Billionairess Thief (An Erotic Tale) (7 page)

“Hey! Hey! Come, hurry!” Makar called after me. He had changed his mind.

I turned around slowly, a ringlet of blond hair fell over my forehead, partially blocking my left eye as I looked at him. He waved me into his suite. I quickly followed.

I glanced at the Rolex that Marcus had given me as I walked inside. The time was 8:32 I needed to move fast. The room was unkempt. Clothes were strewn everywhere. There was a musky male scent in the room. Room service had delivered steak and lobster. The table was cluttered with leftover food, knives and folks. A television blared loudly.

Makar quickly bolted the door and locked it. He turned around in haste, and moved towards me quickly in only a few strides. He grabbed my blouse, reaching for my breast. I heard something tear. To my dismay, he still had the metal briefcase cuffed to his wrist. This presented a major problem. Were the Russians still that Gothic?

Makar’s fevered breath was hot on my breast, slobbering and salivating as a hand groped my ass, cupping my cheeks.

“Stop!” I yelled as I pulled away from him. He panted and groaned his disappointment. For a brief moment, I saw his face flash anger.

“What is wrong?” He snorted. His shoulders slumped.

“Take off that thing.” I pointed at the metal briefcase begrudgingly.

“I cannot do that. I do not have the key to open it. Only my commander can open it,” he said with doldrums. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I raised my voice incredulously, “So you sleep and bathe with that thing on?”

Makar looked at me annoyed and replied tersely, “This is protocol. Every four to eight hours if I like, I am relieved of briefcase. Now suck my cock.” he said capriciously and took out his penis.

He tried to force me to my knees. The entire time, my mind was in a trance, submerged in intricate thoughts and plots. I was trying to think of a way to get the diamonds out of the briefcase. It was obvious that it was made out of solid steel, and the locks securing it closed were impenetrable.

Makar had forced me to my knees. He then tried to ram his cock in my mouth as he pulled my hair. I deep throated him, not once, but twice, and heard him gasp as if he was sucking air. I used the juices of my mouth along with my tongue to deftly work around the most sensitive area of his member. Then, I sped up the pace, allowing his cock to go all the way to my esophagus, down the back of my throat as I choked and gagged, summoning his semen. He placed his hand on the back of my head and maliciously sodomized my face with wanton abuse, not knowing this was part of my plan that I had just concocted.

I pulled my lips off his cock, intentionally making a loud suction sound that echoed in the room, leaving his penis to dangle solitary, minus my luscious lips that glistened with his pre-cum.

“What are you doing? Why are you stopping?” he asked in a crass crescendo, priming with the vulgarities that threatened to erupt underneath the surface of his Russian disciplined countenance.

I stood up, unbuttoned my blouse, and licked my erect nipples as I squeezed them tight like I was in heat.

“I need for you to take a drink with me. That is the type of girl I am. Vodka and a nice hard cock in my mouth or ass makes me cum,” I drawled lasciviously, and then began to stroke my pussy as he watched me with a fascinated expression on his face.

“American women are crazy. We do not have time, hurry—”

I took the finger that I had just pulled out my pussy, shoved it into his mouth, and then dragged it slowly down his torso. The entire time I was studying the locks on the briefcase thinking,
maybe I can pick it with one of the steak knives
.

There were several glasses on the tables filled with water. I discarded the contents by throwing the water on the floor. I filled two glasses with vodka. Just as I was about to place the drug in his drink, Makar, walked up behind me and spread my ass cheeks. I could feel the cold steel of the metal briefcase brush against my thigh. His cock was hard. He was trying to enter me from the back. Thank God his penis was short. He humped and grinded against my ass, determined to get the head in. Frustrated, he dipped his finger in the butter on the table and swiped it across my anus, causing a tingling sensation. For some perverted reason, that I will never be able to understand, I felt my ass hole percolate tantalizingly as he grinded against me, undulating. Strangely, the Nympho in me grew excited. I had the uncanny urge to accommodate him. To bent over and let him have his way with me.

“You say nice hard cock in your ass make you come as you drink vodka?” His gravelly voice was a murmur across my soft flesh as he leaned forward with his lips on the back of my shoulders. He bit me gently, then nibbled. I was still able to pour several drops of the clear liquid from the vial into his drink. Then, I suddenly spun in his arms as the briefcase dangled from his hand. His dick jabbed me in my stomach.

