King of Thieves

by Shea Godfrey

  Finn wore an ancient faded pair of Levi’s and a faded navy Foo Fighters T-shirt as she stood at the stove, the handle of a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. “No, technically it’s the second,” Finn answered with a pleased smile. “Dodgson didn’t like the illustrations in the first edition, and neither did the artist, so they stopped the run and made that one.”

  Casey ran her fingers over the gold stamp on the front cover. “Where did you get it?”

  “My grandmother gave it to me when I was twelve.”

  Casey noted the slight shift in tone and put the book back on the shelf. She was completely relaxed, every muscle in her body limber and soft with satisfaction and ease. It was a strange feeling, actually, and one she only truly encountered when she was at home. She wore a pair of Finn’s pajamas, the plaid flannel rolled up several times at the cuffs, fluffy white socks, and one of Finn’s white T-shirts soft from the wash. She had no idea what time it was and she didn’t care. It was dark and well past midnight from the feel of it.

  Finn was awake, but dazed and sleepy, though not so sleepy that she couldn’t keep her word. Casey smiled as she moved toward the kitchen counter. Finn had put her mouth just about everywhere and Casey felt a bit dazed herself.

  “What are you making?”

  “Sit down and I’ll show you.”

  Casey chuckled and spun the middle stool before she hopped onto the seat. “You didn’t tell me you could cook.”

  Finn turned and slid a plate across the counter. “That’s an extremely generous description of my skills.”

  Casey stared at the plate in surprise as Finn placed silverware and a bowl of freshly mashed raspberries and sauce beside it. “You made me crepes?”

  “You don’t like—”

  “Stop,” Casey interrupted with a smile. “I love them.”

  “At two in the morning they seem to be good choice.”

  Casey rolled the top crepe. “You seem to be up a lot at two in the morning.” Casey set the food down and braced her hands on the edge of the counter. She lifted herself up and leaned across, careful of the plate. Finn met her halfway and Casey kissed her, tasting her tongue for just a moment. “I can’t believe you made me crepes.”

  Finn stepped to the fridge and opened the door. “I’ve got orange juice, Guinness, some sort of carbonated water I don’t remember buying, that was probably bottled in Cleveland…and a bottle of…”

  Casey bit into the crepe and before her first bite was fully consumed, her mouth filled with memories. Lovely memories that were heavy with longing. Memories that she had placed to the side, not because they were unimportant, but because they were still so overwhelming.

  “A bottle of…Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru?” Finn turned with the bottle in hand. “Did I say that right?”

  Casey looked up from her plate.

  “Not so good?” Finn nodded toward Casey’s plate.

  “No,” Casey whispered, and then spoke in French.

  Finn smiled at her.

  “No, baby, they taste like a memory,” Casey translated. “A very good memory, actually.”

  The question within Finn’s eyes disappeared and was replaced by a depth of warmth, and something else, something Casey wasn’t quite sure she understood. Her attention shifted to the wine bottle in Finn’s hand, a bit startled. “What did you say that was?”

  Finn checked the label again. “Coche-Dury…Corton-Charle—”

  “Charlemagne Grand Cru? For the love of all that’s holy, Finnegan.” Casey groaned. “Give me that!”

  Finn laughed and took a careful step. “Will it go well with crepes? Because it has a price, you know.”

  Casey laughed happily. “If that’s what I think it is, it will go well with anything. Name your price, O’Connell.”

  “Forgive me.”

  Casey’s smile faded and her attention shifted gears in the blink of an eye. Finn’s voice was quiet, but it was filled with all sorts of things. Too many things, actually, for Casey to decipher on the spot. “Forgive you for what?” Casey asked, uncertain of what she would do if she received an answer she didn’t like. Am I going to walk out? Can I leave without touching you again, Finn? Would I even be able to do that, at this point?

  “Please forgive me for scaring you, that night at the Campton. I know that was a part of your evening, the fear of who I might be and what I might want from you. That you had somehow been exposed. It was a consequence of the truth, but I couldn’t see any way around it. I’m sorry for that.”

