Chapter 18
A fox is a wolf who sends flowers. ~Ruth Brown
Axel
Fuck. What was I thinking? I have no business kissing her in the middle of my interrogation. When we break apart for air, I backpedal, both literally and figuratively.
“If you had to guess, who threatened your kid?” Perhaps if I remind her of the AI video, she will reconsider her stance.
“Scientists don’t make assumptions.” Her fingertips dig into my back and send tendrils of want to my groin.
I’d argue the point, but now is not the time. Instead, I tuck an errant lock of silky hair behind her ear and whisper as if making love. “Let’s say I held you at gunpoint, and you had to choose. Whose database have you been accessing?”
Eyes on mine, she bites her lower lip and shrugs. “Iran.”
“And why is that?” As my pants grow tight behind my fly, my brain flips through my favorite cock-deflating list. I picture driving the porcelain bowl after a night of drinking, cockroaches, blood spatter…
While I wrangle my beast down to a half-chub, she purses her mouth for over a minute and sighs. “Timing. The Supreme Leader wants a military advantage in the region. Also, they need something of value to hold over the Russians’ heads who desperately desire the technology but haven’t been able to make significant advancements in the last fifty years.”
Recent news articles and podcasts disagree. “What about the Havana Syndrome?”
She makes a derogatory grimace and flicks her hand as if my thoughts were bothersome gnats. “The original technology has been around since World War II. I’m talking about modern RF.”
Not used to being dismissed, I change the subject. “I need to see those databases.”
“I can’t log in remotely, remember?” Eyebrows raised, her lips part, and as she lifts to her toes for a kiss, I cup her cheeks.
“My God, Gwen, what were you thinking? No matter how brilliant you are, no plan is foolproof.”
Perhaps it’s the heat, her scent, or her smoldering eyes. Maybe it’s because I promised not to fuck her. Whatever the cause, lust-madness overwhelms me. I may go to hell, but I need her more than my next breath.
My suspect has admitted to selling intel to the enemy, and I’m not sure how this will play out in the courts. She’ll need to find an expert, like a professor at MIT, to verify what she says is true. If not, she’ll be arrested for treason and could spend most of her life behind bars. Her asshole ex will have control of her kid.
I don’t want to admit it, but if the worst happens, my fucking heart may never recover.
A clap of thunder makes us jump apart. Inside, as a deluge of water pounds on the metal roof, she scoots next to me on the bed and places her hand high on my thigh.
“No point in driving until the rain lets up.” She reaches for the bedstand drawer, opens it, and drops a package of condoms on the bedspread.
There are so many reasons I should not sleep with this gorgeous traitor. However, right now, I cannot think of one. If my boss should call me out, I’ll mention how seduction was his idea. He can’t fire me for following his orders.
Walking fingers dance up my leg, unbuckle my belt, and as they unzip my fly, my breath hitches.
“Fuck, Gwen, what you do to me.” Grabbing her left hand, I place it over my thumping heart.
Using her opposite arm, she does the same. Both stunned, we dare not move or talk. What we’re about to do isn’t just sex, and yet neither of us can admit it.
The first to break the spell, her mouth collides with mine, causing the emotional tsunami inside me to crest.
“Lady. I’m on fire.” I tear her t-shirt over her head as she kicks off her sandals and tugs off her sensible, soft, white bra.
I kiss down her long neck and her collarbone and continue my path to her perfectly-sized pert breasts. There, I suck, lave, and feast until she squirms and moans.
Her tiny sounds unleash my inner caveman. The need to claim her above all other things overwhelms me. She spreads her legs, I inhale her scent, and the madness in my head grows louder.
Once I reach her nub, I lick it and play it like a virtuoso until it blossoms. She’s so close. I insert one finger inside her, then two. I’m not a small man and want her to enjoy our joining. As I’m stretching her, she screams and comes so hard, the bed vibrates.
Cum leaking from my tip, I drop my jeans and underwear. My hands shake as I fumble to unroll the condom. Kneeling in front of me, she kisses my tip and helps me cover my length.
The storm outside cannot compare to the one raging inside me. I bring her to the edge again and plunder into her sweet cunny. With each excruciatingly pleasurable plunge, she arches up to meet me.
“Ah, ah…” She’s having trouble finding her high, so I flip her on top.
“Ride me to the finish line, honey.”
As her head flings back, I reach my thumb between us. The pressure causes her to jolt, scream, and climax. Reacting to her clenching muscles, I buck, hit the back of her womb, and orgasm so fucking hard, I see stars.
Sometime later, we float down from our post-coital bliss. Groaning, I pull her off my body and deal with the condom.
Once I return, she’s so sexy lying there that I can’t resist a repeat performance. This time, however, I promise myself to go slower and sweeter. The change in pace is new to me. I know how to pleasure a woman, but not like this. For the first time in my life, I understand why people call this making love.
After a shower, the storm passes, and we pack. Outside, ocean freshness replaces the oppressive humidity.
“Ready to go?” My shirt open, I relish the breeze.
“Should I bring my suitcase?” With her lips swollen from my kisses and cheeks red from my beard burn, she smiles at me.
I have no idea if she’ll ever return, but I nod because it’s the right thing to do. With her bag in hand, I lead her to my car and get the eerie feeling of someone watching us.
“Get in the car, Gwen. Fast.”