“Take off your panties,” he instructs as he tweaks my nipple making me mewl.
I slide my hands up my skirt and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties as I slowly take them off and twirl them around my finger.
“Now what?”
“Now get that sexy ass back here right now,” he orders, releasing my throat as he sits back.
I eagerly climb into the backseat and straddle the 6’3” bodyguard whose muscular physique nearly fills my entire backseat. He immediately takes a firm grasp of my ass and pulls me close so I can feel his hardened cock press against my pussy through his slacks. Chocolate eyes meet hazel as I stare at the man who doesn’t look a day over 35. He’s wearing his usual black suit over a fitted black tee with black slacks, his body smelling of this intoxicating cologne that has lingered on my clothes on more than one occasion.
He has lightly tanned skin that gives him just a hint of colour, a sharp square jaw framed by his trimmed and surprisingly soft beard while his thick black hair sits high on his head and combed back giving it that natural look of running ones fingers through their hair, then it fades at the sides until it’s completely shaven. His padded shoulders make him appear even more muscular while his entire ensemble hides the tattoos that cover his glorious body. It’s been a while since I’ve been graced with the sight of them.
I’m disrupted from admiring his sexy physique when his lips devour mine, kneading and biting them with a hunger that speaks to my core. I return his kiss, feasting on his soft lips as I drag my acrylic nails hard down his chest while I grind my pussy against his cock, eager to free it from its confines. My hands reach their destination and I make quick work of undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, panting with a frenzied need as his hands squeeze my ass painfully hard, making my groan in pleasure into his mouth. I finally free his cock and take in my favourite weapon in his arsenal. 7 inches of hardened steel, but it’s not his length that impresses me.
Castor’s cock is on the thinner side, but the head of his cock… fuck. The head of is cock his so large and defined that it manages to hit every sweet spot inside me time and time again and still find spots I never knew existed. I wrap my hand around his smooth, firm length and hear his sharp intake of breath through his teeth as I begin to stroke him; my nails grazing along the sides of his cock to entice him with the mix of pleasure and pain we both crave.
“I hope you don’t plan to tease me,” he says in a husky voice.
“As tempting as that is, I’d much rather have this cock buried inside me,” I say in a sensual whisper as trace the seam of his lips with my tongue; my hand tightening around his cock. I feel his hardness twitch in my hand and see the carnal fire burning in his eyes which only seems to spread to my groin.
“Move your hand,” he orders so dominantly it makes my insides quiver.
I move my hand and place both hands on the back of his headrest. With his eyes on mine, he adjusts his hands a little lower, lifting me a little as he spreads my pussy opening me wide for him. I feel the head of his cock tease my entrance making my insides slick with anticipation, and without another second to waste, he pulls me down hard on his cock as he thrusts up inside me hitting my cervix so hard I cry out and see black spots dancing in my vision. My nails dig into the headrest as my pussy clenches around his cock, instantly craving more.
“Only woman I know who loves it this fucking deep,” he says as he withdraws and thrusts up inside me so hard my head hits the roof and I don’t fucking care. I cry out again feeling an intense wave of pleasure rock my body and all I can think about is having more of him.
One of his hands wraps tightly around my neck while the other fists my hair, and I force my eyes open to meet his. The dominance, the desire, the heat. Fuck I’ve missed this.
“Show me how much you’ve missed my cock,” he orders as he bites and tugs my bottom lip into his mouth.
I mewl against his lips and with one hand fisting his head rest, and another braced against the door handle I begin bouncing up and down on his cock. My need far outweighs any desire I may have had to take this slow, and instead, I bounce on his cock hard and fast, feeling his thick, firm tip hitting the back of my pussy over and over again while the rim brushes against my G-spot driving me to the heights of pleasure. His carnal groan spurs me on as he looks down to watch my pussy devour his cock, his wet tongue skimming over his lips as hunger burns in his eyes.
“Fuck… how does your cock still feel this good?” I cry, bringing myself down on his cock harder and harder making him groan deeper every single time.
“Are you trying to fucking break me?” He growls, fisting my hair and yanking it back hard and forcefully making me groan and giggle in pleasure.
