Lying and Kissing(75)

“Whore! I know you are spy! I find codebook in your suitcase!”

WHAT?! What codebook? I didn’t have any codeboo—

And suddenly the scene reversed itself, black and white swapping over. His words from the yacht came back to me. A sex game I used to play with Natalia. I’d be interrogating her. She used to pretend to be an American spy.

I know game we can play, he’d said. He’d asked me if I wanted to play and, like a fool, I’d nodded.

A wave of relief crashed through me, leaving me breathless. He didn’t know I was CIA at all. He was just playing the same sex game he had with Natalia. He had no idea I actually was a spy.

That’s why it was a turn on, I told myself. That’s why my body had responded the way it had. Somewhere in my subconscious, I must have known it wasn’t real.

And now that I knew it wasn’t real...I felt the heat soaring in my body. I pulled on the cuffs, tried to wriggle my legs from under his weight, but I was trapped. Powerless.

God...powerless.

Wait. I couldn’t really do this. I couldn’t get off on the fantasy of being caught and interrogated, when that was my greatest fear. That was too twisted. I couldn’t. I really couldn’t.

I couldn’t. Right?

I started to pant. “I’ll never talk!”

He gave a low chuckle, slid his hand underneath me and cupped a breast. Relief was still sluicing through me, leaving me weak and heady...and then he pinched my nipple, harder than before. Pain and pleasure mingled together, little white starbursts embedded in thick, dark heat. A sort of pressure was building, one I’d only felt briefly, before, when I’d pressed against his hands as he held me down. I had to let it out. But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted—

I wanted more.

“You—You Russian bastard!” I suddenly blurted. And it was like a safety valve for the pressure, while still allowing it to build.

Luka chuckled cruelly and suddenly his hand was cracking down across my ass, making the soft flesh bounce and burn. I cried out in a strangled moan.

“That’s right,” said Luka. “Moan like American whore.” His hand came down again: one, two three.

I writhed and twisted under him, grinding my sex against the bed, wishing I could get more friction there. The fear I’d felt before was gone and its sudden departure had left a void. Relief had rushed in to fill it and now I was drunk on it, and that was making the pleasure and pain and lust even better.

Imagine sex on a rollercoaster, right after finding out you don’t have cancer, after all.

He suddenly hauled me to my knees. My wrists were still cuffed to the bedstead, so my upper body had to stay low, my back arched and my breasts skimming the bed. My ass was thrust up into the air.#p#分页标题#e#

He shoved his hands between my thighs and opened me. I panted, the blood rushing in my ears. “I—I’ll never talk!”

I heard the metal clink of his belt. The rustle of fabric as his pants fell to his knees. I tugged hard on the cuffs, the metal rubbing my wrists. “D—Do what you like to me!” I wasn’t even aware of what I was saying, anymore. The heat inside me was like a furnace, melting me from the inside out. The words were just releasing the pressure, stopping me from exploding too soon. “I’ll never talk!”

And then I felt the head of his cock splitting my folds and surging up into me and my eyes snapped wide. He drove all the way in with one long thrust and I groaned. I was already at the start of the slope that led to my release, rolling inexorably down towards it. “Never!” I shouted.

He pulled out and thrust into me again, his groin grinding against my ass, and I jerked at the feeling of being so completely filled. One of his hands slid under me and scooped up my breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. “Beg me to fuck you,” he hissed in my ear. He thrust again, making raw pleasure arc and snap from my quivering walls. Another thrust and another. “Beg!”

I could barely speak. This was beyond sex, now, beyond anything. I was utterly lost, no longer even sure who I was. “Evil Russian b—bastard!” I shrieked.

His thrusts reached a peak, his hard body slapping against my upraised ass. His other hand snaked under me, his fingers finding my clit. I rocketed headlong towards my climax.

“Ah—Please!” I felt myself starting to spasm around him. “I’ll talk! Just please fuck me!”

He rubbed me, playing me like an instrument as he fucked me, and all I could do was cling on as I slammed into my orgasm. I strained at the cuffs, arching my back, my fingers clutching at the bedstead. I’d never felt so completely out of control, or so alive.