I gasped as he drove up into me, filling me in three hard thrusts. His hands hooked around my hips, drawing me back onto him, his thumbs rubbing along my lower back. I writhed and groaned at the feeling of him inside me, that combination of size and hardness, just the right side of too big.
He was hard and brutal—just the way I needed it. His breathing turned from gasps to sharp, almost angry grunts as he pounded me. He stroked my ass, his hands soft and tender, a stark contrast to his plunging cock. I could feel the pleasure flooding outward in warm waves, soaking into every part of me from my toes to my fingertips. I dared to open my eyes and the sight of us in the mirror, my blonde hair tossing, his muscled body tight up against my ass, rocketed me forward towards my orgasm.
His strokes sped up until the wonderful smooth friction seemed to blur and loop in on itself, becoming endless. My hips were grinding back against him and he was calling me filthy names in Russian and English. The words soaked into my brain and exploded in my groin.
And then, just as he reached his peak, I felt his hands spreading my ass and gently rubbing me there with his slickened thumb and I lost it completely. I yelled and screamed and I think I called him names, thrashing and grinding against him until I flopped on the bed, exhausted.
From the other side of the wall there came an angry knocking and a voice telling us to keep it down! We both laughed.
Afterwards, I said, “It’s never been like that before.”
“Maybe you just needed to let go.”
I thought of the way he usually took control, pinning my hands or throwing me on the bed. That let me let go. Pretending to be his whore had, too. Maybe he had a point. I imagined a future with him, with glorious long nights in some penthouse somewhere, learning more about letting go. Hell, forget the penthouse: my old apartment in Virginia would do just fine.
What I wanted was him. But, unless we could figure a way out of this, we had no future at all. It was only a matter of time until either Ralavich’s men or the police caught up with us.
We lay there in silence for a few moments. Then he said, “Arianna?”
“Yes?”
“What’s your real name?”
I turned and looked at him, gaping. He still didn’t know. Ever since the restaurant, he’d trusted me, even though I was CIA, without even knowing my real name. That made my heart swell until I thought it was going to burst.
“It’s Arianna,” I said breathlessly.
“Your real name,” he said patiently.
“No, it really is Arianna.” I laughed bitterly. “That’s how lousy an agent I am. They didn’t trust me to keep up a real alias. They just changed my surname. I’m Arianna Scott.”
He stared at me for a long time and then sort of grunted. “Good.”
“Good?”
He rolled over onto his side. His hand traced down the length of my body. “Because I like you as Arianna. I was worried I might have to get used to a new name.”
I stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“Lying was your job.”
“I don’t think I want a job where I have to lie, anymore.”
He rubbed my cheek with his thumb. “I think you can do anything you want to, Arianna.”
I shook my head. “They’ve disavowed me. My passport’s been invalidated. Even if I could get home, there’s nothing for me there, now. If they want to, they could try me as a traitor.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Where is home?” he asked.
“Virginia. But I’m from Wisconsin, originally.”
“What’s Wisconsin like?” It was almost like we were on our first date.
I had to think about it. It had been a long time since I’d been back there. I’d told myself, ever since I’d started working for the CIA, that Virginia was now my home. It was only now that I realized I’d been lying to myself. “Wisconsin’s beautiful,” I said. “Lakes. Cows. Do you like the country?”
He blinked. “I don’t know,” he said, quite serious. “I’ve never really been there.”
My heart went out to him. All he’d ever known was the city, his world of crime feeding off the population.
His fingers knitted with mine. “If we get out of this,” he said, “I’ll take you there. I swear to you, Arianna. Even if we have to smuggle you back into America. No one should have to be separated from their home.”
I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I knew he was just trying to make me feel better, offering me a slender straw to clutch at. But I loved him for trying. “We could go swimming, in the lakes.”