  It was the last thing Casey expected, quite frankly, and she felt the blush swarm within her chest and blossom upward. She had felt a rush of fear, it was true, but it wasn’t as Finn thought. She moved her plate aside and the bowl of raspberries, and then she lifted herself up with an agile twist and sat on the counter. She spun about and, with a quick push, slid across the smooth marble surface.

  Finn’s expression was pleased as Casey fisted her left hand within Finn’s T-shirt and pulled her lover between her legs. Finn’s skin was soft beneath her hands as she held her face. “Set the bottle down, please.”

  Finn obeyed and Casey let her eyes wander. She pushed her hand into the heavy strands of Finn’s hair, her fingers opening slowly and enjoying it. “I don’t know what to make of you,” she confessed. She tightened her legs around Finn’s waist and pulled her flush against the counter, hooking her ankles together in order to hold Finn secure.

  “Why?”

  Casey smiled. “You’re not like any top I’ve ever met.”

  “Have you met a lot of us, then?”

  “I’ve met a lot of them.”

  “Where do I fit in?”

  Casey laughed within her throat, the sound filled with delight. “You don’t. You’re a different animal altogether.”

  “Oh.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Why is what?”

  “How is it that you’re you? Was there something in the water when you were a child?”

  “Ambiguous modifiers, mostly, which I was told to spoon out before I drank my fill.”

  Casey accepted her answer with amusement. “Why did you give me a 1947 Cheval Blanc?”

  Finn’s eyes flared with surprise and she tried to step back.

  Casey tightened her legs and pulled her back. “I’ll slide right off the counter if you keep going, baby. You’ll be surprised, and you’ll be too late to catch me. I’ll fall backward and hit my head on this rather expensive-looking marble. You’ll have to rush me to the hospital.” Casey smiled when Finn did and she enjoyed the heat that colored Finn’s cheeks. “It’ll be a whole scene, filled with guilt and remorse and tears.”

  Finn took a deep breath and lifted her gaze.

  “Or you could just answer the question.”

  Finn’s mouth was a glorious, reluctant pout that was worthy of even the most beautiful Frenchwoman. A Frenchwoman who was clearly not getting what she wanted. Or she’s caught within her own trap, Casey thought with affection. God, you’re fucking beautiful, Finnegan O’Connell. Casey leaned down and kissed her, savoring Finn’s full mouth and coaxing her face upward. She let Finn open her mouth and take control of the kiss, though only for a moment before she pulled back. Her thighs tightened of their own volition, the pulse that moved through her flesh, an ache that made her want to stretch and laugh with righteousness. The physical pleasure she had felt and continued to feel within Finn’s presence was off the charts and she wanted more. So much more. “Did you steal it, perhaps?”

  “I did not steal it, actually, though I sort of wanted to.”

  Casey chuckled. “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I’m not as coordinated as I may appear to be.”

  “Why did you give me a 1947 Cheval Blanc, Finnegan O’Connell?”

  Casey saw the struggle in her eyes, she saw it as plain as day. She saw it as if Finn’s two angels, one nice, and one not so nice, were engaged in a rather uncivilized and unscheduled bout of fisticuffs.
It was outrageously sexy.

  “Because…”

  “Because why, baby?” Casey’s whisper accompanied her thumb as she trailed it across the softness of Finn’s lower lip. She kissed the lip slowly, letting it slip away from her mouth at the last moment.

  “Because I wanted to give you something special. Something no one else had ever given you.”

  Casey felt just a tad short of breath at the tenderness of Finn’s answer and she lifted her eyes to Finn’s.

  “Something no one else ever would.”

  Casey had heard enough, but she asked anyway. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t think this moment, right now, would ever happen.”

  Casey wrapped her arms about Finn’s neck and kissed her completely. She pulled herself from the counter and Finn’s hands slipped beneath her thighs as Finn stepped back. Casey’s tongue explored with need, not just want, engaging and searching. Finn moved backward for a few steps and then started forward around the counter, held captive by the kiss.

