Sticky fingers, p.1
Sticky Fingers, page 1
Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Alison Tyler
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Copyright
About the Book
As a buyer for a luxury export business in the heart of San Fransisco, Jodie Silver is the height of money and prestige. But underneath her polished exterior, Jodie has a darker, wilder side. She’s an addictive thrill-seeker who gets a powerful rush for pocketing things that don’t belong to her. It’s a potent feeling, almost as gratifying as the excitement of an engaging night of wild exhibitionist sex – but not quite.
Skilled at concealing her double life, Jodie thinks she’s unstoppable, but with hunky detective Nick Hudson on her tail, it’s only a matter of time before this pussycat burglar meets her comeuppance.
Rouge romance – the best erotic romance novels, perfect for fans of Sylvia Day’s Crossfire series.
About the Author
Alison Tyler is the pseudonym of an outstanding American author of twenty works of erotic fiction, and the author of the best-selling manual, Bondage on a Budget. She is a regular editor of short story anthologies and a contributor to numerous adult magazines.
Also by Alison Tyler:
Tiffany Twisted
With or Without You
Sweet Thing
STICKY FINGERS
Alison Tyler
For SAM.
Prologue
www.yoursforthetaking.com
It’s a rush. Flat out. Plain and simple.
You hear people talk about taking risks – jumping out of planes, bungeeing off bridges, engaging in seductive sex with total strangers. But stealing is what does it for me. Foreplay is the surveillance. Checking the scene. Making sure the possibility of escaping undetected is higher than the risk of getting caught. The odds don’t have to be perfect. For me, danger equals arousal. But luck has to be on my side. It’s all about the senses. A feeling that the timing is right.
Sometimes you might scope out the location with every intention of going forwards, but your plans will occasionally go awry. A cop might stroll by. A store detective will appear overly attentive. A shopclerk decides to make pointed eye-contact and simply will not look away. But usually, none of those things happen. Not to me, anyway, because I don’t look like a suspect. I possess the appearance of someone who not only has plenty of money, but who takes great pleasure in spending.
And sure I do. When that sort of situation arises. Dropping crisp bills on to a counter and purchasing what I want does hold a semi-thrill. Especially when the bills are hundreds and the item I’m buying is of the more frivolous variety. Thousand-dollar bottles of perfume made from flowers hand-picked in the valleys of France. Face creams created by astrophysicists. But, in general, playing the role of the consumer is not what I’m all about. The art of taking excites me. Slipping something into my pocket or up my sleeve without any hesitation. No sideways glances. No flushed cheeks or rapid breathing to give me away.
Just palming the item and walking out undetected. Trust me, nothing beats it. Not drinking. Not smoking. Not sex.
Well, maybe sex …
From the notes of Detective Nicholas Hudson:
Case File: 582
File Description: Protect Ancient Black Sapphire Ring
Employer: Confidential
Facts: Scattered/vague (see clippings below)
From The Associated Press:
The black sapphire ring, nicknamed The Unforgiving Heart, is known as the most often stolen gem in history. The piece can be traced back to ancient times, and references appear quite often in poetry – Fierce light which burns within, unyielding stone and unforgiving heart – and in masterpieces dating pre-Renaissance …
From the Transformed Treasures catalogue copy:
This grouping of jewels may seem haphazard to some, but each piece shares a historical similarity with the rest. All have been stolen, redesigned, and hidden for long periods of their existence. The jewel in the crown of this exhibit is The Unforgiving Heart, a piece which has been duplicated many times, sometimes by master jewelers. The true stone is said to hold a red light within, but carefully crafted replicas have fooled even the most schooled experts …
From an article in Jewelry Today:
There is much to be said for the possibility that the black sapphire ring currently traveling with the Transformed Treasures exhibit is yet another one of the fakes that has circulated for centuries. This doesn’t make the exhibition any less interesting, of course. Good forgeries are difficult to come by. But don’t hold your breath in anticipation of seeing the opal-like fire burning within the midnight blackness …
A press release from the ARTone museum:
Several security companies have been hired to guard the gems on display. Mixed in with the throngs of curious customers expected to view the artistic creations will be many private investigators. Nothing will be stolen from this exhibit, ending the curse that many have felt tainted these pieces for centuries, if not millennia …
From an Internet posting on www.yoursforthetaking.com:
Makes you want to go out and get it, doesn’t it?
Scrawled in Detective Nick Hudson’s own handwriting below the scattering of notes on the case:
What the hell? It’s just a ring.
Chapter One
Diamond clip, circa 1920s, estimated value $3500
Pearl-and-emerald brooch, white-gold setting, engraved, $4200
Pink tourmaline-and-diamond engagement ring, Tiffany’s, $12,000
Red opal ring, platinum setting, $56,000
Ruby necklace, worn by silent screen star Emma Vogue, $89,000
Black pearls, double-strand, one-of-a-kind, $160,000
The last entry was circled twice in bold red ink. This necklace was the sole reason that Jodie had come to the auction. Not to buy it herself, of course. Where was the fun in that? Her job for the afternoon was to see which bidder walked off with the jewels. Based on her extensive research, she had a strong idea who the buyer would be. Now, all she had to do was wait and see whether or not her guess was correct.
