Bittersweet Deceit

by Blakely Bennett

  I stepped back and collected my stuff. My eyes filled as I walked to my car.

  My empty apartment exacerbated my bittersweet emotions. Instead of having one maddening relationship, I now had two.

  I stripped out of my clothing and tossed them into the laundry basket. Sleep seemed far away yet so I got ready for bed and pulled my journal onto my lap.

  I need to let my feelings for Stay find their rightful place. Friendship. He is a great man, just like I said to him. I’m just not the woman for him. Maybe he and Samantha could date. They both have beaten their addictions and she was definitely attracted to him. Sam is gorgeous in her own right. Her long straight blonde hair and white skin with those blue-green eyes attract all the men. She might be young, but caring for Sarah has matured her. Maybe I’ll drop a hint or two.

  Ugh! Why does that idea make my stomach hurt?

  I wonder what it would’ve been like on Wednesday had Mason shown up on time. Would he have taken care of me like Stay did? He says he would have. I wonder if I would have been as comfortable with him. I never let people see me when I’m down or going through something, other than Jacqs and my dad. How would have Mason dealt with me breaking down?

  I sighed deeply and then started again.

  Tomorrow should be fun. I have no idea what to expect and he didn’t give me any instructions of how to set up for it, like the time he rented a massage table, which showed up unexpectedly. Masseuse/client was very fun. VERY!

  I need to stop thinking about Stay and the incredible night and focus on my time with Mason. I hope he doesn’t ask me about tonight. Please don’t let him ask me about tonight.

  I closed the journal, turned on the soft mix on the iPod station, and rested my head on the pillow. Both men swirled in my mind until I finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Spies

  by Coldplay

  I awoke on Saturday resolved to focus on the upcoming time with Mason.

  After having a cup of coffee and a cigarette on the balcony, I took a long, hot shower, giving my under arms, legs, and lady parts a smooth shave. I took extra time on my hair, curling up the bottom of it, working to recreate the look of a French spy from a 1960s film I’d seen years ago. If I had to be a detective or something else, I’d pull my hair up into a twist before we started. I used black liquid eyeliner to create a cat like effect on my eyes and chose a blood-red lipstick. Cat would be proud of me.

  Just as requested, I donned a black bra, garters, stockings and the highest black heels I owned. I didn’t recall him mentioning panties, so I left them off. I slipped into my gray trench coat and tried to relax on the couch. I felt anxious to see Mason again. Fear and excitement mixed an odd cocktail with arousal as the garnish. I desperately wanted to reaffirm my connection with him.

  At nine o’clock sharp, I heard a rapping at the door, like the police do in movies.

  “Open up.”

  Getting into character I deepened my voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s the FBI; I have some questions for you.”

  “One minute please.” I made him wait for a couple moments.

  “Open up! What are you hiding in there?” he said, his voice gruff.

  I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open. “Officer, what do you want so early in the morning? I’ve barely had the chance to dress.”

  “I’m not an officer, I’m FBI. Now let me in.”

  “Do I have choice?”

  He pushed the door open and I stepped back. While he scanned the apartment, I took in his outfit. He certainly looked the part and sexy as ever in his black suit, white shirt, and black tie. He also had on reflective sunglasses and carried a black briefcase. His five o’clock shadow was obvious. I held back my smile.

  “What can I do for you officer?” I said as I closed the door behind him.

  “I already told you I’m not an officer, I’m an agent. Are you Natalia Bancroft?”

  I threw my head back and laugh. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “I don’t think so. Do you know this man?” Agent Mason asked, holding up a picture of a half-naked Jake Gyllenhaal.

  I struggled to hold in my laughter. I shook my head and said, “No, but I might like too. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Well hopefully you will help yourself.” He spun me around and pushed my upper body over the couch, handcuffing my arms behind me.

  My clit was already coming out of hiding. It pulse and tingled. Trying to focus on the game instead of my amped up arousal, I said, “Like I said, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not Natalie something or other, and I’ve never seen that man before.”

  “We will see about that.” He yanked me up to stand, led me to the second bedroom, and placed the extra chair in the middle of the room. Forcefully, he sat me down, my arms over the back.

  “This isn’t very comfortable and I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Where were you on Friday between the hours of six and one a.m.?”

  I sputter in response, his question throwing me completely out of character.

  He stomped back and forth in front of me and said, “If you won’t talk, I’ll have to torture it out of you.”

  Realizing that not talking was an option, I regained my composure. “I have nothing to say,” I said with a sexy, deep voice.

  “We will see about that.” He placed the briefcase down on the couch and opened it. He then retrieved a black strip of material, which I hoped would replace the handcuffs. Instead, he tied it around my eyes. Everything went black and my breathing accelerated.

  I had never been blindfolded before and I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about it. My nipples were certainly on board because I could feel them straining against the material of my bra. He past behind me and chills rushed over the surface of my skin. Not knowing what he might do had me on edge and highly aroused.

  “First question, young lady and I highly recommend you answer. What is your connection to Stas, the known Russian spy?”

