Con With Me Read online

  But wait, I wanted this. There was no reason to be embarrassed about it.

  "You know, there are things we can do that don't need protection," I said, feeling bolder than before.

  Carl chuckled. "I don't know what you mean," he teased.

  I turned on the sofa so I was facing him and cocked my head to the side. "How about you lose the shirt, and I show you?"

  A twinkle of mischief entered his eyes as he did as I'd instructed. His shirt hit the floor next to Dean's seconds later.

  I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. This kiss was different from at the party. Probably because neither of us were playing a part this time, and it was all to do with us and how we felt.

  I didn't let the kiss get too deep, and broke away to kiss his neck. My hands smoothed over his chiselled chest, making their way south.

  A flood of pleasure washed through me. Now the nerves had started to disappear, I was able to relax into the moment and feel the desire that had been welling up before. I kissed lower, across his chest as my hands felt for his belt.

  It didn't take me long to push his jeans down and free his cock, with a little help from Carl.

  "You don't have to do this," he said, his voice gravelly and revealing how much he wanted it despite the words to the contrary.

  I shifted so I was on my hands and knees, leaning over him on the sofa. It left my ass facing the door and a little exposed, but that would hopefully give Dean a treat when he re-entered the room.

  I flashed Carl a wicked grin before leaning down and taking his cock into my mouth. I pressed my tongue against the sensitive skin, increasing the pressure as I sucked on him. Carl groaned, his hands flying to my head. I could feel how much it was taking him not to push my head further down and start controlling my movements. He wanted to take control, but didn't so I could find my rhythm.

  I liked that. It made me feel powerful, in control. And horny. He had no idea how wet this was making me.

  Footsteps sounded behind me, and it was all I could do to keep focusing on Carl's cock. The situation was so new that someone else being in the room was still foreign.

  "You moved quick, Katie," Dean said, amusement in his voice.

  I hummed my agreement, the vibration of which made Carl lose control. His hands tightened in my hair and he pushed my head against his cock a little firmer.

  "Shall we find out how much she's enjoying doing that?" Dean asked Carl.

  "Please do," the other man responded, his voice gruff from enjoyment.

  A shiver ran down my spine at the anticipation of what was to come.

  "It's a good job you're wearing a dress," Dean said to me, making short work of pulling my leggings off without disturbing us. The thud of his belt buckle hitting the floor only increased my anticipation.

  I couldn't believe I was doing this. Or how much I was enjoying it.

  "Don't stop sucking Carl's dick, Katie," Dean instructed.

  It was only then that I realised I'd stopped moving. Eagerly, I began moving my mouth up and down him again, only becoming more and more turned on as his hard cock hit the back of my throat.

  The sofa shifted as Dean joined us again. Without waiting, he flipped my skirt up, revealing my ass to him.

  "And it's a good job you're wearing a thong," he observed, his hands gliding over the bare skin of my ass. "Maybe you knew you'd need to give us easy access," he whispered.

  I groaned.

  "If you keep talking to her like that, I'm going to come down her throat sooner than I want to," Carl murmured.

  Another thrill of power fuelled desire ran through me. I was making that happen.

  Dean chuckled. "All right, I promise to keep the chatter to a minimum."

  I shook my head ever so slightly, which was hard with cock filling my voice.

  Carl chuckled, his whole body vibrating as he did. "Seems she doesn't want that."

  "I can find out how much she doesn't want it," Dean suggested, his hand brushing against my core through the thin material of my thong.

  I pressed against his touch, but it was already gone.

  "I don't think your panties are doing their job," Dean said wickedly. "They're soaked through."

  Carl groaned.

  "Hold still for a moment, Katie," Dean instructed. "We don't want Carl to come too soon now, do we?"

  I shook my head again. I wanted this to last for as long as possible. I hadn't imagined Dean would be so into talking dirty, but I liked it.

  He pushed my thong to the side and slipped two fingers inside me.

