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.