Page 14 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
“Yes,” she gasped. “There. Right there.”
He liked this – watching her. The way her small tits bounced with each thrust. The way she bit her lip when he hit that spot inside her just right. All the little whimpers she tried to hold back, but couldn’t. This was the secret language of her ecstasy.
Powerful. That’s how it felt seeing Spectre come undone.
Nothing existed but this. Not her enemies. Not his duty. Just skin on skin and the sound of their bodies coming together.
She clutched at him, greedy, her thighs tightening around his waist to pull him deeper. This wasn’t a dream or a fantasy he’d conjured during lonely nights. This was real. She was here. Under him. Around him. Taking what she wanted.
Taking him like she was made for him.
But she’d always been a thief, hadn’t she?
Callahan slipped a hand between them, seeking the bundle of nerves between her thighs. Circling once. Twice.
With a soft cry, she buried her face in the curve of his neck as she climaxed. His rhythm faltered as his own release crashed through him. His grip on her hip went slack.
For several minutes, they just lay there, tangled and sweaty. His heart slammed against his ribs so hard he wondered if she could feel it.
“Well,” Spectre finally murmured, “that was . . .”
“Temporary madness?” he said before he could think better of it.
A minute flinch. “Of course. Simply working through the tension between us. And now it’s—”
“Been worked,” he finished. “Thoroughly.”
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. He suppressed a wince. Open mouth, insert foot. A defensive reflex to build the walls back up before she could use it against him. Shagging her didn’t change the fact that she was a thief, and he was an agent of the Crown.
“Right.”
Spectre pushed him off, gathering the sheet to cover herself.
Callahan opened his mouth, though what he meant to say, he had no earthly idea. What came out instead was a gruff, “Go to sleep. We’ll get you on the steamer tomorrow.”
She turned away, presenting him with the rigid line of her back. “Goodnight, then.”
He listened to her breathing even out as she succumbed to exhaustion. With a sigh, he rolled onto his side and shut his eyes.
The cadence of her breath lulled him to sleep.
*
Callahan woke to morning light falling across his face.
The other side of the bed was empty, no sign of Spectre beyond the imprint of her head on the pillow and a scrap of paper left behind. He snatched it up and read.
Agent,
The ledger is balanced, the debt repaid in full. Our business is concluded. Enjoy Hong Kong. -S
“Damn it all to hell.” Callahan surged upright, ready to tear through the city to find her—
Only to freeze at the sight of the wardrobe doors flung wide open and empty.
Every last stitch of his clothing had vanished. His suitcase was gone.
Fuck.
