“Fiiiine,” she griped as I headed to the front door.
I’d be lost without her.
I hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. As much as I’d wished we could have gotten together sooner, I had a night job, and he surprisingly kept a busy schedule. I still wasn’t clear on what he did at our job, but he’d been missing for most of the week.
Hopefully not avoiding me.
Stepping out of his sleek, black, too-expensive-to-breathe-near sports car, Dale looked like sex incarnate in a three-piece suit.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as he greeted me.
We kissed.
I didn’t even think about it, couldn’t hold back from it; I just gave in and kissed him back. My whole body was full of tingles and vibrations, and my mind was rocketing back to when we made out on his bed.
“I want you to see what I do for a living,” he murmured. His voice was deep and sexy, and the smile on his face pushed down my guard.
“I thought you worked with me?” I couldn’t fight the confusion.
“I don’t, I just use my dad’s business as an office. My first job was working for him; it helps me focus,” he explained. I nodded, a little confused, but didn’t argue.
“So what do you do for a living?”
“I swindle rich assholes out of their money,” he teased.
I laughed, but half an hour later I realized he might be right.
He led me to a beautiful gallery. The building itself was a work of art, and I felt underdressed even in a dress as pretty as the one I was wearing. “You look gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear as he ushered me closer. His hand was on my lower back, but his pinky was hugging in against one of my ass cheeks like a tease.
I walked at his side, amazed by all of the beautiful and incredibly rich-looking people around us.
“Are you an art thief?” I teased.
“You could say that.” He chuckled. “I sell art. This is a collection of pieces I’m selling for clients all over the country.”
My jaw dropped, and I looked over the works. There were some beautiful pieces, and I recognized more than a handful of them.
“Some of these have to be worth so much,” I gasped.
He laughed, and then leaned in close and murmured in my ear. “Want to guess? If you get the price right, I’ll do something you want—if you get the price wrong you have to do what I want.” His voice was almost a purr; it vibrated through me and made my clit pulse with interest.
“What’s my margin of error?” My mind was spinning with ideas of things I’d make him do. Nothing he wouldn’t actually want to do, hopefully, but ideas all the same.
“A hundred thousand dollars,” he chuckled. “Start with this one.”
We stopped in front of a large canvas that was navy blue on top and shimmering gold on the bottom. Simple dots floated up like bubbles from the gold into the navy. It looked like something someone could do if they were trying out new paint, not something someone would want in their home.
“Hm,” I had to be careful. He obviously made a lot of money at his job, so these were all probably worth a ton. At the same time, he could be faking me out and knowing I’d overthink it. His hand had drifted lower to my ass and was groping and distracting me. His pinkie finger settled in against the cleft at the bottom of my ass cheek where it folded against my thigh.
“Two hundred thousand.” It was an attempt, at least.
He laughed, and I knew I’d lost. “It’s worth 2.5 million.” He looked like a devious fox.
“Damn,” I laughed. “I could do that in like half an hour with some spray paint.”
“But the thing is, Pierre was the first to do it this way and sell it. As for your punishment …” He kissed me. It was deep, hungry. I could taste the wine we’d been sipping, and my head began to spin. His hand on my ass grounded me there, reminding me this was real.
If this was the punishment for losing, I was ready to lose as many times as necessary.
Our game went on, with him winning most of them, and me only giving him lame bets like, “Put an empty frame up and see if anyone will bid.” In the end, he won the game constantly, and the frame was bid on for three hundred thousand dollars.
“One last one.” He led me to another painting. It was beautiful. A young woman in Elizabethan—or was it Victorian?—garb staring down at a phone in her hands. It looked like Rococo style, there was soft sunlight over her in a beautiful garden. The phone, decorated popsocket and all, seemed to fit there.
“How much for this one?” I gasped. It was so pretty.
“The game is that you have to guess,” he laughed.
From what I’d seen, the prettier art went for cheaper. “One hundred thousand,”
“That’s your lowest bet yet,” he warned me.
“How much is it?”
“Fifty thousand,” he answered. I stared at it in wonder; that was still so far out of my price range, but after constantly seeing million-dollar paintings, fifty thousand felt like nothing.
“What’s your prize?” he murmured.
My face felt hot from all of the making out and groping, and I only had one thing on my mind.
“Show me the rest of this building.”
Within minutes, he had led me up to a beautiful corridor, away from everything else. His lips were on mine, and he had me pressed up against a wall between two beautiful paintings of a stormy deep sea. His fingers found their way up my inner thigh, before rubbing against my clit and folds. I gasped before he pressed his lips to mine to keep me quiet. I kissed him back, squirming and panting against his lips as I felt how wet I was getting against his hand.
Pushing my panties to the side, he pressed two of his fingers into me and rocked them. I slid my hand between us, going for his cock, and could feel how hard he was getting.
This wasn’t exactly what I’d pictured for my first time with him, but god it felt right in the moment. I just had to unzip his pants and get to his cock. The heel of his palm rubbed against my clit in circles as his fingers pressed and curled inside me, again and again.
“I’m close,” I said desperately. “I need you.”
He chuckled. His voice was deep and hungry, and he kissed my jaw before murmuring into my ear. “When I take you, I’m going to make sure you come so hard—so many times—that you won’t want anything but my cock.” It was filthy, dirtier than I’d expected—but it worked. I came hard on his hand, my body squeezed tight against his digits and my firsts gripping his previously pristine suit jacket.
As I came down from it, breathless and lightheaded, he was still working my body.
“Stop—oh god, it’s too much,” I gasped. My clit felt like it was being zapped with electricity with every movement, and it was overwhelming. Almost painful.
He kissed me again, and again, and I kissed him back as he slid his fingers out of me.
“Oh my god,” I murmured.
He laughed. His voice was so good—so easy and perfect.
“Next time I’ll make you come with my lips and tongue,” he promised. My ears felt hot, still not used to anyone talking to me that way, but I liked it.
“I’ll hold you to it,” I laughed.