Oh I wholeheartedly agree, I think we shall see Cat once more. Perhaps she finds a lead for her Albanian target in Beirut?
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Sexpionage III
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
SEXPIONAGE RETURNS!
In just two days time, on Saturday the 30th July, Sexpionage is back with a blockbuster new series, "Redemption".
Agent Lacey Anderson was back in service after her personal debacle in the Scandinavian Mission, and back in favour with her boss in seemed. But a threat was coming to London, much closer to home but with fall out that would reach much further and wider ... and Agent Anderson would be caught in the middle of the maelstrom!
Excerpt from PART 1 "SPY TRAP" ...
"Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him he placed his hands on the insides of her knees and firmly pushed them apart, lifting one to rest against his shoulder and placing the other over the arm of the chair.
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle ..."
Make sure to join us on Saturday ...
In just two days time, on Saturday the 30th July, Sexpionage is back with a blockbuster new series, "Redemption".
Agent Lacey Anderson was back in service after her personal debacle in the Scandinavian Mission, and back in favour with her boss in seemed. But a threat was coming to London, much closer to home but with fall out that would reach much further and wider ... and Agent Anderson would be caught in the middle of the maelstrom!
Excerpt from PART 1 "SPY TRAP" ...
"Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him he placed his hands on the insides of her knees and firmly pushed them apart, lifting one to rest against his shoulder and placing the other over the arm of the chair.
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle ..."
Make sure to join us on Saturday ...
“Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him he placed his hands on the insides of her knees and firmly pushed them apart, lifting one to rest against his shoulder and placing the other over the arm of the chair.
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle ..." “
(Reprinted for the convenience of those like me who use black background.
Thank you @Fossy )
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle ..." “
(Reprinted for the convenience of those like me who use black background.
Thank you @Fossy )
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thanks Loin ...
Sharkman
Governor
For sure for me he is a Lion ... always have a 'GoldenEye (1995)' on us.
Holy Sh ...! I must mow the lawn on Saturday.
I always asked me who is doing that in Sexspionage? A mystery just 'For Your Eyes Only (1981)', Fossy.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
SEXPIONAGE RETURNS TOMORROW … with a new series titled ‘REDEMPTION’. Join us tomorrow for the beginning of PART 1 – ‘SPY TRAP’
Excerpt from SPY TRAP …
“… Lacey prepared herself for what would happen next. At least she did some damage to the bastards. But at what cost? The first blow landed on her shoulder, watering her eyes. A jackboot stepped on her stomach. Tears were forced out as she squirmed for air. It took only seconds for her to lose the fight.
"Stop! Please!" she screamed when intrusive hands tore the remains of her shirt away and began to rip at her combats ...”
See you all tomorrow ...
Excerpt from SPY TRAP …
“… Lacey prepared herself for what would happen next. At least she did some damage to the bastards. But at what cost? The first blow landed on her shoulder, watering her eyes. A jackboot stepped on her stomach. Tears were forced out as she squirmed for air. It took only seconds for her to lose the fight.
"Stop! Please!" she screamed when intrusive hands tore the remains of her shirt away and began to rip at her combats ...”
See you all tomorrow ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
SEXPIONAGE - REDEMPTION PART 1
Spy Trap (1)
Roger Moore’s London Apartment, Vauxhall, London
He worked the damp white lace thong down over her thighs, tracing its path with his lips, his tongue slipping over the folds of her smooth pussy as his hands grasped her hips and pulled her body against his face.
He gestured to a chair near the bed and Lacey sat down, Roger Moore, kneeling at her feet.
Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him he placed his hands on the insides of her knees and firmly pushed them apart, lifting one to rest against his shoulder and placing the other over the arm of the chair.
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her, he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle.
He pulled it back again and spread the juices all over her clit before pushing his finger in once more, then another, pressing his thumb against her engorged little nub.
Biting her lip, Lacey moaned a little, eyes closing as her head relaxed back against the soft leather. The Head of MI6 stopped his ministrations abruptly, leaving his fingers buried deep inside the girl’s body, his thumb massaging her pliant prepuce.
"I told you to look at me Agent Anderson," he reprimanded her.
She felt her pussy clench against his fingers at being spoken to that way.
Lacey watched the older man as he fucked her with his hand, circling slowly, taking her to the edge but no further. Each time she thought she was going to burst, her thighs trembling, he stopped, unmoving, waiting for her to calm down before continuing.
The tension was almost unbearable and she ached to just let go.
“Please … Sir, please let me cum …” Lacey begged in her own most provocative manner. The Agent’s affair with the Head of the UK’s International Secret Service had blossomed following the young girl’s return from Sweden. He had wined her and dined her and taken her to his bed. His style of seduction, aggressive and assertive, played very much to Lacey’s sweet spot of sensuality, and she wanted him very much to take his ‘aggression’ out on her. The fact that he was a very Senior Civil Servant, way above her in the pay scale, and married with a daughter, Sophia (see Abduction), who was the same age as Lacey, did not put her off one little bit.