As she scanned the room, she saw several acquaintances in the field: appraisers, bidders, and other middlemen who made their fortune on the resale. She nodded to a competitor from a different firm, and he tilted his head at her and raised his eyebrows in a silent query. She understood the look immediately. He wanted to know which item she was after. She smiled at him, then shook her head.
‘Tell,’ he mouthed to her.
‘Not going to happen,’ she whispered back, enunciating carefully so that he could read her lips. He shrugged impishly, as if he couldn’t be faulted for trying. All of the people in the room knew how to keep their desires under cover. Sharing information too early was rarely beneficial.
Casually, Jodie took her seat at the back of the room, choosing a spot near the exit. As soon as she found the information she needed, she would leave; make a quick phone call and put the rest of the plan into action. There was no need to wait out the remainder of the show. Maybe she’d place a few bids while she waited, simply to take part in the excitement of a live auction, but none of the other items on display caught her eye.
As she flipped through the glossy pages of the auction catalogue, she found herself staring once again at the picture of the pearls. There they were, glistening divinely on a rippled sheet of pale blue silk. The auction catalogue’s art director had been creative, draping the pearls over several splayed oyster shells. Mother of pearl insides gleamed with an opalescent lustre. Jodie’s fingertips traced over the one-dimensional rounded baubles, and she felt as if she could almost touch them through the heavy paper. When the vibrant blonde auctioneer in the severe black suit started speaking, her striking voice pulled Jodie from her daydreams with a jolt.
‘Starting with lot number 347. Do I have $60,000?’
Blinking quickly, Jodie looked up as the games began.
Strong hands moved along the delicate line of Jodie’s spine, palms expertly rotating on either side. Slowly, the knowledgeable fingers traced lower, making smooth, circular motions as they worked their way towards the prize of her rounded ass. Cupping her gently here, the hands spread her heart-shaped bottom cheeks. For a moment, there was nothing but a long, tremulous beat of silence. Then Jodie felt a rush of air tickling against her, and a delicious shudder ran through her entire body.
‘You like that?’ the man whispered, moving aside slightly as he waited for her answer. Jodie responded without words, sighing as she rolled over on to her back and stretched her arms over her head. Although she was being intimately attended to by a well-built blond youth, her deep-set grey eyes were now locked on her own reflection in the gilt-edged mirror on the opposite wall. She saw herself spread out on the ruby satin sheets, and Lucas watching her patiently. Then she stared into her own eyes as the different expressions flickered over her face: yearning, lust, submission.
Her lover gazed up at her fondly, not the slightest bit put out by the change in positions. Jodie knew from experience that he would always follow her lead. ‘You look like a movie star, don’t you, baby?’ he asked her now.
She didn’t have to say a word. Lucas liked to keep up a steady conversation while they were fucking. Talking about what they were doing made him harder than simply doing it, while listening was a pleasure to Jodie. Now, she ran her fingers through her long dark hair, fanning the length over her bare shoulders. That chest-nut-hued curtain nearly covered the curve of her breasts. Only nearly, because her bedmate reached up quickly to brush her hair out of the way, instantly gaining an unhindered view of her body. Complementing her dark hair, Jodie had pale skin, eyes the ever-changing colour of the surf, and full, kissable lips. Leaning against the mattress, her body looked firm and compact, like that of an expensive automobile, something that would handle easily on dangerous turns.
‘You like to watch?’ Lucas murmured next, his voice soft.
Jodie still said nothing. It was obvious what she liked from the way she moved and the way she shifted her supple body on the mattress. Slowly, she spread her slender legs wider apart so that she would be able to see each little action as it unfolded. She was so ready. She could see the dampness coating her. Her lover responded exactly as she had hoped. As soon as she opened herself up to him, Lucas made himself comfortable between her legs, his mouth a sliver of space away from her skin. It was as if he belonged between her thighs; his curly blond hair tousled slightly from their exertions made him look dishevelled in a sexy, sleepy way. Even with his tanned skin, he showed a deep flush along the strong rise of his cheekbones. Excitement in his amber eyes let Jodie know that her handsome partner didn’t mind his questions being ignored.
Lucas never did.
Without waiting another second, he got busy working between her legs, licking in long, wet strokes up and down the sweet curves of her inner thighs before teasing her most sensitive flesh with the very tip of his tongue. He knew when to move forward, going in deeper, like a diver after a precious pearl – a perfect analogy of his current task. Each time he kissed her there, he tugged on the expensive necklace tucked up inside her. And each time he tugged, Jodie’s muscles contracted fiercely on the irreplaceable baubles, as if she might be able to keep them within her. But she didn’t really want that. The pleasure of being emptied one pearl at a time was far preferable and almost too much to bear.
With his lips alone, her lover carefully withdrew the hidden strand of pearls. The necklace slid slowly into view, bringing a new flood of heady juices with them. Beneath her body, the crimson satin sheet grew more damp, and Jodie shimmied her hips against the shiny surface, moving even closer to her mate. She leaned back against her locked arms, feeling the tension of anticipation pulse through her body.
