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“If you have it, I want to see it.”
He just smiles. “You could run before you get too deep.”
“In what?” Now I smile. “I just asked to see the jewels.”
“They might no longer exist.”
“And,” I say, “you might have them.”
“You never said Jac might have them. Why?”
He’s a slippery bastard. I go to straighten, but he pushes me back and he’s hard again.
“Why are you so interested, Magdalena?” He leans down and sucks and pulls on a nipple. Then he looks up. “I know you get off on stealing, and jewels are your thing, but you’re messing with Quinate things. Which means, because I don’t think you’ve got a death wish, one of us hired you, and this is all so fucking Jac.”
“Hendrick—”
“Be careful,” he whispers against my ear, “if you get in too deep, there’ll be no way out.”
I shiver and look at him as he raises his head. “Maybe I live for that shit.”
“Maybe you’ve got a fucking death wish after all. I’m going to shower. You can go home or join me.”
Going home’s the smart move, but he’s wrong, because even though he might be willing right now, to let me walk, Jac isn’t. Jac’s got blinders on and has a stubborn, vengeful streak. And he wants the jewels.
I could strike a deal, come clean and have Hendrick back me that he doesn’t have them, or…
No. This is Hendrick trying to throw me off the trail.
I can’t leave. He’s addiction in my blood, and I’m not done.
It’s more erotic foreplay with water and soap than showering. We don’t talk as I follow him in. He just kisses me, in slow, drugging kisses as the water comes down over us.
Then he soaps up and washes me, his fingers everywhere, arousing, questing. His mouth is on my throat and shoulder as he pulls my back to him, and he plays with my breasts, massaging them, then he moves lower, gentle between my thighs.
He washes my pussy, and that soft touch is cruel because it’s not enough and it’s everything, all at the same time. It makes me boneless, throbbing and needing more.
I turn to him and wash him, too. His cock is so beautiful, almost too big, really. He isn’t tattooed or pierced…well, almost tattoo free. There, beneath his left pec to the right, is one small tattoo. It’s a series of curves and lines that look Arabic or similar. I touch it.
“What is it?”
“A word in ancient Demotic, an Egyptian language.”
“What’s the word?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter. I was young. Tattoos aren’t my thing.”
I return my attention to his cock, wanting it again as I soap it, pulling my hand along the skin, slowly and rhythmically jacking him off.
“Careful,” he says.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I say as I sink down to my knees, pushing him back against the wall of the shower. “This is a beautiful cock, Hendrick.”
He laughs. “I bet you say that to all the men.”
“No.” I say. “Normally, I’m not into blowjobs.”
“Let me guess, the guys are all into receiving but not giving? Fools, there’s nothing better than a sweet pussy to dine on. Especially if it’s yours.”
