by Liz Adams
At last, he rolled off her. She kissed his lips, to thank him for the incredible experience. She scooted her bound hands under her butt, and drew them under her legs to get her hands in front of her. Standing up, she walked to the kitchen knife collection on the counter, raised a knife with her teeth, and rubbed the blade against the rubber band. The band popped off.
In the time it took for the butler to draw in a breath, she’d removed the tie on her robe and held him in a body lock, binding the butler’s wrists behind his back.
Securely fastened, Goldie got off of him and asked, “How come you’re not calling out for help?”
“I’m in no danger. You’re just a thief, so you won’t harm me. Not in your nature.”
“True. Where’s the safe?”
“Behind the Monet in Bruce’s room.”
Of course. Figures.
“Thanks, Master. Now it’s my turn,” she said. She opened the fridge and grabbed carrots in a plastic bag. She dumped the carrots on the floor and scrunched the plastic bag into a cord, holding it just above his mouth. “Ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She kissed his cheek. “We always have choices, Sweetie. Open your mouth.” She tied the scrunched plastic bag as a cord between his teeth and around his head. The impromptu gag satisfied her.
“Now to give you something to remember me by.” She took the carrot and inserted it into her pussy. She twirled it and stirred herself with it until she was sure it was covered with her juices.
She held the glistening carrot to his nose. “Do you smell me?”
He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Mmm.”
“Do you taste me?” She poked the carrot in his mouth to his tongue. He licked it.
“Even when I’m not here, know that I’m deep inside of you.” She gently pushed the carrot up his ass.
He moaned.
Time to get to the safe.
***
After putting on the robe, Goldie marched up the stairs two at a time. Time to get down to business. She went to Ace’s room. Or Bruce’s room, as that was his real name. The door was closed. She had to make sure it was safe to enter.
She grabbed her duffle bag from the hallway floor and pulled out the snake cam. The cam was a black cable about the thickness of her pinky. At one end of the flexible cable, the lens saw anything it was directed upon. The other end was attached to the playing card-sized monitor.
She threaded the snake cam under the door. With continued crimps along the cable, she was able to have the cable rise upward and give a view of the room from a higher angle.
She saw Bruce lying in bed. By the heavy breathing she barely picked up through the door, he must have been completely asleep.
Goldie reeled in the cam and packed it away.
This close to reaching her final goal. She inched open the door.
Please let there be no squeak.
The door was silent.
Goldie tiptoed to the foot of Bruce’s bed, then past his blanketed legs, past his torso, and his shoulders. His face looked peaceful. He wasn’t Gary, but he sure looked like him. His eyes moved back and forth under his lids. He was dreaming. Good. When a person dreams, their body is paralyzed so that they don’t physically react to whatever shows up in their dreams. As long as Bruce was dreaming, he’d be out of commission.
She reached out to the painting above his head. The painting didn’t budge. It was fastened to the wall. Bruce grabbed her arm, jumped upon her from his bed, and pinned her down to the floor with his naked body on top of her.
Holy crap! He was just pretending to be asleep. Probably heard the whole thing downstairs.
That was okay. She could just slip from his grip like so.
Goldie twisted her wrists, but his hold stayed firm.
Okay, that didn’t work. She’d have to use her legs. The old scorpion trick.
She threw a leg over to strike the base of his spine with her heel. No good. He kept adjusting himself to avoid the blow.
She tried a shin kick.
No good. He just moved his leg out of the way.
She tried a head butt.
No good. He just tilted his head out of the way.
He had her pinned and there was nothing she could do about it. Normally she got turned on at the risk of being caught, but now here she was, actually caught. Why was she feeling even more aroused? Maybe the fact that she was stuck under a naked hulk of a man had something to do with it. He was strong and quick.
“Who are you?” Bruce asked.
“Goldilocks.”
“Cute. What have you done with the others?”
She wiggled under him, seeing if she could get better purchase, some leverage to escape. She felt him growing between her legs. Her pussy spasmed with desire. This could get interesting.
“I let them use my body, then I used theirs. Now they’re as happy as a humped clam.” She struggled to rearrange herself for a more cozy position. “Well, they were happy until I tied them up. But don’t worry, I used my best knots to tie them up comfortably.”
He glared at her.
“So is that a gun at your crotch or are you just glad to see me?”
He pushed himself off of her. “Get up.”
Goldilocks admired his erect cock as she watched him saunter to his bathroom.
He took down a robe from the bathroom door hook. “Were you trying to break into the safe?”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said.
He tied the front of his white robe. “If you get what you came for, will you promise never to come back again?”
Just what was he doing? He was going to give me money from his safe on the condition that I never return? Goldie decided that worked for her.
“Cross my fingers, hope to die,” she held up her crossed fingers.
“Crossing your fingers means you’re lying.”
She touched her finger to her nose. Yep, you got it right. “I don’t make promises to strangers. They don’t trust me enough.”
Bruce snorted. “How much do you want?”
Goldie made the estimate.
