To Know A Thief Ch 02

"What the hell does that mean?" the one on the right growled, brow furrowing.

Harper ignored him, eyes still glued to the towering leader. She searched his gaze for mercy, for any glint of humanity, but nothing swam within those depths. It chilled her to the bone, making her second-guess her decision. Too late.

"I'll only speak to you," she told him, resolute.

Three sets of eyes stared at her in disbelief. Even Harper couldn't believe what had just come out of her mouth, but resolve settled like a stone in her stomach. When the room had been silent for too long, the other two men looked to their leader. Waited. Harper did too, each breath she pulled in more of a struggle than the last.

Finally the leader's stance changed. Harper stared at him in barely concealed shock, reading his intentions from the shift of his feet. The shift of his focus. He spoke in a low rumble to his companions.

"We got what we wanted. Take it and go," he said. His eyes never left hers.

The two men's protests were overridden by a sharp bark from their master and they slunk out like dogs, casting hateful glances over their shoulders. Harper held her breath, listening to them shuffle around the living room. She didn't exhale until the front door opened and closed. Her relief lasted less than a second as she realized they'd just left her alone with the man who commanded such leches with a single word. Suddenly she wanted to run after them, but the leader's stare pinned her down.

"So," he started conversationally, "what's this horrible thing you're going to do to me?"

Now that the odds were more evened out, she had a lot of answers to that question. She could try to fight, try to run, or stick with her original plan. They both looked at the tripod at the same time and the thief surprised her by laughing.

"That won't be a fair fight," he promised. "And I don't think that's what you had in mind a minute ago."

She crossed her arms, nails digging into her flesh. Stupid—so stupid, this plan. It probably wouldn't work anyway, but she had to follow through.

Harper met his gaze. "I don't want to die for a few stupid electronics," she started.

The thief nodded. "I believe you, but what I said before still applies: you know what we look like. Even if you keep your word today, what's to say you won't change your mind tomorrow?"

Harper gestured to the tripod, moving slowly so he didn't misinterpret it as an attack. "I have a camera." God, her voice was shaking.

His eyebrows flicked up. "Is that relevant?"

Wondering if living was worth what she was about to say, Harper dragged her eyes back to his. "You... you could use it. To film me."

His eyes widened, just for a second. "Film you doing what? Holding up a liquor store?"

They both knew that wasn't what she meant. He just wanted to hear her say it. Humiliation heated Harper's cheeks, and she asked silently for forgiveness.

"Film me fucking you." The words tore her lips on their way out, and she struggled to keep her composure as she waited for him to pounce. To say something. To mock her or leer at her. He simply stood in the doorway, eyes never dropping below her neck. When he spoke softly, she flinched.

"So I sleep with you, then take the recording with me for good measure?" he asked, expression unreadable.

Harper nodded, a damp clump of auburn hair falling over the side of her cheek. She brushed it aside with shaking fingers.

"This is insane," he stated after another long pause. Harper nodded again and the leader's answering laugh was dark. He glanced at a heavy watch around his wrist. "Your husband will be home at six. That gives us a lot of time."

Harper choked down a lump in her throat. He was testing her resolve, she knew, and showing trepidation could lead to her death.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head. Sweat clung to her, dripping down her bare skin as she stood in nothing but her underwear.

His eyes finally slid down her body, taking in her curves, coming to a stop on her breasts. Her nipples hardened under the directness of his focus. Still staring without the slightest hint of either appreciation or deprecation, he jutted his chin toward something over her shoulder. Harper looked back and saw the camera resting on the dresser.

Willing her fingers to be steady and failing, she turned it on. The red light blinked twice, an encouraging message in Morse Code that she pretended meant, 'Stay strong.'

The thief still stared and for the first time, the true nature of his thoughts was visible. She realized with a rush that he was amused. Anxious. Turned on. When he stepped toward her, Harper's body angled toward him of its own accord.

Instead of reaching for her, he took the camera and studied the screen.

"Making sure I actually started filming?" she asked, false bravado make her tone ring false.

The leader of the thieves ignored it, setting the camera down and turning so they faced each other. Harper was less than an inch away from a man who no doubt hid a handful of weapons on his person, and whose lips were pressed together in a tense line. He'd gone back to being unreadable, shutters drawn over his dark eyes.

"What if I take what I want and kill you anyway?" He leaned down, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

Harper felt the blood drain from her face. "I don't know—I didn't—" she stuttered.

The thief stepped closer, the rough cloth of his jacket rubbing against Harper's bare skin. He hovered over her like a black cloud, took in every detail of her face. The way his eyes moved back and forth made it look like he was reading.

Harper worked to make her expression as impassive as his. She knew she'd failed when he leaned back, something wicked gleaming in the depths of his pupils.

"Don't worry, that's not my plan."

Despite the heat, Harper shivered. "Because you're a thief, not a murderer?"

The gleam grew larger and began to spread across his face. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Labels are meaningless," he said smoothly. "We play whatever roles we have to in order to survive. Maybe I'm a thief right now, but not always. And you're not always a whore."

