A Thief in Venice

by Tara Crescent

  His gaze cleared up. “Ah.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, little thief. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “So you don’t care that I play at the club?” I asked, my voice openly skeptical.

  “Oh no, I didn’t say that,” he said. “I don’t like it at all. But, I didn’t intend for this to happen either. I’ll fix it.”

  “How?”

  “I’m assuming that kissing some other woman in public will work its magic,” he said. “That should put an end to most of the speculation about you and me. Is that satisfactory?” He raised an eyebrow at me. He was angry as well. My outburst was probably uncalled for. But his control was greater than mine, and he held on to his temper with ease.

  As for me, I found that the idea of him kissing another woman made me want to rage and curl into a ball and whimper. I didn’t want him kissing anyone else. Just me.

  “No,” I whispered.

  Another raised eyebrow. “What do you want, Lucia?”

  I wasn’t going to tell him I didn’t want him to kiss anyone else. He was too smug. I was already putty in his hands. But I wanted him and he knew it.

  “I went to the club today, looking for a man to take control. To hurt me. To use me for his pleasure. Are you going to do that for me?” My voice was dangerously arrogant. I was goading him.

  But Antonio was the wrong man to try that on. “You want to play, little thief? Bribe me. Give me something of value.”

  “What do you want?” I asked him.

  “The truth.”

  “What truth?” My voice was soft. I knew what he was referring to.

  “I could kiss another woman, and every man in that club would be accessible to you once again, Lucia. Tell me why that isn’t satisfactory.”

  I stayed silent. Antonio just waited, watching my face. I stared at the floor stubbornly. No. This was a gift of too much value. I wasn’t going to tell him he mattered.

  The silence grew between us. Finally, he broke it. “Stay with honesty, little thief,” he said quietly. “Or go.”

  “Honesty is a precious gift.” My voice was harsh.

  When he spoke, his voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it. “I do not undervalue the worth of what you offer, Lucia.”

  A moment passed. Then another. “I don’t want you kissing another woman,” I whispered.

  He took two strides and closed the distance between us. He took my hand, and placed it on his chest. I could hear his heart beating. “I wanted to ask you not to go,” he said in reply. His fingers stroked my hand as he looked me in the eye. “Stopping myself from speaking those words was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “You didn’t plan this?” I asked him. I wanted to believe. I really did.

  “No, little thief. But I’m not going to lie. I’m happy no one touched you tonight.” His other hand, the one not holding my hand captive to his chest, came up to my face, and stroked my lower lip. I parted my mouth automatically, softening for Antonio the way I always did.

  “Why didn’t you ask me not to go?” I asked. He could have asked. I would have obeyed. I would have wanted to please him.

  He shook his head. “You aren’t ready yet,” was all he said, cryptically. His tone changed. Crisp, curt syllables now. The time for softness would be later. For now, he was going to hurt me and use me for his pleasure.

  “You know the way downstairs, little thief. Go and wait for me.”

  Chapter 17

  Antonio:

  It would have been tacky to cheer, to do a fist-pump in the air when she had confessed she didn’t want me kissing any other woman. My little thief. She fought this thing between us. She wasn’t ready yet to call it what it was. She wasn’t ready yet to hear me tell her that the idea of her with some other man ripped a hole in my heart.

  I hugged her confession to myself like the precious, rare gift that it was. My little thief. She was a feisty, wounded kitten. She was skittish. One wrong move on my part, and she’d run.

  I didn’t want to pursue her. I wanted her to come to me openly, recognizing her need for me and calling it by its true name. I wanted her eyes to soften when she looked at me, the way mine did when I looked at her. I wanted her heart to thud in her chest when I kissed her. I wanted to hear love in her voice when she called out my name. I wanted all of her.

  ***

  “One and a half drinks,” I said thoughtfully, as I looked at her. “Borderline safe.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What did you do? Call Liam? You could have just asked me.”