She was a submissive, he was a dominant. That’s all she cared about. Reckless for sure, but that’s the way it was.
Without warning Moore stopped and pulled his hand away causing a groan of frustration to leave her lips. She threw her head back and closed her eyes tight, fists clenched as she fought to catch her breath again.
Lacey jumped in the chair and gripped the arms as she felt the warmth of his tongue lick slowly along her slit. His hands pushed her knees up towards her chest as he licked again and again, making her convulse each time he caught her throbbing bud.
He moved her to the bed, where his tongue lashing of her sensitive bundle of nerves continued unabated ...
She had never been treated quite this way, the men her own age, not that there had ever been many, were usually in a hurry to get the job over with. Roger Moore took his time, paying attention to every nerve ending, licking, sucking and biting her tender flesh as he went.
He rolled his tongue over and over her clitoris, while he plunged two fingers in and out of her dripping pussy. His tongue slipped between the folds of soft flesh, wanting to taste all of her, setting her nerve endings on fire. Lacey was gasping, chest heaving, moaning each time he gently nipped her clit between his teeth.
"Oh fuck, I need to cum," she pleaded with him.
Lifting his head for a moment, still screwing his fingers into her Moore growled, "What did you say?"
"I need to cum, may I, please … Sir?" She whimpered, adding the required suffix to her words.
Pleased with this response her lover swirled his tongue hard against Lacey’s clit again before sucking it into his mouth, still finger fucking her, the thumb of his free hand massaged her tight ass-hole.
Then … Agent Anderson’s pussy clamped tightly around his fingers and she cried out, exploding onto his face, riding him, pushing into him … fuck, this was sooooo …
“Oh God, Roger, Sir … Master … ohhhhh fuuuuuck!” Everything felt so incredibly sensitive as the climactic waves spread throughout her body, to her toes, her fingertips ...
Kneeling over her, he waited for the young blonde to catch her breath and open her eyes again.
Letting her feet fall back to the floor Lacey tried to sit up a little straighter. Placing a hand flat against her stomach Roger Moore shook his head.
“You do not move girl, not yet.”
Still totally under the thrall of this older man Lacey remained still and waited for him to show her what he wanted.
First her left, then her right, he raised her legs once more onto his shoulders, letting his fingers roam over the smooth, milky skin of her inner thighs, his lips raining soft kisses over her calves and ankles.
It had never been like this for him with Ekaterina; she had fought him every step of the way. Their coupling had been consensual but violent. She needed what he had to offer, unlike Lacey, who wanted it.
Moore’s hands went to her breasts, the pink nipples raising and swelling under his touch. Bringing his face level with hers, he pressed his lips to her mouth, parting them with his tongue as the head of his throbbing cock pushed against her wet, open pussy lips.
As they kissed, he pushed firmly against the tight opening to her body’s entrance, her hot wet flesh gripping the head of his cock firmly as he gradually slid inside, pausing momentarily before ramming his whole length into her, hard and deep, until his balls brushed her perineum.
The liquid warmth enveloped him, his eyes closed, head thrown as the pliant walls of her pussy contracted around his erection in a way that had him groaning with desire. Slowly he withdrew, and then looking directly into her eyes, holding her gaze steady he pushed back into her again. Harder this time, holding himself in place while he revelled in the feel of his body against hers, balls deep inside Lacey’s luscious, sweet young cunt.
The girl gasped as she felt her labia stretched around his throbbing cock, suddenly filling her more than she had ever felt before. The low sweet moan that passed her lips while he slowly withdrew, broke into a sudden cry as he thrust into her again, then again … and again, the same unyielding, inexorable rhythm over and over.
Sliding a hand between her legs she ran a finger slowly up and down over her clit, so close now to another climax, wanting to cum on his hard cock.
"Always in a hurry girl?" Roger Moore smirked, pulling her hand away, before sliding his rigid shaft free of her sodden confines.
"Fuck no, Master. Don't stop, please don't stop, now …" Lacey pleaded.
With a little laugh Roger Moore stood up, taking her hands and pulling the girl to her feet.
"Just do as I say, girl. I’m gonna show you how you should be screwed … and we have plenty of time,"
******
It was more than an hour later, with one of Lacey’s wrists still cuffed to the bed, that her phone, closeted away in the pocket of her discarded jeans, rang. As a British Secret Agent, she should have had the sound on … she should have been attentive enough to check the incoming message immediately. But she was in bed with the Head of MI6, that was excuse enough to put her phone on silent, right? Wasn’t it?
And so, the young Agent did not see the communication which read, “We have the information you provided. We need to know that we can act on it right away. If we do not hear back from you within thirty minutes then we will sanction the action.”