  "Oh, Katie. You're so wet."

  I didn't answer. Not that I could with Carl's hard cock still filling my mouth. I pushed back into Dean's hand though, hoping he'd get the message.

  Unfortunately for me, he didn't, and pulled his fingers from me.

  I groaned in frustration, disappointed that his touch was gone. Seconds later, the disappointment disappeared as a hot wet tongue darted out. He flicked it against my clit and I almost came there and then.

  "Stay still, Katie," Carl warned me.

  How was I going to do that when Dean's tongue was causing such delicious sensations throughout me. Nevermind staying still, I was going to end up writhing between them and exploding in pleasure.

  My insides coiled tighter as I tried to hold back the flood of desire that threatened to wash through me at any moment. Just as I was about to explode, Dean moved away.

  I barely breathed, waiting for him to do something. To finish me. To let me come.

  The soft snap of a condom slipping into place filled me with anticipation.

  His cock nudged at my entrance, pushing in with ease and filling me. He held still for a moment, letting me fully realise I was lying between two men, one with his cock in my pussy, the other in my mouth.

  "You can move again, Katie," Dean said, his voice breathless. I guessed I wasn't the only one who was close to coming then.

  Slowly, I drew my tongue along Carl's length. His fingers tangled tighter in my hair as he guided me downwards.

  The moment Dean began to move within me in fast, furious thrusts, one of his hands digging into my hips, the other finding my clit, all thoughts left my mind. This was too much. They were going to make me forget my name at this rate.

  Carl tugged on my hair as he began to thrust into my mouth erratically. I knew what was coming even before he warned me, but I didn't plan on stopping. I'd take everything he had, and then go back for more.

  Dean must have sensed what was happening, as he increased his own pace and rubbed my clit harder. I cried out around Carl's cock, the pleasure almost so intense that it caused me pain.

  Carl began to shudder beneath me, which was enough to push me, and then Dean, over the edge. Pleasure flooded through me, and my vision went black as I thought of nothingness. I wasn't aware of either of the men until I collapsed against them, sated, exhausted, and ready to do it all again.

  Chapter 14

  I took a deep breath, trying not to think about what the guys had done to me the night before. All three of them at once. It shouldn't have been possible, and yet, it was. Deliciously so.

  But now I was with Hubert, getting him to the auction like we needed him to be. I couldn't mess this up because I was too busy thinking about what would happen after I went to bed tonight.

  "Are you excited about your first auction?" Hubert asked, his hand slipping a little lower than was polite.

  I wanted to swat it away, but knew I couldn't. Up until the moment I said goodbye to Hubert after the auction, I had to act like I was the gold digger he thought I was, or the whole thing could be destroyed.

  "Oh yes. I can't wait to see what they've got. Are you?" It seemed better to turn things around on him.

  "I am. But I'm more excited about the fact this is our fourth date." He flashed me a smarmy smile, and it was all I could do not to let my disgust show in my expression. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?" he asked me.

  I laughed, and slipped a hand
onto his chest, picturing he was one of the guys instead of an old man who should know better. "Of course not. I'm looking forward to it."

  "Good." His hand slipped lower still, coming dangerously close to touching my ass. I hated it, but I was going to have to get used to it if it was part of the cons we were pulling.

  The auction hall was busier than when we'd gone the other day, which was probably a good thing. This way, there was less chance of me being recognised and called out in front of Hubert.

  He didn't ask me if there was anything I wanted to see, instead, he moved me around the room, making banal comments about this and that. What was worth it, and what was nothing more than over-inflated rubbish. I had no idea if he was right or wrong, so kept making non-committal noises.

  "That's beautiful," I said when I spied the bracelet I'd seen with Carl.

  "It's tat, my dear," Hubert said dismissively.

  I bit my lip, disagreeing with him internally, but knowing I couldn't say anything out loud. The bracelet was beautiful though. Twisted silver vines with small emeralds set into them. I supposed he was right on one front. It wasn't worth much, but that didn't stop it being beautiful. And there was the true value.