I bite down on my bottom lip, “Too rough for you?” I tease.
I see the challenge accepted in his eyes. He releases his hand from my throat and yanks the front lacing of my top harshly, freeing my breasts to his hungry eyes. He tightens his grip on my hair, takes a firm grip on my hip and begins thrusting up into me fast with a relentless force that I can only surrender to. Cries of desire from the pleasure that is spreading through my body like fire, fill the car as the windows fog over hiding us from spying eyes. I grasp his shoulder, digging my nails into him and take in the sounds of his laboured breaths and guttural groans.
“That rough enough for you?” He grits out, “Fuck you feel good wrapped around my cock!” He cries. “Oh, fuck, Dasha.”
“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” I manage to say breathlessly as he cocks thrusts into me as if seeking to split me in two.
“Let me feel you come around my cock.”
My entire body becomes flushed with heat as that knot builds inside me. My mind starts to go numb, and I can barely catch my breath. I claw at the ceiling unable to escape the assault his cock is declaring on my pussy; his hand in my hair and on my hip locking me in place forcing me to take his exquisite abuse. I can barely take it, but I want to. I want him to fuck me so hard I can’t even remember my own name. I want his cock to pound me until I beg for him to stop, but even then I pray he never does.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck…” I say as my face contorts; every muscle in my body building with tension so explosive it could be a lethal weapon. Just as I feel I can’t take it anymore, my body detonates, “OH FUU…UUCK!” I scream brokenly, my brain and mouth no longer in sync as my orgasm explodes through my body making me quiver as my pussy clenches around his cock while he continues to thrust through my orgasm. An animalistic growl escapes him as he feels me tighten around him.
“Fuck I love feeling you come!” He groans, pulling me close and crashing his lips on mine; his tongue invading my mouth with a dominating force that my delirious mind can barely comprehend, and yet my mouth responds on instinct. My tongue dances against his as his cock continues its perfect pace inside me.
“I want you to come in my ass,” I pant against his lips.
He stops his onslaught and pulls back to look at me. His hands cup my face brushing my hair behind my ears as he looks into my eyes; his chest rising and falling as we both pant; sweat patches dampening his shirt as I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back.
“You really are the whole package,” he says reverently, pressing his lips against mine in a consuming kiss that makes me throb for him once more.
I hold his face in my hands returning his kiss eagerly, lifting myself until he slides out of me, and though I instinctively want to whimper at the loss, my pussy only becomes more soaked as I think of what awaits me. I reach down and position the tip of his cock at the entrance to my ass and ever so slowly I ease myself down on him. I gasp as the feeling of fullness takes me over just as he throws his head back and lets out a deep moan that makes me shiver.
“Dasha… you’re going to be the death of me,” he says breathlessly.
“Then I promise to make your death exquisite,” I say seductively, wrapping my arms around his neck as I slowly work myself up and down on his cock.
“Oh fuck,” he groans as his eyes roll back.
I slowly kiss and nip down his neck as I ride his cock, and the more my ass adjusts the faster I begin to move. His hands capture my breasts, and I look down as he squeezes them together firmly, pointing my nipples next to each other as he takes them in his mouth.
“Mmmm work your tongue, baby,” I moan as I slide my fingers into his hair.
He sucks on my nipples as his tongue flicks them fast; the pleasure making my body tingle. I quicken my pace, riding his cock hard and fast as I my moans of ecstasy fill the car while his own moans reverberate around my nipples sending tingles to my pussy. I fist his hair letting my nails scratch his scalp as I work my ass on his cock, feeling him fill and stretch me again and again.
He squeezes my breasts harder and I, in turn, grip his hair harder, but quickly he’s letting my breasts go and firmly grabbing my ass holding me in place as he begins to pound my ass; his thrusts becoming sloppy as the sound of flesh slapping flesh fills the confined space and before I can feel another orgasm begin to build, he thrusts into my ass hard as he pulls me down on him, burying his cock deep inside me as he lets out a broken cry of pleasure as his warm cum fills my ass forcing another deep moan from my lips.
