Lying and Kissing (31 page)

“I know you’re CIA, sent to snake your way into my bed. Let’s see you. Let’s see the pretty little tits they sent to tempt me.” His hand bunched in the front of my bra, there was a crack of snapping elastic and it was gone, a wadded ball of silk and ribbons in his hand, and I was topless.

He stared down at my breasts and I writhed, my head spinning. Any second, I knew, the interrogation would start. The brutal violence. Or maybe he wanted to enjoy my body one last time before he killed me.

He lowered his head and licked one breast, leaving the nipple shining, and I couldn’t stop the delicate flesh puckering and hardening. He noticed and laughed. “Even now, your body’s hot for me.” He looked down. “Let’s see how hot.”

He ripped my panties away and cupped my sex, then plunged two fingers into me. I gasped and moaned, eyes wide. I could feel his fingertips sliding on my wetness. He brought them up to show me the glistening evidence of my arousal.

This was nuts. I knew he was going to kill me and I still wanted him. I wanted him no matter what.

“Now,” he said. “What’s your real name?”

“A—Arianna!” I gasped.

He nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming. He cupped one breast and rolled the nipple suggestively between finger and thumb, staring straight into my eyes. I started to huff air through my nostrils, panic-breathing. God, those hands were so powerful….

“What...is your real...
name?”
he asked again. And this time, he pinched my nipple. Not hard enough for it to be agony, not anywhere near as hard as he could have done. But enough for a white-hot bolt of pain to wrap around the pleasure and arc down to my groin. My back arched off the bed.

“I swear....” I panted. “My real name’s Arianna!”

His eyes grew dark...and gleamed even more. “You want to do it hard way,” he growled. “Well, is fine.” I knew from the way his English was breaking down that he was getting more and more turned on.
God, he’s enjoying this!

He grabbed my hips and suddenly flipped me over onto my stomach. With no way to support myself, my breasts and face were mashed against the bedclothes.

“Tell me everything,” he said in a hungry rasp. “Or you will know great pain.”

Images flashed through my head. I knew what the Brotherhood did to traitors. There were a hundred horrible ways to die and many more ways I could be tortured before that. My fingernails could be pulled. My teeth extracted. I could be burned with cigarettes.

I knew I was going to break anyway. I wasn’t some trained field agent like Nancy. I’d tell him everything I knew. Why not just do it fast and avoid some of the pain? Maybe he’d be merciful and kill me quickly.

But then I thought of Adam and how I would let him down. How I’d already let him down, by slipping up somewhere. I gathered up the shreds of strength I had left and took a deep breath. “No,” I whispered.

He made a noise in his throat as if he preferred it that way. I screwed my eyes closed and waited for whatever would come next.

There was a flash of pain across my ass and a cracking sound that reverberated around the room. “
Bitch! Tell me name of your CIA handler!”

My ass cheek throbbed and blazed. It sunk in that I’d just been spanked.

Spanked?!

Pain exploded in the other ass cheek, then faded to a dull, hot ache that seemed to soak inward towards my groin, making me writhe.

“
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.

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.

The spasms lasted for what felt like minutes as he circled and rubbed at my clit. He drew the pleasure out and out for me as his hips pistoned against my upraised ass. Somewhere in my groaning and writhing, I felt him shudder and reach his own release.

Eventually, I slumped on the bed, spent. I felt him gently unfasten the cuffs and then pull me over onto my side, spooning me as my breathing gradually settled.

“You’d make a lousy spy,” he said with a low chuckle. “Natalia used to hold out for hours.”

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is waking up in his arms. I lay there staring at the wall and took stock.

The pain from the spanking had long since faded—he hadn’t actually hit me all that hard. My wrists were a little red from the cuffs, but that, too, would soon disappear.

What I couldn’t get rid of was the guilt.

When I thought he knew, there’d been a moment when I was actually relieved. Even though I thought he was going to kill me, a little part of me was just glad not to have to lie anymore. How did other agents do this?
How does Nancy do this?!

She doesn’t fall in love with the target,
I told myself bitterly.

I didn’t care that it was too soon to use that word. I knew what I felt.

Stacked on top of the guilt from lying to him was the guilt at how easily I’d broken. I’d been ready to fold just at the mere threat of pain. If he ever
did
find out, I knew I’d roll over and give up my country in a heartbeat. Some spy I was. And then, when I discovered it was just a game, I’d gotten off on it. I’d come my brains out, screaming obscenities at him while he rode me harder and harder.

I was completely out of control. Not just during sex, but whenever I was around him. I needed to get out. And his father had provided the perfect excuse. I’d tell Luka I couldn’t handle the gangster life, that I was scared for my safety, and his dad would back me up.

First, though, I had to talk to Adam. He hadn’t heard from me since I left on the yacht. I knew he’d have people watching me from a distance, so he’d know I was okay. But he still didn’t know about the scale of the arms deal.

It was time to do my job. It was time to betray Luka and finish this.

I woke him and told him that I had promised to meet a friend, someone I knew from back in the US who worked in Moscow, now. He didn’t even ask her name or think that it was suspicious that I hadn’t mentioned it before. That was what made it so difficult—that he trusted me so completely.

He smiled and said he’d make me breakfast. As I stumbled towards the wet room for a shower, he gave me a playful slap on the ass. “We should play that game more often,” he said.

I forced myself to smile.

***

I met Adam in Red Square this time, hiding in plain sight amongst all the tourists. We stood looking up at the statue of Minin and Pozharsky, just a couple of American tourists comparing notes.

I told him about the guns I’d seen and the deal itself. He listened carefully when I described Luka’s plan to take over the gun market. I handed him a tourist map on which I’d written the names of the buyers and the batch numbers of the crates of guns. He stared at it thoughtfully for a long time, then shook his head. “Unbelievable, Arianna. This is great work. Exactly what we needed.”

The whole journey there, I’d been waiting for that moment. I’d been hoping that his praise would push back the awful guilt. But I didn’t feel the same glow of pride I’d had in Gorky Park when I’d last met him. I just felt like a backstabbing rat.

I felt Adam’s eyes on me. “Something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Just nervous. Not used to this.”

He went to put his hand on my shoulder but then dropped it awkwardly. For just an instant,
he
looked guilty. “You’ll be home soon,” he said.

“Should I do it today?” I asked. “I mean...break up with him?”