  “You are right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “An apology from Antonio Moretti,” she drawled. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  I laughed. “Little thief, from what I recall, I had to spank you silly and threaten to withhold an orgasm for you to apologize for stealing my painting. Should you really be mocking me for this?”

  She laughed and inclined her head, conceding the point. I loved this woman. There was so much strength in her. And so much sweetness.

  She stood in the center of the dungeon, wearing a black dress that hugged every curve of her body, and I curled my hands into fists at my side at the thought of the men in the club gazing at her. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion I was used to feeling, but with Lucia, I had to constantly remind myself that the possessive, caveman attitude was not helpful. My sweet little thief would run if I pushed too hard.

  I could have used her hard, but today, I didn’t want to. I wanted to hear her moan with pleasure, to hear her sigh my name as she came in clenching waves around my cock. I moved behind her, and brushed her hair forwards so it fell over one shoulder. I kissed her neck, unzipped her dress and pushed it off her shoulders. It fell to her waist.

  “Step out of it, Lucia,” I ordered. She complied without a word. I unhooked her bra and smoothed her panties past her luscious hips. She turned to me unbidden, naked, and she leaned into me. “Kiss me, Antonio?” she asked softly.

  I smiled at her, pleasure in my eyes. “Gladly, little thief.” We leaned into each other, and we kissed, and our bodies held each other. Finally, I pulled away. “I have one more condition,” I muttered. “If you want to play tonight.”

  “Full of conditions, aren’t you?” she asked wryly. “What do you want?”

  “Spend the night in my bed,” I told her. She looked at me, and her gaze was warm and direct as she smiled, and her smile was like the morning sun. “Gladly,” she replied, echoing my words, and I felt my heart thud in my chest. My little thief. She was so perfect.

  ***

  Lucia:

  My heart was beating in my chest. He took a step back and looked at me. He walked away for a second, and when he came back, he had a collar in his hands. “Will you wear it?” he asked. “Just for tonight.”

  I’ll wear it for as long as you want, my mind replied, but I didn’t speak those words that revealed too much. “Yes,” I said instead.

  “Kneel,” he ordered. I immediately obeyed, my head lowered.

  “No, no, little thief, I want you to look in my eyes,” his voice chided. I met his eyes reluctantly. Too much was happening too fast. Antonio was suddenly important. I had never wanted to spend the night in some man’s bed, and I hadn’t done so in a very long time, but I had agreed to spend the night with Antonio.

  “Lift your hair out of the way, sweetness,” he said. I did, and he buckled the collar on, and then leaned forward and kissed me.

  I’d never let a man collar me before. I tried not to focus on that. It was just for the play. That was all.

  There was gentleness in his eyes as he looked at me, a gentleness that was a contrast to his firm grip on my shoulders. “Sweet little thief,” he said. “Stay here for a minute.”

  He walked away, and starting laying toys on the bed. Wrist cuffs. A paddle. A blindfold. I watched, and I realized I had parted my legs in arousal as he moved around. Fucking pathetic.

  “Come here,” he said finally, sitting at the
edge of the bed. “Lay across my lap, sweetness.”

  I obeyed, and his hands stroked my ass gently. “Should I punish you for yelling at me, Lucia?” he asked, amusement in his voice. I arched my ass towards him, pleading mutely for my spanking. He chuckled softly.

  “Does my sweet little thief want to be spanked?” he growled.

  “Please,” I begged. I was shameless. There was no point hiding how much I wanted Antonio. This close to me, he could see my wet pussy, smell the arousal coming off me in waves. This close to Antonio, I had to be honest.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand reach for the blindfold. I moved my hair aside as Antonio efficiently covered my eyes. “Can you see?” he asked me. I shook my head.

  “Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  The next thing I felt was something rubbing against my ass. Not his hand; this was a rigid surface. A paddle? He had placed a paddle on the bed.

  Whap. Whap. Two firm strokes on each of my butt cheeks. The paddle. I kicked out involuntarily, and I heard him tsk in disapproval. “Oh come on, Lucia, you know better than that,” he chided.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Give me your wrists,” he said. “Put them behind you.”