He continues to hold me in place, his forehead pressed against my chest as I slowly relax against him, brushing my fingers through his hair. He lightly kisses my breasts and peppers soft kisses up my neck making my skin tingle until he finds my lips. His lips caress mine with a tenderness I’d almost forgotten he was capable of. I cup his face in my hands and return his kiss as his hands glide up my back holding me to him.
“I can’t get over how perfect you are,” he says reverently.
“I worry about your definition of perfect,” I chuckle breathlessly.
“I mean it,” he says, holding his hand to my cheek, “You are perfect in every way, and those cock suckers just can’t handle how amazing you are,” he says, brushing his thumb against my cheek.
I swallow the saliva building in my mouth as I look at the emotions filling his eyes while causing an unsettling feeling in my stomach. This isn’t meant to be anything serious. We made that abundantly clear. This is just sex with no strings attached. If Castor is developing feelings I need them to shrivel up and die like an unfed flower. I care for him very much, I always have and always will, but I don’t see a future for us, and I don’t want a future like that with him. It’s got nothing to do with his age. If I cared about his age, I wouldn’t fuck him at all. But I just don’t have romantic feelings for him.
“You should go back inside before my father comes looking for you,” I say as I slowly move off him and climb back into the driver’s seat. I look at myself in the rearview mirror, tie up my top, and fix my skirt.
I can hear the sounds of Castor doing up his pants and belt and smoothly getting out of the car. He moves to the driver’s side door and taps on the window. I wind down the window and look up at him as he leans in.
“You know you can accept my kind words without them meaning anything. I care for you Dasha, and I will always care for you. This thing we have doesn’t change that. You don’t have to run off every time I try to tell you I care about you.”
“I’m not running. We both have places to be. Castor, I care about you too, but you know it will never be more than this, right?” I ask, looking at him carefully.
For just a moment I see disappointment in his eyes, but it quickly disappears. He smooths his hair back and stands up straight.
“Sweetheart, with the way you fuck there’s not enough brain power left for me to even consider anything more,” he chuckles. It’s a good act, but I’ve known him all my life and I’m not buying it.
“Should I worry about my father’s safety?” I smirk, choosing to go along with the charade for the sake of comfort.
He looks at me with hard eyes, “I would give my life for your father. I would never let harm come to him,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I smile at him, “I’m glad. For what it’s worth Castor, I definitely missed you.”
He relaxes and graces me with a soft smile, “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say as I start the car and proceed to drive away getting myself as far from this sticky situation as I possibly can.
I have been buzzing with a sense of accomplishment this week. Roughly a year ago I managed to obtain Hippomane mancinella seeds and have been cultivating them ever since. This particular fruit tree is native to Mesoamerica and the Caribbean Sea Islands and so it’s taken time to create the perfect environment for it to flourish in, and after months of hard work, the tree is finally bearing fruit! Now, it’s not the fruit from this tree that is of interest to me. The manchineel tree is also known as the Tree of Death or the Chamomile of Death. While the fruit smells heavenly and has the appearance of a mini apple, the tree is highly toxic. It’s actually considered the most dangerous tree in the world. The tree itself produces a milky sap that contains phorbol, an organic compound that when exposed to the skin can feel like someone is setting your skin on fire, to the point it can even cause blisters and eruptions in the epidermis. However, if the sap is ingested it will lead to severe vo
It’s 5 minutes to 1 and the crisp night air brings with it a cold breeze as I stand here under the Eiffel Tower, waiting for my mystery pen pal to arrive. I’m not a big fan of cold weather. I much prefer the warmth we were starting to experience again back home in Greece. I will always jump at the chance to take a job in a warm and sunny climate. It doesn’t even feel like work if you get to enjoy the sun after a long day of murder and mayhem, but my mystery person chose this location, so here I am.At least I am dressed enough to keep myself somewhat warm. My hair is down to keep my ears covered, while my black long-sleeved turtleneck shields my neck from the elements. My cropped, wide-sleeved mustard yellow cashmere jacket with a wide collar that hangs over my shoulders, provides an extra layer of warmth to my torso, while my legs fend for themselves with only black high-waisted leggings and black suede pointed-toe scrunch 3-inch ankle boots to act as barriers between me and this unp