To Be Continued …
Spy Trap (1)
Roger Moore’s London Apartment, Vauxhall, London
He worked the damp white lace thong down over her thighs, tracing its path with his lips, his tongue slipping over the folds of her smooth pussy as his hands grasped her hips and pulled her body against his face.
He gestured to a chair near the bed and Lacey sat down, Roger Moore, kneeling at her feet.
Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him he placed his hands on the insides of her knees and firmly pushed them apart, lifting one to rest against his shoulder and placing the other over the arm of the chair.
Lacey leaned back in the seat, her ass just on the edge, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against her inner thighs.
"Open your eyes, look at me," he commanded and she did as instructed. Not once breaking eye contact with her, he ran the fingertips of one hand over her smooth flesh before easing a finger into her tight pussy, all the way to the knuckle.
He pulled it back again and spread the juices all over her clit before pushing his finger in once more, then another, pressing his thumb against her engorged little nub.
Biting her lip, Lacey moaned a little, eyes closing as her head relaxed back against the soft leather. The Head of MI6 stopped his ministrations abruptly, leaving his fingers buried deep inside the girl’s body, his thumb massaging her pliant prepuce.
"I told you to look at me Agent Anderson," he reprimanded her.
She felt her pussy clench against his fingers at being spoken to that way.
Lacey watched the older man as he fucked her with his hand, circling slowly, taking her to the edge but no further. Each time she thought she was going to burst, her thighs trembling, he stopped, unmoving, waiting for her to calm down before continuing.
The tension was almost unbearable and she ached to just let go.
“Please … Sir, please let me cum …” Lacey begged in her own most provocative manner. The Agent’s affair with the Head of the UK’s International Secret Service had blossomed following the young girl’s return from Sweden. He had wined her and dined her and taken her to his bed. His style of seduction, aggressive and assertive, played very much to Lacey’s sweet spot of sensuality, and she wanted him very much to take his ‘aggression’ out on her. The fact that he was a very Senior Civil Servant, way above her in the pay scale, and married with a daughter, Sophia (see Abduction), who was the same age as Lacey, did not put her off one little bit.
She was a submissive, he was a dominant. That’s all she cared about. Reckless for sure, but that’s the way it was.
Without warning Moore stopped and pulled his hand away causing a groan of frustration to leave her lips. She threw her head back and closed her eyes tight, fists clenched as she fought to catch her breath again.
Lacey jumped in the chair and gripped the arms as she felt the warmth of his tongue lick slowly along her slit. His hands pushed her knees up towards her chest as he licked again and again, making her convulse each time he caught her throbbing bud.
He moved her to the bed, where his tongue lashing of her sensitive bundle of nerves continued unabated ...
She had never been treated quite this way, the men her own age, not that there had ever been many, were usually in a hurry to get the job over with. Roger Moore took his time, paying attention to every nerve ending, licking, sucking and biting her tender flesh as he went.
He rolled his tongue over and over her clitoris, while he plunged two fingers in and out of her dripping pussy. His tongue slipped between the folds of soft flesh, wanting to taste all of her, setting her nerve endings on fire. Lacey was gasping, chest heaving, moaning each time he gently nipped her clit between his teeth.
"Oh fuck, I need to cum," she pleaded with him.
Lifting his head for a moment, still screwing his fingers into her Moore growled, "What did you say?"
"I need to cum, may I, please … Sir?" She whimpered, adding the required suffix to her words.
Pleased with this response her lover swirled his tongue hard against Lacey’s clit again before sucking it into his mouth, still finger fucking her, the thumb of his free hand massaged her tight ass-hole.
Then … Agent Anderson’s pussy clamped tightly around his fingers and she cried out, exploding onto his face, riding him, pushing into him … fuck, this was sooooo …
“Oh God, Roger, Sir … Master … ohhhhh fuuuuuck!” Everything felt so incredibly sensitive as the climactic waves spread throughout her body, to her toes, her fingertips ...
Kneeling over her, he waited for the young blonde to catch her breath and open her eyes again.
Letting her feet fall back to the floor Lacey tried to sit up a little straighter. Placing a hand flat against her stomach Roger Moore shook his head.
“You do not move girl, not yet.”
Still totally under the thrall of this older man Lacey remained still and waited for him to show her what he wanted.
First her left, then her right, he raised her legs once more onto his shoulders, letting his fingers roam over the smooth, milky skin of her inner thighs, his lips raining soft kisses over her calves and ankles.
It had never been like this for him with Ekaterina; she had fought him every step of the way. Their coupling had been consensual but violent. She needed what he had to offer, unlike Lacey, who wanted it.
Moore’s hands went to her breasts, the pink nipples raising and swelling under his touch. Bringing his face level with hers, he pressed his lips to her mouth, parting them with his tongue as the head of his throbbing cock pushed against her wet, open pussy lips.