The property came to about twenty billion dollars on its own. Assuming this guy only bought originals, there was a Matisse in the hallway, fifteen million, a Manet in the living room, twenty million easy, and the Monet painting in his bedroom, another twenty million. There was that spying equipment worth who knew how much. Maybe just a mill tops. No real antique value, just tech. Still, all those added up to over twenty billion. How much would he pay me to walk away? Depends how much liquid he had. A good estimate is one percent, that was two hundred million. And a reasonable ten percent of that to get me to walk?
“I don’t suppose you have any Woodrow Wilsons to make twenty mill easy to carry,” Goldie said.
Bruce opened his bedside drawer and flicked a switch somewhere inside. A camouflaged section of the bare wall by the bathroom mechanically protruded and slid up revealing an embedded safe. The butler lied. The safe was never behind the painting. He just wanted me to get caught.
Bruce opened the safe. He removed stacks of bills and handed them out to her. “Don’t worry about having trouble making change. Those are unmarked bills, they can’t be traced, and they’re not in order.”
She gasped at the portraits of Woodrow Wilson on the bills. Holy crap. How did he get a hold of 100,000-dollar bills? Each stack was half-a-million. She opened wide her duffle bag and Bruce dumped the stacks inside.
Something was very wrong. “Why are you just giving this to me?”
“We can’t have women around. We can’t let ourselves fall into relationships.”
“Why not?” She asked, though she was pretty certain they were criminals themselves with secrets too sensitive to share in a loving relationship.
“It’s complicated.”
She thought about the money in her bag. Then examined the striking man in front of her, an Adonis no woman had the pleasure of touching for who knows how long, a man who reminded
her of Gary, the one she wronged. She knew she should leave, but curiosity got the better of her.
“When was the last time you got laid?”
He walked to the bedroom door and opened it wider. She didn’t let him have his way.
“Well?” she insisted.
“A long time,” he replied, a dark grimace on his face.
Rabid thoughts of how she mistreated Gary bit her. Sure, this hunk in front of her only resembled Gary, but somehow giving Bruce pleasure seemed like it would help rid her of her guilt. She set her bag down, slinked her way over to where he stood, and walked her fingers down his chest, pushing between the place where the robe folded over his torso, touching his skin directly.
“You can have me, if you want.”
With her other hand, she undid the tie on his robe. Maybe it was ridiculous to think she could ever forget the harm she caused to Gary.
“No ties.”
Her fingers walked down Bruce’s abs. She could at least try to get rid of remembering seeing Gary’s face in the newspaper.
“No strings.”
She clenched her fist around Bruce’s cock, remembering Gary’s beaten face. She had to try.
“Just now.”
***
Bruce had enough of this woman. He grabbed her wrist. “Get out of here. You’re just a thief. You don’t care about people. You take whatever you want and don’t give a damn about giving back. Even if it means ruining people’s lives. The problem with you is you don’t know what it’s like to care about someone. To care so much you can’t get them out of your head. The problem with you is—”
She tried yanking her hand out of his grip. “Let me go.”
He didn’t let her loose, but he stopped his rant when he noticed how glassy wet her eyes were. What if he were wrong? What if she did know what it was like to care deeply and give herself to someone? Or worse, what if she never had the chance to know what it was like but yearned to have the experience?
“I was wrong about you, wasn’t I?”
“Let me go.” Her voice broke.
Bruce pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She struggled to escape but he held on to her. Soon she gave in and wrapped her arms around him.
They held each other as time ticked away. He knew why this embrace was so meaningful for him. He needed to feel needed. He wondered if she just wanted to be held.
After savoring the moment a bit longer, he knew it was time to end this. He had to free Rob and Al. Bruce tried to finish the embrace but the woman wouldn’t let go. Who was he kidding? He needed this closeness as much as she did. Maybe more. Rob and Al would have to wait.
As he held her, he felt her release a long exhale. Probably trying to control her emotions. She felt warm, small, and fragile. No doubt she could be lethal if she wanted to be, considering how she managed to handle both Rob and Al. But inside? As delicate as egg shells, and probably just as broken.
He broke the hug to look in her eyes. “Why are you here?”
She didn’t answer. Just roped him back into a tight embrace.
He let her have this moment. He missed this, he missed being wanted this way. Her arms eventually relaxed their grasp around him.
He grabbed her and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with fierce passion. Her lips met his perfectly. Desire boiled within him. He lifted her off her legs into his arms and carried her to bed. Her smile brought a warmth to his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He gently placed her atop the bed and kissed her again. This time, he was delicate with his kiss. He reached for the band at her ponytail but she grabbed his wrist to stop him from taking it off. She looked frightened.
“Something you’re hiding from me?” he asked. “Or is it something you’re hiding from yourself?”
After a beat she relaxed her hand and Bruce gently removed the band to free her hair. He kissed her, letting his fingers weave through her long locks. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, that spot between her beautiful pert breasts, and kissed down her flat belly. He worshipped her body with his mouth, treating her like a goddess. Every part of her.
Her breathing became uneven.