  Casey pulled back, breathless. “Can you get up the stairs like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “With a lustful succubus, trying to pull the soul from the very depths of your body.” Casey laughed as Finn stepped to the right. “Because that’s exactly what you make me want to do.”

  Finn’s eyes were bright as she tightened her hold. “Not if you make me laugh, I can’t.”

  “Succubi?”

  Finn stretched carefully around a chair. “Don’t do it.”

  “Succuba?”

  “Fucking Latin.”

  Casey laughed and then kissed her again. Her hands disappeared in Finn’s hair, and she felt the entire world was hers to do with as she wished. She didn’t care if they made it upstairs or not.

  * * *

  Casey lay tucked along Finn’s right side, her right leg hooked over Finn’s. Heat still poured from her body, and for the moment, the stillness that possessed them both was the sweetest thing that the gods had ever made. Finn could feel every breath Casey took, as Casey’s breasts were pressed against her. The heat from her sex was wet against Finn’s thigh, and her right arm was draped in exhaustion across Finn’s stomach. Finn was sore, but she was gloriously spent, her flesh sated and still humming slightly with satisfaction.

  “When I was fifteen, or maybe sixteen…”

  Finn closed her eyes at the sound of Casey’s voice. It was a little rough, but it was low and filled with intimacy.

  “There was a girl I would see in the Montparnasse, usually along the Rue Gassendi. She ran with a crowd of older artists, mostly young men, and she had this way about her that drove me crazy, but I didn’t know what it was exactly. I mean, she was a butch, and I loved that.” The touch of Casey’s hand moved upon Finn’s stomach. “But I didn’t really understand what that meant, or at least, what it meant to me. I was always much too nervous to approach her.” Finn heard the brief smile. “She was always way out of my league. Tough and distant, and she had this leather jacket that was, well, it was just the best thing in the world.”

  Casey lifted her face a bit. “Her name was Rian Devons. A few years later, when I knew better about what I wanted—I mean, when I knew what I needed—I went looking for her, in the Montparnasse. It was foolish, I know, but—”

  “It wasn’t foolish,” Finn disagreed. She still wore her harness, and the cock it held lay heavy against her leg.

  “Anyway”—Casey’s hand slid up the center of Finn’s body—“she never strayed very far, apparently. I was terrified, but I wanted to talk with her.” Casey caressed the underside of Finn’s left breast, her fingers straying to the hardened nipple. “When I finally found some of the old crowd that she use to run with, they told me she’d killed herself, just a year or so after I had left Paris.”

  Finn closed her eyes.

  “I don’t know what this is, Finnegan, not exactly.” Casey shifted onto her elbow. The touch upon Finn’s face was delicate and yet Finn could feel it deep within her stomach. “But I want us both to have what we want, what we need.”

  Finn saw the edges of Casey’s apprehension within the warmth of her eyes. “Don’t be afraid, Cassandra Marinos,” she whispered. “I’m the woman I was meant to be…and I am neither caught where I don’t belong, nor am I running from who I am. I’m not saying I haven’t had my moments, especially when I was young. I was filled with rage just walking down the street, but not so much anymore.”

  “Not so much anymore,” Casey echoed softly and her eyes traveled slowly down Finn’s body, as did her hand. Finn felt the touch upon her scars, filled with tenderness. “Baby, what happened here?”

  Finn tried hard not to see his face again, as he stood over her. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  Casey’s touch stilled.

  Finn moved her hand up the soft skin of Casey’s back, her fingers opening within the wide, messy curls. Casey caught her breath and her head tipped back as Finn closed her hand. Finn watched as Casey’s eyes fluttered shut, the soft, damp hair within her fingers as close to unearthly as Finn thought she might ever feel.

  Casey’s touch upon her belly changed, her fingernails dancing upon Finn’s skin. Finn guided her gently and Casey submitted, her eyes still shut as her full lips skated along Finn’s cheek. Finn’s lips pushed within her curls.

