Treasured Page 5

  “Please,” I beg. “I want to feel you there. I’ve–” My words are cut off when he all but pounces on me. “Mateo,” I gasp.

  His tongue swipes across my clit as he uses his fingers to spread the lips of my sex. Before I realize what’s happening, I’m coming. I cry out his name as the orgasm consumes me.

  It’s nothing like the ones I’ve tried to give myself. In fact, now I’m not sure the ones I’ve given myself could actually be considered orgasms.

  Mateo doesn’t stop, though. His tongue keeps going. He slips it down further, thrusting it inside me. His hands slip under my ass, gripping my cheeks to lift me off the bed as he thrusts his tongue deeper inside. He repeats that over and over again. I rock my hips; the action comes naturally, but I want more. I want him inside me—his cock, not his tongue, even with how good it feels. I’m greedy now and want to experience it all with him.

  “Mateo,” I whimper when he places me back down on the bed, his tongue going back to my clit.

  I grip the sheets, needing something to hang on to when he works one of his fingers inside me. He sucks my clit into his mouth as his tongue swipes back and forth. When he presses another finger in, hooking them both inside of me, I’m done.

  I cry out in ecstasy as the orgasm consumes me. That ache subsides, leaving only pleasure in its wake.

  11

  Mateo

  “Have some more.” I offer Milly another bite of crepe.

  “So frickin good!” she moans and gets the last little bit of hazelnut and chocolate from the corner of her lips.

  “Nothing can compare to the food in Paris. The bread. Even a baguette from a corner store, fresh baked in the morning, is better than anything I’ve had in the States.”

  “You’ve traveled a lot.” She sits back, and Scarab jumps into her lap.

  “It’s part of my job.” I shrug.

  “Which is?” She sips her coffee, one hand petting Scarab.

  “I’ll tell you what I do as soon as you tell me your last name, how about that?” I cut another piece of crepe and feed it to her.

  She rolls her eyes then chews slowly.

  “Sorry. I should just let you enjoy breakfast.”

  “It’s okay.” Her eyes soften. “I just don’t want you to look at me differently, I guess.”

  “I get it.” I kiss the back of her hand. “Let’s finish up here, then I’m taking you out to see the city.” I quickly check my phone to see if Mrs. Verne has come through yet. Nothing. But I know she’ll get the information I need.

  Milly may not want to tell me who she is, but it’s only a matter of time till I find out.

  “I’ve never seen so much art.” She stares at a huge Renaissance painting.

  “This is just the beginning. The building goes on forever, it seems like.” I escort her along the hall, her gaze rapt.

  When we find a little girl working at her easel, painting a pastoral scene to match the one on the wall in front of her, Milly gasps. “Wow.”

  The girl pauses her brush stroke and looks up at us. “Bonjour.”

  “Hi. I don’t speak French, sorry.”

  “I speak English.” The girl smiles.

  “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just can’t believe how much yours looks like the original. You’re so talented.”

  The girl blushes and runs her free hand along one of her blond braids. “Not at all. I can’t quite make the canvas come alive, but my mother says I improve each time I paint it.”

  Milly looks up at the portrait of a man on horseback. “How many times have you painted it?”

  The girl sighs. “Many.”

  “I’m so impressed.” Milly is practically glowing.

  “Thank you, mademoiselle.”

  “I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are.”

  “Merci.” The girl gives a little bow and turns back to her canvas as I lead Milly away.

  “You’re great with kids.” I’ve never really thought about having children. It’s just not anything I thought I’d want. But just watching Milly with that little girl already has my head spinning. Shit, I need to settle the fuck down. Especially since this trip to the Louvre isn’t solely for fun.

  “I’ve always liked kids. I mean, I don’t hang around a lot of them or anything. But I like the way they say exactly what they mean. Sometimes with adults—a lot of the time, actually—they don’t say what they mean at all. I have to try and guess, but I usually end up getting it wrong.”

