Seductive Intent(2)

But he’d never contemplated a hookup as bizarre as this.

Not that this unseen girl was inviting him to hook up. More like insulting him non-stop, but somehow managing to turn him on nonetheless. He’d never figured himself for low self-esteem.

And of course there was still the little matter of that gun.

“I’m not going to risk trying to overpower you when you have a gun to my head. What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”

“A cowardly one?”

Okay, that was it. Enough was enough. He batted as hard as he could at the gun, feeling the shocking and unpleasant sensation of clipping her wrist in the process. He heard the gun skitter away as she clasped her wrist and he flipped her over, coming full on top of her with his weight.

“Ow!” she cried, pushing her palms against his shoulders to no avail. “Get off me. I can’t breathe.”

He felt for her wrists and wrenched them above her head and once they were safely by her head, he relented and leaned a little to the side to take some of the weight off her.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, you big baby. Who’s the one who broke into whose apartment and held a gun to whose head?”

“And that gives you the right to manhandle me?”

“Well, uh, yeah, Miss Smarty Pants. I’m defending myself.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than his overtaxed body registered the feel of her under him. Wow. Even in the dark, not able to see her, just feel her. Per his usual custom he was naked and her limbs were encased in some lycra-feeling material, all over, so they weren’t skin to skin exactly, just the next best thing. He could feel long, long legs and, whoa, a tight, high chest. A hook-up wasn’t seeming so far-fetched at right this moment, though he briefly wondered how he’d find an opening in this cat suit thing and whether he could trust her enough to let go of her to reach for a condom from the night stand.

Oh, and whether he should call the police while he was at it.

He involuntarily arched his hard cock into the vee of her legs. Very nice. He let out a little moan and pushed her hands up higher.

She wasn’t struggling. Oddly, without her gun, she wasn’t so talkative either, which did give him pause. Burglar or no burglar, of course if she wasn’t into this…

She leaned up to him and he felt soft lips graze his chin. Optimistically, he told himself she’d probably been aiming for higher and he brought his lips to hers, tasting a slight lemony flavor.

Then he was out.



“Did you have to hit him so hard?”

Arthur lugged the dead weight of a very unconscious Brendan Beckett off Sophia. She scrambled out from under him as Arthur then let the handsome, naked man fall back onto the mattress face down.

“Turn him over or something. He’ll suffocate.”

Arthur breathed a very eloquent sigh of disgust and condescended to flip the bigger man over onto his back. She was always amazed at how strong Arthur was, given he could look as slight as he wanted to. It was the same way with age. Arthur could appear anywhere from twenty to eighty-five, with the right props. Right now, though, he just looked nondescript, in a black body suit like hers, which allowed them to fade in and out of the night, and not incidentally climb from the roof over onto the balcony of Brendan’s penthouse apartment.

“Well, that was a total waste of time,” Arthur commented.

“You didn’t give me enough time with him.”

“I didn’t want to give you any time with him, as you recall.” He picked up the gun from the floor and wagged it at her. “And bringing this into the matter was very dangerous, as you well know. It could’ve added years if we got caught.” He slipped the gun into an almost imperceptible pocket in his suit. “Get caught,” he corrected. “Let’s get out of here. It’s not here.”

They had searched the apartment thoroughly while Brendan was out cold, verging on comatose after a mild sedative they’d managed to slip in his nightly drink while waiting for him to come home. Paradoxically, they didn’t dare search until he had gotten home and was safely unconscious, since the risk of him arriving in the middle of their search, even if they thought they knew his schedule, was too great.

When he’d had his drink and undressed and the sedative kicked in, she and Arthur had come out of hiding and thoroughly searched the apartment, as big as most houses, but a confined space after all. Two floors of space and no safe or other hidden compartment that they could detect.

There hadn’t been one in the blueprints either, but that wasn’t uncommon. Often a rich occupant like Mr. Beckett here installed his own, although they could find no evidence of him having done that either as they cased the apartment after he moved in. Still, Arthur was convinced one might be here.