  Finn could feel Casey’s nipples harden and press against her, the flesh between her own legs alive with the soft pleasure of the moment and clenching with renewed need. “But I’m right here,” she whispered. “With you, as it should be.”

  Casey was breathing hard, her arm going about Finn’s ribs as she tried to move. Finn held her in place though, and again, Casey obeyed. Her forehead pressed against Finn’s neck and Finn felt Casey’s hips push against her.

  Finn slid her hand on Casey’s right thigh, and her touch slipped along the underside and between her legs. Casey let out a soft sound and she let Finn draw her leg higher, Finn’s fingers gliding through the heat and silk of Casey’s arousal. Casey moaned and thrust against her as Finn stroked her slowly and noted with wonder all the changes that Casey’s body went through.

  Casey moaned again and pressed harder as she began to lose her restraint. “Finn.”

  Finn’s heart stabbed within her chest and she felt the bite at her neck as she pulled Casey’s leg across her body. She rolled with the movement and Casey opened beneath her as Finn guided her cock. Casey caught her breath as Finn entered her, her hands grasping at Finn’s shoulders.

  Finn thrust her hips slowly as she braced above her. “Open your eyes.”

  Casey complied and Finn let out a quick breath, pulled within their brightness. She kept her strokes slow but firm as she leaned down, and her mouth brushed against Casey’s as she spoke. “Is this…what you want, baby?”

  Casey pushed up and kissed her. “More.”

  “Answer me, Casey.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, please, Finn.”

  “It’s what I want, too,” Finn whispered as Casey’s hands grasped at her neck and pulled. “But not just this.”

  “Everything,” Casey said with a jagged breath.

  “Yes, everything.”

  Casey’s mouth was impatient and Finn obliged her, kissing her deeply and with all the love she had within her. It mattered, that she loved her beyond all good sense, and Finn knew it. With each touch and each movement, she tried to convey all she felt, and all she knew to be true. She understood there would be a reckoning with the past. She knew that all too well. But for now, and for as long as she had Casey in her arms, nothing else mattered.

  She was swollen, and with each sure stroke, a wave of pleasure poured along her clit, the leather of her harness tight and smooth against her pulsing flesh. The muscles of her thighs and butt tightened, and with each push, Casey’s nails dug at her arms. Her breath began to change, and the cadence of her pulse, and the sounds that Casey made as she rose within her passion.

  Finn responded to her urgency and Case
y cried out as she turned from their kiss. Finn felt the pull within her hair, and she felt her lover come, caught within the tightness of Casey’s flesh.

  It was her name spoken in that raw, aching voice that pushed Finn over the edge. Her name in Casey’s mouth, voiced in the heat of her pleasure, with Casey’s arms and legs wrapped around her. Her name, as Casey arched against her, followed by that beautiful sound from the back of her throat that Finn already craved.

  Finn held her own cry within her throat as she came and hid her face against Casey’s neck, breathing in her scent and drowning beneath its lovely weight.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “No,” Casey said quietly into her phone, looking out across the city. The air was cold as it curled around the building, but she liked it, at least for the moment. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. He’s got a brand-new setup, with new computers and everything a paranoid boy genius could want,” Jack answered her. “How are you?”

  Casey smiled, ducked her head, and let her hair hide her expression as she walked along the waist-high brick wall that surrounded the terrace. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she hid anyway. “Everything’s okay, Jack, really. Just make sure Colin has whatever he needs. I’m going to have a few more things for him before the auction.”

  “Are we still in the game, then?”

  “Of course,” Casey answered and her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “She’s after one of the buyers, not the bounty on the Rembrandt.”

  “And she told you this?”

  Casey turned, but the glare along the loft windows did not afford her much insight into what Finnegan might be doing. “No. Malik Kaseem did.”

  “Out of the goodness of his heart?”

  Casey smiled. “Yes, actually, that’s exactly why he told me.”

  Jack laughed. “It’s a little cold this time of year for swimming in the deep end, kiddo. But I’m with you, just like always.”

  “I won’t mess it up, I promise.”