Spy Games

by Jillian Boyd

  Nick groaned. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  Rissa loved the way he looked like he wanted to devour her, and come back for seconds. Nick set her on fire with little more than a look and a few words. She spread her legs apart, revealing her slick and swollen sex, showing how much she wanted him too.

  His eyes blazing, his nostrils flaring, he released her foot and stood. “Touch yourself for me.”

  While Nick unfastened his slacks and shucked the rest of his clothes, Rissa squeezed her tits together, fondling them, teasing her nipples, pinching them. She slid one hand down her stomach to her pussy, threading her fingers through the fine hair above her soaked folds. Nick stood before her gloriously naked, his impressive cock hard, curving upwards, the head dusky red and glistening. Licking her lips, she eased her fingers between her outer lips and lightly brushed her clit, both soothing and increasing her discomfort.

  “Lie back, Rissa,” he said, his voice husky.

  Leaving one leg of the floor, she reclined on the sofa, bending the other leg up against the back, still playing with herself. Nick knelt between her legs, stroking his thick cock a few times as he watched her, then ripped open the packet and rolled the condom over his length. Taking her hand from her pussy, he settled himself over her as he sucked her fingers clean.

  She relished his powerful body pressing hers into the sofa, his whole being invading her senses. Nick held her arms beside her head, his fiery gaze capturing hers as he glided his cock between her drenched slit. Moaning, Rissa arched her hips, trying to get him inside her.

  “Tell me what you want, Rissa.”

  “I want your cock inside me, please, Nick.”

  “Mmmm, I love the sound of you begging.”

  With one long, firm stroke, Nick was buried inside her, stretching her completely. The sensation was so overwhelming her cunt tightened around him, making him groan and her whimper. Nick bent down and took her lips with his own, possessing them as surely as he did the rest of her. As much as Rissa enjoyed the moment, she needed more, but he was locked in place and unmoving. She tried writhing beneath him, but he had her securely pinned.

  Rissa pulled her mouth from his and panted, “Please, Nick, please fuck me.”

  “Not until you promise something.”

  “What?”

  “After this case is over, I’ll see you again.”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Good girl,” he said and reclaimed her mouth as his hips began to move. His strokes were slow and smooth at first, then became faster and harder, driving them both to a point beyond reason. Pleasure rippled throughout Rissa’s body until a bone-melting orgasm overtook her, making her cry out. Nick growled his own release a few hard, deep thrusts later. She was vaguely aware of him carefully pulling out and rolling them over so she was on top before she drifted into sweet unconsciousness.

  ***

  A ringing phone woke Rissa up. Early morning light filled the living room. They’d fallen asleep on the sofa and she was draped over Nick like a blanket. She still had her robe on, but it was completely open in the front and her breasts were crushed against Nick’s bare chest.

  The phone rang again and Rissa realized it was coming from the floor beside them.

  She shook Nick until he grumbled and tried to pull her closer. “Nick, is that your phone?”

  He reached down, took his phone out of his pants pocket, and answered it. ‘What?’

  Rissa sat up and pulled her robe together.

  “It’s Callahan,” Nick said, handing her the phone.

  She took it and tried to ignore the sight of Nick putting his pants on without underwear. “Yeah?”

  “Perez got away and we don’t know where he is.”

  At that moment, several loud bangs sounded outside the apartment door before it crashed open.

  “He’s here,” she yelled into the phone, then threw it onto the couch. “Get down,” she told Nick as she scrambled to meet Enrique and his two goons - all armed.

  Enrique was about her height and slight of build. The thug right behind Enrique was a hulking figure and posed the greatest threat based on sheer size. Slightly off to the side was the swarthy guy who’d followed her.

  His greasy black hair dishevelled, Enrique was livid. “I know you betrayed me to the Feds, bitch!”

  Apparently, he didn’t know she was a Fed - just correctly assumed she was the reason he was busted. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. She only hoped Nick stayed out of the way and let her handle it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better put those guns away, or I’ll whip the hide off all of you,” Rissa said, moving closer, looking for an opening.

  “Lying whore!” Enrique aimed the gun at her chest, his arm extended.

  Thinking fast, Rissa leaned forward a bit, allowing her robe to gape open. Enrique looked down, turning the gun away enough for her to grab it with both hands, twist it out of his grip, and bring her knee up sharply into his groin. He fell down, writhing and cursing in Spanish.

  Before the hulk could shoot her, Rissa used Enrique’s gun to shoot him twice - once in the chest, once in the shoulder - making him drop his gun and fall backwards. The chest hit wasn’t near his heart and she could see he was still breathing. It looked serious, but he’d probably live.

  Enrique tried getting up, but she swiftly pistol-whipped him, sending him back to the floor, unconscious this time.

  Rissa was aware of movement in her periphery, but it wasn’t until she heard the gunshot that she looked over to see Nick wrestling on the floor with Swarthy. Nick had one hand around the guy’s throat and the other was slamming Swarthy’s gun hand onto the floor until he let it go. Then Nick hauled off and slugged him, knocking him out.

  After securing the fallen guns, Rissa rushed to help Nick to his feet, her heart racing. “Were you hit?!”

