by Jesse Jordan
“I see,” he says, sliding it under his shirt and pulling. The cotton parts like tissue paper and he looks at the knife with renewed respect before shrugging off the remains. “Glad I've got a spare t-shirt.”
“Me too. You'd look silly in one of my camisoles,” I giggle, Stephen turning back around to look in my drawers again. He plucks something out and puts it in his pocket, a small smile on his face as he stalks towards the bed, climbing on next to me and picking up the knife. “Sir....”
“Shhh... trust,” he says softly, pulling the waistband of my panties out. Before I can say anything he's sliced, and he slides the ruined satin down my left leg until he can cut the other side and remove them totally. He looks at the knife for a moment then sets it aside to look back at me, his eyes gleaming in the overhead lights. “No blood.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath and realize that for just a moment, I was frightened, but at the same time I'm elated at how in control Stephen is. Stephen studies my now exposed pussy for a minute before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his little surprise. “And what is this?”
“You know what it is, sir,” I tease, gasping when Stephen 'punishes' me with a smack on my ass. “One of my vibrators, sir.”
Stephen strokes the vibrator up the back of my legs before moving to the side of me and kissing me, our lips and tongues molding to each other and making me moan in want as he brings the still turned off vibrator between my legs, tickling my pussy lips with the soft tip. “You've never used this room at all with another person?”
“No sir,” I whisper, gasping when he turns on the vibrator to barely play it over my pussy lips. “Didn't trust anyone enough.”
“I'm honored,” Stephen says, circling the vibrator around my pussy before slipping it in. The vibrations work their magic almost immediately, tremors that course their way through my body as my nerves are lit on magical fire. Stephen watches, his eyes never leaving my face as he starts to slide the tool in and out of my body. “You are every man's fantasy, you know that?”
“I don't want every man,” I moan in reply. “I want just one.”
“You have one,” Stephen murmurs, leaning down and kissing me again before getting off the bed and going back over to the drawers, rooting around while I'm caught in the waves from the vibrator before finding what he wants and coming back. “And I have a fantasy I want to do with you.”
He shows me the bottle of lubricant, reaching for the waistband of his sleep shorts. “How long has it been since a man's been in your ass?”
“At least a year sir,” I groan, the vibrator making it hard to think. Stephen takes his shorts off though, and suddenly the vibrator doesn't do my body justice any more. It's like the appetizer before the main course. His cock is already hard as he takes me in and he squirts a little bit of lube on his cock, stroking himself up until he glistens in the light. “But I have used toys back there, I can take it.”
“You can, huh? Is that a challenge?” Stephen teases, climbing onto the bed and caressing my ass. My back is getting tired from being bound but his touch sends fresh heat through me, and I grunt in need when he squirts a little bit of lube on his fingers and starts massaging my asshole. “You're getting quite a gift, you know that?”
“How-” I start to ask, then his eyes answer for me, and I gulp. An anal virgin? Fresh delight runs through me as I consider the handsome man in front of me, and how much I've introduced to him, but also a ripple of fear. If he doesn't know what to do, he could hurt me so easily... if he doesn't have self control. I nod slowly, biting my lip as he keeps massaging, the pleasure slowly starting to add to the vibrator inside me, and I feel enveloped in Stephen's strength as he studies my face, so much in control of himself that there's no fear as his finger slips inside me and I feel him start to explore. He just knows, watching me as he opens me up. “Mmmm... sir. So good.”
“Are you ready for me?” Stephen asks, his voice quaking with desire as he kisses me again. I've never kissed a man more than I've kissed Stephen since that first time and I'm finding myself looking forward to it more and more, but I hum my readiness, watching with a warm thrill going through me as he gets between my legs, looking into my eyes as he lines himself up and pushes.
This is the dangerous part, if he goes too fast he can hurt me in the bad way, but he doesn't, pushing in slowly enough that my ass seems to melt around the head of his cock until he's past my tight ring and he pauses, a look of wonder on his face. “Holy shit.”
