His Pretty Little Thief Read online Madison Faye

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)

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His Pretty Little Thief

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Madison Faye

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She thinks it’s her who’s the hunter, and me the prey. She thinks she’s playing me in order to steal what she wants.
...She couldn’t be more wrong. Because tonight, it’s me who’ll be stealing her. Tonight, she’s mine.
Dear little thief,
I know what you came for. I know you thought it’d be easy. I know you thought I would be easy. Spoiler, it won’t be, and I’m not.
You thought seducing me, and stealing a sample of my...seed, to sell on the black market would be a breeze. Except we both know you’ve never done anything with a man, let alone one as powerful, and rich, and obsessed as me.
I know I should have you arrested. A man with my wealth and my power could ruin you with a snap of the fingers. But I won’t.
Maybe it’s because you intrigue me, little one. Maybe it’s because I enjoy a challenge. Or maybe it’s just because you look so f-ing pretty on your knees saying “please, sir”.
We’ll just have to find out. Let the games begin.
Come and play, little thief. Come and play, so I can play with you.
Ludicrously over-the-top, alpha as all get-out, sweet as pie, and 100% as naughty as you're thinking it's going to be. This is one thief who's about to meet her match, and get MUCH more than she bargained for ;).
As with all my books, this one is safe, with no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.
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She’s mine, she just doesn’t know it yet. In a way, it’s cute, watching her in that slinky red dress across the club, sitting in the shadows pretending she’s not studying my every move. It’s adorable that she’s not aware that I see her, and see what she’s doing, and know exactly what she’s up to.

It’s cute watching her watching me, thinking it’s her who’s the hunter, and me the prey. When the reality is, it couldn’t be more opposite.

She pushes her long, long blonde hair away from those baby-blue eyes and pouty fuck-me lips and takes a sip of her drink—a mojito, virgin.

…How appropriate.

It’s not a mystery how a girl her age is in a club like this. She’s not twenty-one, of course, but this is one of the most exclusive new nightclubs in Manhattan, and she’s fucking gorgeous. No shit she got in without an ID. She glances my way again, her eyes eager and inquisitive, and just like I have the other hundred or more times she’s done this over the last five nights, I casually and seamlessly avert my gaze.

I play the prey, like I’ve been doing all week with her. It’s a game, and it’s amusing to me, but like all games, it has an end. And this one’s end is coming soon. Tomorrow, actually. Tomorrow, she’ll make her move, and then I’ll make mine, and she’ll see just how pre-ordained this little game of seduction chess really is.

She thought this would be easy. She thought I would be easy. But it won’t be, and I’m not. She’s here, watching me, because she wants something. Because there’s something of mine she’s after, and tomorrow, she plans on coming for it, and taking it from me. A pretty, pretty little thief. Except, tomorrow, the thief becomes the thieved. The hunter becomes the hunted. And I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching her drum up her courage and steel her resolve over the last five nights as she’s watched me here, knowing how tomorrow is going to flip on her.

She thinks she’s playing me.

…She’s wrong.

Tomorrow, Simone Delphine is going to come for what she’s after. But first, she’s going to come for me. First, she’s going to understand how ensnared she already is. How hook, line, and sunk she already is. How mine she already is. The wait is almost unbearable, and the pulsing thickness growing harder and harder between my thighs makes me groan. The idea of waiting even another second to touch her, and claim her, and taste her is a marathon. Waiting another whole day an eternity.

But I’ve come this far, and come this close to having what’s mine, and I know I can wait one more damn night. One more night, before she’s all mine.

Come and play, little thief, I think to myself, raising my glass in a subtle toast her way while her gaze is averted for a moment.

Come and play, so I can play with YOU.



One week earlier:

“Wait, you can’t be serious.”

I stare at Bianca, my jaw halfway to the floor to join the purse I’ve just dropped there. In front of me, standing right outside what only this morning was her thrifty but fully furnished room in our tiny two-bedroom Hell’s Kitchen apartment, is my roommate and three brand new suitcases. The bags are all Coach, and her clothes are better than anything I’ve ever seen her wear before. Oh, and the aforementioned room is bare down to the stained walls and worn-down hardwood floor.

“Look, Simone, its just—”

“You’re moving?”

I blink, shaking my head as I try and process what she’s just said when I walked in to find her like this. My feet are killing me from my shitty job at the coffee bar, the fresh burn on my thumb from the shitty espresso machine throbbing under the Band-Aid I’ve slapped over it. It’s been a shit day, in a shit month, and coming home to find that my roommate and only friend since I moved here is moving out is pretty much the cherry on top of a shit-flavored ice-cream sundae.


She bites her lip, her eyes darting around nervously. “I, uh, I got a new place, and the move-in date is today.”

“I’m really confused here,” I say slowly, frowning at her. “You were totally broke, like, a month ago.”

Ever since I moved to New York and met her, Bianca’s been as paycheck-to-paycheck as me. Actually, a month ago she was more than broke, and I had to cover a portion of her rent. And here we are, a matter of weeks later, and not only is she moving out, but she’s dressed in top-of-the-line fashion and packing her stuff into thousand-dollar suitcases.

“Simone,” she smiles wryly, pushing her dark brown hair out of her face. “I know it’s sudden, but I’m not just leaving you hanging, I swear. There’s a check on the fridge for four months’ rent and utilities, plus what I owe you from last month.”