He undid her robe and kissed her nipples, lavishing them with the painful memories of the woman he lost. His delicate tongue and tender kisses awoke her nipples. His wounds could heal from the nourishment of being able to give again.
Then he gave his love to this woman in front of him, a woman who lost her own connection with the power of giving and for some reason needed to resort to taking. But could she take his love? Could she accept it? He kissed her belly, her waist, her curls at her center. He kissed her gently against her clit, honoring her.
Was that a whimper of pleasure or sadness that escaped her lips?
His tongue swirled around her taut nipples, stirring inside her the pleasure she so deserved.
“Please,” she said. She guided him back to her lips. He kissed her and entered her.
Gentle. Tender. Delicate. A sigh he realized was his. She was perfect.
***
She choked down a sob. The love in his eyes was almost too much for Goldie to bear. She wanted to look away, to hide her feelings from him. But he had already found her. He found the soul she had been hiding from everyone. How could he see so deep within her? They’d only just met. How could it be that he was the only one that made her feel truly seen, and loved?
He pushed himself completely inside of her. A perfect fit. Not too small, not too big. Just right.
He kissed her.
A sliver of a sunrise pierced a darkness in her heart she never knew she carried.
He loved her.
A light spread across her soul, the hint of dawn chasing away her shadows.
He shared himself with her.
A warmth flushed through her chest as the light rose higher.
He honored her, holding her gaze as he moved above her.
The sunrise burst, a powerful ball of sensual fire at her core.
He cherished her, his body solid and firm against hers.
Light filled her every fisted finger and curled toe.
He worshipped her, reaching deeper inside.
The sun sizzled inside, rising higher.
He filled her with everything he had.
She felt his light explode, penetrating her every secret.
She shuddered and shook in his arms, her heart overflowing from his love.
As time passed, their panting dwindled down and they lay flat on the bed. They’d switched positions. She rested in his arms, her head on his chest listening to the steady, reassuring beating of his heart, unlocking the rhythm of this huge, strong man capable of pinning her down, finding her vulnerable side, and shattering her bold exterior.
A thought out of the blue nagged her. He said it was behind the painting. She craned her neck to look at the Monet.
“What’s the matter?”
“Your butler.” She brought her hands to the front of his chest. “He said the safe was behind the painting.”
“Al was probably just trying to mislead you.”
“I know that. It’s just—” She gazed at the stabs and short slashes of pastel orange and mint green brush strokes. “The painting doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“If it’s not there to hide a safe, then you purposely decorated the room with it.”
“So?”
“So it’s kind of girly. Why would a guy like you have a pretty painting of a peach tree?”
Bruce grit his teeth and avoided her gaze. “It’s a reminder of something I lost.”
She glided the tips of her fingers across his chest. “Something? Or someone?”
Bruce didn’t respond. Instead he asked, “How did you get in?” His voice rumbled against her chest.
“Into the mansion? I zip-lined onto the roof and rappelled down from the skylight.”
Bruce ran his hand through her hair like a caress. “Smart. Bypass the barbed w
ire, the outside alarms, the outer cameras.”
“Exactly.” She took a deep breath, letting his touch crack open her heart.
“And the lasers?”
“Exposed with spray. I descended to a safe spot, crawled to the alarm system and deactivated it.” She rubbed his chest, relishing the feel of his muscles.
“And where’d you learn to fight?” His voice carried a touch of amusement.
“When I was a kid, my mom did a trade with her friend. She cooked for him and he let me be a student in his Jiu Jitsu class. After high school, I took classes in Krav Maga and Kung Fu.”
Bruce laughed, warm and rich. His laugh made her head bob on his chest. She smiled.
“That’s a lot of fight power.”
“A girl’s gotta protect herself.” She passed her palm across his hard stomach.
“You’re good.”
“That’s not all I can do.”
“Oh? What else?”
She lay beside him, head on the pillow, his lips a breath away. She inhaled his unique mix of sweat and sex and all man, then spoke softly, “I’m pretty good at reading people.”
He blinked, but didn’t seem surprised. “So what can you tell me about Rob?”
“His weakness is—”
“Don’t tell me. His weakness is women, right?” He looked so serious.
“Nope. His weakness is his thirst for revenge. Maybe to get back at a woman, maybe to get back at a boss. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it’s a combination of people that hurt him in his past.” She took his hand in hers and stroked his scraped knuckles. Bruce’s job must have been something rough. By the way he easily pinned her down, maybe he did a lot of fighting, too. A wrestler, perhaps?
“And Al?” His eyes sparkled.
“His weakness is a tricky one. It’s his loyalty to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay, even though you seem to be able to take care of yourself quite nicely.”
“And me?”
“You? Now your weakness is women.” She wanted to kiss him, but held back.
“How so?”
“You have a dark secret that for some reason makes you think you can’t be in a relationship, even though it’s what you want most. I experienced first hand how much you need intimacy.” Goldie swallowed. She still tingled at the way he made her feel. “The sad thing is what you don’t know.”
