjoy it more this way.”

  His mouth came down on me again as his hand pushed up my skirt.

  I let out a moan as his fingers brushed across my panties the slightest amount and fought against the urge to lift up, to try and reconnect.

  Denying myself the feeling only made me want it more.

  “Much better,” he added, now studying my face as he traced a line slowly downwards with the tip of a digit. The whole time his eyes never left me, a smug, satisfied smile appearing as I bit down on my lip and tried desperately not to move, not to try and increase the pressure.

  He’s loving every second of this, I thought. He’s totally in control and he knows it.

  Slowly he moved towards my entrance and pushed harder, as if he was rewarding me for good behaviour. And then he stroked back up again, teasing as he retreated.

  Back and forth his finger went for what felt like a lifetime until I bit down on my lip so hard I was sure I could taste blood, my head rocking side to side as I tried not to push back. My breath came out in panting heaves and I knew I was so wet I’d soaked through my underwear.

  Just when I thought I could take no more of the teasing, his hand grabbed the top line of my panties and yanked them down. The sudden forcefulness made me gasp again.

  I was vaguely aware he chuckled as he tightened the grip on my arm and plunged two fingers inside me. This time I cried out and moved, unable to stop myself, but he didn’t object or use pain to chastise me.

  Instead he pulled out, denying me the delightful full feeling. I stilled, trying desperately to regain control while he waited, still watching like a predator deciding when to take his prey.

  But rather than running from him, I yielded. He could do as he pleased with me.

  This time there were no words, just him. His mouth and fingers going back to their tasks, as at his command as I was, until I was desperate for him to screw me. I moaned when I heard his zipper.

  Again, he chuckled.

  “Told you I’d make you want it before I fucked you,” he whispered in my ear, plunging into me at the same time. I couldn’t reply, too focused on how it felt to finally be full of him.

  I didn’t get to feel it for long, his body pulling back and withdrawing from me only to slam inside again. He repeated the process, getting harder and faster until I felt myself finally tipping over the edge.

  Crying out, I hit the peak, only to hear him yell less than a second later, thrusting so deep I felt like he might tear me in two.

  Panting, we stayed entwined for several minutes, hot, sweaty and sated. His grip had relaxed on my arms but I still didn’t move, too exhausted now.

  Slowly he recovered, shifting us both until we were wrapped in the duvet, his body still close to mine.

  Warm, satisfied, and still slightly drunk, I rested my head against his chest and breathed in the scent of him. I’d had no idea that giving someone else control for once could feel so good.

  6:54am

  The sun on my face was the first thing I was aware of the next day. The second was the warm body beside mine, an arm draped over my waist. He stirred almost as soon as I did while my memories of where I was and how I got there came flooding back.

  It was then I realised how late it must be. I hadn’t meant to sleep for long. I had to get back to the house before my father realised I was even gone.

  Looking for a clock, I noticed the time and scrambled out of bed. As I grabbed my clothes and hurried to pull them back on I noticed Al was staring at me, now fully awake.

  “No round two…” Al’s eyes roved, making it clear that’s what he’d hoped for. I shook my head.

  “I’ve got to get back before my carriage turns into a pumpkin and my coachmen into mice.”

  “This is still a fairy tale then.” He grinned, making it clear that wasn’t a problem in his eyes. As the smile made his eyes sparkle again, I felt the first stirring of desire. A round two wouldn’t be a problem if I had nowhere to be, but I had a father intent on marrying me off, and I knew almost nothing about this guy.

  He had a ferret, liked to be in control and knew how to rescue a woman in a way that preserved her independence. As I was pulling on the second heel I glanced over at the cabinet of bondage toys. And apparently he liked submissive women.

  He seemed to notice my gaze as he got out of bed, not even trying to cover himself up.

  I stood, fully dressed and ready to leave but momentarily unable to tear my eyes away. His muscular chest was smooth and his stomach flat and defined without being a six pack. He had more of a tan than most Russians this time of year but it was natural.

  I noticed several scars on various parts of his body. Knife wounds by the look of them. My father’s line of work had made those more familiar than they ought to be. I even saw the small puckered scar of a bullet wound on his arm. Yes, there was evidently a lot about Al I didn’t know.

  I glanced at the clock again and swore.

  “I’ve really got to go,” I said, giving him an apologetic look. As it was, I was going to struggle to get back before someone noticed I was gone, but a part of me hoped to see him again.

  He nodded, the sparkle in his eyes vanishing in an instant.

  Not knowing what to say, I hurried from the room, trying to remember where the way out was. On the way I realised I didn’t have the cash for a taxi, but I spotted a wallet on a small table by the door.