  “I have no connection to him,” I asserted.

  His hands grasp my left leg and I yelped. He pulled my knee out wide and tied my ankle to the leg of the chair. On the other side he applied the same treatment. Although the trench coat had me covered, I felt wetness gather on my thighs.

  “You would do yourself a favor to stop lying. This is your last chance. Answer carefully. You were seen with him last night. What is your connection to him?”

  “For the last time, I have no connection to a Russian spy and I don’t have the slightest idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Have it your way,” he said.

  I felt his hands unbuttoning my coat as I imagined his hard cock straining against his black slacks. Trembling, I wondered what he would do to me next.

  “It’s time. I have my ways to make you talk.” He spread the coat wide and fondled my breast over the lace, black bra, making my nipples full and hard. Air then hit my chest as he pulled down the straps freeing my breasts. The warmth of him, which had loomed over me, left and I could hear him rummaging for something in his briefcase. “This will make you talk.”

  I shivered in excitation and trepidation. He had never hurt me before, but I couldn’t fathom what he had in mind. “Oh fuck, what is that,” I yelled when I felt something sharp and cold clamp down on my nipple. It hurt initially, but then I adjusted to the pressure and started panting. “Oh god. I’m telling the truth. I ... don’t ... know—oh fuck!” He clamped my other nipple and I could hear a chain jiggle between my breasts. The pressure on my swollen buds accelerated my titillation and caused a deep yearning to be fucked and fucked hard.

  “Are you ready to confess?” He aggressively grabbed my face and moved my head up and down in a nod.

  I pulled my head back and shook it. “No!” I heard him walk away and out of the room. What the hell is he doing now?

  He quickly returned and moved in front of me. “If you are unwilling to confess I will have to up the ante.” A buzzi
ng sound filled the room as I felt the pressure of his finger against my labia.

  I heard him grunt and knew he must be as turned on as I.

  Hands on either side of my ass made me jump. He drew my lower body forward to the edge of the chair and then inserted a vibrator into my vagina.

  It felt so good, I just wanted to moan. Instead I said, “I swear I’m not Natalie and I don’t know anyone with ties to the Russians. You ... oh god ... have me confused with ... with ... with someone else.”

  He pushed the vibrator deep inside of me and drew it out slowly, making sure the vibrating head grazed my G-spot. He grunted again when I moaned out loud. Keeping in character, he said, “Our agents saw you out last night with the known suspect. Explain yourself.”

  “I can’t, oh, I don’t know. There were a lot of people around ... I ... I ... ohhh.”

  Then the real torture began. He removed the vibrator, denying me the orgasm that hovered close. “My agents saw you talking to Stas and we won’t let you go until you tell us how to find him.”

  “Please. There is nothing I can tell you,” I cried.

  “Can’t or won’t.” His angry voice was quite convincing.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “We’re about to find out.”

  I felt a soft pressure against my lips and Mason’s salty smell filled my senses. My lips parted and I licked the head of his cock.

  “If you don’t tell me how to find our man, I will have to give you my truth serum.”

  “No, please, not that ... anything but that.”

  He reached behind me and untied the blindfold, letting the material fall to the floor.

  He stepped back and what a sight to see. He had removed his jacket and sunglasses. The tie around his neck had been loosened. Through the opening in his pants, he held his smooth cock, slowly stroking it from the base to the tip.

  There was a new intensity in his expression. Whether it was acting or something else, I didn’t care. I wanted whatever he planned to give me.

  Coming closer, he ran the tip of his hard-on around my lips. I strained forward to try to get more of him in mouth, but he pulled back allowing only the head to float in and out past my lips.

  His pale blue eyes blazed down on me and held my stare. “What is your connection with Stas and don’t lie to me?” He continued to jerk his cock right in front of my face.

  Peering up at him, I said, “None.” But I wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

  He seemed to see the waver in my expression and said, “We are going to forgo the truth serum treatment and escalate the interrogation.”

  Jumping back into character, I said, “Please! I’m not sure I can take much more.”

  “Then tell me what I want to know.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t give you the information you want.”

  He removed his pants and his whitey-tighties. It felt as if he tried to possess me with his stare, like he could lasso my heart with it. The tie came off next and then he unbuttoned his shirt revealing the hottest chest I have ever had the pleasure of seeing or touching. The smattering of hair highlighted his well-defined pecks.

  “This is going to cost you,” he said, kneeling down in front of me.

  I wasn’t sure if he was playing the game or talking about my time with Stay. Hoping it was role playing, I said, “I’m not a Russian spy and you have me confused with someone else.”

  He untied my ankles from the chair and lifted me, leaving the nipple clamps in place. After shoving the briefcase away, he grabbed hold of the handcuffs and manhandled me over the couch onto my knees. He pushed the trench coat to the side, exposing my ass.

  I started to shake in desire and apprehension. I desperately wanted him to fill me, but I didn’t want it to be out of anger.

  Not waiting for me to catch my breath, he lifted his arm and spanked my ass with strength. “I will make you talk if it’s the last thing I do,” he grunted.