“I think I've created a booty bandit,” I tease, and Stephen laughs, pushing in slowly, spreading me open as the small vibrator continues to keep my pussy white hot and melting with good feeling. “Sir... mmm... please, fuck me.”
Stephen takes his time, relishing as he thrusts in and out slowly, marveling in the new sensation to his body as he explores my ass. The utter joy on his face brings tears to my eyes as he thrusts all the way in, burying himself deep inside me and growling in triumph. “Yessss....”
Stephen opens his eyes to look into mine as he pulls back and thrust in again, both of us moaning from the pleasure. Stephen takes over, pushing my legs back more as he thrusts in and out, hard but not hammering my ass as he leans in and teases my lips with another kiss, and I'm shocked when I try to reach up, try to find his mouth with mine, to pull him down and share more with him as the dual feelings of his cock in my ass and the vibrator in my pussy make my head spin and my heart pound in my chest.
We can't take a lot of time, the feelings are too intense, too overwhelming as I'm pummeled in my pussy and ass at the same time, but it doesn't matter, Stephen's right there with me, his cock stroking in and out as he looks into my eyes and a fire builds deep in my chest, the ache in my back and shoulders mixing with the electricity crackling up and down my body from my ass and pussy, our groans and breath coming in near perfect harmony, and I'm on the edge, trembling. “Stephen, I need....”
Stephen lifts his hips and thrusts one more time, hard and powerful as he kisses me at the same time, and the wave of my orgasm breaks over me, my ass clamping on his cock as he starts to come, filling me with his hot cream and burying himself inside me. Wave after wave follows, my chest hitching tightly as I'm carried deep into a realm of pleasure I haven't experienced in a long time.
I slowly become aware of the world around me again, and Stephen's still inside me, reaching down to shut off my vibrator and take it out carefully before he undoes the knots behind my legs. The feeling of him pulling out of my ass to undo my wrists fills me with longing and relief at the same time, and I'm touched when he carefully, slowly massages my shoulders to help me restore feeling.
“Thank you,” he says as he works my arms over and then goes to my legs, checking them out. “For everything.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back, looking back at him. “Stephen....”
“Yes?” he asks, getting off the bed to put the cord and lube away. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Everything felt great. I wondered though... after you clean up, this bed's big enough for two people.”
Stephen understands, and nods before smirking. “If I do, you're going to have to call me sir the rest of the night. And I might wake up with morning wood.”
I giggle, reaching for the edge of the sheet to slide underneath. “You do, and I might just have to show you how frisky I feel in the morning.... sir.”
Stephen
“Reginald Finch is a man with a lot of connections,” Larissa says as we go over the information her people have forwarded to us. “Sandhurst grad, he went on to do ten years in the SAS before he was discharged from the Army.”
“What for?” I ask, and Larissa scans her files.
“It doesn't say, which is pretty odd. Normally if someone gets that far with an officer’s background, they're staying for career. What's odder... his discharge is listed as an Early Service Leaver, but it doesn't say why. Normally it does.” Larissa clicks a little more, her face cloudin
g. “Fucking bastard.”
“What?” I ask, feeling like I'm repeating myself. I really wish we had more than one copy of the files to read, or that her table in her flat had the ability for us to eat breakfast side by side so I could read next to her.
“His squadron... he served with quite a few members of the nobility. There were quite a few rumors that started back when he was in, this was thirty years ago now, they had a sex scandal. The same type the church had.”
“Fuck,” I growl, shaking my head. “Well, with Pinchot, I guess it makes sense. Birds of a feather. What did he do after that?”
“I don't have much,” Larissa says, frustrated. “Which is absolute bollocks, he's got connections. A picture of him back in the SAS days shows him being chums with three men who are now members of the House of Lords.”
“Let me talk to my people,” I interject. “Let's face it, this may be a case where your nobility doesn't want a bad apple in their ranks exposed. Your investigative press gets pretty fucking vicious when they want to be.”