  “It’s okay to wear your heart on your sleeve and expect others to do the same.” We turn a corner and climb a few steps into a section of ancient Mesopotamian art.

  “These are interesting.” She peers at a particularly well-preserved platter, the edges upturned and intricate designs showing reeds along the edge. “They’re a lot more 3D than the European collections.”

  “The Sumerians used pottery to tell a story.” I stop in front of a vase encased in glass and lit with small spotlights overhead. “This one tells of a particularly good harvest. See the wheat and barley here?” I point.

  “Yes. What’s that? A goat?” She leans closer.

  “Yes. The upper relief has rams and ewes.”

  One eyebrow raised, she turns to me. “You sure know a lot about art.”

  I make note of the almost-invisible sensors placed around the room. Three are pointed directly at the glass case surrounding the vase, and I’m certain there’s a weight sensor beneath the piece. The moment I move it, an alarm will sound.

  The Louvre is well known for its high security, but I’ve breached it before. This time will be slightly more difficult given the central location, but I can do this. I have to. My life depends on it.

  “Mateo, errr, I mean James, are you all right?” She presses her palm to my cheek.

  “I’m fine.” I lean into her touch. “Why?”

  “You just looked sort of—I don’t know—worried for a second.”

  Jeez, the way she looks at me, the care in her eyes—I still can’t believe how lucky I was to find her in that parking lot.

  “I’m great.” I turn and kiss her palm. “Let’s go get some lunch. Then I’m taking you to the Eiffel Tower.”

  She smiles, and I can’t help but kiss her. There’s a lot riding on this heist, but there might be even more riding on this unexpected, all-consuming feeling I’m having for Milly.

  12

  Milly

  This day has been perfect. I don’t want it to end. I’m so happy that I get to share this with Mateo.

  He keeps me tucked close to his side as we leave the Eiffel tower to head back to the hotel room. I’m as excited about that as I am about seeing more of Paris. An older woman starts to sing as we walk by. I snuggle closer to Mateo, feeling the romance in the air. He drops some money into the case she has open in front of her as we pass.

  This fake honeymoon is going straight to my head. I want it to be real. No one in my whole life has made me feel the way Mateo does. He not only sees me, but he understands me too. And considering the way he is with me, I think he likes what he sees.

  “Can I ask you something?” I stop walking when we get to the edge of the Eiffel Tower. The woman starts a new song. From the sweet, soft tone, I think it’s a love song, but I’m not sure because she’s singing in French. That only makes it more beautiful and romantic.

  “You know you can.” He brushes a piece of my hair out of my face.

  “In one of my favorite books the couple danced next to the Eiffel tower. Could we–” I’m cut off before I can finish asking. Mateo already has his hand in mine. His other one moves to my hip, guiding me to the sound of the music. He’s light on his feet and much more graceful than I would have imagined. Especially for his size.

  “Are there other things from the books you read that you want to reenact?” he asks playfully as he spins me around.

  I laugh. I feel so carefree and happy in this moment. “You have no idea.”

  He dips me as if I’m as light as a feather. “I have lots of ideas when it comes to you, my little treasure.”

  “Mateo.” I breathe, closing my eyes. He lifts me, his mouth meeting with mine in a soft, sweet kiss that leaves me breathless. “Can we go back to the room?”

  “Yes.” The one word comes out thick, filled with need. He tangles his fingers with mine. We quickly make it back to the hotel room. The second the door closes to our room, I’m on him. Or maybe he’s on me. It doesn’t matter.

  We pull at each other's clothes, stumbling toward the bed. By the time we make it there, we’re both naked.

  “Mateo!” I moan, digging my fingers into his hair when his mouth comes down onto my sex. He’s kneeling on the side of the bed with my legs tossed over his shoulders, feasting on me. My own moans are matched with deep groans from him. You’d think he’s enjoying this as much as I am. Knowing Mateo, he probably is. The man gets off on taking care of me. I want to take care of him too.