My senses are shocked back to life when I hear the obnoxious sound of the telephone. I reach my arm out from under the sheets and feel around the nightstand until my hand connects with the phone. I pick up the receiver and place it to my ear, while I continue to keep my eyes closed, holding onto the last remnants of sleep. “Dobroye utro, Gospozha Medea, this is the front desk,” greets the masculine and contrite voice on the other end of the line, addressing me by my current alias. It takes a moment for my semi-asleep brain to translate the Russian being spoken to me and realise I have to respond in kind. This is the one downside to international travel. While I speak many languages fluently, I am not a fan of being woken up in order to do so. “Dobroye utro,” I say back tiredly, a yawn escaping me. “I apologise for the disturbance, but a phone call has come through for you. Would you like me to patch it through?” The man asks warily. Who the hell is trying to reach me? Who the hell
I tighten the belt around my long white coat, steeling myself against the cold Moscow air and step into the cloud-filled coffee shop. I think I was better off out in the cold. Heavy smokers fill the room, permeating the air with the smoke from their cigarettes. I may be used to the smell, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Even if I get my clothes dry cleaned it’ll probably still take multiple tries to get out the smell of smoke. I’m kicking myself for choosing to wear all-white today. Cigarette smoke stains like a bitch. Nevertheless, I make my way to an empty table and get myself situated, ignoring the smoke as best I can. I remove my white leather gloves and slip them into my pocket as a waitress comes over, looking like she’s been working back-to-back shifts for the past month. “What can I get you?” “I’ll just have a belyash, thank you,” I say pleasantly. “Anything to drink?” She asks tiredly. Note to self, leave this woman a large tip. “Maybe later.” She walks off to get my
This isn’t the first time I’ve been on a date with a target. Sometimes the best way to get close enough to poison someone is by going on a date with them. Posing as a waitress or pretending to be a patron are the next best possibilities, definitely the ones that lead to the least amount of suspicion. If the police are called to investigate a death and everyone reports he or she was spotted having dinner with a woman no one can find, then that woman – rightfully – becomes suspect number one. In this case, Silas – or Nicolae – willingly placed himself in my crosshairs, so it seems foolhardy not to seize the opportunity. All that said, I still intend to look my best. The least I can do for him is give him something to admire before he dies. A final glimpse at beauty as he takes his inevitable last breath. Thankfully, I pack for all occasions. I’ve gone with a long-sleeved, turtleneck black thigh-high dress with white satin ribbon travelling in an elaborate stitch pattern down the left s
The drive is short, pleasant, and not remotely uncomfortable. His cologne fills the car with a woodsy aroma with floral undertones that make it warming to the senses. He looks relaxed, with not a care or worry that this is his final night on Earth. In no time at all, we’re pulling up to a dimly lit building, where he parks and gets out handing the keys to a valet standing outside. He walks over, opens my door, and extends his hand to me. I graciously take his hand and get out of the car, smiling as he wraps his arm around my waist while closing the door behind me. With a firm but comfortable grip on me, he escorts me into the building revealing a surprisingly elegant restaurant. The lights all around are dimmed low creating a romantic ambience while a burning fire at the far end of the room offers guests warmth from the harsh Russian cold. The smell of the roaring fire fills my mind with pleasant memories while the scent of food wafting from the kitchen awakens my stomach like a snarl
With dinner paid, he stands and offers me his hand, and I once again gladly take it as I retrieve my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “Would you like to join me for a walk? If you don’t find it too cold,” he clarifies. I hold his hand and hold his arm close, “A walk sounds perfect,” I say softly, smiling up at him. He smiles down at me, but something about it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. Nevertheless, he escorts me out of the restaurant, and we begin walking down the streets of Moscow. The air is cold and unpleasant, but his body warmth is acting as a very welcome portable heater. “I’m sure you do this with all the women,” I tease. He shakes his head with a reticent smile on his face, “No, I definitely don’t do this with all the women. You’re different.” Well, I already knew that, but it’s nice to know he knows that. Aside from lying about my name, I’ve been myself all night, and that should unsettle me, but it doesn’t. I’ve never felt so comfortable being myself
I walk through the frigid streets with my hand firmly clutched against my shoulder to stem the bleeding. Part of me hopes the cold is at least slowing the blood down, while the other part of me just wants to get the fuck back to my hotel. By some miracle of the Gods, I see an approaching cab and hail it down. I don’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before I dive into the backseat. “Hotel National,” I instruct. The driver glances at me briefly in the rearview mirror and decides to avert his eyes before he turns the car around and begins heading in the direction of the hotel. I lean forward and do my best not to get blood on the backseat of his car - more for the sake of avoiding leaving evidence as opposed to courtesy. The driver never makes small talk and continues to avoid looking at me. It’s one of the things I love about this country. There’s trouble around every corner, so people tend to just keep their heads down and play dumb for their own good. As soon as th
