Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance) (2 page)

I can see she's nervous. She's shaking like a leaf. I squeeze her hand, hoping to calm her down.

She gives me that look.

I know she's attracted to me. It's part of how this whole thing works. I've been flirty, but this is work, and after tonight she's never going to see me again.

I had a long talk about this with my father. No attachments, no regrets. She's going to be fine, she will be well compensated for this.

That’s where we're headed now. Two staff members will attract no attention, walking down the hall, but they might heading into a room. So I hit pause on the elevator, and Brenda holds it while I open the elevator roof and pull down the bag I've planted there. She continues to hold the button while I change, slipping out of crushed velvet and into something simpler, just slacks and a dress shirt to cover up my body glove.

Then I hold the elevator for her and turn away.

I spare a look over my shoulder. I have a code, I'm not dead, and Brenda has a nice body. She's not wearing anything fancy under her uniform, just a bra and white cotton panties, but the sight of the way
 
she hunches her back and shyly hides her body from me stirs something down below and I look away, more to preserve my calm than give her privacy. She changes into sweat pants and a long t-shirt and sneakers, and then the elevator resumes its route, with the gym bag now slung over my shoulder.

The elevator stops, and we walk out. She's pulled her hair into a ponytail and is consciously looking away from the security cameras, trying too hard.

No one is going to check, hon. I planned this.

I open the door and motion her inside, close it, lock it.

"Where is it?"

"Calm," I murmur. "Sit on the bed."

She goes over and folds her hands on her knees, nervously watching me pull open the bottom drawer of the TV stand. Hotel rooms, at the most basic level, are all the same. This place charges over a grand a night and to me it looks like a Motel 6 with fancier carpeting. You still have to pay for the booze in the fridge, even. Anyway.

In the bottom drawer is a small bag, like a toiletry bag. An attache would be so cliche, you know?

I drop it on her lap and her mouth trembles as she opens it and pulls out a wrapped pack of hundred dollar bills. Ten grand. It's probably more money than she's ever seen all together in her entire life, and there's nine more inside the bag. Another reason to skip the briefcase: It would be mostly empty, we're not paying her that much. Enough to cover her bills and have maybe sixty left over, enough to make herself quiet comfortable. I let her count and moon over the money while I repack my goodies, most carefully placing the necklace in a prepared box, first checking it for damage. It's as pristine as the day it left the jeweler's grasp.

As I close everything up, she says, "You're going to leave now, aren't you?"

She looks very sad. She has big, expressive brown eyes, and dyes her hair a pretty natural shade of auburn. She's a woman but my brain calls her a pretty girl. It must be the vulnerability. She looks younger than her thirty-six years, doesn't look nearly old enough to be my mother. She looks scared.

Not my problem. Time to go.

"Yeah. That's how this works. I can't be seen around here for a while. Maybe ever."

She nods. I start for the door.

"Wait. I want something else."

"We have an agreement. You got your hundred grand. Wait a month to give your notice, then get out of here like we talked about."

She doesn't say anything. Instead she stands up and slips her arms around me from behind. Her lips are cool, then hot on the side of my neck. Her hand slides down my stomach and I can feel her breath quicken as she feels the muscle, and then her hand slips inside my jeans, and her fingers wrap around my cock.

Oh God damn it.

"Just the once?"

Leave, Apollo. You're on a time frame.

"I brought condoms," she mutters.

Condoms. Plural. Oh, honey.

I yank her hand out of my pants and set the bag down on the table by the door, and grasp her wrist hard. I can feel her fear, as her breath quickens against the back of my neck. A quick visual check makes sure the fucking door is locked.

Then I spin around and crush my mouth against hers. Brenda's eyes are still open. She's genuinely surprised.

"So I get a bonus?"

I lick my lips. She tastes like strawberries for some reason. My hands move to her waist, up under her top. Her skin is soft and warm and her body is supple. She's no model but she's real, and I like real. I'm a very grounded guy. When I pull her against me the feeling of her full breasts pressed against my chest kicks my motor into overdrive and I feel my cock harden. She feels it too, judging by the wide-eyed look on her face. She's got that kind of almost innocent I-can't-believe-this-is-happening look on her face that I do so enjoy, and I savor it as I push her back to the bed. I gingerly lift her bag and set it aside, where she can see it, still bowed by the weight of the money inside.