Larissa nods, sighing. “Okay.”
I get up from the table, heading over to the sofa where my bag is. When I'm bending over, I see under my shoulder Larissa watching me, a look in her eyes. “Hey.”
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice becoming a little more husky.
“We find this bastard, we can do what you're thinking,” I joke. “I know you like me bent over like this.”
Larissa blinks, catching my meaning before laughing. “Just because you like booty doesn't mean you're ready to give up your own. I'll give you a little privacy to do your security things. I need to clean up downstairs anyway, make the bed.”
She leaves, and I watch her as she heads to the freight elevator that connects the floors of the building, admiring her figure. What she entrusted me with, what she's introduced me to... I'll never be the same after Larissa Moraitis.
I call Langley, waiting for the security protocols to complete. It's still two in the morning in Virginia, and the operator on call routes me to the London field office where at least someone is awake. “What's up?”
“I need information on a person of interest,” I reply, falling back into formal CIA speak. “Reginald Finch, British national, former SAS. Fifty seven years old. White male, six feet tall.”
“Hold,” the London office says, digging through their computer files. When the guy comes back on, he sounds cautious. “Reginald Finch, correct?”
“Yes, British national,” I reply. “You guys are the fucking London office, you should have a file on this guy considering what I've heard about him.”
“Sorry, man. Other than what you said, there's nothing.”
I sigh, trying to think of what the fuck's going on. “Okay, try this. Cross reference and include the name Arthur Pinchot. French national, former Foreign Legion.”
“Hold.... he's dead.”
“I know that,” I growl in reply, getting frustrated. Either the London office is full of idiots, or something else is happening, something I'm not ready to consider yet. “Is there anything in your files about either of those names and the UK?”
“There's a mention about this Pinchot... contact report filed by Agent Nick Hardy a little over a year ago.”
Nick? I know Nick, he and I were on a team together when I started in the CIA. We clashed at the time, but this is work, and I'm not the same man I was eight years ago. “I need contact info on Agent Hardy. This is an Alpha Red priority.”
The London office whistles, with good reason. Very few people can call an Alpha Red without incurring major repercussions, but I think the White House should back me on this. I pray they do at least. The office gives me Hardy's phone, and I terminate my connection, dialing up Nick.
“Hello?”
“Nick? It's Stephen Knightsbridge, you busy?” I ask, the London didn't give me his current mission status.
“Stephen? No, not busy at all, what can I do for you?” Nick asks cautiously. I can understand, the last time we talked it was... tense.
“I've got a question for you on some people of interest for me. London office gave me your name and contact. Think you can talk?” I ask, CIA talk for 'is this line secure.'
“Of course. Who are you interested in?”
“Arthur Pinchot and Reginald Finch.”
There's silence on the other end of the line, and I wonder if Nick's hung up on me, but then he comes back, his voice tense. “You really know how to reintroduce yourself to someone's life, Stephen.”
“It's Alpha Red, Nick. I can really use your help,” I reply, and I hear Nick breathing, and it sounds like... like he's scared.
“Face to face only, Stephen. Where are you?”
“Just outside London. Are you nearby?”
Nick laughs harshly, and I wonder what the joke is. “No, we're not meeting anywhere near London. Fine... Culloden Moor. Call me when you get to the area.”
The line goes dead before I can reply, and I look at my phone in surprise when Larissa comes back up, breaking me out of my thoughts. “What's wrong?”
“Where's Culloden Moor?” I ask in reply. Larissa lifts and eyebrow, and I'm confused. “What?”
“Culloden Moor's on the north end of Scotland,” Larissa says. “Near Inverness. It's a national memorial battlefield.”
I stand up, I shrug. “Guess I've got a road trip ahead of me. This guy I'm going to see, he's CIA. He sounded jumpy, too. I probably should go alone.”
Larissa looks like she's about to protest, but then nods, going over to the kitchen drawer and pulling out a set of keys for me. “Here then, take my Bentley. It'll make for a better drive, and it has in-car navigation.”