As they kissed, he pushed firmly against the tight opening to her body’s entrance, her hot wet flesh gripping the head of his cock firmly as he gradually slid inside, pausing momentarily before ramming his whole length into her, hard and deep, until his balls brushed her perineum.
The liquid warmth enveloped him, his eyes closed, head thrown as the pliant walls of her pussy contracted around his erection in a way that had him groaning with desire. Slowly he withdrew, and then looking directly into her eyes, holding her gaze steady he pushed back into her again. Harder this time, holding himself in place while he revelled in the feel of his body against hers, balls deep inside Lacey’s luscious, sweet young cunt.
The girl gasped as she felt her labia stretched around his throbbing cock, suddenly filling her more than she had ever felt before. The low sweet moan that passed her lips while he slowly withdrew, broke into a sudden cry as he thrust into her again, then again … and again, the same unyielding, inexorable rhythm over and over.
Sliding a hand between her legs she ran a finger slowly up and down over her clit, so close now to another climax, wanting to cum on his hard cock.
"Always in a hurry girl?" Roger Moore smirked, pulling her hand away, before sliding his rigid shaft free of her sodden confines.
"Fuck no, Master. Don't stop, please don't stop, now …" Lacey pleaded.
With a little laugh Roger Moore stood up, taking her hands and pulling the girl to her feet.
"Just do as I say, girl. I’m gonna show you how you should be screwed … and we have plenty of time,"
******
It was more than an hour later, with one of Lacey’s wrists still cuffed to the bed, that her phone, closeted away in the pocket of her discarded jeans, rang. As a British Secret Agent, she should have had the sound on … she should have been attentive enough to check the incoming message immediately. But she was in bed with the Head of MI6, that was excuse enough to put her phone on silent, right? Wasn’t it?
And so, the young Agent did not see the communication which read, “We have the information you provided. We need to know that we can act on it right away. If we do not hear back from you within thirty minutes then we will sanction the action.”
To Be Continued …
Last edited by a moderator:
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Spy Trap (2)
Grace Miller’s one-bedroomed apartment, Tower Hamlets, London
“Do you want me to go?” Jason looked at Grace, his brow furrowed.
“I … I … don’t know,” The Special Agent replied to Major Jason Underwood.
She did want him to go, or at least she thought she did. This didn’t feel right, the two of them sharing a take away in her London Apartment. He was Kat’s man, and even though that beautiful girl was no longer with us, Jase should remain way out of bounds …
“I should … probably.” He stuttered his next words.
Grace nodded. She did not want him to leave, far from it.
They had barely mentioned Kat all night, it hadn’t been that sort of evening.
“Would you like some company?” When Grace opened the door Jason had been standing there grinning, a brown bag of Cantonese take-out in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Grace?” She heard Jason’s voice, but did not reply.
“I really should go.”
He stood.
She stood, and whirled around to face him, whereupon he grabbed her and pushed her face first up against the wall of the small living room. He didn’t do it hard, just enough to make his point. After the initial shock, Grace relaxed as she felt his breath on her neck, and his hand against her back, keeping her pressed helplessly against the painted plaster.
“We can’t keep going on like this,” he murmured. “We need to have a heart-to-heart, you and I.”
She felt his hand run up the back of her leg and pull her skirt up over her ass, exposing her panties to him, and a soft whimper escaped Grace’s lips as Jason ran his hands softly over her bottom.
“Jason, we can’t, we need to …” she said nervously.
“You’re wrong,” he said softly, his lips brushing her ear. “We can, and we should … It’s not wrong. Kat loved us both, it’s been more than a year since … she would want this …”
Grace felt the emotion of his words bubble up inside her stomach, as his hand roamed over her ass cheek, his fingers flirting with the shadowy recess separating right from left.
“What do you want me to say?” She asked him.
“Do I really need to tell you?” he murmured.
“I … I don’t know …” She replied, feeling more than a little turned-on, but equally still fuelled by reticence.
“Tell me what I want to hear,” he whispered into her ear as he gave her ass cheek a provocative squeeze with his firm hand. She swallowed hard, nervous in an excruciatingly erotic way, her tummy raging with butterflies.
“Fuck me,” she said breathlessly.
“Wrong answer,” he replied, “That’s not it, Grace. Do you really think that’s all you mean to me?”
“Fuck me … please?” She begged.
“Wrong. Answer. Grace.” His voice now barely audible.
She groaned in frustration.
Their heads were close, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck, his cologne sweet and musky.
“Please Jason, what do you want me to say?” she breathed.
“If you don’t know what I want by now …” he murmured, leaving the sentence unfinished. His words were assertive and pointed, and Grace was breathing hard, his raw masculine energy overwhelming her, assaulting her, tearing down her defences. She felt her cheeks flush, her chest tingle, and there was moisture between her thighs.
