Page 82 of Dirty Thief


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A tumbler of Jameson is in my hand when I see her. My forearms rest on the polished bar, and my back is to the entrance. Still, in the enormous, golden-framed mirro

r behind the bottles of all colors, shapes, and sizes, she’s impossible to miss.

A beaded gold dress that stops mid-thigh shows off her sexy, long legs. I allow my eyes to travel up her smooth arms to her bare shoulders. The dress has a halter top with an ornate band around her neck. It opens in the front, giving just a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, and her long blonde hair tickles around her shoulders, the tops of her arms. It’s swept up and away from her face in a way that makes me think of old casino films.

Her eyes flicker briefly to the mirror, and I look down to avoid contact. Still, I caught the hint of blue-green. She takes an immediate turn away from the bar into the gaming area. I check the clock. She has one minute before I go after her.

Adrenaline floods my stomach. We have one saving grace in this place—the paparazzi aren’t allowed inside the casino. Otherwise, if she were caught, I’m not sure how I’d explain what’s happening here.

It’s time.

I place the crystal tumbler on the bar and straighten my black tuxedo jacket. The dress code at the Royal Casino is strictly formal, which means in addition to my coat and matching pants, I’m also in a bow tie and vest.

Stopping at an archway draped in red-velvet curtains, I watch as she mingles in the crowd. She’s surrounded by sparkling evening gowns, jewelry, men in tuxedoes. At the Baccarat table, an older gentleman with grey hair and a medal pinned to his chest places his hand on her arm. She stops and smiles up at him, and my jaw tightens. Will it be him?

My eyes are fixed on her hands. She’s holding that same long, narrow clutch, and when a loud cheer rises from the roulette table, she’s distracted. She walks away from the man, leaving him with his valuables intact—as far as I can tell. The narrow clutch never opens. Still, it isn’t a guarantee.

At the roulette wheel, a younger man sees her at once, and the lecherous gleam in his eye sparks a smoldering rage in my chest. He wants to fuck her. I watch as he steps back, never taking his eyes off her, and walks around behind the couples eagerly placing bets to where she stands. A hint of a smile curls her full pink lips. Those delicious lips…

The young man approaches her, and she turns. Her face is to me, and I recognize that expression. She’s waiting, giving him a chance. He blows it. His hand glides over to her waist, invading her space. He doesn’t have permission to touch her, but she never breaks a smile.

My fist tightens on the red velvet, but I don’t move. I know her tells. She knows mine, but I know hers. She doesn’t like me to interfere. She prefers handling these men her own way. Even still, it’s almost impossible not to cross the space like a freight train and throw his ass across the tables.

I feel my brow lower, my shoulders tighten. I also see her hand move to his chest. She places her palm flat against his coat just before she leans forward as if to whisper something in his ear. None of that distracts me. I watch that slim hand move, feather-light through his clothes. No rings or jewelry, nothing that might get snagged on fabric.

Whatever she said, he doesn’t follow her, but as she leaves the roulette table, the narrow clutch opens ever so slightly as she places the item inside.

It’s time for me to go. She’ll leave the casino soon—before anyone has had a chance to notice anything missing. Freddie helped me do the research, so I know she’s staying at the Paris Hotel. She booked the Garnier suite under the name Ginger Santoro.

I will be there before she arrives.

* * *

The glow of lights from the casino fountain and the gardens far below cast deep shadows across the interior of the Garnier suite. I’m shrouded in darkness on the narrow, velvet sofa when the chirp of the lock sounds at the door.

Light flows in from the hallway, and the sea breeze bellows through the room from the open balcony. Her long blonde curls swirl around her face and shoulders, and she pauses a moment before entering. Her body is cast in silhouette, and her stiletto heels lengthen her shapely legs, making her even taller. She’s fucking gorgeous.

I’ve loosened my tie and removed my coat. My vest is unbuttoned, and a cummerbund is on the small table. Beside it are a flogger, a mask, and wrist restraints. My semi grows harder as I think of how I intend to discipline her for tonight’s misbehavior.

Without a word, she walks into the dim-lit room and goes to the table in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. I watch as she places the narrow clutch on it. She reaches up and traces her fingers around her hairline, and in a gentle sweep, the blonde wig is off and discarded. The large gemstones on her ears are next, and with a tissue, she wipes the deep red lipstick from her mouth.

She shakes her head, pulling her dark waves around her face, growing more beautiful with every discarded accessory. Her final act is to reach behind her neck, unfastening the beaded band holding her dress in place. She reaches around her back and slides the zipper down, and the entire garment hits the floor. She’s left standing in nothing but those gold stilettos, and I’m winded. She is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

I exhale a barely audible groan, and she turns quickly to face me. The yellow light touches the tips of her breasts, highlighting her nipples, which are rising and falling rapidly.

“Who’s there?” she speaks fast, the slightest tremor in her voice.

“The authorities.” My voice is deep, even.

I might be aching to fuck her, my cock an iron rod in my slacks, but I never break.

Standing, I point to the space in front of me. “Come.”

She hesitates a moment, her fingers curling, her little pants visible even in this light. She can’t leave now.

“I do not repeat myself.” Again, it’s low, even.

One hesitant step, then another… she crosses the luxurious suite, and my eyes go to the luscious space between her thighs. She moves like a supermodel, her legs whispering past each other as she obeys my command.

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