Touched by a Thief by Jana Mercy

came, in rapid succession, steaming her senses, melting her insides, erupting from her very core and shooting out in pleasurable waves. Her body jerked against his fingers, gyrating in need to extend the moment, but there was no need. Ian never had been a quitter. His fingers moved just right, his tongue lapped just so, and Monty forgot to breathe, forgot to move, forgot to do anything other than feel the magic.
    Just as she was ready to collapse against him in a languorous heap, he freed himself, covered himself in a condom and pushed inside her.
    Hard. Powerful. So deep she gasped for breath.
    A thrust meant to brand her, to stretch her to where no other man could ever satisfy.
    She clung to his shoulders to stay upright, clung to his strength as his hips pistoned and he thrust into her time and again.
    Over and over in purposeful thrusts, thrusts meant to forge their bodies together indefinitely.
    “Monty,” he breathed against her hair, bending to kiss a sensitive spot behind her ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered one lazy afternoon. “You’re mine.”
    She didn’t speak. Not to deny his claim, nor to admit to the truth of his words. Instead she wrapped her legs around his waist and cradled him deep inside her.
    His fingers dug into her buttocks, lifting her, guiding her onto his cock, using his strength to set their pleasurable rhythm.
    Over and over. Deeper. Deeper.
    Monty’s fingernails dug into his back, clinging to him, urging him onward, letting wave after wave of pleasure rock through her.
    Then his own waves of pleasure hit and she felt his body tensing, felt him battling his need to drive himself into her. She couldn’t stand his control, wanted him as lost in what they shared as what she was.
    She clenched her vaginal muscles, gripping his cock tightly within her, and squeezed in rapid succession, milking his cock as he thrust.
    “Monty,” he groaned, pushing her back onto the bed, her legs still around his waist, he pressed her back into the mattress and pummeled her with his need. Again and again until his entire body tensed, his back arched, and he thrust uncontrollably into her over and over.
    Sweet Jesus alive. Was that how it had always been between them? No wonder he haunted her every thought. No wonder she dreamed about him, fantasized that it was Ian showering her with attention rather than Gerard.
    Gerard.
    Oh hell. She’d just made love to Ian in Gerard’s bed. Had sex, not made love. Ian hadn’t even undressed. His pants hung low on his narrow hips, just hastily pushed out of the way enough to free himself.
    Embarrassment at just how wanton she was hit her. She’d had sex, good sex with Gerard mere hours ago. And now Ian. Oh Lord what she’d had with Ian was so much more than just good sex.
    Yet, truth was, that’s all it was and she’d be wise to remember that. To remember that she needed to steal a diamond, and now had two men who wanted her and thought nothing of using her to assuage that want.
    Ultimately, vengeance would be hers.
    Pulling her pride around her as a shield to the pain in her heart, Monty met Ian’s dark eyes.
    “Guess you go for sloppy seconds after all.” She hardened to the momentary surprise in his eyes, watched the darkness go from soft, warm to cold and empty. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking I feel anything for you, Ian, because second best is all you’ve ever been.”
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    Ian straightened his pants. He was playing a dangerous game. Gerard trusted him, but like all men with power, trust was a fluid thing. Screwing Monty was a surefire way to lose his boss’s trust.
    Gerard hadn’t asked any questions on how Ian had set her up, on how he’d gained her trust, how he’d accomplished the assignment Gerard had given him. Ian hadn’t volunteered any details.
    But to sleep with the boss man’s woman in the boss man’s bed? Career suicide. Suicide period if Kincaid ever found out. He’d worked