I tuck my sunglasses into my shirt as I stare at the modest, Brâncovanian style castle before me, its terracotta-coloured stone almost glowing in the light of the afternoon sun. The bees are buzzing as they fly from flower to flower in this charming garden that reminds me of something pulled out of Alice in Wonderland. I expect a deck of cards to pop out with cans of paint to paint the roses red.“What do you think?” asks Silas, coming to stand beside me.I look towards him, his face calm and serene as he looks upon his family home. Home being the keyword. The size and status of this stone structure means nothing compared to the memories he has made inside its walls. This is his home, and I can tell how happy he is to be back.I smile, taking his hand in mine. “It’s not at all what I was expecting, but it’s absolutely beautiful.”“I was hoping you’d like it,” he says, a giddy ere to his voice. He almost looks child-like in this moment, and although it’s a side to him I never even thoug
Topaz eyes watch me with hesitation as Athena and I circle each other slowly, the plastic mat beneath our feet crunching under each slow step we take. I twist my hands around my staff, tightening my grip as I assess Athena’s poor hand positioning.Quickly I strike to the right, and although her body language is tense with apprehension, she successfully blocks my strike, the sound of our two weapons colliding resounding around the room. Without pausing I strike to the left, but she quickly manages to block me again. She has better reflexes than she thinks, but she doubts herself. She’s so focused on anticipating pain and being overpowered that it’s keeping her on the defensive.I hold both ends of the staff and thrust forward, aiming for her torso. She scrunches her eyes tight, pushing her staff out to block me, and though she’s successful her relying on luck to get her through is starting to aggravate me. I shift my hands, grasping the centre of the staff as I swing it down towards he
Sathariel stares at me, skin sickly grey and dripping with sweat, his eyes wide with fury and his body shaking as he leans on the table. “Kill her!” he snarls, deadly intent shining in his eyes. With a serene smile on my face, I tap my finger on the table, then clench it into a fist. A moment later one of Sathariel’s men drops to the floor, the pristine white furniture now redecorated with his brain matter, the other guards looking at his corpse in surprise as he lays on the floor, blood spilling from a bullet-size hole in his forehead. I’m sure the back of his head looks even worse. “Even think of pointing those guns at me and you’ll be joining your friend before you can even lift your arms,” I warn, glancing over at Sathariel’s men. “You might be good, but my guy is better.” They look from Sathariel to me then to the window and after a moment’s pause, they take a step back, lowering their weapons. “Are you crazy? Do your jobs and fucking kill her!” Castor screams, but no one pa
FLASHBACK 3 DAYS AGO “Follow through, and the deal stays. Reneg… and you both die,” Sathariel warns as he gets up and steps back. I roll onto my front, slowly propping myself up on my hand and knees, groaning as I clutch my chest, discreetly untucking my locket from under my shirt and using my hair to shield myself. I quickly open the locket and let the capsule fall into my hand. I take a breath, coughing to mask the sound of my clasping the locket shut as I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as the ache in my skull makes my head spin. I slip the capsule between two fingers as I finally lock eyes with Silas, who hasn’t said a word. His eyes are frozen, watching my every step as I slowly stalk towards him. “I bet you regret telling me you trust me now, huh,” I say smugly, earning barely a glimmer of a reaction from him as I try to convey a silent message to him. He said he trusted me with his life, I just hope I don’t let him down. I haven’t had a chance to test this out on a
He reaches up, squeezing my breast firmly as he licks and sucks at the top of my breasts when the sound of a throat clearing interrupts the moment. “What?!” he snaps, turning to glare at one of his men. “Forgive me, sir, but your guest is demanding to come up.” Sathariel takes a deep breath and looks up at me, as he fights against his hormones. “I have a gift for you.” “I can tell,” I smirk as I grind my pussy against his rock-hard cock. He groans, his eyes briefly rolling back before he opens them to look at me. “A different gift, one I think you’ll like even more.” With a curious look on my face, I get up off his lap and smooth out my dress, “This better be good.” He gets up, fixes his appearance, and comes to stand behind me, holding my hips as he presses his cock against my ass. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this. After this we can celebrate,” he says, biting into my neck and thrusting his cock against my ass. I let out a soft moan as I reach back, cupping the back of his head.