  I moved my wrists behind me. Antonio caught hold of them, and held them in the small of my back. His other hand rubbed the sore spots in my ass softly. “Did it hurt, sweetness?” he asked quietly.

  I shook my head. “It just startled me,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  I was still bent over his lap. His hand, the one not holding my wrists in place, stroked my hair away from my neck. “This you apologize for?” There was humour in his voice. “You try to steal from me. You come in here yelling at me. But the one thing you apologize for is reacting when I paddled you?” He chuckled. “You are a strange one, sweetness.”

  The paddle traced a path on my ass again. But this time, I was better prepared, and I held still as the paddle descended on my ass. Heat rose in me. He wasn’t hitting me hard. This was sensual and erotic, and I relaxed into it and just let myself feel.

  “Mmm,” I moaned. “This is nice.”

  “Good.” His voice was satisfied. The paddle descended on my ass again, and I arched towards it with a groan. Again, and I spread my legs restlessly. Yet again, and I twisted off his lap. “Please, Antonio,” I begged him. “Stop teasing me.”

  He laughed. “Remind me to spank you really hard at some point for moving without permission,” he said.

  “Later,” I pouted. I wanted to see his face. “I want to suck your dick,” I begged.

  “Demanding little thief,” he chided. “More punishment.” But I heard the sound of the zipper, and Antonio guided me to the edge of the bed and sat me down. He reached for my wrist, and kissed my fingers gently, and then he guided my hand onto his cock. He was hard and ready, and I licked my lips in anticipation. I’d only sucked his cock once, and I wanted him in my mouth again with a desperate need.

  I moved my hand up and down his shaft, exploring every inch of that beautiful dick. Then I lowered my mouth on his head, licking the drop of precum that had gathered, before sucking his head between my lips. He groaned in response, and I smiled a satisfied smile.

  “You are in so much trouble, Lucia,” he said, but his voice made it sound like a sweet promise. I smiled up at him, though I couldn’t see the look on his face, and I took more of his length into my mouth, my hand holding the base of his cock. “Ah fuck, sweetness,” he groaned in response.

  I smiled again. I liked this reaction from him. I loved knowing that I could give him pleasure. I set a steady rhythm, my tongue massaging the sensitive underside of his shaft, my lips clamping down on his cock, my mouth sucking to create pressure.

  His hands curled around my hair, and I relaxed my throat, thinking that he was going to push his length deep into me. But he just held me there. I felt connected to him with that touch, and I flushed as I realized that that gesture of possession had set my pussy dripping even more.

  “Lucia,” he groaned finally. “I want you face down on the bed, sweetness.”

  I pouted inwardly. I wanted him to come in my mouth. But I obeyed silently. “Such a good girl, Lucia,” he said, his voice approving. “Give me your hands.” He cuffed my wrists behind my back, and pushed them up so my elbows were bent, and my wrists were in the middle of my back. I could feel his weight shift on the bed. Then he straddled me, and I moaned softly and automatically tried to spread my legs.

  “Shh,” he said quietly. “Just do as I tell you, sweetness. I’ll tell you if I want you to part your legs.” I could feel his dick at the cleft between my ass cheeks, and then he rubbed himself against my body. “I could just do this,” he mused. “Rub myself back and forth, and come all over your back. Would you like that, little thief?”

  “I’d like you in my pussy a whole lot more,” I replied, my head turning towards his. He laughed and moved and flipped me over so I was lying face up.

  “Spread your legs for me, sweet Lucia,” he ordered, and I complied instantly. I could hear the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being torn open, and then he plunged his length into me. I could feel my pussy walls clench against his hard dick. He pulled out and entered me again, and I whimpered in utter longing as every nerve ending in my body danced with pleasure.

  “Please,” I begged him. My wrists were uncomfortably bound behind my back, but that wasn’t what I cared for at the moment. “Take off the blindfold, Antonio, I want to see you.”

