Page 7 of Thief

A stubbled chin scratched gently into her temple. “You okay?” he asked, looking down at her body from the same angle she was.

“Yes.”

“Sure?” He slid his hands around her waist, his big fingers practically meeting over the gentle curve of her belly as his thumbs touched in the dip of her lower back.

He rubbed his thumbs up and down, soothing, reassuring, and a well of tension dissolved in the hollow of her spine she hadn’t even known was there.

She rested backwards onto him. He felt so solid and warm, a gentle giant. Okay, so she was going to steal from him soon, spectacularly, but there was no harm in enjoying in the feeling of being looked after, cherished—it was a feeling that rarely came her way.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“Just fine?” He lifted his hand from her waist and let the thick knuckle of his thumb brush her left nipple, just once, very lightly.

Instantly the little branch of her areola shot out, straining for another touch, begging for it. The weight in her breasts doubled with an unfamiliar feeling of longing. She wanted him to touch the other nipple, wanted him to cover them both with his big hard hands. Every nerve in her chest was crying out for it.

“Better than fine,” she managed. She watched, fascinated, as he moved to her right breast and slowly took the nipple between his thumb and index finger. Very gently, he rolled it to a tense point. The skin puckered and strained farther into a slight twist.

She sucked in another deep breath. The response her body was having to his touch was electric, like nothing she’d ever felt before. This was no quick drunken grope; this was her body being worshipped, indulged. John’s delicate touch was making her knees weak and her stomach clench. She pressed back onto him, glad of his support as he switched his attentions to her left nipple.

She should just get out of the apartment; these feelings were getting too intense. This wasn’t the plan. Why wasn’t he behaving like the other five hits she’d had to sleep with to get their cars? Then it had been ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’—all over and done within minutes. A drunken post-coital sleep, and she’d been free to take whatever her light fingers desired.

She spun in his arms, an excuse to leave forming in her mouth. “I…I ought to…”

His dark eyebrows knitted together.

“I…I…really should…should…” Kat frowned in frustration at her ineloquence; she never suffered from stuttering or a lack of excuses.

“What’s up?” he asked as he bent an arm over his shoulder, fisted his black T-shirt and scraped it over his head in one smooth movement.

It landed on the floor by her bra, instantly forgotten, as were Kat’s excuses. The sight of his wide chest, carpeted with dark coils of hair, which trailed to the loose waistband of his jeans had her thoughts of running fleeing to the hills.

Since her head only reached his chin, she was face to face with glorious maleness, and his musky, slightly salty scent hit her full on. She had a sudden, overwhelming desire to push her straining, hungry nipples into the scratchy hair of his chest. She was desperate to know what it would feel like.

“Relax,” he said, cradling the back of her skull with his palm. “It’s all good, I promise.”

Kat placed her palms on his shoulders and leant forward for the kiss he was sending down. Her nipples connected with downy hairs on granite muscle. She gasped in surprise; she’d expected a crispy texture, not silken smoothness.

He read her gasp as encouragement and his tongue delved deeper and he gripped her hips. “Can we lose these?” he asked into her mouth and hooking his thumbs into the elastic of her thong. “Pretty as they are, I’d rather see what’s beneath.”

Kat spun what he’d said around her mind. She’d been so consumed with the sensations of kissing and his chest connecting with hers she’d barely thought of the next stage. “Er…yeah,” she said, taking a small, tottering step backwards.

John allowed her to move away, but he kept his eyes trained on hers.

Kat stood still in her heels, hold-up stockings and lacy thong. She looked calm on the outside but inside she was in a state of turmoil. It wasn’t the prospect of having sex with John making her feel this way, it was the desires he was invoking in her. Lust was something she’d never experienced in her paltry excuse for a sex life. Sure, she could tempt, seduce, walk the walk, but actually doing the deed and enjoying it was not for her. Kat found the best pleasures were at her own hand; she had control then. She knew where and how she liked to be touched and trusted herself to control a short, hard climax every time.

But right now, control was slipping away fast. He wasn’t even touching her, just looking. In fact, now he’d sat on the sofa and relaxed back with one arm stretched casually sideways. Yet still she felt like he had power over her, even worse, shewantedhim to have that power. She wanted to hand herself over to him and trust him to satisfy the tug in her belly. It was an uncharted emotion, and she was unsure how to handle it. She felt both nervous and excited.

“You want me to do the honours?” he asked quietly.

Kat shook her head, dipped her fingers into the elastic at her hips and rolled down the thong. Like string, it peeled down to her knees, and she wriggled and let it drop to the floor around her feet. She stood back up, tall and straight, awaiting his judgment. She swallowed—hard.

He let out a long, low whistle as his gaze travelled lower. “That I like,” he said, tugging at his bottom lip and his eyelids drooping. “Very pretty.”

Kat stroked the bare, hairless lips of her sex. She was freshly waxed, just the way she liked it, not a stray pubic hair in sight. She rubbed indulgently at the sensitive skin. It felt like two plump velvet cushions, neat and ordered.

“You gonna let me have a feel or is it just for you?” He leant forward with his elbows propped on his knees.

Kat kept her fingers hovering over her slit and took three steps forward. Her knees were weak and her heels suddenly felt too high, too unbalanced. She focused on his wide shoulders, rock-hard and square, and his biceps, tough balls of raw power. The snake tattoo on his forearm was highlighted in glorious detail under the hot bulb, its yellow eyes flashing and its red fork tongue licking towards his elbow.

---