10. Calista
Chapter 10
Calista
I can’t stand. The orgasm that hit me still rolls through my body, still ringing bells deep inside. And his cock’s still buried in my pussy. That thing is big, fucking huge even, and apparently can just keep going.
I’d think at his age, he’d been popping little blue pills except there weren’t any in his toiletries when I went through his things. I found the gun but no clips. And I seriously doubt he keeps performance pills with his bullets.
I think this is just him.
And I want to sink to the ground.
Like Smith can read my mind, he pulls out of me and lets me do just that.
I collapse on the floor, my torn dress surrounding me, my inner thighs slick with remnants of both of our orgasms. I’m hot and cold. Overdressed and humiliatingly naked.
He touches my cheek. I smack it away.
His soft laughter settles like a blanket over me. I turn my face up and he’s dressed, cock out. He should look ridiculous.
He doesn’t .
With his hard cock and the severe look on his face, he’s dangerous, masculine, and God help me, he makes my motor rev and hum.
Smith chased me down, leaped over the damn railing to get me, and then he dragged me back up in here. He choked me, ripped off my dress, and fucked me hard and fast against the wall.
Every moment is something I want to hate.
But I loved each one.
I want to do it again.
He’s ignited something in me, and I need it again. The fight, the chase, the devouring.
All of it.
“Jesus.” Smith lowers himself down onto the floor next to me. “You’re supposed to look at me with fucking disgust, not like you need more. Like you want more.”
“Stop being so full of yourself.”
He crawls over me, his mouth on mine, his tongue a welcome invasion. Then he breaks the kiss and flips us. And though I’m on top of him, his cock getting harder and at full fucking attention between my thighs, it feels like it’s the other way. That I’m caught in his web. Trapped in his arms.
But I’m on him, my fingers in his shirt, and he’s looking at me like I’m his favorite science experiment.
“You liked it. Being my prey, being chased, the roughness. You can try and kill me now.” He offers that slow grin that makes my toes curl. “If you like.”
“Maybe,” I say, coming right into his face, our lips a smidge apart, “I pretended.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. Why don’t you sit on my face and try and smother me? I’ll let you suck my cock.”
“What if I bite it off?”
He slides a hand down my spine and then moves it to the front and I lift my hips, letting him place the head at my entrance and I slide down on him, stretching, taking him in deep until I hit home. I think my eyes roll back.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll do that, but when you do suck me off, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He pulls me forward and kisses me. “Ride me, Calista. Hard.”
This should be slow, but it’s not. It’s a hard, rough, fast fuck, but he flips the script and flips us right when I’m flying fast into my orgasm. He’s on me now, plundering my pussy in the most delicious way possible. My orgasm threatens to slip away with the change in position, but he hooks my legs up over his shoulders so he can hammer hard and deep, making it hurt in the best ways, making it feel even better as I stretch. I light up like my insides are aflame.
He fits perfectly, and every time he pulls almost out, it’s like he’s stealing a part of me only to slam back, balls deep like he’s rebuilding me from the inside out.
The intensity overtakes, consuming every cell, and I go along for his ride, offering myself, taking him as deep as I can, a greedy desperation raking over the fires inside.
Smith looks down, watching his cock split me open, watching as it pistons into me. It’s hot, proprietary, like he’s branding me as his. Then he looks at me.
The orgasm rips forward and he starts to hammer in to hit me in a certain way, making me suddenly cry out as I come apart once again.
He pulls out and my legs flop apart, missing him between them. But he’s not done. He pulls me onto him, and he starts sucking my clit. He slides three fingers inside of me and it’s too much. Everything’s overly sensitive, and I scream a little, trying to get free, but he doesn’t let me. He’s relentless. Pushing, eating, licking. It’s a feast and he’s eating me alive.
I want to yell my safe word, but I can’t get my breath. I can’t let myself because things are changing. What’s too much becomes nice, good, and then fucking incredible.
But Smith still isn’t done.
He continues his oral assault, and suddenly I don’t even know where I am. Everywhere at once. I can feel it thunder up inside of me, something I’ve never felt. It’s an orgasm, but it puts every other one I’ve ever had to shame. And I feel it everywhere .
Even my mind buzzes and burns.
My entire being contracts and expands, the pleasure overwhelming, everywhere, and it’s the only thing, my entire world for those blissful minutes.
It’s almost religious.
Slowly, I come down from the euphoric high, and I’m wet. So is his face. And humiliation suddenly hits. Christ, I’m easy.
He rolls off me with a self-satisfied grin on his gorgeous face and gets up, tucking himself away. “Get up and get ready. We’re heading out in two hours. I’ll pack.”
I’m torn between his lack of acknowledgement with what happened and annoyance as we drive out to some remote field. I should be marking it all off in my head. How we circumnavigate the Autobahn and take a variety of small roads.
But I can’t think.
Smith looks good, which only pisses me off more. His hair’s rumpled and the rings are on. I eye them. Apart from those, he’s the epitome of urbane European with a classy, understated edge. Except for the rings.
I don’t know why I’m fixating on them.
They pick up the light on his phone as he sits behind the driver’s wheel. The only other jewelry—if you can call it that— is an expensive watch. I’m not up on my watches, but it’s a cut above a Rolex. Black face and strap and…
A man into jewelry wouldn’t just wear them to an art show or event. He’d wear them all the time. And a man fitting into the European style his clothes suggest would wear a chunky watch. Maybe a bracelet.
