Untamed. Crystal Jordan
A frown pulled at her forehead as confusion swamped her. He had to know she could get into the safe again if she’d done it before. Faster this time, probably. So why put it back? His actions made no sense.
Then again, when did the rich make sense to anyone but themselves? Maybe he was just stupider than she assumed. It didn’t matter, so long as she could get enough time alone in this room to steal the ruby.
Once she made that happen, she’d offload it before anyone could prove she’d had her paws on it. If anyone asked why she’d been in Hunter’s flat, she could always claim to be a hired jade. It wasn’t like the police wouldn’t believe she was a prostitute. Her mother had been, and so had her sister Lorelei—until she’d clawed her way to the top of the food chain as a madam. Now Lorelei owned the most notorious technobrothel in New Chicago. Hell, the world, maybe. As unsavory as the life of a jade was, it wasn’t illegal. She couldn’t be arrested for getting paid to fuck a wealthy man. And, really, part of the fun of Delilah’s own job was taking from wealthy men. They’d taken so much from her and her family, it was only fair to return the favor. She’d have to lay low for a while after this, though. The money was definitely good enough to make it worth her while. Her client obviously wanted the ruby bad.
So, now it was a challenge. Figure out how to take the gem right out from under Hunter’s nose and not get caught. She ran her tongue down a long fang and grinned. She’d been paid to do a job and she was going to do it. She never failed, which was why she got the prime commissions. And playing with the hawk wasn’t going to be a hardship. He was good-looking, had an acre of microsilk sheets to roll around on, and had the most talented mouth she’d ever come across.
The things she did for her job.
It surprised her how he’d seen to her pleasure before he’d taken his own. Not what she expected from a spoiled rich boy like him who’d grown up with anything and everything he wanted. Then again, did she really care why? He was a mark, nothing more. She’d use him and he’d use her, but when it was over, she’d be the one on top. She always was.
Hunter sighed, his warm breath whispering over her neck as he snuggled in deeper. His arms tightened around her torso, pulling her even closer to him. The hard arc of his cock pressed against her ass. A low purr soughed from her throat. Now, there was a toy any cat would like to play with.
Reaching behind her, she let her fingertips feather over the length of him. He groaned against her skin, giving a tiny jolt as he woke. Peeking over her shoulder at him, she winked. “Good morning.”
“Mmm. Yes, it is.” His palms cupped her breasts while his hips thrust into her hand. “Don’t stop.”
She chuckled. “Hadn’t planned on it.”
“Good,” he grunted.
Extending her claws, she lightly ran the tips up the long shaft of his cock. He groaned, his hips thrusting into her touch. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the tiny opening at the head and smeared the bead of moisture there, massaging it into the bulbous crest. His ragged breath brushed her ear, and he rubbed his palms over her nipples. Heat wound through her. The man knew how to touch a woman.
She loved the power that raced through her when she held a man’s cock in her hand, when she sucked it into her mouth. At that moment, rich or poor, smart or stupid, the man was hers. He would do anything for her. Her pussy clenched at the thought, moisture slicking the lips. Her fingers tightened around Hunter’s dick, but the angle at which she had to twist her arm made it difficult to stroke him the way she wanted to. She moved to roll over, but he stopped her, pulling her hand away from his cock.
“I wasn’t done yet.” Wriggling in his arms did little for her—he was bigger than she was, and unless she wanted to damage him, she wasn’t going to get away.
“I nearly was,” he growled. She couldn’t stop the grin that formed on her lips. She liked how he reacted to her. Not as a mark, but as a man to a woman. It was surprising, but chemistry like this wasn’t something she ran across often. Especially not while she was on a job. Best not to question it.
Reaching past her, he lifted a small, carved stone statue from his bedside table. He held it in front of her eyes and let her get a good look at it. Standing on a flat base was an ancient warrior in ceremonial garb—loincloth, headdress, and an eagle symbol carved over his chest. It was compacted, so that the figurine formed a long cylinder.
“What are you doing?” She shot a confused glance over her shoulder. There were a lot more pressing matters to take care of than a miniature Mayan statue.
“As if you couldn’t guess.” He tilted the top of the statue so that it parted her curls and rubbed against her clit. “Spread.”
He couldn’t possibly…but he did.
Rolling her hips, she kept the constant contact against her clitoris. Her arm reached back to fist in his silky hair. A moan exploded from her throat and her thighs eased apart. He pressed the small statue to the entrance of her sex, pushing in one slow micrometer at a time. It stretched her, and a helpless whimper echoed in the wide room. If she weren’t so wet already, it would have been painful. As it was, the pleasure was going to kill her.
“That is a twelve-hundred-year-old figurine,” she gasped, horror and excitement rippling through her. Stealing things like that were how she made her living. The man was clearly insane, but Deus this felt too good to stop now.
“At least. From the ruins of Palenque, I believe.” He pulled it out, only to push it back in again. Faster this time, harder. “You know your ancient artifacts.”
A shudder racked her form, and she twisted in his arms, clinging to sanity by the barest margin. “It’s my business to know.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back. “It’s never been put to better use.”
The ridges in the stone pressed into the walls of her sex, slightly rough, utterly exciting. Her fingers dug into his forearm, but she was careful not to let her claws scrape him again. A shudder rippled through her. “Hunter…”
He hummed in the back of his throat. “I like it when you say my name.”
Her head rolled against his shoulder, arching her torso. “Move. Faster. Hunter.”
A rough sound burst from him as she gasped his name, and he gave her exactly what she’d demanded. She lifted her leg, curling it back over his thigh. It left her wide open, gave him all the access he could possibly want. She didn’t give a single thought to how many creds she could get for that figurine, or how this was the kinkiest thing any man had ever done to her.
Her hips snapped forward to meet each of his thrusts, working herself as quickly as he would allow. Contractions rippled in her sex, tension building deep within her until she thought she might scream. The way her heart pounded made the sound of blood rush in her ears. She panted for breath, each lungful of air dragging his hot, masculine scent to her nose. It aroused her even more. Her head pressed back against his shoulder, her body bowing as she moved closer to orgasm.
He buried the figurine deep inside her, angled and twisted it as he pulled it out again, then did the same in reverse. The maddening scrape of the smooth edges against her most delicate tissue was more than enough to break her control. Her pussy convulsed around the statue, her walls closing on it while he kept pumping the thing inside of her.
The world faded around her until there was nothing left but the harsh sound of her own breathing, the heat of his erection pressing against her backside, the wide expanse of the figurine inside her. Her sex pulsed around it one last time, and she moaned.
“Did you enjoy that?” Hunter’s warm voice vibrated in her ear, and she could hear his smile.
She shuddered when he rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit, a purr slipping from her throat. “That was…creative.”
“Thank you, kitten.”
She shot an incredulous look over her shoulder, extending her claws to dig in to his arm while she flashed a