#implied walestonga

He knew when to stop going lower down their thighs, feeling the hand gun nicked away under the helm of their lingerie and pantyhose. Kainga smirked seductively at him and took off his hand from their waist almost teasingly. "A Sir Owain Marc, will see you now, James."

It's not more than a whisper, a message, an invite. Felt like just for him in that sugared sweet voice that called to him.

Another party, another house brimming with rich foolish men who drank too much and another victim in their little game of conning anyone stupid enough to take part. Kainga will play dumb, act like they're an oblivious piece of eye candy to draw in those who wished to play, something to sweeten the deal if their customer was unsure. There weren’t many who couldn’t be swayed by a kiss from a pretty little lady now. 

James's sharp eyes shot from Kainga's red lips to a man standing across the room from them, through the dense crowd he spotted his victim like a predator through the shrub. Kainga's tender fingers slid down James's tie, slipping them from under his tie, an alluring look and they were leading him along to follow them back over to the unsuspecting Welshman. Their aura of seductive femininity, James almost couldn't wait until the night was over so he could have them all to himself. By this time, they'd been spotted.

"Evening Welshie, can I call you that?" James doesn't wait from an answer from the brunette Welshman, whiskily stealing another flute of champagne from a waiter just passing by. He gave him an imploring look before speaking again. “A man of your standing needs some extra security, does he not?”

At the nod, a shark like grin splits the New Zealander’s lips, a glint in his eyes that the gormless Welshman didn’t notice or lacked the ability to process. Even better, by James’s standing. 

“Me company offers a secure money holding office, with high security at all times. We’ve had reports of con artists in banks just fleeing people of their money and it just breaks my heart to see peoples hard earned cash stolen from them.”

“Well- when ya put it like that, I 'ave been worried that some of me finances have been taken without permission these past few months…”

They picked a good one this time, James leaning back and watching the flapper as the man opposite continued to babble on about some worries the Kiwi, frankly, cared nothing for. While his partner in crime slandered around the back of the Tycoon, brushing against him as anyone would to get through a tough ground. Owain didn't even recognize them from past affairs regarding going to the extremes for this kind of work. He also didn't seem to notice that his wallet had been smoothly plucked from the back of his suit pants pocket.

“How soon would I be able to transfer the money to you, Mr…?”

"Hunter. James Hunter." His mouth was already growing bored with this one, his eyes trailing off back to that red satin dress in the crowd. The wallet was in with the gun, flashing him a quick exposed thigh in lingerie before brushing their dress back and disappearing, leaving him with bedroom eyes to meet them back around. James's eyes shot back to Owain, which clearly unnerved the man a little. His smirk was too charming not to be untrustworthy however. “And whenever yer ready, I could even take some now if ya had it to hand.”

The Welsh Tycoon gives him a safe full of cash, a handshake shared and a quip about how business had been a pleasure, the Kiwi leaving with his tantalizing associate at the hip, which such a little fuss it was as if nobody had noticed them arrive or leave from the dinner party.

---

The lamp on their bedside table flickered before dousing the room in a warm, ravishing light against the darkness

His kisses upon their neck and shoulders are distracting as they count the seemingly endless wads of money, patience never being James’s strong point after another successful job, hands running up her thighs, puling her dress up and off in one smooth sweep. He grunted, allowing himself to enjoy them all to himself for the night once again, truly his favorite part other than laundering riches.

“How much richer are we, darlin’?” He reathes in Kainga’s ear, hands exploring their mostly bare, soft body, teasing them as they moved and slipped between their thighs and finally got to those undergarments they'd teased him with. They softly moaned, oh they were in trouble now.

Kainga barely has time to gasp out they’d conned Marc and Kirkland bros Industries out of near two thousand dollars before they're on their back, his lips on theirs and the sound of clothes before torn off.