“I … I love you.” She said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Louder,” he commanded.
“I love you!” She said again.
He kissed her neck, reaching up to cup her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to him.
“Again,” he ordered.
“I love you, Jason!”
“Again.”
“I LOVE YOU!” She cried.
Jason pulled his tee shirt off and then turned Grace around and pushed her back up against the wall, kissing her, hard.
She kissed him back, their tongues wrestling, caressing as though they were trying to consume one another’s soul. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up as his would-be lover frantically unbuckled the denim jeans that concealed his raging erection, wrapping her legs around him as he propped her up against the wall.
“Beg for it,” he ordered, as he moved her panties to one side, positioning himself … ready … waiting.
“Please!” Grace gasped. “Give it to me! PLEASE!”
He thrust himself deep inside her. Special Agent Miller arched and cried out at the sweet pain his assault caused. He began thrusting furiously as though the pent-up desire of wanting this moment so badly was exploding inside of him, aggression underpinning his passion as he kissed her hard causing her to writhe and moan in his embrace.
“OH GOD YES!!!!” Grace cried.
“Tell me what I want to hear…” he said.
“I love you!” I screamed. “I love you I love you I love you!”
He fucked her harder, faster, deeper, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her body. His cock felt amazing to Grace, hitting all the right spots as it plunged deep into her body again and again … and again.
He’d just conquered her, and they both knew it, and Grace didn’t care one little bit.
She came hard, but he didn’t stop. She came again, and again, he didn’t stop.
“Please …” She begged him. “Please stop!”
“No,” he growled, fucking her harder still.
Her brain was starting to check out as another orgasm hit the gasping, desperate girl, her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head.
“No more,” she whimpered. “Please …”
That did it. With one, final, excruciating thrust, Jason exploded, the warm sensation of his release filling her belly. Grace gasped, feeling his cock pulse inside her, gripping him tight as he buried his face into her neck, breathing hard.
They stood there like that, his cock still enveloped by her warmth, Grace pressed against the wall of her own living room, her legs wrapped around him.
Finally, Jason looked at her, his eyes steely. “I love you too Grace Miller.”
He had taken her. Grace was his, and he was hers, and they both fucking well knew it.
******
They made love again a short while later, but this time they were naked and in bed. It was afterwards that she lay in his arms enjoying the peaceful bliss of their togetherness when her phone beeped with a message.
Looking up at her lover, a pained expression of apology written into her face, Special Agent Miller reached blindly out with her free arm to grasp the hand set.
Swiping the screen and sitting up, the sheet pulled high over her bare breasts, Grace’s eyes opened wide. “Fuck …” Was all she said.
“What is it baby girl?” Jason responded, already feeling comfortable enough to use a term of endearment.
Grace reached for the TV remote and switched on the news. A reporter stood in the heart of Whitehall, Central London holding the BBC News Mic to his mouth.
“A bomb planted in the Whitehall area of the City, the heart of British government, exploded about 300 yards from the Prime Minister’s residence and office. The Prime Minister had already left No. 10 Downing St. for a meeting when the explosion occurred. No deaths were reported, but several members of the Downing Street Staff, including a close aide and advisor to the PM, have been taken to hospital. The bomb, planted in a plastic briefcase left between two parked cars on Whitehall Place, shook buildings and blew out windows, causing glass to shatter into the street …”
“Jason, I’m sorry, I have to go in …”
To Be Continued …
Grace Miller’s one-bedroomed apartment, Tower Hamlets, London
“Do you want me to go?” Jason looked at Grace, his brow furrowed.
“I … I … don’t know,” The Special Agent replied to Major Jason Underwood.
She did want him to go, or at least she thought she did. This didn’t feel right, the two of them sharing a take away in her London Apartment. He was Kat’s man, and even though that beautiful girl was no longer with us, Jase should remain way out of bounds …
“I should … probably.” He stuttered his next words.
Grace nodded. She did not want him to leave, far from it.
They had barely mentioned Kat all night, it hadn’t been that sort of evening.
“Would you like some company?” When Grace opened the door Jason had been standing there grinning, a brown bag of Cantonese take-out in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Grace?” She heard Jason’s voice, but did not reply.
“I really should go.”
He stood.
She stood, and whirled around to face him, whereupon he grabbed her and pushed her face first up against the wall of the small living room. He didn’t do it hard, just enough to make his point. After the initial shock, Grace relaxed as she felt his breath on her neck, and his hand against her back, keeping her pressed helplessly against the painted plaster.
“We can’t keep going on like this,” he murmured. “We need to have a heart-to-heart, you and I.”
She felt his hand run up the back of her leg and pull her skirt up over her ass, exposing her panties to him, and a soft whimper escaped Grace’s lips as Jason ran his hands softly over her bottom.
“Jason, we can’t, we need to …” she said nervously.
