ONE
MARISA
The thing about being a thief is that inherently your job involves deceit. Usually I’m quite skilled at being deceptive, at making men believe that I truly find them utterly irresistible. But the pile of human garbage sitting across from me is truly testing my acting abilities.
Alexander Yovik is a vile piece of human waste. He unhinges his jaw and shoves another piece of bleeding meat inside, along with a half chewed roll, which is still sitting inside his open mouth.
I did not order seafood, thank you very much, asshole.
I repress my gag. How did a man who is so disgustingly unrefined become one of the wealthiest men in the city?
His bushy black eyebrows wiggle as his entire face moves with each aggressive bite.
A mix of blood and saliva slips from the corner of his lips and trails down his face, landing on his stained button down.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” Alexander coos between chews of his mouth full of food. Little bits of beef spew across the table as he speaks. “How pretty you’d look for me tonight.”
I move my salad around my plate but don’t eat. My appetite has diminished significantly since spending time with Alexander. Not ideal for someone who already is anemic and probably should be making sure they eat regularly.
“Waiter!” Alexander hollers, causing me to jump slightly in my seat.
“My wine is empty!” His dark eyes turn towards me, taking in my ample cleavage, which I’ve wrestled into this corset.
My breasts are essentially spilling onto the table, and not in a sweet and subtle way.
But, I get the feeling that subtly would be lost on Alexander Yovik. “Did I scare you, pet?”
I loathe that nickname. It suggests I’m a helpless creature, begging for scraps from my master.
Fucking asshole. But I plaster on the fakest smile I’ve ever produced before batting my eyes seductively and biting my lower lip.
Submissive is how I need to play this. My research suggests he likes submissive women.
“It’s just—” I feign an innocent little cough. “The way you yelled at the waiter. I guess I’m just not used to a man with such authority.”
His hand lands on my exposed thick thigh and he gives it a tight squeeze before roaming higher, teasing the hem of my leather skirt.
“You need a real man, don’t you?” he asks as his fingers dance even higher, skimming the lips of my pussy and finding no underwear.
“You need a man to take good care of you, and show you what good girls get, don’t you, pet? ”
Gag me with my fucking soup spoon, please.
“Yes, please,” I whimper softly.
This meek damsel in distress shit is getting real old, real fast.
“Maybe I need to take my pet outside for a moment?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows, his fingers finding my dry as a bone pussy and stroking my lips.
“Maybe it’d be better if we went back to your place?” I suggest as coyly as possible.
My stomach clenches with anticipation. I need access to his home.
There is no doubt that Alexander Yovik keeps the most valuable pieces of his collection at his home.
I did recon at his studio this week, looking for signs that the priceless tapestry might be there, but unfortunately for me, the only treasure I left with was Alexander’s phone number and the promise of a dinner date.
Lucky me.
My buyer was very specific—he doesn’t just want an expensive and ancient tapestry.
He wants the most expensive and ancient of tapestries—The Firebird.
Named for the real gold woven into the fibers of the bird’s feathers—its value is astronomical, its payout for me is near astronomical, and its current location a mystery.
It took me months to track down notorious art thief Alexander Yovik and his collection, which I’m certain contains The Firebird.
“First, you show me you’re willing.” His fat fingers continue kneading at my flesh despite my clear lack of bodily reaction. “Then, I bring you to my house,” he grumbles.
I really do not want this asshole feeling me up in a back alley, but the pay day will be worth it.
I steel myself and nod. Adjusting my skirt to cover myself fully, I stand and act as if I’m off to the restrooms. As soon as I turn away from the table, I let the grimace I’ve been holding spread across my face.
Gonna have to close my eyes and access my internal spank bank for this one.
The cold air hits my exposed skin with a sharp sting as I push open the door to the back alley.
Despite this being a nice restaurant, the neighborhood behind it is just like the rest of this city—shady as shit and covered in a layer of filth.
The smell of garbage permeates the air as I lean against the brick wall.
I try to picture myself on a warm island beach where I’ll lay out like a lizard in the sun once I get this pay day.
Anemic girl problems—I’m always cold… like always.