She's not even paying attention. She's more concerned for my hands. The way she just lets me have her is kind of innocent, in a way. Endearing, and arousing. She doesn't say a word as I slip my hands up and undo her bra, push my fingers under the cups and hold her breasts in my hands. I can feel her heart pounding, little throbs against my fingertips. When I graze my thumbs along the underside of her tits and tickle the sensitive skin under them, she goes stiff and gasps, and I feel her nipples tighten against my palms.

Then it happens. She wriggles loose, and shimmies out of her clothes in a way that's experience, coquettish, and embarrassed all at once. I can see her flinching, trying to resist the urge to cover herself with her hands and arms as she stands before me, and the relief in her eyes as I begin to undress. She's afraid I'll see nothing but stretch marks.

Brenda joins in the undressing, and as I pull my shirt off, she undoes my jeans and pulls them down, and a dizzy kind of joy washes over me as she takes me in her mouth, kneeing in front of me. I don't like making her kneel like that while I stand, so I back up to the bed and sit down and she follows, diving
 
between my legs to suck me so hard it almost hurts, her nervous innocence gone and replaced by the hunger of a woman who knows how she likes it.

A little part of me is saying hey, I could get used to this, but it's my balls talking. I have to keep a clear head. Somehow.

Wow she's good at this.

I mean, very good. I flop back on the bed and she pushes my shaft against my stomach and licks the underside, and sucks on my balls, and makes hungry little noises doing it. She works her way back up and really gets started, using her hands too, and I have to sit up to watch her. She stares into my eyes, and I can see her smiling even as her lips stretch around me. If this is her bonus, I need to start being more generous with all my partners. Her eyes never leave mine, even as I began to pant and sweat beads on my chest. I try to warn her, but the look on her face says everything.

I explode inside her mouth, and it makes her all the more eager, until I'm lying on the bed
 
tingling from head to toe, shocked. She rises, licking her lips, and crawls up onto the bed on all fours, moving over me, her heavy breasts caressing up my stomach and chest as she settles on top of me, and her arms slip around my sides.

She wants to cuddle. Great.

I roll over all at once and she just looks shocked, and squeaks in alarm. I peck her on the lips and then immediately move to suck her hard nipple, and the sound she makes has me hard again already. She grabs my head and holds my face to her chest, and I explore all over with my tongue. From the sounds she's making, I must know what I'm doing. As much as I enjoy the tight hard tips of her breasts, there's so much more to explore. My tongue on the soft skin under and between them drives her wild, and when she bucks under me I can feel how wet she is. It takes everything I've got not to just ram myself inside her and claim her as mine. She's already broken my rule, though. A gentleman sees to the lady first.

Then I'm on my knees between her legs, and I take my first taste of her sex, lightly. She's got a thick bush in her natural color, a honey brown, and it tickles my nose as I run my tongue around her entrance and over the hard, sensitive button that makes her legs jerk when I touch it. I want her even more when her body grips my finger as I suck her clit, and she clutches fistfuls of the hotel bedspread and pulls on them as her legs clamp down on my head.

Easy, girl.

Ah, the hell with it.

She's adorable when she climaxes, this one. She turns red all over and curls up in a ball, hugging herself and squeaking and panting through clenched teeth, as if she needs to be quiet. When she curls her fingers in my hair I can sense she's almost ready.

I rise. No words are spoken. She fumbles through her pockets and pulls out the condom, tears open the wrapper and slips it on me as I lie down, piling up the pillows under my head. I like it best with the girl on top, guiding her down and watching her body take me in, as I do now. Brenda takes it slow, leans on my chest, and I get a wonderful view of my shaft sliding inside her wet sex and her body, slick with sweat and flushed with pleasure already.