  Hubert didn't linger on any of the items for more than a moment. I didn't understand how he could be surrounded by so much beauty and not interested in it at all.

  A moment later, I get a sort of answer for that when he gestures for the auctioneer.

  My heart pounds in my chest as the man walks towards me. He'd been interacting with Samuel, and not me, but I'd been stood in front of him. What if he mentioned something about that encounter to Hubert? My cover would be blown and we'd lose the money we'd put up on the painting in the first place.

  "Is there anything of interest in the art section?" Hubert asked.

  "Did you not see the catalogue we sent out, sir?" the auctioneer asked.

  Hubert shook his head. "That's why I'm asking."

  The auctioneer pursed his lips. "There's one painting of note, by a rather famous artist," he whispered. "You might want to take a look, it's over there." He pointed to where I knew the fake Monet was hanging.

  "Thank you, good man," Hubert said, nodding to the auctioneer before drawing me over to the painting.

  It was just as breathtaking as the last time I saw it. The colours, the vibrancy. It was perfect. I suspected that at first glance, most people would be fooled by the work in front of them.

  Hubert frowned. "It can't be."

  "What is it?" I asked. "It looks like a Monet."

  "It is," he responded. "But that makes no sense. How does a masterpiece like this end up in a backwater auction house like this?"

  I bit my lip. That was one of the reservations I'd been having, but there was no way of getting a fake like this in front of anyone else.

  "Maybe the person selling it doesn't realise what they have?" I suggested. "It's beautiful."

  "It is." He tapped a finger against his chin. "I have to inform the Earl about this. Would you give me a moment." A part of him doesn't seem too sure about the painting. That can't be good.

  "Of course." I smiled coyly at him. Hopefully, the Earl would tell him that it was worth the risk. At least, that was what we were banking on.

  I watched as he pulled out his phone and made the call.

  "How warm is he?" Samuel asked, coming to stand beside me, dressed back in his art consultant disguise. I wanted to reach out and touch him. Or better yet, to kiss him, but I knew I couldn't do that.

  "Hard to tell," I responded softly. "But he's doubting a Monet being here."

  "Hmm."

  "I could tell him you're a consultant who is after the painting?" I suggested quickly.

  Samuel nodded ever so slightly. "But don't push it too hard. If he doesn't buy into it, then we'll just have to accept that and move on."

  "How..." My question is cut off by Hubert walking back towards us and Samuel disappearing.

  "Who was that, dear?" Hubert asked, his eyes narrowed in the direction Samuel had gone.

  "Some art consultant," I lied. "He was trying to find out how much you were willing to pay for the painting. Rather intrusive, if you ask me." I folded my arms, as if annoyed by the way Samuel had fake treated me.

  "Hmm." He pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and looked down at the face. "We'd better take our seats, or we'll miss it completely."

  I nodded, and followed him as he led us into the auction room itself. The danger of being in a room I couldn't easily escape from wasn't lost on me. If this all went pear-shaped, I was going to be in the thick of it, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter 15

  No one had thought to warn me about how boring auctions were. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be a lot of lots before the painting was up.

  "Our next lot is a turn of the century painting in the style of Claude Monet," the auctioneer announced. I noted the words used. He didn't commit to this being the real thing. It was up to us to convince Hubert that it was. "Bidding will start at five thousand pounds."

  Ouch. That was low. If we wanted Hubert to bid high, that wasn't going to cut it.

  I leaned in so my mouth was by his ear. "That seems like a great price."

  "If it's real," he responded under his breath. "If it isn't, then it's a rip-off."

  "No takers?" the auctioneer asked. "Then we'll start at four thousand. Do I have four thousand? Yes, thank you to the gentleman at the back of the room."

  The bidding started after that, with each thousand easing my worries about taking too little from the con. But Hubert had yet to join in. He sat watching, not committing to a single bid. This was going to be a problem.