  I hesitated, thinking of calling out and asking to borrow the money but somewhere behind me I could hear a shower running.

  “Sorry,” I said to the empty room as I picked up the leather-encased money. Less than a second later I heard a squeak and the patter of tiny paws as Mitka rushed over to me.

  As I pulled out the notes I’d need he let out a sort of growl but he didn’t come any closer.

  “I’ll pay him back, I promise,” I said before realising I was talking to a ferret. I doubted it understood a word I was saying, but it didn’t stop making angry noises until I put t
he wallet right back where I’d found it.

  With the protective creature watching my every move, I hurried out of the apartment. I briefly replayed our first kiss in my head as the lift took me back to the ground floor, but pushed it from my mind as I hailed a taxi and gave it an address near my father’s. I needed to get home.

  7:25am

  I tried to keep from fidgeting and glancing at the clock too often, but it felt like the journey was taking far longer than usual. I was still sat in the back of a taxi, hoping to get home before anyone noticed I was gone. But I was cutting it close. The stable hands would be up and tending to the horses soon. I’d never cut it this close coming home before.

  When the driver finally stopped the car it took all my self-restraint not to throw my money at him and run. Instead I handed it over, told him to keep the change and got out as normally as I could.

  I needed to appear as average and everyday as possible. Unmemorable. Someone the driver would forget the moment he pulled away.

  As soon as the taxi drove off I hurried back up the road slightly and took the next turn. A hundred metres up the road was the edge of my father’s estate and the corner of the horse paddock.

  My shoes were right where I left them, but it felt like I couldn’t change into them quick enough.

  After slipping back through the fence, I looked towards the house. The curtains had been drawn back and no doubt staff were up and about, if not my father and his guards. But my first problem would be the stable hand. If he was already seeing to the horses that morning I’d be spotted coming back in.

  I couldn’t stay where I was, however. I rushed back across the paddock, trying to avoid the worst of the mud. I paused at the side door, listening for movement.

  Only the usual sounds of the horses whickering and occasionally stomping a foot on the hard flooring, but that didn’t mean they were alone. I would have to take the chance.

  As I pushed the door open I peeked around the edge, seeing the building interior still mostly dark and shadowed. There was no one there.

  Exhaling with relief, I hurried inside and locked the door after me. At least no one would know how I got out if I was caught now.

  Keeping the muddy shoes on for now, I walked as quietly as I could to the far end and the door to the main house. There I removed my shoes, stepping onto the carpeted interior.

  For now, I shoved the shoes into the back of a box reserved for dirty footwear after a ride. I’d use them next time I went out with the horses and then request for them to be cleaned. Hopefully no one would notice them in the meantime.

  A small staircase nearby connected the two floors of my wing of the house so I headed for that, hoping to get to my room and change before anyone noticed.

  All the way my heart pounded so fiercely I could hear it in my ears. I’d never needed to see the staff at this time of morning and didn’t know exactly where they would be.

  The journey back consisted of quick darts between vulnerable points, stopping at corners and doors to check the next corridor or room was clear.

  What felt like an age later I reached my room and closed the door behind myself.

  Letting out another exhale, I noticed my whole body was shaking, but I couldn’t stop now. It was so late in the morning I’d need to change right away. I’d be expected at breakfast. Father liked to keep things on a schedule and never liked to breakfast alone. It was one of his little quirks.

  I’d barely got out of my previous outfit and started pulling on a fresh top and jeans when I heard the familiar thud of my father’s heavy feet on the wooden hallway. As he came closer and closer I quickly yanked my legs into my jeans and grabbed my brush to begin on my hair.

  Glancing in the mirror to see how bad my makeup looked, I began pulling my brush through the tangles in my hair. I winced at the pain but kept going as the feet came closer, until I heard a quick firm rap on the door.

  “Just a minute,” I called out, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt. As soon as my hair was a little neater I grabbed my can of deodorant and sprayed it quickly over myself. The last thing I wanted to smell of was the nightclub or sex, but I hadn’t had time to shower yet. I could always do it after breakfast. Assuming my father wasn’t here because he’d noticed me missing in the night.

  Trying not to shake, I finally opened the door.

  “Father,” I said. “You don’t normally come to see me this early.”

  “No, but I wanted to let you know there is a change of plans today. We can get breakfast together at a little diner I know on the way out.”

  My eyes went wide, trying to understand what I was being told. I had been so afraid he’d be telling me he knew I had gone out overnight that it took me a moment to process what he had said instead.

  “On the way where?” I asked eventually.