Harper would've been offended if he hadn't been right. She was taking the less honorable way out in the name of staying alive. Still, she didn't believe that he'd ever killed anyone. If he had, if he was comfortable with killing, he and his two associates would've left her apartment with blood on their hands.

The thief lifted a hand, knuckles brushing the length of her arm. He slid out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor, metal flashing in the light. Knives had been tucked away in small pockets and straps on the inside. He studied her intently, searching for a spike in her fear. She was proud when she gave nothing away.

At least, she thought she gave nothing away. His voice was a mixture of curiosity and sinister arousal when he asked, "You've thought about it before, haven't you?"

"Thought about what?"

The thief let out a low snarl that made the hair on her arms stand up. "Don't feign stupidity." He gestured to the knives that jutted out of his jacket like silver teeth. "You've wondered what it would be like to use one of those on someone."

Harper stepped back and shook her head. His face contorted in anger and he kicked away her discarded nightgown as he advanced on her with a predator's grace. His hand wrapped around her throat and jerked her head up, forcing her to stare him straight in the face.

"Don't lie to me. Don't omit. Answer me honestly or this deal is off. You may not think I'm a killer, but is that something you really want to test? I'll answer for you: it's not. So tell the fucking truth if you want to leave this bedroom alive. Do you understand?" The thief loosened his grip enough for her to nod and then he released her, though he didn't give her back her personal space. When he crossed his arms, they brushed against her nipples.

"I've thought about it," she managed.

He seemed satisfied by the admission for the moment and stepped around her, setting his foot on the edge of the bed frame and beginning to unlace his combat boot.

"And what did you think, exactly?" he asked, fingers deftly undoing the knots.

Harper rubbed the back of her neck. "I thought that I'm not capable of it. I'm a lot of things, but I'll never be a murderer."

"Only fools think that way." He pulled his boot off and got to work on the other.

Harper watched him warily, conflicting emotions swirling inside of her. On the one hand, he seemed intent to terrify her. On the other, he'd made no move to hurt her. Even when he'd grabbed her by the throat, his touch had been more possessive than threatening.

He tossed away the second boot and straightened. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and stood half-naked in front of her. Harper swallowed and tried not to notice the ridges of his abdomen or the tattoo that curled around the left side of his ribs and onto his back.

"You're capable of murder," he said matter-of-factly. "Let's say you'd had a knife in here when we broke in. Would you have killed us or let us live?"

Why was he so intent on drawing the situation out? He could've fucked her three times already and gone on his way. The thought wasn't as horrifying as it should've been, especially given his topic of conversation. "I would have let you live."

The thief snorted and the image of a bull preparing to lunge flashed through her mind. "Then you're a fucking moron," he said dryly. "Let's change the scenario again. You have the knife and I've decided that not only am I going to fuck you, my friends are, too. We're going to fill every hole in your body with come and leave you a sniveling mess. What do you do then? Let us?"

Fear flashed through her, white-hot, bringing her partially back to her senses.

The thief read the emotion on her face and smiled. "You still wouldn't kill us, would you? What would it take?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

His smile twisted, became sardonic. "I believe you." He bent and peeled the socks from his feet, throwing them across the floor. When his hands reached for his belt, Harper almost asked him not to go any further. She wanted him to take pity on her, but that would've been as pointless as begging for her life. She'd accepted the surety of her death twenty minutes ago. She could accept this, too—after all, it had been her idea.

Fixing her with another soul-searing gaze, the thief removed his pants and boxers in one swift movement. Harper flushed when his erection bounced free and when he stilled, its considerable length pointed toward her. Her nipples stiffened in response, their bodies trying to connect across the small space separating them.

She couldn't deny her biological reaction to him. Her mouth dried, her stomach fluttered, and she grew instantly wet between the legs. She would've taken a modicum of comfort in the presence of his erection, but she had a feeling he was turned on by their morbid conversation, not the sight of her body. The darkness within him was suddenly a living thing, filling the room, and she understood what his words had really been saying. 'I'm more dangerous than the two other thieves combined. You shouldn't have let yourself be trapped in a room with me.'

Those fears were made all the more obvious when he bent down and slid one of the knives free, holding it delicately in his hand. Harper sucked in a breath but he didn't step toward her, didn't even look at her.

"What if said that I'll fuck you as promised, then kill you anyway? What if I said I was going to wrap my hands around your pretty little throat? I could squeeze the breath from you with one hand." He raised his palm, offering her the blade. "Would you stop me now or wait until the heat of the moment? Do you have the courage for premeditation?"

Harper could feel tears threatening to overflow. She forced them back, forced her limbs to stop shaking and her heart to stop beating so painfully. "I wouldn't kill you," she spat, working as much venom into her words as she could. "I'd die glad to have finally been fucked."

The thief's eyes widened and she relished the momentary shock on his handsome, degenerate face. His erection jerked and he put the knife on top of her dresser with deliberate slowness.

"You don't actually mean that, but it's a nice effort," he said, taking a step toward her. Her body betrayed her, reflexively stepping back, until her legs bumped into the edge of the bed.

