Models and Super Spies Ch. 11

As Jasmine's orgasm subsided, Liz automatically switched her mouth from pussy to cock, swallowing her partner down into her now familiar throat. It happened so fast Trey couldn't even register a change. The mocha-skinned beauty had gotten him so close, he wasn't going to last long. The redhead knew it, corking her head in exaggerated bounces as her fingers jacked him firmly.

He looked down at her, running his fingers through her sweat-damp copper hair, and came.

***

Vincent was practically buzzing with excitement. A regular kid on Christmas morning. Dinner with the drop-dead gorgeous model lived up to the fantasies he'd been having since hatching this hair-brained idea. Things were comfortable. Intimate. It was almost like they'd never broken up.

After the light dinner, they'd moved to the ballet, mimicking their date when the whole saga began. When he'd agreed to take her out as a friend, it seemed like another life, not just a few weeks ago. This time, though, rather than seats on the orchestra floor, he'd purchased a central balcony. A very private central balcony.

"You've outdone yourself," Alicia whispered as they settled into their velvet chairs. The orchestra was in the midst of their discordant warm-ups. Vincent always liked the chaotic serenade; it was probably his favorite part of any ballet or opera. Having Alicia snuggled against him would be a moment he'd not forget for a long time.

"We both need a little break from… you know, everything…"

The willowy blonde wrapped her arms around his and nodded. "Yeah." She still hadn't mentioned her meeting with Trey earlier that afternoon, or the revelation that he was the "traitor." Hearing her say it – hearing her open up – would have shown him how far her trust had shifted in his direction. But he knew not to press her. It would come in time.

His eyes drifted down to her legs, crossed before her. They were long and lean, her dress offering very little in the way of covering. Soon, they'd be wrapped around his back when—

The orchestra quieted. The murmur of the crowd soon followed as the lights dimmed. The show began, although Vincent had a hard time concentrating on anything but those legs and the soft warmth of Alicia against him.

Half way through the performance, she caught him looking. She looked up into his eyes, followed them to her long legs, then smiled back at him with the quick bat of her lashes. That was all the invitation he needed.

Reaching out, he touched her softly with the tips of his fingers, tracing swirls along her knees. She shivered, whispering, "That tickles," as she nuzzled closer. He spread his fingers out, caressing her with his entire hand. Her skin was like silk beneath his palm. He slid higher.

"Better?" he asked.

Alicia nodded. His hand moved even higher. She didn't stop him. Throughout the next act, he gently stroked the area just above her knee with his thumb, gradually moving his hand higher up her thighs as the performance went on.

The ballet turned dark. Tragic. The primary ballerina was betrayed, her lover killed. Alicia turned her head against him, drawing in a quick breath of emotion. Vincent held her, his nostrils filling with the heady scent of her golden hair. He felt his cock leap in his pants, reacting to her closeness.

He kissed the top of her head, smoothing his hand along the generous expanse of skin. The violins skittered up two octaves, climbing toward climax. Alicia peeled herself back, looking at him with soft, tender eyes. The violins paused. Silence filled the gilded theatre.

Alicia's glossy lips parted. Her eyes went wide. This was the moment. Vincent seized it. His lips crashed down into hers. The music swelled around them. Their tongues sought one another. Their hands came to life. Alicia's found his erection, swollen and ready for her. Vincent found her breast, as soft and warm as he remembered.

"I want you," one of them said. Neither knew which. They kissed again. "I want you, too," the other agreed. The orchestra was a whirlwind of sound as the rest of the ballet played out.

Resting her head against Vincent's forehead, her breath heavy with excitement, it was Alicia that said, "I want you right now." She squeezed his cock hard through his slacks. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Vincent looked out off the balcony. The heavy velvet curtains and padded walls offered cover from the other balconies, and they were set far enough back from the stage that no one would be able to make out the details.

His mind was working a mile a minute as Alicia slipped off her chair and down between his legs. The theatre hall was enormous. This was as secluded as it got. But he'd lived a life of caution and secrecy. This was too—

"Fuuuuck…" he groaned as Alicia swiftly freed his cock and took it into her mouth. Vincent felt feverish as he looked down at the kneeling woman. He met her bright browns, his passion augmented by hers. She moved like a viper along his length, so quick her tight haltered dress shifted a little on her bust. He caught a hint of her dark nipple before she slurped off him.