  Rissa felt all over his body and looked him up and down. When she knew he wasn’t hurt, she slapped him on the chest. “Don’t ever do that again! I know you’re some...some...alpha-male type. But I’m in charge in situations like this and when I say “get down”, you get down!”

  Nick grinned and pulled her close. “I promise. Every time we’re held at gunpoint, you’re in charge.” He stroked a finger over her cheek. ‘But I couldn’t stand by and let him shoot you.’

  It was impossible to stay angry with him, so she said, “Help me restrain these jackasses until the cavalry arrives.”

  “My pleasure.”

  ***

  After hours at the library, Nick sat at his desk, trying to work on his computer, but he couldn’t concentrate - his thoughts kept returning to Rissa. A week had passed since the big showdown. He knew Rissa was busy tying up her case, but he’d hoped to hear from her. Of course, he could always call her, but he really wanted her to contact him.

  “Hey.”

  Nick looked up to see Rissa leaning against the open doorway. God, she looked good. He took her smile as a good sign and his heart started beating a little faster. Her hair was back to its natural dark brown colour, flowing over her shoulders in soft waves. She wore a red trench coat that stopped at her knees - which he thought was odd, given the warm weather.

  “Hey,” he finally got out. Then he realized something-”How’d you get in?”

  Her smile widened. “I know things too, Mr. Kelly.”

  He got up from his chair and walked around his desk. “Naughty girl. Doesn’t the FBI frown on its agents breaking and entering?”

  “Only if they don’t have probable cause,” she said as she straightened and stepped into his office.

  “And what’s your probable cause, Special Agent Dubois?”

  “I’m here to make you an offer.”

  As Rissa turned to close his office door, Nick noticed
the sheer black hose on her long legs and her red patent leather pumps. He felt a heaviness in his groin that he knew would soon be a full-blown hard-on.

  He cleared his throat. “What kind of offer?”

  Facing him once again, she reached down to the belt of her coat. “The kind I’m hoping you can’t refuse.”

  Nick was speechless as she slowly untied the belt and let the coat fall open slightly, revealing some tempting red lace. Rissa shrugged out of the coat and let it fall to the floor, then stood there for a moment, letting him take in her entire outfit. An underbust corset proudly displayed her full, round breasts and built-in garters, hooked to the lacy edges of her stockings, framed her naked, shaved pussy. He even saw a trace of moisture glistening on her smooth cunt lips, showing him that she was more than ready for him.

  As if that wasn’t enough to make Nick completely feral, Rissa took a step towards him, gracefully kneeled at his feet, placed her hands on her splayed thighs, and bowed her head.

  Holy... fuck.

  ***

  Rissa tried to keep her breathing slow and even, despite the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest. She hadn’t been this nervous facing Enrique and company - except when she thought Nick might’ve been shot.

  She’d thought about this all week and read everything she could about dominant-submissive relationships. Others might think she was weak, giving up control to another in any way, but a strong woman made her own choices and this felt...right. And she’d never been more aroused in her life.

  “Please, Sir,” she began in a steady voice, “take pity on this girl. Please claim me as your own and teach me how to please you however, whenever, and wherever you desire.”

  Rissa waited with her gaze lowered, barely breathing, for what seemed like an eternity.

  Then she heard his clothes rustle as he moved forward. “Stand up, Rissa,” he said softly, offering her his hand.

  She took it and stood, keeping her eyes down. Did this mean he was rejecting her?

  Nick wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his body, his erection pressing into her lower abdomen. At least he wanted her physically.

  His other hand gently nudged her chin up. “Look at me, baby.”

  When she did, Rissa saw his blue eyes burning with intensity. “This is a big step.”

  “I would never offer myself to you lightly...Master.”

  Nick’s pupils dilated a fraction. “We have a lot to learn about each other yet... your limits, my boundaries...”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His gaze followed his index finger as it traced her lower lip. “You trust me that much?”

  “I’ve always trusted you, Nick, Sir.” She reached up to caress his cheek. “Even more so now.”

  Nick kissed her long and hard. “Then it would be my honour to claim such a strong, intelligent, capable, gorgeous - and gun-toting - woman as my own.”

  Lady Isidore’s Change of Heart

  Zak Jane Keir

  Lady Isidore O’Brien, confined to bed for several more days, was in the worst possible temper. Earlier that morning, she had reduced her maid Jessamine to tears, and not the tears of happy release she was so fond of provoking in others. Jessamine had done nothing wrong, her ministering hands as gentle and careful as they always were, and yet Isidore had snapped and snarled at the poor girl, berating her for incompetence, uselessness, insolence, knowing even as she spoke them that the words were unfair. She had tried to ease her own conscience shortly after the maid fled sobbing from the room, by imagining that Jessamine, like so many of those who came within Isidore’s sphere of influence, might find some pleasure in the pain her mistress had inflicted; might even now be kneeling on the floor in her own chamber, tears trying on her cheeks, hands between her plump creamy thighs - but no. The maid was too new to the household to have understood the darker delights available to the willing servant, and Isidore was aware that her own behaviour on this occasion had not been conducive to such a reaction in the first place.