“You’re wrong,” he said softly, his lips brushing her ear. “We can, and we should … It’s not wrong. Kat loved us both, it’s been more than a year since … she would want this …”
Grace felt the emotion of his words bubble up inside her stomach, as his hand roamed over her ass cheek, his fingers flirting with the shadowy recess separating right from left.
“What do you want me to say?” She asked him.
“Do I really need to tell you?” he murmured.
“I … I don’t know …” She replied, feeling more than a little turned-on, but equally still fuelled by reticence.
“Tell me what I want to hear,” he whispered into her ear as he gave her ass cheek a provocative squeeze with his firm hand. She swallowed hard, nervous in an excruciatingly erotic way, her tummy raging with butterflies.
“Fuck me,” she said breathlessly.
“Wrong answer,” he replied, “That’s not it, Grace. Do you really think that’s all you mean to me?”
“Fuck me … please?” She begged.
“Wrong. Answer. Grace.” His voice now barely audible.
She groaned in frustration.
Their heads were close, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck, his cologne sweet and musky.
“Please Jason, what do you want me to say?” she breathed.
“If you don’t know what I want by now …” he murmured, leaving the sentence unfinished. His words were assertive and pointed, and Grace was breathing hard, his raw masculine energy overwhelming her, assaulting her, tearing down her defences. She felt her cheeks flush, her chest tingle, and there was moisture between her thighs.
“I … I love you.” She said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Louder,” he commanded.
“I love you!” She said again.
He kissed her neck, reaching up to cup her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to him.
“Again,” he ordered.
“I love you, Jason!”
“Again.”
“I LOVE YOU!” She cried.
Jason pulled his tee shirt off and then turned Grace around and pushed her back up against the wall, kissing her, hard.
She kissed him back, their tongues wrestling, caressing as though they were trying to consume one another’s soul. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up as his would-be lover frantically unbuckled the denim jeans that concealed his raging erection, wrapping her legs around him as he propped her up against the wall.
“Beg for it,” he ordered, as he moved her panties to one side, positioning himself … ready … waiting.
“Please!” Grace gasped. “Give it to me! PLEASE!”
He thrust himself deep inside her. Special Agent Miller arched and cried out at the sweet pain his assault caused. He began thrusting furiously as though the pent-up desire of wanting this moment so badly was exploding inside of him, aggression underpinning his passion as he kissed her hard causing her to writhe and moan in his embrace.
“OH GOD YES!!!!” Grace cried.
“Tell me what I want to hear…” he said.
“I love you!” I screamed. “I love you I love you I love you!”
He fucked her harder, faster, deeper, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her body. His cock felt amazing to Grace, hitting all the right spots as it plunged deep into her body again and again … and again.
He’d just conquered her, and they both knew it, and Grace didn’t care one little bit.
She came hard, but he didn’t stop. She came again, and again, he didn’t stop.
“Please …” She begged him. “Please stop!”
“No,” he growled, fucking her harder still.
Her brain was starting to check out as another orgasm hit the gasping, desperate girl, her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head.
“No more,” she whimpered. “Please …”
That did it. With one, final, excruciating thrust, Jason exploded, the warm sensation of his release filling her belly. Grace gasped, feeling his cock pulse inside her, gripping him tight as he buried his face into her neck, breathing hard.
They stood there like that, his cock still enveloped by her warmth, Grace pressed against the wall of her own living room, her legs wrapped around him.
Finally, Jason looked at her, his eyes steely. “I love you too Grace Miller.”
He had taken her. Grace was his, and he was hers, and they both fucking well knew it.
******
They made love again a short while later, but this time they were naked and in bed. It was afterwards that she lay in his arms enjoying the peaceful bliss of their togetherness when her phone beeped with a message.
Looking up at her lover, a pained expression of apology written into her face, Special Agent Miller reached blindly out with her free arm to grasp the hand set.
Swiping the screen and sitting up, the sheet pulled high over her bare breasts, Grace’s eyes opened wide. “Fuck …” Was all she said.
“What is it baby girl?” Jason responded, already feeling comfortable enough to use a term of endearment.
Grace reached for the TV remote and switched on the news. A reporter stood in the heart of Whitehall, Central London holding the BBC News Mic to his mouth.
“A bomb planted in the Whitehall area of the City, the heart of British government, exploded about 300 yards from the Prime Minister’s residence and office. The Prime Minister had already left No. 10 Downing St. for a meeting when the explosion occurred. No deaths were reported, but several members of the Downing Street Staff, including a close aide and advisor to the PM, have been taken to hospital. The bomb, planted in a plastic briefcase left between two parked cars on Whitehall Place, shook buildings and blew out windows, causing glass to shatter into the street …”
“Jason, I’m sorry, I have to go in …”
To Be Continued …
twonines
LIMERICUS
Again, very hot, Fossy.