"You were always an impatient girl," he grinned as she reached beneath the short dress and removed what appeared to be a very tiny pair of panties.

She leaned down and nuzzled her nose against his. "And you've been fantasizing about this all night long." With a soft kiss on the lips, she turned her back to him and sat back into his lap. Reaching between his legs, he felt her take hold of his cock and place it against her very damp slit.

Longer than that, Vincent thought as the blonde model teased him with her cleanly shaved pussy. She sensually undulated her hips like a stripper, stroking his cock flesh in her silky furrow, but not taking it in. He heard her breath catch. She looked over her shoulder, a couple strands of her blonde hair catching in her lip-gloss.

For a second, she looked like she was going to say something. A final tease. A moment of regret. Vincent didn't know. Her lips parted, her pupils shifted focus from one eye to the other, searching his face. Searching, searching…

"Yesss…" she hissed, her eyes fluttering shut as she guided his cock into her moist pussy.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, clutching at the rim of the seat as the steamy sensation of Alicia Kennedy's sex nearly overwhelmed him. The blonde continued to roll and grind in his lap as they adjusted into a comfortable rhythm. The audience watched the final act of the ballet, oblivious.

When Vincent was comfortable he wasn't going to blow prematurely, he relinquished his grip on the chair long enough to find take hold of Alicia's bucking hips. "Slow down, baby," he whispered, forcing himself to breath.

She relaxed her pace until he was just slowly moving in and out of her. "How's that?" Her voice was strained.

"Better. For now, better." He let his hands wander. It was possible, maybe, that someone could happen to glance behind them. Someone in the front row. Or maybe someone on stage could make out what they were doing. But both were beyond caring.

The backless dress made it easy for Vincent to slip his hands under the sides and cup Alicia's apple-sized tits. They were perfect. Absolutely perfect. He found her nipples, hard to the touch. "God, you're so sexy," he grunted into her ear. She wore little diamond studs in each lobe, as well as a small, silver loop at the top of her left ear.

Alicia didn't reply, although her quiet mewing was enough for him. He began to grope her harder. She knew what it meant. Once again, she picked up the pace of her lap grind, although this time, she tried to minimize her movements in case someone got wise to them.

"Tell me when you're close," she said softly, her voice cracking a little.

"I'm close," Vincent replied almost immediately. He'd been close from the moment his cock entered her mouth. He was amazed that he'd lasted this long in her cunt.

"Uhh, baby, I'm almost there," she moaned. He did his best to hold his orgasm at bay, but he was fighting a losing battle. She fucked him for thirty more seconds more when he felt his balls begin to tighten. Alicia detected it, too.

Immediately, she was off him. Back down between his legs. Just in time to catch the first blast of cum in her slippery mouth. Her graceful fingers stroked his juice-slick cock as he came, milking him as she swallowed every drop he had.

When he had nothing left, she released him and he slumped down into his chair. Applause erupted all around him. Vincent wanted to applaud right along, but not for the ballet. He wanted to clap his hands for Alicia, who managed to give him something new when he thought he'd done it all.

The blonde smiled up from her position at his feet, the look on her face that of a satiated feline. Her right breast hung exposed from the side of the dress, the nipple still riggedly extended. God, she was an incredible lady.

"Thanks for the evening, Vince," she winked. "That was the most entertaining ballet I've ever attended."

She fixed her dress and he helped her to her feet. "Don't thank me," he said, drawing her into his arms. He could taste the residuals of his cum as they kissed. He didn't mind. "You did all the work."

She actually blushed. "I don't know what came over me."

"That would be me," Vincent said with a smile. "Come on, let's get you back to my place.

***

Trey felt empty in the aftermath of the threesome. He slumped down next to Jasmine, who was still recovering from her girl-on-girl orgasm. She reached down and encircled his limp member. She had a ring on her thumb, as well as a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on the inside of her wrist.

He felt himself begin to stir at her touch, but knew it would be a little while before he'd be ready to go again. And at that moment, he was not in the mood to go again. He remembered that this was all for a mission. This was all a show.

"I better get back out there, but this isn't over yet," she winked, standing and reaching for her dress. Her light brown skin glistened in the soft light of the alcove.