If it were up to me, I’d be wrapped up right now in a nest of blankets, like one of the omegas in the Omegaverse books I love.
A nest of blankets, warm lighting, and adoring alphas who want nothing more than to eat me out—sign me the fuck up.
A warm beach with a pina colada is equally as appealing.
The metal of the back exit door flying open pulls me from my warm fantasies.
Unfortunately for me, I’m not snuggled in a nest or lying on a beach.
I’m in a cold alley with Mr. Bushy Brows himself.
Speaking of, he wiggles them at me as he approaches like an overindulged predator stalking his helpless prey.
Soon I’ll be on a beach.
“There’s my good little pet,” he coos in a voice that sends shivers down my spine, and not in a good way.
His beady eyes rove over me hungrily—just like all other men in this shit stain of a city, he’s here to take what he wants. It’s why I’m so good at what I do—the cocky men of this world never suspect they’re getting played by a girl. Much less one with a rack like mine.
“Show me your cunt,” he demands as he licks his lips.
Demanding and ugly as sin, what a winner.
I do as he says though, because at the end of the day, I’m here to win.
I grew up in this city—and a street kid quickly learns how to take what they need in this world.
And take I fucking do. This asshole can look, touch even, because at the end of the day, I’ll rob his ass blind and laugh all the way to my private cabana.
“Yes, sir,” I say meekly as I roll my leather skirt up my thighs slowly, teasingly.
He moves closer, his eyes never leaving the path of my skirt hem as I expose more and more of myself to him.
“Please,” I whimper when my skirt is pushed all the way up past my hips. “I’m so wet for you.”
Well, for your money, but tomato, tamahto.
“Do you need Daddy to take care of that aching cunt, little girl?”
Oh, barf. He has a daddy fetish? Lucky me, again.
“Oh, yes, Daddy. Please,” I beg, spreading my thighs and letting him take me in. He sucks in a sharp breath as he gazes straight at my pussy, his pupils dilating with lust.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” he says as his fingers move in and he begins to rub the lips of my pussy. “Daddy will make the ache go away.”
His digits are thick, meaty, and unskilled as he slides inside me. I pretend to throw my head back in ecstasy to hide the roll of my eyes as his pants tent and his breathing comes out in harsh, panting grunts.
“You like that?” he asks as he pistons two thick fingers inside me.
Nope.
“Oh, Daddy,” I whine as I move my hips to meet his thrusts, pretending he’s rocking my world. “You make me feel so naughty.”
“Such a dirty slut,” he grunts as his hard-on presses against me through his slacks.
“Your dirty slut,” I sigh as my eyes roll forward, honing in on a flicker of something across the alleyway.
There, in the doorway of the warehouse behind us, are two glowing eyes. They almost look like they’re on fire. And they’re watching me.
The thought of someone watching me, being an anonymous witness to my sinful behavior, actually begins to turn me on. The more I stare at the glowing eyes, the more my body begins to actually respond.
“You gonna come for me like an obedient slut?” Alexander goads as his thumb lands on my clit and presses against the nub in a way that actually has me seeing stars.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I moan as I begin to feel my body writhe with pleasure. I can’t remember the last time someone other than my battery operated boyfriend, Bob, made me come, but I can feel the climax building now.
“I’m gonna come,” I announce in surprise as my gaze remains locked on the fire-filled stare.
And then the dam breaks. Pleasure shoots through me like fire.
“Fuck!” I scream into the night air as my entire body spasms around Alexander’s meaty palm.
“That’s it, show me just how good Daddy makes you feel,” the man praises.
My pleasure spent, I begin to come back down to Earth, and realization wraps around me. That wasn’t pretend, it wasn’t a game. I really just came on my mark’s fingers.
Fuck on a fuck stick.
I glance back across the alley, and as I suspect—there’s nothing there. It was all in my mind. I really do need that vacation.
“Well, that was fun,” I state as I shove Alexander off of me and right my clothing. “Perhaps I can repay the favor tomorrow?” I ask him, begging him to say yes.
“No,” he barks out, his dark eyes swirling with lust as he licks my release off his fingers. “You’ll accompany me to my masquerade later this week. As my date.”
Fuck me.