She knows how she likes it. She sinks down and grinds, closing her eyes to savor it. When I press my thumb to her lips she takes it in her mouth and sucks and digs her nails into my chest as I cup her breast in my hand, circling her hard nipple with my thumb as she grows more excited, her riding more frantic. She starts to rise up and sink down, eyes open, sucking my thumb as her body swallows me, squeezes yet more pleasure from me. Her hot walls grip my shaft, her stomach tenses as she swivels her hips forward and back, and she pulls my hand from her mouth to let out a satisfied sound, almost a purr. All at once she slips off me and turns around, lying on the bed and raising her hips. She wiggles her backside, and I get the hint.

I enter her from behind and press her to the bed. She likes that, from the way she wriggles under me to meet my thrusts until she's a clenching, shivering mass under me. I was right, she's quite the little devil here. Now I'm in control, and I take her harder. She almost impresses me, urging me on, until I'm really cutting loose and I can feel her ready to explode. When she does she bucks up under me and her head almost hits my chin as I go rigid. I can't hold back anymore and collapse on top of her, throbbing as I finish. She holds my hand and wiggles under me, rubbing her ass against my stomach as I draw out of her.

I get up on shaky legs and she rolls on her back, then on her side.

The bag is still on the side table. I grab it, lock it in the bathroom with me, and wash up quickly. I can't strut out of here covered in sweat, this isn't that type of hotel. I make it fast, dry faster, even using the hair dryer to get there. Once I'm dressed I check that the goods are all in the bag and check on Brenda. She's lying on the bed, asleep. I must have tuckered her out.

I tuck the covers up around her neck and walk out of her life. I make sure the door is locked before I go.

It feels like tearing something off, leaving like this. Every time it's the same. It's just a job, get over it. She'll be fine. If she's not, it's her problem. She spent her whole life getting into trouble. I just tossed her a life preserver. If she doesn't swim to shore it's not my problem. I have the biggest score of my life in a bag slung over my shoulder. The little sting I feel when I withdraw from Brenda is muted by the heady feeling of carrying millions worth of stolen goods in my bag. The necklace makes up the bulk of that. There will be a few thousand in cash in the wallets, the watches worth maybe twenty grand all together. The rule is that
 
Dad splits the proceeds of the sale of the target with me, but the incidentals I get to keep. Before I go out I duck into the bathroom off the lobby and into the big stall at the end, peel the cash out of the wallets and stick it in my pockets. Rough count comes to fifteen thousand, not bad. The wallets get wrapped up in toilet paper and go in the trash can. Goodbye, wallets.

It's dark by the time I walk outside. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but years of practice make me walk tall, focus my eyes on the distance and generally avoid looking like a victim. Wouldn't that be cute, I go through all that trouble and some tough with a gun steals the stolen goods. They'd probably sell it to a pawn shop. A guy comes at me with a knife or something, I can handle it, but I don't do guns. A man must have a code and all that. I'm a thief, not a killer.

Fortunately this is one of the better parts of town and when I hail a cab
 
I get a ride easily. I think the cabbie is a little surprised by the tip I leave before slipping off to a corner store. I'm famished.

I grab a pack of cupcakes and a bottle of iced tea, and on the way out a little girl says, "Want to buy some cookies?"

I stop. They have a little table set up, the kid and the mom. I give the mom my trademark smile and I give the kid a wad of cash.

That's why I end up meeting my father with stolen goods and two big grocery bags full of Thin Mints. I bought the whole supply.

I like Thin Mints.

The hotel where we've holed up is not upscale. I'm not sure it's downscale. It might not even be on a scale. The rooms are adequate, though. Two beds that don't appear to have any critters and a bathroom and a fridge and microwave. Such is the luxurious, devil may care life of the master thief. I don't take two steps into the room before he looks up from the work he has spread out over the desk in front of him and shoots to his feet. I barely have the door closed before he grabs the bag.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah."

"The contact?"

"She's been well compensated."

He gives me a look but says nothing. With the specially prepared case spread open on the bed, he lays the necklace out on the yellowed white sheet. It loses a certain luster in this light. Such a small thing, for all this to do.

"Now what?"