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My toes curled up, Dan's dick somehow finding another flawlessly gratifying angle inside me. He grabbed my hips roughly, pushing deeper the way I'd been craving it. My pleasure peaked in a prolonged, resonant animal growl as I came harder than the first time, as if all these sensations compounded into this moment. Only when my trembling ceased did he stop fucking me, but I felt empty and hollow again. I still wanted him, gazing at him hungrily, my almond-shaped eyes half-closed.
A wave of gratitude crashed over me, and I slowly dropped to my bare knees on the wooden floorboards, in front of Dan's sculpted perfection. I pulled off and cast away the condom, greedily taking his cock into my mouth again, deeply, until he was coated with the slicker spit from the back of my throat. My hand stroked his shaft wherever my lips weren't, working him into the same ambulatory passion he'd evoked from me.
Dan's fingers worked through my hair, his head dropping back as his cock twitched over my tongue. I watched him gritting his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut, his balls contracting closer to his body. I sucked faster, rewarded by Dan's juices spilling over my tongue, dribbling pearly drops on my lips and chin. I smiled up at him, stroking his shaft until I was positive he was empty, then cleaned us up. I moved about in a drained haze, then fell back on the couch with him to catch our breaths, our heads turned to look at each other.
"Takeout," we said simultaneously, and ordered Chinese. Somehow, it went perfectly with the wine.
As the weeks passed, and whenever he was in town, Dan and I spent our nights together, exploring each other's bodies. I'd never been so completely drawn to a man with such pervading physicality, who could still stimulate my intellect. We weren't committed to each other, since he was constantly traveling, but I enjoyed his company and especially his delectable body.
One night, after a particularly strenuous session at my place, we flipped through the channels on TV, laughing at a McGuyver spoof on a late-night comedy show. When a commercial came on, Dan asked, in his offhand way, what I'd do if I wasn't such a brilliant chemist.
"I'd be a secret agent," I professed, laughing and shaking my head, because I knew it wouldn't happen in a million years.
"Be careful what you wish for," he replied, wagging his finger at me. Something poked into my thigh and I realized he was magically ready to go again. Perhaps the thought of me in a black leather catsuit and thigh-high boots (an erroneous but sexy view of a female secret agent) rekindled his passion. I purred at the thought of being involved in an adrenaline-pumping scenario. As our naked limbs intertwined anew, a quick realization emerged from the depths of my subconscious to the surface, but as Dan's cock penetrated me for the third time that night, the thought slipped away into obscurity.
It took being unceremoniously kidnapped, sedated, blindfolded, and hauled into the Agency, over a month later, to realize I should have trusted my initial instincts and not let some tumultuous sex cloud my better judgment...
Get ready for Chapter 2 of the thrilling Femme Fatale series!
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