He sneered. "See? You're afraid of me. You said before that I wasn't a killer, but now you don't trust your own opinion."

"That was before you threatened to strangle me to death. You also called me stupid for thinking that way," she breathed, voice barely a whisper.

He took another step. "Words and actions. You paid attention to the former and forgot about the latter."

Harper thought about that as he took another step, though his proximity muddled her thoughts. There was less than a foot between them. She watched the graceful, purposeful moves of his body, took in the hard set of his jaw and the unfathomable look in his eyes.

He closed the last bit of space between them and brushed his fingertips along her shoulder. Over her collarbone. When his hand was in the center of her chest, he gave a gentle push and she fell back on the bed. The thief stopped to take in the sight of her sprawled out on the sheets, his chest rising and falling with such evenness that Harper wondered if even his heart was trained not to betray any of his emotions. If he even had them.

Then he was on top of her, pinning her arms above her head and locking his legs over hers. She felt his stiff member pressing into her belly and couldn't help the surge of lust that whipped through her. He didn't look at her, didn't offer any type of foreplay before reaching between them and ripping her lacy underwear down the side.

He paused to adjust before plunging all the way into her core. A hiss slid from between the thief's lips as he whipped his head around, staring at her in astonishment. His whole body stilled and she wondered if he was going to pull out, if he was going to make good on one of his threats, but then he lowered his head again and was drilling into her so hard that her back arched off the mattress and her head snapped back of its own accord. Whatever thoughts she had were fucked back into the depths of her mind, and all she knew was the intense gratification of his cock inside her and the heat rolling off of his muscular body.

His black curls brushed her cheek as he began to rhythmically pump into her slick sheath, his hot breath tickling her neck. He refused to let go of her wrists or her legs so she was powerless, taking his pounding and ignoring the stiffness in her joints. After a few minutes, Harper forgot she even had wrists or legs.

"What's your name?" she asked after a while, sentence broken as he pulled his hips back, leaving just the tip inside her, before slamming home and making her toes curl. With each powerful thrust, her nipples raked against his chest and stars burst to life before her eyes.

He didn't slow as he answered, lips brushing her ear, "Kohl."

Harper moaned at the sound of his voice, so controlled before but now raw with undeniable lust. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck and she nearly came when he dragged his teeth roughly down her skin. When he snarled and bit her, she jerked so hard that his hold on her loosened and she got free. There was a moment of understanding between them, a tense stir in the room as her options were agreed upon but not spoken.

Harper could have tried to push him away. She could have hit him or tried to drag herself backward, out of reach. Staring into his face, taking in full lips that were slightly parted and damp, as though he'd been licking them, searching eyes that were still softened by passion but edged with hunger, Harper wrapped her arms around him and dug her nails into his back.

"Why'd you stop, Kohl?" she purred.

He stared at her for a long second and she knew she'd leaped another hurdle in his mind. It satisfied her in a way that would disturb her later, when faced with the consequences of her actions. Then Kohl slipped gracefully back into motion and she had no room in her mind for later. There was only now, only the beautiful, disquieting criminal surging into her with such force that the whole bed shook.

He licked the tip of her ear and she trembled, his tongue trailing down her jaw to the underside of her chin. He forced her head back with his thumb and his chest rumbled.

"That bite is going to leave a bruise," he informed her, animal satisfaction ringing clear with each word. "Your husband won't like that very much."

Harper swatted away the thoughts about Jasper. "Remember what I said about finally getting fucked?"

Kohl released his hold on her chin and she looked up at him. A bead of sweat rolled down his nose and she moved to wipe it away. He caught her hand before she could touch him. Harper rolled her eyes and raised herself up on her elbow, licking the salty liquid from his skin. He froze, buried inside her all the way to his balls, and she felt his cock twitch against her inner walls.

"You married a man who doesn't want to sleep with you?" His tone held just enough disbelief for Harper to believe him, and again she nearly came.

He watched the pleasure rolled through her and eased slowly out of her. Before she could protest, Kohl threw his hips forward and filled her, slamming into her clit with so much force that she orgasmed instantly. Harper threw her arms around him, pulling him to her chest and scoring his back with her nails as the most intense climax of her life forced moan after moan from her lips.

Kohl met her thrust for thrust, breath ragged and arms straining. "Say my name," he demanded, nipping at her neck and shoulder with growing ferocity.

When she yelled it out with blind passion he roared, balls tightening, pounding and filling her with hot seed. The knowledge that he was coming inside her made Harper pant, another orgasm ripping her to shreds, sending her out into the abyss and bringing her back to feel his fingers plucking her nipples, his teeth nibbling the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She had no idea what she was doing or saying, only that she was afraid to come back to shore and face the truth of what had occurred.

When her body ceased its trembling and Kohl stilled, Harper floated back down to reality. She had to pry her hands from his back and expected him to roll off immediately and throw his clothes back on, but he did nothing. Just stayed stretched out on top of her, flaccid member still between her legs and face still buried in her hair. She had no idea what to make of it and had the curious notion he didn't, either.