  “We’ve been invited to attend the morning rehearsal of the new production at the Circle Theatre. Vasily Petrushkov has arranged for a member of the cast to personally give us a tour.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’d planned to go riding.” It was a lie. I hadn’t. I’d planned to go out normally and get my car back, just make it look like I was going riding. I’d also wanted to find out more information about Al, like his actual name. Or possibly see him again and give him his taxi fare back. Maybe. In truth, I hadn’t entirely thought it through. I just knew I had enjoyed his company and there were few men in Moscow I could say that about.

  “When Vasily Petrushkov sends you an invitation, you don’t refuse it.” My father’s tone was clear. I had no choice, and he hadn’t appreciated my reluctance.

  “Just let me put on something more appropriate for the theatre,” I said, buying myself a little more time to make myself decent.

  “Five minutes. I’ll wait for you by the car.”

  There goes my opportunity to shower, I thought as my father walked away. I sighed and closed the door. Sometimes I really wished I wasn’t the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Russia. I would have given anything to be a normal person with a normal life, able to love in the normal way. But it seemed I was currently trapped in this world. With men like Vasily Petrushkov to navigate.

  8:17am

  Kostya

  Shaking my head, I tried to clear out the thoughts of her, but it was proving difficult this morning. The coffee cup I held was so hot it burned against my palm, but even that couldn’t shake the image I had in my head.

  Over an hour after she’d left I could still picture the black-haired beauty who’d spent what was left of the morning in my bed. It had been a long time since I’d met a woman I’d so completely clicked with. And I’d only gone over to her to rescue her from that pig-headed American. It turned out she’d been the perfect woman to bring back to the penthouse.

  I found myself grinning as I thought of her reaction to the bedroom and all my toys. She’d barely batted an eyelid. And she’d yielded to me so quickly. Just thinking about how she’d submitted made my groin stir. God, I’d love to fuck her again. I’d tie her up, gag her. Make sure I was truly in control...

  Letting out a quick growl, I tried to think of something else, anything else. Or I’d need to take a second cold shower.

  Perhaps I can get another job, something to occupy me for a week or two, take my mind off her. She’d not left her name or number. And she’d had the cheek to pull some cash from my wallet. Yes, that was what I’d do. Involve myself in a new job. I always felt different after something like that.

  But my feet wouldn’t cooperate and take me to my usual source of work. Instead they led me towards the club, a slow, deliberate walk while I sipped my coffee.

  I’d only gone a couple more blocks when a sleek, black car pulled up beside me, a chauffeur getting out quickly enough I hesitated. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been picked up by a new client in this sort of manner, but they’d always given me some kind of warning first. Established a pick-up point. That sort of thing.

  “Get in,” the chauffeur comm
anded, motioning with a hand buried deep in his left pocket. Normally I’d not allow myself to be ordered about in such a fashion, but the extra bulge in the man’s jacket made it obvious I wasn’t meant to refuse.

  Glad I’d decided to leave Mitka back at home, I stepped into the car. Another man sat inside, looking far more relaxed. He held a glass of champagne in one hand and a gun in the other. Yes, having my ferret here would have been incredibly unhelpful.

  “Kostya,” the man said. “It is a pleasure to meet you finally.”

  “Only my friends call me Kostya,” I replied, wondering who would want to hold me at gunpoint. I wasn’t frightened. Not yet. In my line of work everyone carried a weapon, but I never appreciated having them pointed in my direction.

  “Konstantine, then. Forgive my mistake. I must have spoken to a friend of yours.”

  “Perhaps. What did they tell you?”

  The man let out a cold chuckle, lowering the gun as his car pulled off into the Moscow traffic. “They told me you were a man who could solve a problem of mine.”

  I kept my body language constant, but internally I felt myself relaxing. This was just business.

  “I need something taken care of. Someone who decided they’d try and take something important to me. I want you to take something important of theirs.”

  “Do you have the someone in mind?” I asked, straight to business.

  He nodded and held up a photo. It was of a young woman, barely into adulthood, blonde, cute, wearing figure skates, an ice rink in the background.

  “His daughter,” he explained. “Sweet little thing. Promising career if she can keep at it.”

  “And what do you want me to achieve?”

  “I want him to come begging me to forgive him.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Pure cold revenge wasn’t normally my style. I was normally sending some kind of message about money, or trying to get someone to drop criminal charges. This would be a first. Was it spite?

  “Is that going to be a problem?” the guy asked, casual, as if he wanted to know if I had butter on my toast, or sugar in my coffee, but as he spoke his hand gripped the gun a little tighter and moved it around.