Page 37 of Sticky Fingers
“You know, for someone who just broke into a crime lord’s luxury apartment, you sure seem to ask a lot of questions,” I say snidely.
“A pretty pathetic crime lord with incompetent goons that he has to do his own dirty work,” she retorts back. “Now where the fuck are you taking me? My dad is the police commissioner!”
I smile at that one.
“Relax, will ya? I just want to talk about why you’re breaking into my home.”
Pulling her into my room, I grab her around the waist and toss her lightly onto my bed. Switching on the nightstand, I take in her wide eyes as she moves into a sitting position on the bed.
Her eyes roam over my naked body and then stop on my cock.
“Happy to see me?” She has no idea how licking her lips after that statement is a very bad idea. A very bad idea.
No one knows where she is, and I have her tied up on my bed. Very fucking naughty thoughts are running through my brain. All of them showcase her naked beneath me.
Of course, I’m hard. And getting harder by the second. Between the excitement and her looking at my cock, it’s a forgone conclusion.
“Why are you here?” I glare at her as if I’m angry.
Putting my hands on my hips, I dare her to try and get away.
She pauses for a long second. But eventually it becomes evident that I’m not letting her go till she squeals.
“Is this how your operation does all its interrogations?” She tries at first but I’m not having any of that.
I sit back and stare at her.
Finally, she relents with a sigh and says,
“I just wanted to check out the painting you recovered. It can’t be the real thing.”
She shifts on the bed and settles with her hands bracing behind her, shoving her pert breasts in their tight bra out on display.
“That’s it? You ‘dropped in’ to look at the painting?”
I don’t believe this. This woman really has some fucking balls. It would be remiss of me if I didn’t make this interesting for her.
“Don’t move,” I command with a stern look and pointed finger before turning around to walk over to the wall by the entrance to my room.
I grab the painting off the floor and return to her, settling on the bed by her legs.
“Look.” I hold the painting under her nose and slowly rotate it around.
As I move it from the sides to the back, it becomes very clear it’s a forgery.
A clever print done up to look like an oil painting.
What? Did you really think I had found the original one? Yeah, thank you for your trust, but no.
I have no fucking idea where Sonia has stored the damned thing.
“Hm.” She huffs before turning her gaze back to me.
Her tight black bra makes her chest press out the top with each inhale as she settles down.
“You want to know why I had it forged?” I ask.
She looks at me, struggling with the answer.
