Page 4 of Their Reckless Thief
The scent of his warm, masculine skin assaulted my senses as he climbed on top of me and hovered over my body, his gaze intense, though I couldn’t focus on his face. It was blurry, and I couldn’t make out the details. His rough hands gripped my shoulders tightly as if he needed something tangible to hold on to while his lips grazed over my neck to my earlobe. His hot breath tickled my skin, and my stomach fluttered uncontrollably. This man knew what he was doing.
He planted a soft kiss on that sensitive spot below my ear before speaking in a low voice that sent tremors throughout my entire body. “You aresofucking beautiful,” he growled against my skin, his voice thick and rough around the edges like sandpaper against silk. “I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.”His words sent shockwaves through me, making me desperate for more.
This man seemed real… the weight of him on mefeltreal… and his strong arms holding me down as he took one of my nipples into his mouthcertainlyfelt fucking real. His mouth was hot on my hard nipple, and I gasped as he flicked it with his tongue.
The room turned hazy around us. I couldn’t focus on anything but the heat radiating off him and his muscles flexing with every labored breath he took. Time stood still as we locked gazes, and that’s when I recognized him.
My heart stuttered. Dorian Voss. He was one of the mafia lords posted on Roberto’s wall. Why in the actual the fuck were his hands on me? I’d never met the guy, and I didn’t intend to.
“Time to find out if you taste as good as you smell, Celeste.” He growled, and the look in his eyes told me he was as eager as I was for his mouth to touch me. He stared down at my sex as if admiring a piece of renowned artwork.
His rough hands slid down my sides, tracing every curve and dip, stopping at my hips before slowly pushing my legs wider apart. I whimpered as anticipation coiled in my belly.
He lowered his head between my thighs, inhaling sharply at the scent of my arousal. His tongue flicked out, tasting me for the first time, and I let out a soft moan despite myself. He moaned along with me as if the action was just as pleasurable for him. As if he were tasting the most delectable dessert. Gods, the man was gifted. His fingers danced along the inside of my thighs, teasingly close, as he made art with his tongue on my clit. The sensation overwhelmed me.
“Please,” I managed to whisper, trembling under his touch.
His stubble brushed against my sensitive folds as he licked and kissed his way upward. I gasped as he slid one finger, then two, into me, stretching me slowly. His other hand moved to cupmy breast, squeezing gently as he thrust his fingers slowly in and out of my pussy, never ceasing the ministrations of his tongue. Helpless to the pleasure, I arched into him as another finger joined the two inside of me.
The vision ended abruptly. I grasped the door handle, panting heavily.
Holy fuck.
What the fuck was that? And, more importantly, why was Dorian fucking Voss lapping at my vagina like he hadn’t eaten in days?
My panties were soaked. How could I walk into a meeting like that? Although, one look at Roberto, and I knew I’d be dry as a bone.
After giving myself another moment to regain control of my breathing, I shook the vision off and walked up the stairs to Roberto’s office.
Roberto was a stray, and his office was exactly what you’d expect from a stray who ran a group of highly trained, highly illegal thieves—dark, luxurious, and dripping with subtle menace. Heavy drapes blocked out the world, while low lamplight flickered over a mahogany desk too polished to have ever seen a scratch. He sat behind it, the picture of calm authority in a perfectly tailored suit, his green eyes locking onto me the moment I stepped inside.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite doll,” Roberto greeted, his voice oozing the kind of charm that would put a politician to shame. “Back from the lion’s den, I see.”
Roberto narrowed his eyes like he always did when he read someone’s aura. “You’re fucking glowing, doll. Must’ve had success.”
I mentally praised the gods that Roberto couldn’t read minds, or he’d know my glow was a direct result of the vision I’d experienced of Darian Voss’s head between my legs.
I fell into the leather chair across from him and tossed a small velvet pouch onto his desk. It landed with a softthunk, the gold coins inside jingling. His lips curved, eyes gleaming like they always did when he saw profit walking through his door.
“And here I was worried you might have gotten yourself into trouble this time.” His fingers ghosted over the pouch before he untied the knot with the casual precision of a man who never doubted he would get what he wanted.
“I’m insulted,” I said, crossing my legs. “I make trouble. I don’t get into it.”
His gaze lifted to mine, a subtle challenge in his eyes. “Good. Trouble doesn’t suit you.”
I arched a brow but didn’t bite. Roberto had a way of twisting words into knots that left you questioning whether you were the hunter or the prey. Instead, I reached into my bra and pulled out the sleek keycard I’d swiped from tonight’s mark, the actual prize he was after. I slid it across the desk. “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it? Winnings are just a bonus.”
Roberto’s smile deepened. “Now, that’s my girl.”
He took the keycard and pocketed it without so much as a glance. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust me—I was his best thief, after all. But he liked to play things close to the chest, as if revealing too much of his hand would somehow ruin the whole game. That was Roberto for you, always two steps ahead, playing a longer game than anyone realized.
“How much did you bleed them for?” he asked, casually resting his hands on the desk, but I could feel the weight of his interest. He was always assessing, calculating, as if every interaction was another piece of some invisible puzzle he was trying to fit together.
“Low six figures.” I smirked, leaning back in my seat. “I didn’t even have to try.”
He chuckled, low and smooth. “Good. You’ll need the extra padding for that little habit of yours.”
I stiffened slightly but kept my expression neutral. Roberto liked to remind me of my vices, liked to keep just enough control. Phantomine, the magical drug I was enslaved to, was the ace up his sleeve, and he knew it. He was the only source I trusted for the stuff, which meant I was tethered to him. Even when I was winning, Roberto never let me forget who had the upper hand.