  My arousal grew with each subsequent thrashing until he stopped.

  Behind me, I felt his weight settle against me, his hard cock poised at my entrance. “This will make you more pliable,” he groaned as he thrust deeply into me.

  “Oh god, anything you want,” I cried when he finally took possession of me.

  Using my cuffed arms as leverage, he repeatedly crashed into me with full force.

  I was so wet that the juices inside me made a swashing sound each time he withdrew and recurred. Incredibly turned on by the foreplay, I quickly reached the precipice of a riotous orgasm.

  He must have known because he slowed down, letting my climb fall off. “Are you ready to talk?”

  “No!” I grunted, grinding my ass against him, trying to find fulfillment.

  “Prison is not a fun place for strumpets like you,” he said and resumed his hard fucking.

  “Oh, Agent Mason,” I emitted as my orgasm began.

  He reached under me and tugged on the chain between the nipple clamps, accelerating the violent explosion.

  Grunts, groans, and moans escaped as I struggled to catch my breath.

  “I’m not done with you,” he said not giving me any time to recover. He clutched my shoulders and upped the pace and intensity. He rammed against me, over and over, until I hung at the edge of another huge release. As the girth of his cock expanded he slowed down the strokes, making it last longer for both of us. “You’re mine, Lainie, don’t forget it.”

  But are you mine? I wondered just before my orgasm obliterated the thought. We cried out together, coming in unison.

  I fell forward onto the couch, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.

  Mason pulled me up and unlocked the cuffs behind me, the trench coat sliding down my arms.

  “This going to hurt,” he said just before he removed the nipple clamps.

  I yelped at the sensation. I had become used to the pressure, and had to adjust to their absence.

  He held my nipples tight, slowing letting the blood back in. His hands then massage my shoulders that had grown sore and tight in their bound position. After the tension in my shoulders relaxed, we lay down side by side and spooned together.

  I floated in our afterglow, trying to ignore the implication of the game.

  Too soon he sat up and I followed suit. “That was hot,” I said, breaking the silence that hung between us. “Are you hungry or would you like something to drink?”

  “No, I’d rather talk first.”

  My heart lodged itself in my throat and I thought, Be calm, girl, you haven’t done anything wrong. The summersaults in my stomach weren’t listening. “Okay...”

  “How was your date?” he asked, his chest still rising and falling from the exertion of our sex.

  I knew the question was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “Dinner was good and the concert was fun.”

  “Come on, Lainie.”

  I didn’t care for the disapproving expression on his face. “What do you want me to say?” I shrugged.

  “Did he kiss you?” he asked, probing me with his eyes.

  “No, and it wasn’t a date.” I pulled in my knee and repositioned to face him.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “Mason, I’ve made it very clear I’m not available.” I slipped off my heels and lined them up against the edge of the couch.

  “What time did you get home?”

  Given the role playing, that questions shouldn’t have surprised me, but it still did. “How is that even relevant?”

  “I want to know.”

  I started to get pissed. “Where were you last night, huh? What did you do?”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “In what universe is it not the same? I was not out on a date. I already told you and until you’re ready to leave your wife, it’s none of your fucking damn business anyway.”

  “I thought so.” He sounded bothered and at the same time sedate.

  “What’s that suppose
d to mean?” I clinched my jaw and narrowed my eyes.

  He stayed calm to the point that it further incensed me and said, “If it meant nothing to you, you wouldn’t be arguing with me about it.”

  “Jesus Christ! Are you trying to set me up? Do you want to have a fight?”

  Mason and I had never had a disagreement before, let alone an argument.

  He held my angry stare. “I don’t want you to see him anymore.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He’s my friend and our paths will cross.” I slowly let out a long breath and struggled to get my emotions under control. “You have nothing to worry about,” I said, reaching out and touching his forearm.

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I don’t understand what this is about, Mason,” I said, pulling my arm back.

  “You put me off to go out with him.”

  “There were tickets involved and I said I would go. It’s not like I broke plans with you to go out with him. You aren’t being reasonable.”

  “Love is never reasonable, Lainie. He’s young, available, and around way too much for my liking.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I shifted uncomfortably.

  “That you don’t care about him. However, it’s clear to me that you already do.”

  “He’s my friend. He knows it can’t be more than that.”

  “But do you?” he asked, tilting his head.

  I sat with my mouth open, not knowing how to respond. I ended up saying, “I feel like we’re talking in circles. I’m here, with you, because I want to be. Are you?”

  “I’d be with you every day if I could.” He took my hand into his.

  I frowned, hearing his words but not believing them. “If that were really true, you would leave your wife.”

  “I will never put my children in jeopardy.”

  “Of what? People get divorced all the time.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  I answered before really thinking about it. “To spend my life with you? Yes. To not have to wait for your calls or have such little time with you? Of course. To know I’m coming home and you’ll be in my bed. Definitely.” To take care of two kids I do not know? And have to deal with an ex-wife who hates me? Not so much. I didn’t say that part.