Touched by a Thief(9)

By: Jana Mercy

“Weak is not a word many associate with the great Gerard Kincaid,” she rasped against his lips. After Ian’s betrayal, a man admitting to being weak to her feminine prowess swelled her battered ego, her labia.

He cupped her bottom, pulling her flush to his sinewy frame, pressing the hard length of his cock into her. “Let’s see word doesn’t get out. My enemies would think nothing of using you against me.”

Perhaps word already had gotten out and his enemies were using her against him, she thought, but then he kissed her and all thought dissipated. Hard, demanding, deep, his mouth dragged a soft moan from her. His lips sought hers with the passion that had driven him to arrange for her prison release, the passion they’d shared that one night, the passion that filled Monty with her own passion.

She kissed him back, giving in to her body’s natural response to his expert touch. He was no stranger to a woman’s body, knew how to make her body sing.

“Gerard,” she breathed when he trailed kisses over her neck, down her chest to where he traced the outline of the necklace with his tongue. “I don’t want food.”

Slick as silk, his lips brushed over the swell of her breast, pushing the loose material aside. Had he had this in mind when he’d chosen the dress? The lack of a bra? The underwear she hadn’t bothered to wear?

Of course, he had.

“What do you want?” He blew hot breath over the nipple he’d bared.

“You. Inside me. Fucking me. Now.” She pushed his face into her bosom and he immediately sucked her into his mouth.

Monty had never been one to wait for what she wanted. She took. At the moment, she intended to take the pleasure Gerard could give and to take it now.

With ease, she slid her hands inside his dinner jacket, found his belt buckle and with a flick of her wrist, pulled the fine leather free from his pants.

His pupils darkened, but he didn’t speak, just let her finish what she’d started. Wasting no time, she undid his pants. Pausing only long enough to squeeze the hard penis jutting upward, she shucked his pants and boxers down.

Gerard grasped her hands. “Slow down.”

“No.” She grabbed hold of his cock and slid her fingers over the smooth skin, toyed with his balls. “I won’t slow down. We both know why you brought me here. Now do it. Fuck me.”

Gerard’s expression tightened. He didn’t like being told what to do. Of that, she was sure, but he also wanted her and thrilled at her need.

She did need him.

Inside her.

Between her legs ached with feminine need. Reflexively, she clenched her thighs, knowing she was wet and ready, aching to be pounded hard and deep and fast.

While she held on to his hardness wither her fingers, they battled with their gazes.

Monty decided to take advantage of the fact that from ankle to waist he was stripped bare. Never breaking eye contact she dropped to her knees.

Without hesitation she took him deep into her throat, sucking him while pushing against his bulbous head with her tongue. His fingers latched onto her hair, tangling in the upswept style.

He tasted clean, strong, wonderfully male. A man like Gerard would never do otherwise.

Feeling his cock thicken even more between her lips wetted her inner thighs to the point she expected moisture to trickle down her legs, to drip to the floor.

She bobbed her mouth back and forth, faster and faster, loving it when he tensed, gripped her hair tight, and she could tell he fought coming. Fought it damned hard.

Although wanting him stretching her vaginal walls, the thought of his cum bursting forth, of making such a refined man lose control, appealed. If she didn’t throb so intently down there she’d suck him dry.

She pulled back, ran her tongue over his tip, and smiled at the salty taste of his pre-cum. “Still want me to slow down?”


Laving her tongue over him, she nodded. “Absolutely.”

With an intensity on his face that probably struck terror in his enemies, Gerard took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“I’ve waited a long time to have you again. I don’t intend to take you in a heated rut in the dining room while our dinner cools.”

Heated rut worked for her.

“Perhaps you weren’t listening, I’m not hungry.”