My sensual criminals
Shared stories

James' eyes then drift away.

"We were finally at the top of our profession. The best of the best. We were revered and celebrated by the underworld, and there was simply nowhere to go. Nothing to conquer. As a result, we looked for new challenges and started targeting multi-millionaire art collectors. Not even because we needed the money, but for the thrill of the chase."

I gasp.

"Wait, they don't need money anymore?"

They shrug.

"Hardly. Besides, even if we took that Jackson Pollock off your wall," says Jack, pointing to the painting. "Where would we sell it? Interpol would be on our asses in a millisecond."

I gasp again, wide-eyed.

"But surely there's someone who would buy it. Some amoral oligarch or a tyrant from a third world country."

The brothers shrug.

"Yes, there are, but sometimes we like to have it hanging on our own walls."

This time, I'm completely freaked out.

"Wait, you get to keep some of the art? And hang it in your house?".

Jack and James smile, teasing me.

"That's right, honey. Again, it's the thrill of the chase. We like to rob assholes to make them burn, and then we like to savor our looted goods in the privacy of our homes. We have a hell of a collection, if I do say so myself."

I gape at them before remembering to shut my mouth. This shatters any preconceived notions I had about art thieves. Jack and James don't do it for money, or even recognition. They do it because they are alpha males who enjoy a challenge, not to mention the fact that they appreciate fine art.

"Get it now?" asks Jack with a smirk. "It's a pretty simple story, once you get to the basics."

"I get it," I nod breathlessly. "Mother of mine."

"And who is your father?" whispers Jack against my neck as he nuzzles my face. "Now that you know our history?"

"You are," I whisper, smiling at them both.

"I am," Jack replies, kissing me. I feel the current coursing through my body and down to my pussy as I feel his lips on mine. But I have to stop him.

"Wait," I say pulling away. Jack raises an eyebrow in question. "I need to know one more thing." Neither of us speak, just wait in silence for him to continue. "How do you get into my room every night? How do you get into every room? My downstairs neighbor on the news today said you came in and took the Monet so quickly and so quietly, I had no idea what had happened. How are you doing it?"

James and Jack exchange glances. I watch them carry on a silent conversation without moving a muscle or saying a word before they turn to me.

"We might as well tell you, little girl," James growls. "Because it could be to our advantage." They stare at me, and I stare back expectantly.

"Well?" I breathe expectantly. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

"Actually, it would be easier to show you," Jack growls. With a jerk, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, before carefully setting me down on my feet. Then he grabs my hand and leads me to the wall panels by the window. They look at me in confusion.

"Am I supposed to be seeing something? It's just a wall," I comment, feeling silly. Again, the men exchange glances, but this time they look a little surprised.

"This is your bedroom. You really don't know?" asks James.

"Know what?" I say, but now I suddenly feel worried. I watch as Jack reaches out, tucks his fingers under the frame of the wall panel and pulls it toward himself, opening it like a secret door. My heart sinks into my stomach as I realize that I have lived in this room my whole life without knowing anything about this panel.

Suddenly, I have the feeling that what my lovers are about to show me is something I would rather not know. I suspect that what is hidden behind the panels on the walls of my room will reveal to me a future full of trouble, suffering and danger, with no room for my handsome lovers. It's all going to change and, unfortunately, it comes when I've just fallen in love.

JAMES

Ariana said she had no idea how we got into her room at night, but I was still waiting for her to exclaim, "Oh, that panel? I never would have thought it could be used for anything other than my father's paintings," or something like that. But the fact that she has no idea breaks my heart. It's obvious that her father doesn't care about her. What is wrong with this family?

I watch her face as the panel separates from the wall, swinging on tiny hinges like a small door. It is incredibly delicate and well-designed architecture. Her big doe eyes are round with surprise and confusion, and her lips half-open as she tries to decipher what she's seeing.

"What is this?" he stammers with a half-smile of disbelief. "Did you guys install this or something?".

"No," Jack replies. "Your father did, years ago. Most serious art collectors have them."

"What is it?" she asks, curious and incredulous.

"A fake wall," I reply. "Kind of like a safe room, but specifically for artwork."

"I had no idea it was here," she says slowly. "How long has it been in my room?"

Poor thing. No doubt several of the rooms in the attic have false walls, but to discover there's one in your bedroom is heartbreaking.

Sigh.

"It's been here for a while, honey. Probably years, in fact."

Ariana stiffens.

"Why, did my father have it built?"

"Probably, but it might have been here before he bought the penthouse. Art collectors tend to move in similar circles, and I'd bet your father decided to buy this place because he already had the room safe. It's a common traditional precaution among art collectors. Think of it as an emergency safe for his most prized works right in the comfort of his own home."

"But," cries Ariana. "Why wouldn't Harrison tell me? I mean, this is my bedroom. My private sanctuary."

"I know, honey," I reassure her. "But he probably wanted to keep it a secret. That's the fun of these things."

Her eyes fill with tears. I understand her betrayal. I wouldn't want a secret camera in my private space either. At least, not without my knowledge.

My brother then speaks up.

"Many old buildings built in the 1930s have these safes, but people no longer use them because they now have modern security technology. As a result, these safes are often forgotten, or even overlooked. Some people don't even realize they have one until they stumble upon it by accident. It's not like these things are on the floor plan," she adds wryly.

Ariana tries to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed.

"So, as I understand it," she says, "you enter different apartments through safe rooms that were built for precious objects? But isn't that kinky?"

"Yes, it is," I say, allowing myself to smile. "Sometimes we don't even have to go into the apartment itself. Things are right in front of us within the first five minutes." Ariana lets out an unladylike snort.

"But you're huge!" he exclaims, gesturing back and forth, making us both smile. "How do you guys fit in this tiny space?" he asks, peering into the darkness.

"Like James said," Jack winks. "It's a technique we've had to master. The main trick is to be very quick and quiet getting in and out of the safe rooms. But once inside, it's pretty easy to get around the infrastructure if you know what you're doing. And there is no security whatsoever inside the walls," he explains.

Ariana shakes her head, still stunned by this revelation.

"Well," she sighs, "at least now I know how you were getting in and out of my room. Thank you for telling me," she adds, smiling so sweetly that it makes me want to kiss those perfect lips and press her plush, curvaceous body against my chest. The thought makes my cock twitch, but a look from Jack reminds me that this isn't over yet. Ariana needed answers, but we have our own agenda. We talked about it last night, and this is the perfect time to move on.