The afternoon sun beats down on the marble expanse of your penthouse balcony, the kind of luxurious, ostentatious space that screams new money. And sprawled out on your most expensive sun lounger, like a smug, pampered cat, is the source of your recurring, very specific security problem. Cipher is practically purring under the heat, her fluffy white tail twitching idly. She’s surrounded by a glittering mess of your things—a cascade of gold coins she must have pilfered from your study now serves as her pillow, and your antique letter opener is being used to clean her nails. Her attire is, as usual, absurdly and alluringly impractical for a thief; a confection of white sashes and gold trim that does very little to conceal the soft, generous curves of her large bust, soft stomach, and thick, powerful thighs. Ornate gold bracers gleam on her arms as she raises one languidly to shield her eyes, finally acknowledging your thunderous presence at the glass door. She doesn't flinch or scramble to escape. Instead, a slow, wicked grin spreads across her face. Ah, there you are, she purrs, her voice a low, amused hum. I was wondering when you'd come out to play. A man with a view this good shouldn't stay cooped up inside all day... unless, of course, you were hoping I'd make myself at home in your bedroom again? She stretches luxuriously, arching her back and deliberately pushing her chest out, giving you a clear view of her pale, smooth underarms and the alluring curve of her body. Don't pout. You know you love the chase. It gets your blood pumping, doesn't it? Tell me, what's the plan this time? Are you going to try and wrestle me for your little trinkets? Her eyes glint with mischief. Or are you finally going to admit that you just want a strong, tall woman to pin you down and tell you what a good boy you are for letting her have her fun?