  ‘I am growing spiteful and peevish, and I despise myself,’ she said aloud, and made a little restless movement that brought her own pain roaring back to life.

  She knew, of course, that her discontent stemmed from the awareness that her current sufferings were in some part her own fault. She had been stubborn and arrogant, persisting in her rejection of Williams technology even after being made aware that her prior perceptions were mistaken. There had always been those of her acquaintance who had been minded to observe that she, of all people, might have been expected to embrace such a method of generating heat and light and propulsion: the Williams Carnality Pulsation devices were powered by the energies the human organism had been proven to emanate at the peak moments of libidinous satisfaction. Isidore had, however, staunchly refused to have anything to do with Williams-powered devices and shown her distaste for anything more than passing mentions of the matter.

  It had, therefore, seemed eminently reasonable that Theberton, the inventor, should have invited her to take part in an experiment he had planned, and that she should accept his challenge. It had come at a time when she had begun to reconsider her views on energy sources in the light of information passed to her by Roger Williams, the heir to the Carnality Pulsation empire, but it had been easier to throw herself into preparations for Theberton’s race than to examine the alteration in her own mindset.

  She should, perhaps, have taken more notice of her own general dislike of Theberton, which she had felt since meeting him the year before. She had admitted him to at least the outer circle of friendships on the grounds that several of the other young men who craved her attention seemed happy to include Theberton in the general round of frolic and entertainment. It appeared they found his diatribes on the necessity for women to avoid entanglement in the scientific sphere amusing rather than otherwise. She supposed the man’s vociferousness appealed to those of her acquaintance whose taste for novelty inclined them to embrace any eccentric preacher, no matter how ill-mannered.

  Theberton was indeed a preacher as well as a man of science, which was one of many reasons Isidore preferred to keep him at a civilised distance: she had little use for deities or their self-appointed mouthpieces, and the odd and arbitrary rules they seemed so fond of. Theberton proclaimed that Carnality Pulsation power was ungodly as well as dangerous. He spoke, both formally in public and in social situations, of the immorality inherent in Williams technology. He insisted that he was developing a method of powering machinery via certain chemical compounds and that this was an advance on the hydrogen or helium canisters that had so far been used by those aeronauts and balloonists who did not wish to make use of Williams cells in their balloons or sky yachts. Hydrogen and helium were, he claimed, dangerous in themselves, but at least carried no risk of spiritual harm to their users.

  There came a time when Isidore’s acquaintances began, as she had always anticipated, to lose interest in the wretched man’s rantings, and she found that fewer soirees or supper parties included his presence, which was something of a relief to her. It was said, generally with little genuine interest, that he was absenting himself to concentrate on his Great Work.

  His reappearance in society might have passed Isidore by entirely had he not sought her out to request her participation in what he described as a scientific experiment. It would involve three small balloon craft; each propelled by a different power source, racing from the Spring Hill flying field to the south coast and would demonstrate the efficacy of his latest discovery. Isidore was genuinely interested in Theberton’s ideas and found herself sincerely hoping that his new machine fuel would indeed provide faster, safer transportation.

  She had not been entirely surprised, on the day of the race, that the vehicle powered by Carnality Pulsation technology had refused to leave the earth. - she would have expected sabotage at least to be a possibility fo
r the type of technology to which Theberton was so openly opposed and was surprised the balloon’s disgruntled pilot had not mounted guards on his craft the night before the flight. What she had not prepared for was her own hydrogen-powered craft plunging back to earth in a terrifying inferno from which, they said, she had been lucky to escape with her life.

  A tear-stained Jessamine appeared in the doorway.

  “Please ma’am, Mr Williams has called. He wishes me to tell you that he understands you are indisposed and will not take a refusal to entertain him as a - a snub. He says that he will wait upon your pleasure.”

  Isidore considered. It occurred to her that if she could not otherwise rid herself of her ill-temper, it might be exorcised upon the person of Roger Williams rather than her poor little maidservant.

  “Jessamine, you may bring Mr Williams to my chamber if he wishes to attend me here. Or if he prefers to wait until I may see him at a social event when my health has recovered, he is at liberty to do so. And when you have discovered his preference, either conduct him in person or his message here, and then you may take the rest of the afternoon at your leisure, my sweet.”

  Roger Williams had passed sleepless nights and days of torment since witnessing the dreadful conclusion to Theberton’s experiment a week ago. If others chose to believe this was due to such a public setback to the advance of the technology his family had pioneered, well, let them! He knew perfectly well that the aeronaut who had accepted the challenge with his own Williams craft was an arrogant young fool, likely to have made some basic error in preparations for his launch which would have led to its failure. He was also aware that some might look askance on him for refusing to take the challenge himself, and that a few might well suspect the real reason he had done so. His immense admiration for Lady Isidore O’Brien, despite the disdain with which she had so often been seen to treat him would indeed lead others to conclude that he would not relish winning laurels of any kind at her expense. He had proclaimed to all and sundry that he had no fear of Theberton or of the man’s works leading to a decline in public enthusiasm for Carnality Pulsation power and therefore no interest in participating in a vulgar piece of unnecessary showmanship.