I slowly step into a gorgeous two-story penthouse apartment with a surprisingly breathtaking view of the city skyline through wall-to-wall windows. The sun is almost entirely set, giving the white furnishing a stunning, electric purple and pink glow. As I go to take another step, I’m held in place by my pervy escort. He spreads my arms wide, kicking my legs apart as he begins to pat me down. Overly thorough if you ask me. I glare back at him as his hands cup my breasts. “One needs to be wearing a bra to hide something in it, Einstein.” Fucker couldn’t have done this before we got on the plane? Once satisfied that he’s violated me enough, the chauffeur disappears behind the elevator doors as I step further into the luxurious penthouse only to see a table for two set up just past the living space. I register the popping of a cork as I look towards the open kitchen, only to see Sathariel pouring two glasses of champagne. “I take it your journey here was comfortable,” he greets warmly
Exiting my apartment I’m greeted by a tall chauffeur standing by a luxurious town car. His clothes are immaculate and his demeanour I would describe as friendly, but unassuming. As soon as he sees me, he opens the door to the backseat and holds it open for me. “Miss Aconite, I have been instructed to be your escort for the evening,” he says with a Peruvian accent, tipping his hat politely. “The entire evening?” I query as I walk to the car, tucking my clutch under my arm. “Yes, ma’am. I am to drive you to the airstrip where a jet will fly you to Germany. From there, I will drive you to where you will join Mr Guardian in Berlin for dinner this evening.” Mr Guardian. My mother will love that she was right in picking up on a third alias, but I’m still not sure if Lamar Guardian is Sathariel’s real name, or just another alias in a long line of aliases. While every assassin in our world is made infamous by their work and known by their codenames, Sathariel is a wholly different entity.
The sound of dripping water stirs my senses as I feel myself coming to. My body feels cold, a fact only intensified by an unpleasant draft almost making my teeth chatter. I struggle to open my eyes, my surroundings appearing dark and blurry. I try to move only to groan in pain when I feel my movements restricted. It’s only by the second attempt to move my arms and legs that I realise I’ve been fucking hogtied. My head is throbbing along with a growing pressure in my skull that is making me feel nauseous. I’m pretty certain I have a concussion. I try to think about how I came to be here, but it’s all a blur. As I lay on this cold, dirty – what feels like concrete – floor, I try to get my eyes to focus. Eventually, they seem to adjust, and I can now see Silas, unconscious and hogtied just a few yards away. That’s when the fog seems to lift from my brain, and I remember the men who broke into my apartment. I’ve definitely seen Silas look worse, but he doesn’t look great. His lip is bust
I lower the mask from my face, breathing in – somewhat – fresh air as I lift my goggles onto my head. Carefully I pick up one of the capsules from the tray in front of me, holding it up, admiring it with the pride and joy a mother would have for their child. Over a year of failure after failure has led to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. One of the things I love about chemistry is that it teaches you how much good can come from failure. Failure isn’t the absence of success, but merely a stepping stone on the path to it. Through my many failed experiments I discovered so many new ways to mix and bind proteins that have now become useful with many of my other poisons. I learned even more about the plants I was working with on a molecular level, and while week after week things may not have gone my way, I never gave up and I’m glad I didn’t because if I had I wouldn’t be holding the future of science between my fingers now. I place the capsule down, remove my gloves and th