Ebony's POV
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His ass finally fell asleep...
A grin snuck up on my face as I slid outta bed, landing my feet on the cold, hard wood floor. They creaked with each step, making me worry about waking him.
Couldn't help but roll my eyes at the memories of his yammering to me at the club, braggin about being a rapper, havin' all of these expensive things...And you won't believe it, when we got to his crib, he was drunk and wouldn't stop talking about his divorced wife and baby daughter. Like any of it mattered to me. But I put up with his jabber, waitin' for the chance to get what I wanted.
His wallet laid on the dresser, but I ain't gonna risk waking him by grabbin' it. So, I went to where his baggy jeans laid crumpled on the floor, still warm from his body heat.
With quick fingers, I rummaged through the pockets until I hit the jackpot: a wad of cash, thick and tempting. My heart raced as I counted it, feelin' the thrill of a successful score.
He ain't gonna miss it. Not with the cash he flashed at the club, tryna lowkey impress me. All I cared about was what I could get from him, and I am in fact satisfied...Thanks Elvis.
It was only expected for this Eminem dude to act the way he did, I mean, tryna press me and flirt and flash all of his money and status on me. The crying was just uncalled for.
I slipped my clothes back on before finding my heels and coat as I carefully grabbed my purse.
I stuffed the wad of cash into my bag. The most mischievous grin on my face as I looked at what I was doing and back at Eminem every once in a while just to make sure he wasn't waking up.
This is one of the biggest wads I've been able to steal. I felt like I just won the damn lottery.
With the cash safe in my purse, I turned to leave, givin' one last look at Eminem passed out in bed. He was just a means to an end, a step on my road to satisfaction.
Walking outta his expensive hotel, that same grin played on my lips. Another night, another win. And with a sense of victory, I got away with what I wanted.
Since I was still a little tipsy, and was driven here by Eminem's driver, I had to catch a cab.
When I got outside, my heels clacked against the ground, the cold air made me shiver like never before as I hailed down a cab.
Waiting for the lift, my mind wandered back to the events of the evening, replaying them like scenes from a movie. The thrill of the heist still lingered, but beneath the surface, there was a nagging sense of unease, a weight pressing down on my conscience.
He's Eminem, he'll be okay, there are plenty of other women and millions of dollars waiting for his trash of a rapper ass.
I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at the edges of my mind though...like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch. Each memory of manipulating and deceiving the man in his vulnerable state felt like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach.
Why couldn't that feeling just go away? I didn't care about the dude.
I always felt guilty after doing things like this but I always pushed the feeling away. I'm a pretty girl, and I like money, sex, and expensive things—Why not use it to my advantage to get what I want? It's easy.