When she was gone, Liz – still resting on the ground – looked up at him bashfully. "I… had to play along. Jasmine wasn't sent in here just by chance. She was making sure that… you know…"

"That we weren't conspiring."

The redhead nodded. "Now, to figure out how we get out of here alive."

As Trey pulled his pants back on, he heard commotion out in the main room. Joshua had returned. And he was yelling.

"Time to go, man," Trey heard through the curtains. "Time to fucking go!"

"Calm down, Joshua. Calm down." Trey and Liz went to the curtain, opening it just a touch and peering out. Samuel Smith was on his feet, zipping up his pants while a tired-looking Kelly lounged at his feet, still naked. "What are you talking about?"

"The Feds. They're on the way."

"How…" Both sets of eyes turned in Trey's direction. He felt the blood drain from his face. Oh shit. Slim materialized with his automatic drawn. "Check that briefcase again. Go through all his shit," Samuel barked as Slim advanced on their little alcove.

"Get out here, Trenton. Make this easy on us and we'll make it easy on you." The words were reasonable, but the mobster's voice was not. This wasn't going to end well for him. He shot a glance at the briefcase, where his weapon was. Slim moved closer. He looked over at Liz, whose eyes were as wide-eyed as his. They were cornered. They had no outs.

Slim ripped the curtains to the side and grabbed Trey by the scruff of his neck. The red-haired agent came tumbling out, his trousers ripping along his left knee. Pain seared up his body. Adrenaline began to kick in. So did his training.

It was automatic. Even before he could fully realize the situation around him, he lashed out with his other leg. A clean sweep. Text book. Slim crashed to the ground next to him, his gun skittering into a darkened alcove.

Rolling away from the large goon, he decided to go for the briefcase. The gun inside was his only hope. He glanced over his shoulder, where Samuel was just comprehending what was happening, his big eyes blinking in disbelief.

Trey knew it was now or never. He crouch-ran across the room. Toward his briefcase. His mistake was not looking ahead. Of keeping his eyes on the gangster. Of forgetting the third man present.

Sharp, white pain crashed through his skull. He turned his head. Too late. Joshua was above him, Trey's own automatic brandished in his hand. "This what you looking for?" the young thug asked, pistol-whipping him again. Trey felt hot blood along the side of his face as he sprawled out along the ground. He felt a boot dig into the soft spot between his shoulder blades.

"I found orders, Mr. Smith. In the case. Whoever the fuck this guy is, he's not on our side," Joshua's voice swam above him like sound through the deep-end of a neighborhood pool.

"Kill him, then let's go," Samuel growled. So nonchalant. So cold. Trey felt the chilling pressure of the gun against his temple. So close to his ear, he could hear the hiss of metal sliding along metal.

It never dawned on him that this was it. That this was the end. Like this. In the basement of a bar, at the hands of an enemy he hardly knew – could care less about. He felt the automatic's mechanisms begin to work. A barely audible hasp. Oh God. Oh FUCK!

"STOP!" The voice that rang out was strong. Commanding. Trey could feel Joshua's hesitation through the barrel of the gun. He wasn't a praying man, but for a moment, he felt blessed. "If you pull that trigger, you'll never get out of here alive."

The voice was refined. British, maybe, with a hint of something else. Trey's mind was slow, but not that slow. The voice of his savior was Alexander Mishin.

"You're—" Samuel began.

"I am. Now grab your things and let's go. The Feds'll be here in two minutes."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Do you have any other choice?" Alexander shot back, clearly impatient.

Trey opened his eyes and was treated to a view of Joshua's polished, wing-tipped shoes. His vision was blurry from the blows to the head and the absinthe still swimming through his brain, but he was able to focus enough to see Liz creep up to the fire alarm. A moment later, the ear-piercing siren consumed washed out everything else.

Trey felt the gun leave his temple. He felt, more than heard, footsteps all around him. Panicked footsteps. Liz rolled him over, hoisted him to his feet. There was shouting upstairs. "FBI! FBI!"

"Time to go, cowboy," Liz hissed in his ear. Mishin and the gangsters were gone. Kelly was franticly pulling on her business suit. The other waitresses were cowering.