I suppose that as Jason often has to tidy up after your heroines, it is only fair that he gets to enjoy their undoubted charms!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Indeed though they all seem to fall in love with him!
Delighted to see Grace … the Fossy sexpionage character I absolutely positively relate to … (she could be me) … figuring prominently into this newest edition of the ongoing series.
Also delighted with this episode … no one describes a sex scene quite like Fossy does, it’s enough to make me wet.
Can’t wait for Moore.
Keep writing, Fossy.
Also delighted with this episode … no one describes a sex scene quite like Fossy does, it’s enough to make me wet.
Can’t wait for Moore.
Keep writing, Fossy.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Grace, Barb with cut glass vowels, now that`s a thought to contemplate.
Sharkman
Governor
I love it ... yes.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Spy Trap (3)
Briefing Room 1 – MI6 SIS HQ, Vauxhall, London
“Sir, surely this is down to MI5 and the Met?” Whilst sympathetic to the serious nature of the issue, Grace Miller was confused as to why MI6 seemed to be front and centre of the investigation.
“Because, Special Agent,” Roger Moore had attended the briefing personally, and now directly answered Grace’s question. “We know who did it.”
“We do?”
“Clear the room please, all except for Special Agent Miller and Major Underwood.” Moore’s tones had become confidential.
Seconds later it was just the three of them in the room.
“Listen to this message.” Moore pressed play on the Laptop, which had been setup in the briefing centre.
“We have the information you provided. We need to know that we can act on it right away. If we do not hear back from you within thirty minutes then we will sanction the action.”
The voice was male, accented with a certain underpinning malevolence and an African inflection intoning the words.
Grace looked at Jason and then at Roger Moore.
“Could you explain more please Sir, like why there’s only three of us in the room listening to this?”
The Head of MI6 sighed and took a seat.
“Sir?” Grace prompted.
“Because, Special Agent Miller, this recording was found on the message answering service of Agent Lacey Anderson.”
He didn’t say anything about Lacey having been with him in his apartment when the message came through.
A small wooded area near to the south-east shoreline of the Gosport Peninsula
Agent Anderson was beside herself with panic. Once the call had come in from Roger Moore, a call that she ignored and one that she knew would not be of the personal kind, she had to get out of her room, and away from Fort Monckton
Puddles splashed as she sprang across a cropped field.
The bushes shuffled at the edge of the woods, where the green carpet of grass gave way to the Channel, and her breathing echoed in her ears. Maybe she could stow on board the Gosport Ferry and make her way into France …
Lacey knew she’d left a trail of scent with every step, but there wasn't enough time to make any loops.
She had fucked up and fucked up badly.
Dawn already painted the horizon. She only had a few hours to find a hiding place. A jump over the ditch fell short and she stumbled onto her knees, cursing. Her right boot submerged and filled with icy water.
"Fuck!" Between startled heartbeats, she picked up an approaching sound. Lacey stopped to listen among the morning mist which wrapped its tendrils above the low ground. The wind pressed the damp grass against her shins as she tried to identify the sharp voices, now sounding closer. She held her breath.
Dogs. Fucking barking dogs!
They knew she was missing and they were hunting her down. The drones would be out soon enough. She had to get away, give herself time to think.
Lacey sprinted toward the dawning light. Where could she find shelter? The old cellars, the dockyard shacks?
‘Have I forgotten my training? Come on Lacey, think!’ But self-chastisement was not enough to formulate a clear plan.
A wall of thorny bushes tore at her clothing but Agent Anderson forced herself through. She gasped for air when she reached a patch of fir trees and the foliage hid her from view. The yelping was louder now.
‘They're gaining on me. Fuck!’
She picked up speed, ignoring the sting in her side. Lacey hopped downhill between the oaks and birches and almost collided with the stone wall behind the undergrowth. No use trying to climb. She couldn't get a grip on the smooth, flat stones. The sound of her heartbeat thrummed in her ears.
Left, or right?
She turned left and then tripped on … what? A branch, a stone, her own feet?
The barking was louder which meant that the patrol couldn't be far away, but all Lacey could do was scream as a kick to her ribs spun her around and onto her back.
She looked up into the barrel of a French military issue FAMAS F1 5.56mm Rifle.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle Anderson.”
******
Grace was shocked to the core. “Lacey? Really? But why the fuck would …”
“Money, Power, naivety … it could be anything Special Agent Miller. Who knows? All we know is that she received this message and because ‘they’ presumably had no response, the bomb was triggered in Whitehall earlier this morning. It is only by a stoke of good fortune that no one died.”
Moore mentioned nothing about the fact that Agent Anderson had been cuffed to his bed which was the reason she couldn’t answer her phone.
“So, what now?” Major Underwood asked.
“We need to find her and quick. We have the patrols out around Fort Monckton. We know that she left the Perimeter some time ago and is now on the run.”