Between tugs on the rope of pearls, her lover nuzzled at her sensitive spot, using his tongue, his lips, even the sharp angle of his chin against her. His mission was easy to guess. He wanted to bring Jodie all the way to the point of climax, expertly timing her orgasm to arrive as the last link of the necklace was pulled from her body. Coming as the necklace was freed would be the ultimate ending to the events of the afternoon. The detailed planning. The actual theft. The ultimate success.
‘Harder,’ she finally moaned, her first sign that she was nearing her peak. ‘Do it harder, Lucas.’
Obeying immediately, the man tugged more purposefully. The pearls easily slipped free, making soft popping sounds as they appeared one at a time. When Lucas had removed the last black pearl from her, Jodie looked down and gave a harsh sigh of pleasure. Each bead shone in the light, polished with a sheen from within her body. In style, the necklace looked similar to the strands of sexual-enhancement beads available from any X-rated mail-order catalogue. But this was the most expensive erotic toy in the world. That thought made Jodie more excited than any other.
‘Oh, God, yes,’ she sighed, and her lover paused at the sound of her voice. Then, urgently, he resumed his previous actions. With a hypnotic rhythm, he lapped between her legs, then thrust his tongue deep inside her. Finally, he resumed the circles that would always bring her to orgasm. Lucas pressed hard, and when his tongue flicked back and forth, making true contact, she grabbed his shoulders and groaned.
As she came, Jodie let go of her partner and slid one hand slowly down her body and between her legs. Grasping hold of the slippery beads, she brought the necklace back up to where she could see it in the light and purred, ‘Oh, Lucas, aren’t they beautiful?’
Chapter Two
Nick Hudson was hard at work on a case … a case of good scotch. Although, at this point, the quality of what he chose to imbibe no longer mattered. He’d progressed well beyond slowly savouring each sip to appreciate the woodiness of the flavour. Now, he was drinking steadily, as if to satisfy a thirst but, even in his wavering state of mind, he knew that this was a thirst that could never fully be quenched.
He’d been given the expensive liquor as a gift for completing a difficult job successfully, but that didn’t mean he felt good about himself. Drinking alone was never a positive activity for his psyche. He should have gone down to Sammy’s this evening. There, he would have spent the night in the affable atmosphere of the neighbourhood bar, listening to the cool sounds of Sinatra crooning from the jukebox in the corner and talking with the owner, who was also his best friend. But he hadn’t been in the mood for company tonight. That’s what he’d told himself anyway, and he’d bought the lie because he hadn’t wanted to search out the truth.
A private detective unwilling to mine the depths of his own soul. Now, that was a sad situation, but it wasn’t a rare one. Just like psychiatrists who won’t face their own mental problems, Nick understood that most detectives were probably adverse to looking at the secrets they kept inside themselves. Knowing a fact didn’t make facing it any easier. That was the cold, hard truth he’d learned when confronted with the end of his most recent relationship. This evening, he was also working on a case of the lonelies, and that’s what made him pour the drink right after the drink he should have ended the evening with. When the phone rang, he knocked the receiver over with his foot, listening intently for a moment before ignoring the male voice on the other end.
‘You there, Nick? What the fuck –’
There was not one person in the world who he wanted to talk to right now.
Another lie.
Hey, Nick, his mental voice chided him. This is me you’re talking to. Don’t pull my chain. If I want the truth, I’ll beat it out of you.
Aha. That was an idea. Beating off was never a total waste of time, right? The end result always justified the means. Pleasure, even fleeting, would be a welcome sensation, no matter how pathetic the circumstances. A quick climax might shake him out of this dismal mood. Right his wrongs. Clear his fog.
Standing, he made his way unsteadily down the hall to the bathroom. With a graceless jerk, he released his penis from his tan slacks. He was hard already, but before he could get a solid grip around himself, he glanced straight at his reflection in the polished silver mirror above the sink. Captivated, he stared at himself, not as if he was seeing his face for the first time, but as if he were looking at a client. He saw the short blond hair, rock-hard jawline, bay-blue eyes. He knew where to look to find the slim line of scar that cut through his right eyebrow, and could easily pinpoint the flaws that others might not have so quickly found out.
‘Come clean,’ he said aloud in the echoing tiled bathroom. ‘It’ll make you feel better. It always does.’
Yet another lie. The truth will set you free? Not likely. Not when you’ve been left by the girl you thought was actually the one. When you’d moronically opened yourself up to actually believing there was something like ‘the one’.
The truth will set you free? The truth that she was shagging your goddamn partner? Christ, here we go. Right out of a classic black-and-white Bogart movie. Except Nick had always thought he’d be the one to play Bogie, not Hunter. In all the mental movies that he’d ever starred in, he was Sam Spade, right down to the gruff way of talking, the sneer in his voice and the method of remaining cool-headed in dangerous situations. If his ex-partner Hunter got to be Bogie, did that mean that he was the other asshole? Archer? The one who got shot in the chest by Mary …? Mary Astor. No, that was the actress. Who did she play? What the hell was her name? That wasn’t the way this plot was supposed to go down.