He stood, a little off balance. He felt woozy, but quickly understood the urgency of the situation. Liz glanced at the antique absinthe fountain that dominated the center of the room, her face one of regret. She gave a short, nearly imperceptible shake of the head and hauled him out the back.

"I have a cab… waiting…" Trey managed to say through his splitting headache. The alarm bells weren't helping.

"Good boy. Looks like something I taught you stuck." She collected Kelly on her way out, whose blue eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

Trey felt blood in his smile. He must have looked terrible. "Thank you," he whispered as they poured out into the back alley. He could hear the patter of booted running. They were closing in.

"You may be thanking Alexander Mishin, of all people," Liz whispered as they made a break for the taxi, idling at the end of the alley. "But no more talk now. There will be time for all that later."

Wiser words had never been spoken.

***

Something was wrong. Alicia knew it even before the phone call was over. She couldn't hear the other end, but she could see Vince's face. She didn't like that face. It reminded her of the old Vince.

"You OK?" he asked as he ended the call. He was driving along the freeway and she felt the car lurch forward as they picked up speed.

"Yeah, fine," he said, forcing a smile.

"Need to drop me off?"

He took his eyes off the road to stare at her. His eyes dipped low, sweeping across her chest. "No, I need you. I've… I need you." He sounded like he was going to say more, but that was all he offered.

The rest of the drive had her on edge. He took turns too quickly. He stopped too sharply. And when he finally parked, he slammed the door shut with more force than was necessary.

They were back at his home. Not her hotel. Not some place that had been arranged. His home. And this time, she wasn't going to be sleeping in the guest bedroom.

He tossed his keys on the credenza in the foyer, wordlessly leading her into the back of the house. She followed shyly, holding on to her clutch purse like a life line.

His bedroom was as sumptuous as any luxury hotel. Had always been that way. Silk sheets and full throw pillows. She glanced at it with a mixture of lust and unease. She wanted it but didn't. Could he really be a new man? Suddenly, she was having doubts.

"Are you sure you're all—"

His mouth silenced her question. He kissed her so hard their gums grinded. She felt the wall behind her. Cold on her bare skin. His tongue dove down her throat. Consuming her. "Mmm," she whimpered as he assaulted her throat. She rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. He took it.

His hands were busy. They found her soft, braless breasts. Possessed them. He yanked the low front of the black dress down until both tits were exposed, squeezed together tight and high. His lips returned to hers as his hands returned to her body. Her waist. Her hips. Her tapered thighs.

Alicia felt her g-string being tugged free, removed for the second time that evening. Halfway down her thighs, he pulled so hard it snapped apart. She clutched Vince's heaving back as the animal in her lover took control. Again, unease and excitement mingled as one.

She hiked her left leg up, wrapping it around his back as he quickly fished his cock free. His large hand supported her thigh. She felt his dick push onto the soft opening of her pussy. Thrusting forward, he drove his rigid manhood into her like a butterfly being pinned to the wall.

"FUCK!" they cried in unison, their lips doing what was natural. Everything was wet and sticky. Everything was desperate. The stillness of the bedroom seemed to throb with their erotic fever. Alicia and Vincent rutted against the wall, too consumed with one another to realize the bed was just ten feet away.

Palming her taut ass, he held her up as her right leg joined her left around his back. His biceps screamed as he flexed them, bouncing her along his cock and driving her into a screaming climax. He slammed his mouth over hers as she moaned, drinking her ecstasy and finding some of his own.

Alicia felt as light as a feather as Vince carried her to the bed, his thickness still sheathed in her cunt. She flopped down onto her back, and her lover immediately went to work. He snarled, his face hard and domineering as she'd ever seen. She watched his jaw ripple as he clenched and unclenched his teeth with each heavy slap forward.

The blonde arched her back, grabbing her bouncing tits and fluttering her thumbs across the tight nipples.

"Are you close?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the unceasing orgasms she'd been having all night long.

He didn't respond, but his lips curled back in a snarl. He drilled into her furiously, so hard that her ass began to bounce on the edge of the bed with each withdrawal.

She closed her eyes and let yet another orgasm wash through her model perfect body. The world collapsed into nothing but feeling. The feeling of his veiny cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The feeling of his dark, wiry pubic hair scratch along her smooth mound. And… and…