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I come. Just like that. It’s an electric buzz of an orgasm that lights me up and makes me desperate for more. A taster of an orgasm.
He doesn’t stop. He starts to suck and pull with his mouth at my clit and three fingers push into me.
I grip his hair, my head hitting the wall, and I’m just lost, gone. He’s holding me up as he goes to town on my pussy, fingering me in long, hard strokes, ones designed to build the passion, filling an emptiness in me I didn’t know I had.
Hendrick bites my clit, and I cry out, his tongue working the sensitive flesh, and I’m pulling hair, pushing him away, urging him closer. I don’t know what I want, except more of the exquisite pleasure that rushes me.
I start to grind into him, and he picks up on what I want and goes at it hard, pushing with his tongue and teeth on the left side of my clit, driving me up into almost too much territory and the buzzing pre-orgasmic pressure rides me.
His fingers hit that sweet spot inside me, and he adds a fourth, hammering away at a measured pace.
It’s perfect.
I’m flying.
And then I shatter and convulse and lose it as I come. Wave after wave of pure, unfettered bliss crashes over me.
It’s only when I hit the ground that I realize something.
He’s called me Magdalena a number of times now.
Hendrick Agnossio knows who I am.
SIX
HENDRICK
She tastes like fucking heaven.
Elena Jones, aka Magdalena Rossi, aka MG Rossi, world-renowned cat burglar and thief, with a special interest in jewels, tastes sublime.
She’s utterly delicious.
The Invisible Cat as most of the top ten most wanted lists across the US and Europe call her. Or, let’s be honest, him…they think the Cat’s a him.
In the underworld circles, she’s never referred to as the Cat.
Jac would, to make himself feel like he’s different, the fuck.
MG Rossi, if you can find her, is the one to seek out when you need a job so impossible or dangerous or ballsy done no one else will fucking do.
I have vaults in banks. Private ones. I’ve got the most high-tech security system in my penthouse downtown that pretty much only Damon knows about, and inside that, a high-tech vault room with a low tech, very thick steel safe.
I’m aware I don’t need that security. If someone’s going to be foolish enough to rob me, they’re going to go through, well, the hot naked woman I just fucking ate out. They also aren’t going to be a person fond of living, either.
What’s interesting about her is how she operates. Most use crews. A slew of experts in every field. But she works alone. Well, mostly alone.
I’m sure everything is cased, and every angle of attack worked out over months and months of intense fine points of study.
This is…what? Four weeks? I’m going from when I noted I was being fucking watched. And she just waltzed in here. At the gala. Alone.
Shit.
I’m sure she has someone. She must. There’s got to be someone to help move the stolen things. And I’m betting someone like Magdalena might just poke around for a better price, too.
Maybe not with a Quinate member. That’s certain death.
Then again, she’s robbing, has robbed, or wants to rob me—another Quinate member, and I’m pretty fucking sure I know what it is she’s after, so who knows? Maybe she’s going to fuck us both over.
