Leah Braemel - Private Property

She pulled out the thin strip of plastic she had tucked in the pouch on her belt and shoved it between the jamb and the latch. Seconds later, she straightened and opened door.

As she’d expected, a red light flashed in the security panel beside the door. She punched in the number she’d memorized and breathed a sigh of relief when the light turned a steady green. They hadn’t changed the security code since she’d reconnoitered. Another point for her report.

“I’m in,” she whispered, knowing Mark was listening in the van. She wiped the sweat from the back of her neck, angling her head to catch the cool breeze rushing through the air-conditioning vent.

“You never told me how you got the security code,” she heard Mark say in the earpiece as she headed through the empty room toward the center hallway.

“I have my secrets,” she taunted. That weekend she’d bribed to call in sick so she could fill in had paid off-even if it meant she’d had to scrub toilets. The work hadn’t really been hard-the new owner had only furnished four rooms so far, so there’d not been much to clean.

A smile tugging at her lips, Jodi paused at the door to the office, ensuring it was empty. Moonlight streamed between the heavy curtains that flanked the French doors and across the floor in a rectangular pattern, slanting up the bookcases lining the walls. The red power light on the cordless phone reflected in the brass base of the banker’s lamp on the desk. Assured she was alone, she walked confidently toward the desk.

“The safe’s in the floor behind the desk,” Mark reminded her. “Figure you’ve got less than an hour to crack the safe, leave the envelope and get out before the next patrol cruises by.”

She rolled her eyes. Cruise was right-that’s all the minimum-wage cop wannabees currently providing security did for their visual inspection. Her van had been parked in the area for a week now and they hadn’t slowed down enough to read her license plate or check why she was there.

She pushed the leather office chair aside and knelt on the hardwood floor, inhaling a whiff of lemon furniture polish. The very same polish she’d applied on the weekend. Reaching beneath the desk, her fingers found the latch that would free the panel hiding the safe. Her breath left her with a whoosh when she heard the audible click.

“Got it!” she whispered, pumping her fist in the air. Now the real fun began.

Still on her knees, she reached down and swung open the square section of floor concealing the safe. A chuckle escaped her. She’d never bothered to tell Mark that during her stint as a replacement maid, she’d been assigned to dust this room. Or that she’d discovered the safe’s combination on the flip side of the leather blotter.

“Hey, Mark, start the timer-I’ll bet I can have this baby cracked in under three minutes.”

Mark’s low chuckle reverberated in her ear. “Two. Loser gets tied up and spanked.”

Jodi’s butt tightened. Spanking usually meant Mark was in the mood for ass play. Maybe she should deliberately take four minutes. No, she thought with wicked delight as she glanced at her latex covered fingers, it was time Mark got a taste of his own medicine.

“Then drop your pants, big boy, and show me your sweet ass, ’cause you’re going to get a whoopin’ tonight.”

Clenching her penlight between her teeth, she leaned over the dial of the old-fashioned safe. Then jumped when the egg started to vibrate deep inside her.

Sonuvabitch. She stopped herself from screeching. She’d completely forgotten the damned thing. Her nipples hardened into swollen buds rubbing against her cotton T-shirt while her pussy throbbed in time with the vibrations.

No way was she going to let Mark win this bet. Ignoring the vibrator as best she could, she carefully turned the dial clockwise to the first number. Heard the click as the mechanism released. One-and-a-half-turns counterclockwise. Another click. Clockwise again. Click. Grinning, she checked her watch.

“Mark, your ass is going to be sore tomorrow,” she whispered.

A quick tug on the handle opened the safe. Her penlight’s thin beam of light illuminated a thick rope of gold with a massive ruby pendant resting upon a black velvet-covered board. A set of dangly earrings that matched the pendant and several diamond-encrusted bracelets winked back at her. A fortune in easily fenced gems and the idiot had left the combination to the safe where anyone could find it.

Shaking her head at the owner’s stupidity, she pulled out the envelope. Then froze when the sliver of light from the French door lengthened, slid beneath the desk and over the safe.

She peered beneath the knee space under the desk. The moonlight outlined the shape of a dark figure shutting the doors.

“Under two minutes, Mark, I win,” she announced as she crawled from beneath the desk. She straightened and smiled, expecting Mark to flash that sexy smile of his. She was so ready to fuck him, to have him ram his cock deep into her.

But her smile froze when the intruder took a step into the room and the moonlight gleamed off his head. His shaved head.

Not Mark.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.”

A sudden blaze of light blinded her. Halogen lights glared on the open safe, on the desk. On her.

On him.

A good four inches taller than Mark, the intruder must have weighed at least fifty pounds more, every ounce pure muscle. He looked like he’d stepped out of the Matrix in a dark silk shirt that outlined every bulging muscle in his massive shoulders. While his shaved head gleamed, a day’s worth of stubble shadowed his heavy jaw. Beneath thick dark brows and darker eyes, his nose had a slightly off-center look as if it had been broken several times. Leather pants clung like a second skin, accentuating the bulging package at the juncture of his legs. Everything about him screamed strength and power.

“If you’re fixin’ to tell me you’re doin’ some window-shoppin’, this store is closed.” He spoke in a slow southern drawl, nothing like Mark’s sexy accent.

Her heart rate skyrocketed to triple digits as adrenaline catapulted through her system; sweat slickened the inside of her gloves. Why hadn’t Mark warned her that someone was on the grounds?

“You’re trespassin’ on private property, sweet pea.” His deep voice resonated through her chest, its slow cadence drumming a prisoner to the gallows.

Confidence wrapped itself around him in a comfortable cloak. Something in the way he held himself told her not to let his casual pose deceive her. He looked like he could have played defensive end for the NFL and would relish the opportunity to tackle her.

Jodi stared at the inky darkness behind him, hoping he hadn’t brought backup. When no one else appeared, her heart rate decreased. Slightly.

“You the owner?” she asked, pleased that her voice didn’t betray her anxiety. Or the fact that her pussy was throbbing from the egg still vibrating deep inside her.

“If you belonged here, sweet pea, you’d know who the owner was.”

Did that mean he was? Or he wasn’t?

She’d checked the names of the cleaning staff personally but couldn’t remember anyone of his age or description. The property had been registered under a numbered corporation, and while Mark had met with the owner in person, he hadn’t mentioned the man-or woman’s name, Jodi amended to be fair.

Jodi lifted her chin, forced her voice to remain steady. “I’m with Celada Security. We’ve been approached about upgrading the security on this place. Part of the proposal included an agreement that we would breach the perimeter. So here I am-living proof of how pathetic the current system is.”