  Samuel raised his hand in front of us, bidding twenty thousand pounds for our own painting.

  "That's the consultant who was talking to me," I whispered.

  "Really?" Hubert raised an eyebrow. "He's bidding low."

  "What's a real Monet worth?" I asked, despite the fact I was well aware they sold for millions.

  "Something around the fifty million mark for one that size," Hubert responded. Greed shone in his eyes. We almost had him. He might not be saying it out loud yet, but he was going to bid on the painting, it was simply a question of how long it took him.

  The bids were higher now, around the two hundred thousand mark. Most of that was Samuel and Dean fake bidding against one another. I didn't know what the plan was if one of them actually won it, but I presumed they'd have a different disguise they could get into and disappear into the crowds.

  "Forty thousand to the gentleman at the front," the auctioneer said, pointing down to Samuel.

  "Are you sure he said he was an art consultant?" Hubert asked.

  I nodded hastily. "He said he often came to auctions like this to find art for sale when people didn't know the real value." He hadn't said that at all, but at this point, Hubert's belief in the painting was waning, and I had to do something to fix it.

  "Five hundred thousand, does anyone have five hundred thousand for me?"

  I held my breath, hoping Hubert would react to this. Dean and Samuel were the only ones bidding now, it was time for him to swoop in and buy it, making the money for Carl to come collect once the auction was over.

  Hubert shot his hand into the air.

  "Thank you, sir," the auctioneer cried.

  Relief flooded through me. This was it. We'd managed it.

  "Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the yellow jacket." He pointed towards Hubert.

  Oh wow. This was real. Now all we had to do was get away. Which would be the tricky bit.

  A polite round of applause came from the room. I joined in, beaming at Hubert. "It's so beautiful. It'll be a great addition to your collection."

  He shook his head. "It will be part of Earl Wellesley's collection. I'll simply collect a commission based on the sale price in a few years."

  I should feel bad about that. We were trying to take the Earl's money, not Hubert's.
But then, this man hadn't stopped oggling me since the moment we met. He wasn't an upstanding member of society by any stretch of the imagination.

  As if to prove my thoughts correct, he stretched out an arm and put it around me and leaned in, his hot breath brushing unpleasantly against my ear. "Once I've paid, we can celebrate. There's a bottle of champagne on ice at home. We could slip into something more comfortable and enjoy a glass..." He trailed a hand up my leg, as if to drive home what he'd meant. As if I hadn't understood anyway.

  Just then, the phone in my bag chirped.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry, I should get this. Only my Mum's number makes it ring when it's on silent," I babbled, hoping it was good enough to fool him into thinking it was my mother calling me.

  "Of course, dear."

  I pulled my phone from my bag and hit the answer button.

  "Time to go," Samuel said.

  I glanced at where he'd been sitting to find him gone. Ah, he must need to get out of here before anyone could ask him to authenticate the painting. Dean and Carl would clean up the rest of the con while the two of us went home.

  I clutched my hand to my chest and pretending to heave a sob. "Mum? Are you okay...Dad? Hospital? I'm so sorry, I'm on my way."

  Samuel chuckled down the line. "That's a good one."

  I hit the end button and shoved my phone back into my bag. "I'm so sorry, Hubert, there's been an accident and my Dad's in the hospital and I need to go see him."

  "I can go with you..." I could tell the offer wasn't sincere. Not that it mattered.

  "No, no. You stay here, collect your painting. Call me?" I suggested with wide doe eyes.

  "Of course." Confusion flitted across his face, but I didn't linger on it. I had to get out of here.

  I pushed through the people in the auction room, apologising to all of them. It was the change over between lots, which gave me a few minutes to clear the room.

  The moment I stepped out of the door, Samuel waved me over and into the car. I slipped into the passenger seat, then closed my eyes, relief flooding through me.

  "Please tell me there's something cold and delicious ready to drink at home?" I asked Samuel once he was in the driver's seat.