She tosses the keys across the room and I catch them, no longer shocked by the strange mix of luxury and commonness that is Larissa. I head for the elevator when Larissa calls my name again. “Stephen?”
“Yeah?” I ask, stopping the cargo door and looking back at her. Her face is set, and there's no trace of the sexy seductress who shared a bed with me last night, but a deadly, and worried, secret agent.
“Be careful.”
The Highlands of Scotland are rugged, and I'm glad that I have a jacket with me as I get out. A light dusting of snow covers the ground as I crunch across the ground towards Nick, who looks a lot like how he did six years ago when we last talked, except for some more gray hair around the temples, and a lot of lines around his eyes. “Nick. It's good to see you.”
“I see the Company is springing for better rental cars now,” Nick says in reply, refusing my offered hand. “I know you're not the type to splurge for a Bentley on your own.”
“Actually, it's my partner's,” I reply, Nick showing for the first time a bit of interest. “She's British.”
“So... what dragged you down the rabbit hole?” Nick asks, turning and walking across the hills. We're not that far from the towns, but far enough that I can understand why Nick wanted to meet here, it's relatively isolated. “And how'd you get tabbed for this shit detail?”
“Chastity Hendricks,” I reply, Nick wincing. “You suspected?”
“When she disappeared I kept hoping it wasn't those two bastards, but I couldn't help but wonder. By the way, on your drive up here I did some checking, the Company based me in Edinburgh. Pinchot's dead. Found in the hills around Corinth. Castrated.”
“Yeah well... he deserved it,” I answer simply. “Now I'm looking for Finch. London office told me they didn't have any information on him, which smells of bullshit to me, Nick. My partner had more information than the London office, and the Company doesn't like getting outdone on information by anybody.”
Nick nods, staying silent until we're at least a quarter mile from the cars, watching the ground in front of him the whole time. Finally, he speaks. “You know, you were quite the asshole a few years ago.”
“Yeah... I guess I was,” I admit. “I'd like to say I've changed, but there hasn't been a lot of time, I'm not sure who I am now. I just know I want Fin
ch.”
Nick nods, looking out on the battlefield. “You're poking around in areas that are normally too dark for normal discussion. Alpha Red priority or not, people who ask about Reginald Finch tend to disappear. I'm surprised they let me alone after I filed the report on Pinchot.”
“Who are 'they,' Nick? You act like this guy Finch works for the goddamn Illuminati or NWO or whatever conspiritard theory you want to use,” I press. “Nick, she wasn't even out of high school. And what they did to her.... Pinchot admitted to me that it was his group, but all I could get out of him was Finch's name. And something he called W-W.”
“W-W? Damn, you must have really tortured the fucker,” Nick says with slight admiration in his voice. “How many people have you told this to?”
“You're the first,” I reply. “What I did, that doesn't belong in some incident report.”
“Don't tell anyone else,” Nick says heatedly. “Christ, Finch and W-W....you're so far in the dark that the dawn doesn't even exist for you right now. I can see why they sent you, actually. Probably figured that you're too by the book, too innocent to really understand it all, that you'd fuck around a little bit, maybe off a patsy or two, and then all would be good.”
“What the fuck am I involved in, Nick? The past month and some change has been utter insanity, and now you're telling me that it gets worse?”
“It gets a lot worse,” Nick says sadly. He takes a deep breath and holds it, and I think he's making an internal decision before he speaks again. “There's always been layers, Stephen. I think you've started to see that. W-W.... Finch is just the front man in one part of them. These guys, they make Caligula look like a fucking saint.”
“Nick, start making sense. I'm here on a fucking Jacobite battlefield talking with a CIA agent in northern Scotland talking about dead Roman emperors and letters of the goddamn alphabet and I'm still not getting close to this fucker Finch. Goddammit, the Hendricks girl, whatever the other people involved in all this may have been, she was innocent! She didn't deserve what happened to her!”