“Do we know exactly who ‘they’ are?” The Major continued to question.
Moore nodded. “A man was apprehended a short distance from Whitehall with traces of explosives evidence on his clothes … we have him downstairs awaiting interrogation.”
Grace slumped into her chair. “There has to be an explanation boss.”
“I hope so Special Agent …” Roger Moore ‘hoped so’ more than he could ever say.
To Be Continued …
Briefing Room 1 – MI6 SIS HQ, Vauxhall, London
“Sir, surely this is down to MI5 and the Met?” Whilst sympathetic to the serious nature of the issue, Grace Miller was confused as to why MI6 seemed to be front and centre of the investigation.
“Because, Special Agent,” Roger Moore had attended the briefing personally, and now directly answered Grace’s question. “We know who did it.”
“We do?”
“Clear the room please, all except for Special Agent Miller and Major Underwood.” Moore’s tones had become confidential.
Seconds later it was just the three of them in the room.
“Listen to this message.” Moore pressed play on the Laptop, which had been setup in the briefing centre.
“We have the information you provided. We need to know that we can act on it right away. If we do not hear back from you within thirty minutes then we will sanction the action.”
The voice was male, accented with a certain underpinning malevolence and an African inflection intoning the words.
Grace looked at Jason and then at Roger Moore.
“Could you explain more please Sir, like why there’s only three of us in the room listening to this?”
The Head of MI6 sighed and took a seat.
“Sir?” Grace prompted.
“Because, Special Agent Miller, this recording was found on the message answering service of Agent Lacey Anderson.”
He didn’t say anything about Lacey having been with him in his apartment when the message came through.
A small wooded area near to the south-east shoreline of the Gosport Peninsula
Agent Anderson was beside herself with panic. Once the call had come in from Roger Moore, a call that she ignored and one that she knew would not be of the personal kind, she had to get out of her room, and away from Fort Monckton
Puddles splashed as she sprang across a cropped field.
The bushes shuffled at the edge of the woods, where the green carpet of grass gave way to the Channel, and her breathing echoed in her ears. Maybe she could stow on board the Gosport Ferry and make her way into France …
Lacey knew she’d left a trail of scent with every step, but there wasn't enough time to make any loops.
She had fucked up and fucked up badly.
Dawn already painted the horizon. She only had a few hours to find a hiding place. A jump over the ditch fell short and she stumbled onto her knees, cursing. Her right boot submerged and filled with icy water.
"Fuck!" Between startled heartbeats, she picked up an approaching sound. Lacey stopped to listen among the morning mist which wrapped its tendrils above the low ground. The wind pressed the damp grass against her shins as she tried to identify the sharp voices, now sounding closer. She held her breath.
Dogs. Fucking barking dogs!
They knew she was missing and they were hunting her down. The drones would be out soon enough. She had to get away, give herself time to think.
Lacey sprinted toward the dawning light. Where could she find shelter? The old cellars, the dockyard shacks?
‘Have I forgotten my training? Come on Lacey, think!’ But self-chastisement was not enough to formulate a clear plan.
A wall of thorny bushes tore at her clothing but Agent Anderson forced herself through. She gasped for air when she reached a patch of fir trees and the foliage hid her from view. The yelping was louder now.
‘They're gaining on me. Fuck!’
She picked up speed, ignoring the sting in her side. Lacey hopped downhill between the oaks and birches and almost collided with the stone wall behind the undergrowth. No use trying to climb. She couldn't get a grip on the smooth, flat stones. The sound of her heartbeat thrummed in her ears.
Left, or right?
She turned left and then tripped on … what? A branch, a stone, her own feet?
The barking was louder which meant that the patrol couldn't be far away, but all Lacey could do was scream as a kick to her ribs spun her around and onto her back.
She looked up into the barrel of a French military issue FAMAS F1 5.56mm Rifle.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle Anderson.”
******
Grace was shocked to the core. “Lacey? Really? But why the fuck would …”
“Money, Power, naivety … it could be anything Special Agent Miller. Who knows? All we know is that she received this message and because ‘they’ presumably had no response, the bomb was triggered in Whitehall earlier this morning. It is only by a stoke of good fortune that no one died.”
Moore mentioned nothing about the fact that Agent Anderson had been cuffed to his bed which was the reason she couldn’t answer her phone.
“So, what now?” Major Underwood asked.
“We need to find her and quick. We have the patrols out around Fort Monckton. We know that she left the Perimeter some time ago and is now on the run.”
“Do we know exactly who ‘they’ are?” The Major continued to question.
Moore nodded. “A man was apprehended a short distance from Whitehall with traces of explosives evidence on his clothes … we have him downstairs awaiting interrogation.”
Grace slumped into her chair. “There has to be an explanation boss.”
“I hope so Special Agent …” Roger Moore ‘hoped so’ more than he could ever say.
To Be Continued …