“Here, sip this,” I persuaded, feeling like Eve offering Adam the apple.

Makar greedily swallowed the drink in one gulp. Instantly, his eyes became glazed with something that could have passed for fury as he looked at my hand and suddenly asked, “What is that you have concealed in your hand?”

“N… nothing.” I stammered.

“Let me see.” he growled and reached for the hand with the vial in it. I tried to move out the way. He was too quick. He grabbed my wrist and turned it painfully.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” I yelled as we tussled.

He was able to wrestle the vial from my hand. It fell on the carpet. His eyes bulged as it dawned on him what I had done. At the same time, the drug was starting to take effect. He staggered, wiggling his head from side to side as if he was trying to shake off the slow inertia effect of the potent drug.

“You poisoned me!” he exclaimed and removed a gun from his pocket. A sheen of sweat glistened off his forehead as he took aim at me.

“No! No! That is not a drug. I would never do such a thing!” I feigned sincerity. My heart was in my throat, beating so fast it felt like I was about to regurgitate it.

Awkwardly, he reached into his other pocket with the hand that was handcuffed to the briefcase. He winced painfully and removed a cell phone. He muttered something in his foreign language to himself as he dialed. The only word I could recognize was Andrei. He must have been calling his cousin.

No answer.

He staggered some more. His legs were becoming more languid by the minute. He almost stumbled and fell as he panted, struggling to breathe. Beads of sweet descended off his forehead. His face turned crimson red. He looked almost deranged. That’s when I heard him mutter something that sent chills down my spine.

“Nestor…” he said and aimed the gun at my head.

He prepared to shoot as he did a stutter step. His face twisted into a grimace. Vision obscured, he batted his eyes, staggered some more, and passed out. He fell flat on his back. The gun careened across the carpet as he landed in a heap. His head struck a chair, causing it to topple over. I almost vomited. I was sick to my stomach, nauseated with fear.

My first instinct told me to run, but I couldn’t. I looked at the unconscious Makar, sprawled out on the floor with the briefcase filled with hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds shackled to his wrist. The television continued to blare inaudibly.

I moved quickly. My mind was on autopilot, my body was possessed by something that controlled me. I glanced at the Rolex watch on my wrist that Mark had given me. It was 8:54. I needed to be out before nine o’clock, perhaps sooner. The voice in my head was telling me to leave. I grabbed the steak knife off the table, walked over to Makar, and bent down next to him. I began to pick the locks on the briefcase. My hands were shaking so badly, I could hardly get the edge of the blade in the lock. I worked laboriously to open the briefcase. To my dismay, the locks were solid steel. The knife would only bend, no matter how I tried to manipulate it into the stubborn lock.

“Shit!”

Bloody Diamonds

8:59 PM

I worked feverishly, trying to get the briefcase open. The dictation in my head was warning me, telling me to
leave.
Then suddenly, I had an idea. It must have come from the netherworld of thoughts that inhibited my mind like some evil incantations. A presage from my great-grand mother moved me.

“God forgive me for what I’m about to do.” I said to myself as I pressed the sharp edge of the knife to Makar’s wrist and closed my eyes. I began the macabre task of sawing his hand off.

In the span of two hours, I had possibly murdered two men. I thought as I looked over at Makar lying on the floor, bleeding to death. Instantly, my mind flashed back to what my grandfather had told me about my ancestor, Mary Buck. Like it or not, I had exceeded her ruthlessness, I was a murder!

God help me!

__________

Moments after I had completed the gory amputation, with briefcase in hand and the sordid smell of blood in my nostrils, I wiped myself clean with the tablecloth and headed for the door. Makar’s severed hand lay on the floor as blood ran like a river. The compunction of what I’d done weighed heavily on my mind, but the diamonds in the suitcase I was carrying weighed heavier.

As soon as I reached the door to exit, someone knocked. I almost jumped out of my skin. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. A key was inserted into the hotel door. I heard voices on the other side. Whoever it was, was about to enter. I peered through the peephole and looked straight into the face of none other than Nestor. He was with his men, and didn’t look too happy. I quickly bolted the door and stepped back. I was trapped.

What was I going to do?

To be continued …