  “Gladly, little thief,” he muttered, and his fingers were on my head, and the blindfold came off. I blinked and looked into his eyes, and I wrapped my legs around him and drew him further into my body.

  “Ah fuck Lucia,” he groaned in response, and he started pounding. Deep and hard and fast. Taking me with utter disregard for my bound wrists. A disregard I shared, as I raised my hips to meet each thrust.

  I kept my eyes on his. His gaze never left mine. He thrust into me for what seemed like hours, and I groaned and arched and writhed and flailed and begged him for more. Finally, his eyes clenched shut, and his body stiffened. “Fuck, Lucia,” he groaned and grabbed my thighs as he thrust into me once more before he erupted in orgasm.

  Eventually, he stirred and took the condom off, knotting it and tossing it uncaringly over the side of the bed. “That was pretty selfish of me,” he muttered, referring to the fact that I hadn’t come. “Sorry. Come here, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “It doesn’t always have to balance out. You’ve made me come a whole lot more, if you are keeping count,” I said.

  He laughed. “I’m not keeping count.” His fingers were on the wrist cuffs, removing them, and then he pushed me so I was again lying face down. He straddled me at my waist, and he took each wrist in his hands, and kissed it softly, before massaging away the ache in my shoulders. I groaned in pleasure as his strong hands wandered over my body.

  “Antonio,” I whispered.

  “Hush,” he said. His fingers kneaded tight knots of stress that I didn’t even know I was carrying, until I was limp and relaxed.

  “Now,” his voice teased, “since you are all relaxed, let’s get you tensed up again, shall we?”

  He moved to the space between my legs. “Part them wider, sweetness,” he ordered. Four fingers slid into my pussy, and I groaned as my pussy stretched to accommodate the invasion. His other hand searched for and found my clitoris. His thumb rubbed over that tender, pulsing mass of need, steady strokes as his fingers pistoned in and out of my pussy, and I arched my back and begged and exploded in orgasm.

  My breathing slowly eased, and I nestled into Antonio’s body. “Thank you,” I whispered, and he smiled and kissed my lips softly. “Thanks are hardly necessary, sweetness.”

  Chapter 18

  Lucia:

  Eventually, he carried me upstairs to his bed and set me down. I stretched and turned, and there it was – hanging on the wall of Antonio Moretti’s bedroom. My Madonna. I sucke
d in a harsh breath, and turned to him. He had a tiny smile playing about on his lips as he watched me.

  “Is that the real painting?” I asked bluntly.

  He nodded.

  “Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

  He laughed aloud. “Don’t hold back, little thief,” he encouraged through the laughter. “Tell me what you really think.”

  I rolled over on the bed, and he slid next to me and pulled me into his body. We lay there, spooning like lovers, for a long time.

  “I’m going to steal it, you know,” I said finally.

  “I fully expect you to try, sweetness,” he replied. “But I don’t expect you to succeed.”

  I ignored that. “Good night, Antonio,” I said instead.

  He kissed my neck gently. “Good night, Lucia.”

  ***

  When I came back to my apartment the next day, my painting of Venice was back on my mantel. And a vase overflowing with wild flowers was on my coffee table.

  “You really are a cocky bastard, Antonio,” I said aloud. But there was a silly smile on my face as I said it.

  Chapter 19

  Antonio:

  And so we played. I put her painting back. She made another attempt at stealing the Madonna. A surprisingly good attempt, one we foiled more by dumb luck than any real skill. The guards received a tongue-lashing that they weren’t going to forget any time soon. “She’s an amateur,” I scoffed at them. “A curator at the museum. She’s making you guys look like idiots. Get it together.”

  But inwardly, I laughed. My sweet little thief. She didn’t back down from the challenge, not one tiny bit.

  I broke into her apartment and filled it with flowers. She stormed over and told me that she was going to complain to the police. An idle threat and we both knew it. We played in my dungeon instead, and she spent the night curled into my arms.

  My housekeeper smiled approvingly at her the next morning. “I like this girl,” she announced to me when Lucia had left. Maria was in her sixties and was a treasure.