The spy (2)

A quick memory reboot reminds me of my reckless choices. Despite my training, I still accepted food and water from an unknown source within the enemy territory. Those bastards tricked me good. And the water must have been laced with sleeping pills because I didn’t hear a thing.

I do a quick assessment of myself to ascertain the extent of damage. Did they take advantage of me? My stomach drops at the thought. I’m in enemy territory, and in my line of work, nothing is impossible. I clench my pussy and concentrate on the sensations. Thankfully, nothing is sore, broken, or damaged. Aside from my unusual position and my lack of clothing, everything else is even better than it was. For example, I’m warm and well-fed.

The relief doesn’t last long because the door swings open, and a man enters. He looks like trouble dressed in quiet. Broad shoulders under a dark shirt, sleeves pushed to his forearms, and veins tracing the length of his hands like faint shadows. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension underneath it, which ignites something in me.

His face isn’t the perfect kind that belongs on screens. It is one of a kind, meant to seduce people like me: A jaw made for secrets, a mouth that looks like it forgets to smile, lips that look like they can kiss the sense out of me, and hair that is a good length to tug on when he gives pleasure. I bite my lip to restrain a moan that almost escapes me as I feel my body stir.

His eyes that pin me in place. They’re dark, unreadable, but catch the light in a way that makes me look twice, not because I want to, but because I can’t help it. This should feel dangerous, and I should be figuring out ways to get myself out of this, but the danger in it makes it even more alluring and tempting.

“Hello there, princess,” he starts, and his deep, slightly husky voice sends tingles down to my toes. “It’s good to see you alive and awake.”

“Kind sir, nice position you’ve got me here,” I say, throwing in some sarcasm. I can’t let him see my weakness. “Is this how you welcome all your visitors?”

“No, ma’am, we have a lot more other ways to welcome our guests.” He looks at me and smirks. “This position is only reserved for special guests, like yourself.”

Special? How? Something about this doesn’t sound right. Could he… does it mean he knows my real identity? No, I have to find out more. “An introduction would be nice, you know.”

“Of course,” he smiles, but a smile feels more dangerous than warm. “I am the person you’ve been investigating, Wraith, or should I address you as Sofia Kane?”

Oh shit! Color drains out of my face immediately. This is bad news. Not only did they capture me, but the big boss of the syndicate caught me. No, this is terrible news. The earlier coziness is just a setup. There’s more torture coming up, and there’s a very slim chance I’ll survive. No one who fell on the wrong side of this guy’s books ever made it out alive.

A laugh of defeat escapes me. After all that struggle and escape, I still walked right into his trap. I know my fate is sealed, but I’m not ready to give up yet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being your special guest? Wouldn’t it make more sense to kill me?”

“Wrong,” he says as his eyes sweep all over my body at an excruciatingly slow speed, mainly on my perky bust, drop down between my spread legs, and back to my face again. “You are more useful to me alive than dead.”

“How?” I probe, hating that my body gets excited at this thrill of it. Does he find me attractive, or is this a strategy to make me talk? It is not so uncommon for these dark lords to have peculiar tastes. Does he want me as a sex slave? It should be terrifying, but with his physique, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be under him.

“I want information about your secret training grounds. Everything.” He wraps his hand around my chin and tilts my head back so my eyes meet his. He leans forward until I can feel his fresh minty breath on my cheeks. My heart rate picks up despite my efforts to remain calm, and I inch closer, wanting to have a taste of his perfect lips, but to my disappointment, he pulls back. “Tell me everything, and I'll let you walk free, unharmed.”

“Hell no!” That is not information I can divulge, no matter how much they torture me. If he thinks he’ll get anything from me, he’s in for a surprise. No one has ever managed to get anything from me, and he’s not about to be the first.

“No worries,” he shrugs, unbothered. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which one do you prefer?”

I don’t answer.  Every instinct screams at me not to. He wants words; I give none. I watch the way his fingers brush over his chin like he’s mapping my reactions. He’s testing me, and that proves he’s good. Too good. But no matter how good he is, he’s not getting a breath of what I’ve risked everything to protect.

I feel the tension in the room curl around me, but I let it. Let him think he has the upper hand for a second. Let him wait. What can he really do? Torture? I’ve survived worse.  I’ve walked through worse fires and still made it out alive. I’m the toughest agent there is, and I’ve trained my body and mind to be a closed vault.

“The hard way it is!” he says, turning around and pressing an intercom at the table before speaking some gibberish. Is he calling for reinforcement? A chill runs down my spine. Things are about to get real here. I brace myself for what’s to come.

The door opens, and a man of similar build walks in holding something that looks like a toolbox, and my jaw drops. The walking Thirst Trap is shirtless, and my eyes are glued to his toned upper body, focusing on how his muscles ripple as he closes the door. My gaze drops to his lower body. He’s in thin grey sweatpants with nothing underneath, and I can see the outline of his cock resting on the side of his upper thigh. It bobs a little from side to side as he walks forward and sets his box on the table. I graze my tongue on my lower lip, imagining how that cock would feel on my tongue.