  I scream out his name as the orgasm hits me. He works two of his thick fingers inside of me. It’s a tight fit, but I want more. It’s always that way with Mateo. It has been from the very start. I can never get enough of him. I want to know everything I can when it comes to him. When we’re together, I feel not only normal but so damn wanted and desired it’s addicting. I wasn’t sure I’d ever experience that in my life. Now that I have, I’ll never be able to be without it again.

  “You’re so damn tiny,” I hear him say as I open my eyes. He’s watching his fingers as they work in and out of me.

  “And you’re big.” I lick my lips. So far I’ve only felt Mateo’s cock. I haven’t gotten to see it yet. I start to try to sit up, but he presses his thumb to my clit. “Mateo,” I moan. “I want to see you too,” I practicall
y beg. I reach down, wrapping my hand around his wrist. He stops thrusting his fingers in and out of me. “Please.”

  He groans, and I know I’ve won this round. He pulls his fingers out and takes one more long lick of me first. As he rises to his feet, I sit up. There is no missing the size of his cock or the bead of cum that leaks from the tip. I lick my lips, wanting to taste him. I want to give him the same kind of pleasure that he’s given me.

  “You’re a tease, you know that?” he asks, reaching down to grip his cock. I shake my head. I didn’t know that.

  “How can I be a tease when I’m lying in your bed naked, wanting all of you?” He groans again, dropping his head back to stare up at the ceiling. I run my fingers down his chest. “Show me what you like.” I swipe my finger across the head of his cock. I bring it to my mouth, getting my first taste of him.

  “Milly.” He groans, watching me. “Anything you do is perfect.” He releases his hold on his cock. I take him into my hand, surprised at how soft his skin is there. It reminds me of velvet.

  “You’re the only person to ever think that.” I barely get my hand around his cock. I’m not sure how he’s ever going to fit inside me, but I’ll die trying if I have to.

  “Everyone else is a fucking dumbass then.”

  I grip him tighter and start to move my hand the same way I’ve read about in my books. When a groan comes from him, I know I must be doing something right.

  “Can I taste you?” I lick my lips, wanting more of him.

  “Milly, you can do anything you want to me.”

  “I want to make you come in my mouth,” I admit as I lean in, my tongue swiping along the tip of his cock, stealing the small bead of cum that formed after I stole the last one.

  “Fuck.” Every muscle in his body flexes. For some reason, I feel powerful and sexy. It spurs me on. I open my mouth wide to take him in. “Give me those eyes, Milly; I need to see them.” I do as he asks, opening them back up, not having realized I closed them to begin with. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, treasure.”

  Damn, I know Mateo has seen some of the most beautiful things in the world. He showed me some today. I love that he thinks I’m the most precious treasure.

  His fingers slide into my hair as I start to move my mouth up and down his cock. I take him as deeply as I can. His groans only push me on more. I love that I’m making those sounds come from him.

  “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer.”

  I double down on my efforts until he’s hitting the back of my throat. “I’m gonna come in that sweet mouth of yours, and you’re going to drink down every last drop of me.” His grip tightens in my hair as he takes control, thrusting in and out of my mouth.

  My name pours from his mouth as he comes, hitting the back of my throat. I swallow him down, wanting every last drop of him that I can get.

  “Milly.” He pulls back, his cock slipping from between my lips. I try to protest, but he stops me, dropping to his knees in front of me and claiming my mouth. He grips my hair tighter as his tongue sweeps against me. “My turn,” he says when he releases my mouth.

  “But you already had a turn,” I remind him before he once again buries his face between my thighs. My protests are short-lived as Mateo takes me to places I know only he can.

  13

  Mateo

  Milly sleeps soundly beside me as I rise and dress. I have some more recon to do before I can make a move on the vase. At least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth might be something closer to me wanting to spend more time with Milly in Paris. After all, I know the Louvre security inside and out.