“Are you sitting there silently judging me?”
“I’m admiring your jewelry,” I snap.
I turn away and stare out the window. He left an outfit for me, and I wouldn’t have put it on after my shower except everything else was gone, and I’m not about to go naked for anyone. Not even him. No, wait, especially not him.
So I pick at the dark-blue stretch denim that ends at my ankles. The chunky-heeled slender boots beneath it are comfortable enough, the oversize long-sleeve black top, too. I’m just not a fan of the pretty bra under that.
Modest in the way it covers, but the lace netting is see-through, and the silk flowers over the nipples are there to tease a man.
Or rather, I do like it, but it pisses me off he got it for me. He must have picked it out and paid for it without me seeing while we were out shopping.
“I could run,” I finally say.
“You could.”
“I bet I can outrun you.”
“I’m betting you can’t—besides, how did that work out for you an hour ago?—and you sure as shit can’t outrun a bullet.” He pulls his gun from his lower back and leans over me and opens the door. “By all means, have a go.”
“You’re an asswipe, Smith. A total asswipe.”
He takes hold of my chin and leans in, and my heart starts to go wild as his warm breath teases my lips. “And your hair’s pretty all one color. Dark brown, is it? ”
“I prefer my silver hair, thank you.” I sniff as he sits back and I swing a leg out, the cool breeze licking over me. “And of course, you’d use a gun.”
“Here.” He puts it down, next to the driver’s door. “Run.”
“I bet you’ve got some James Bond rings on.”
“James…” He stares at me as a chopper flies over us. “What? Do you think my rings shoot poison darts?”
“I think—” I stop. The helicopter’s louder now as light hits the car, making me jump.
He puts a hand on my thigh and the heat of it burns up the cold from the breeze. “It’s for us.”
No one gets out, but before I can move, Smith is already out of the car—gun nowhere to be seen, and he slams the trunk and runs to the chopper, bent down. Another man gets out and takes the bags from Smith, then Smith comes back, slings my pack over his shoulder… some CIA agent I am, I didn’t even notice him dump it on the grass in the field.
Smith motions to the helicopter and I have no option but to run with him, past the other man whom I don’t really take notice of other than he’s tall like Smith.
Once we’re in the helicopter and in the air, I stare out as the man below gets into the car. It grows smaller and disappears as we head off away from the field.
It takes me a few moments to process everything. This isn’t any kind of CIA or Army chopper. It isn’t even anything I’ve seen in photos from secret deals made.
This is luxury, from the soundproofed inside to the buttery leather seats and carpeted floor.
And Smith, looking completely at home. What the hell is that about? He motions me over. I’m halfway up before I make myself sit again.
The man laughs. “Fucking brat. Get your hot little ass over here. ”
“No.”
“Don’t make me force you. Consequences, remember?”
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “What are you going to do, strip me naked and fuck me?”
“Yes. And the pilot can see everything. There’s a feed to him.”
“You utter prick.”
But I get up and he slides a hand between my thighs and strokes my denim-covered pussy. “For show.”
He’s not smirking, but it’s in his voice, and I want to hit him. Hard. Because my legs start to shake and my knees give way.
Smith takes advantage and pulls me down on him so I’m straddling him, and he starts to lick my throat, nibbling on my flesh, sucking where he bit me before. It sends a throb of deep, dark longing through me, right to my clit, down to the tips of my toes.
“Fuck, you taste good. It’s one of the reasons I’m not throwing you out of the fucking helicopter.”
I smile sweetly at him, and then I nuzzle his throat, biting him so hard he growls and rocks me on top of his erection.
“That, too.” He pulls my head back and bites my chin, then kisses his way to my ear. “And you smell amazing, Calista.”
“Is that a poem?”
“Please,” he says, “and the rings don’t have poisoned darts, but I’m wearing them for a reason.”
“I knew you were a lame-ass James Bond.”
“He’s a problematic man,” he mutters, slipping a hand under my top to fondle a breast. I want to smack him away, I really do, but he can do wicked, wild magic with his thumb.
“Where are we going?”
“France and then to the US. ”
I should ask why we’re taking a detour, but I know he’ll just lie to me anyway.
My stomach lurches. Not at going home, but I need… I need to find my agent or figure out what happened to him. I have to find out more about the Collectors, and if Trenton was one of the ones who went down. And I need to?—
“If you’re innocent, then you don’t have to worry.”
I put my hands on his face and dip my head to bite his ear. “You think I’ll see the light of day, Smith?”
“Not my problem.”
“You’re the one kidnapping me.”
“Seeing you back.”
“It’s a soft kidnap and we both know it.”
“Which,” he says, slipping inside my bra to roll a nipple and pinch it, “is why we stick together, and why you need to understand you can’t escape me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“Can I get off now?”
“You want to give him a show?”
I reach down and grab his dick and he just studies me.
“Be very careful what you do, Calista.”
I give him a squeeze, borderline hard, and his eyes flutter half shut as he bites his bottom lip. And it makes me hot in all the ways. But I take the moment to scramble off him, and when we land somewhere in the South of France, it’s a short drive to a private airfield.
There’s a passport check especially for us, and our bags are taken on board, including my backpack with my computer.
Smith pulls open the doors that lead to the waiting plane. We step outside at the same time that the plane explodes into a violent storm of twisted metal and fire.