  Scarab watches me as I dress. “Watch out for her until I get back.” I scratch his head, but I know he only has eyes for Milly. He’s become something of a lapcat ever since she showed up in our lives. Before, he was a furry little loner. Now? Now he can’t stay away from the innocent treasure who’s sleeping like a worn-out angel in our bed.

  I grab my phone and check it. Nothing from Mrs. Verne, but I have two messages from an unknown number. I click them open.

  Unknown: The clock is ticking. The Brotherhood knows you’re in Paris, so don’t try anything to escape your obligation.

  “Asshole,” I grumble under my breath and slip from our hotel room, easing along the corridor and to the elevator. Very few people are out this late, but it’s still Paris, so I pass a handful of lost tourists and vagrants on my way through the back alleys. We’re on the Champs Elysees, so the Louvre isn’t far.

  I creep through the gardens, my ears on alert for any movement nearby. Even as I focus on my job, my thoughts wander back to Milly. To the mystery of her. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s so open and honest… All except for who she really is. I wish I could make her believe me when I say it won’t make any difference to me, but she’s scared. I suppose I am too. What if she doesn’t like what I do for a living? It’s the only thing I’m good at, and it would be a blow to have to leave it. Even so, I know without a doubt that if she asked me to do something else, I’d drop this career in a heartbeat. Making her happy has quickly become the most important thing to me.

  A fountain gurgles to my right, and I make my way around the three-story wing of the museum, my gaze on the windows overhead. All of them have sensors, even the ones only a pigeon could access. But I’ve bypassed those alarms plenty of times. I suppose I’m out here scoping it out because a lot more is riding on this job than any other. This client is a real piece of work, putting the Brotherhood on my ass over one botched job.

  I step between two manicured topiaries and move around toward the Seine, the moon glittering on the dark water.

  My phone vibrates. If it’s that motherfucker threatening me again, I might throw my phone into the river.

  But it’s not. It’s Mrs. Verne.

  MV: Two things. One, this client sent an assassin to the house. Well, he’s in the woods along the western edge. Can I snipe him? I haven’t done any target shooting in a while.

  I shake my head, though I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Verne is a stone-cold killer with a sniper rifle, but I don’t think pissing off the Brotherhood is ever a healthy choice.

  Me: No. What’s item number two?

  MV: You’re no fun.

  I pinpoint the exact window that will lead to the gallery with the vase and make a mental note of the best escape routes away from the building. This might actually require a boat. Fun.

  MV: The second thing is I’ve discovered who our darling little kidnapping victim is.

  I back into the shadow of a statue and hold my breath as the dots bounce. Mrs. Verne has always been one for drama, but this is excruciating.

  Me: Get to it, woman!

  MV: Sorry, my fingers slipped. They’re all buttery from eating popcorn.

  I don’t want an explanation. I want a name. The dots bounce. And bounce. I can almost see her grinning, torturing me as she drinks her gin and chomps on popcorn.

  Me: Mrs. Verne!

  MV: Rutherford. As in the notorious Rutherford crime family. Fancy on the outside, rotten on the inside. Run by Howard Rutherford. Son Henry. Daughter Millicent, aka Milly. Henry has constant security detail and is anointed as the second coming of Howard, more or less. Milly is an afterthought, likely to be married off as a bargaining chip within the next few years.

  I groan. This is bad news. Her father isn’t the sort of man who’d take kindly to me keeping his daughter. Hell, I took her out of the country.

  MV: You’re fucked, my dear. What are you going to do?

  I already know the answer to that. I knew before she told me Milly’s last name. These last few days with Milly have transformed me, giving me hope for a future that I could only dream about. But she’s made it a reality.

  What I’m going to do is this: keep Milly. And not just for right now. Milly and I are forever.

  A flashlight bounces around about 50 yards away, a night guard bumbling around the grounds. I shrink into the shadows and steal back to my hotel room.

  When I enter, Milly’s still asleep with Scarab cuddled up beside her.

  Milly Rutherford. The daughter of a ruthless man who’ll stop at nothing to get her back.