“Fuck. What are you doing?” He said to the driver.
“That car. The black one. With the two cops. It's following us again.”
Sergei turned around. He could see the car turning the corner, about 20 feet behind them.
“Don't worry about that. It's not a big deal.”
“Are you sure, boss?”
“Don't call me boss,” Sergei snapped.
“Yes, Sir.”
Sergei shook his head. He was about to say don't call me “sir” either but figured it wasn't worth it. Boss. It was the kind of word that got people killed.
The black car. With the two cops. It had been following them for the last…he wasn't sure. But he had first noticed it about three weeks ago. FBI. He feared. Maybe some special Russian investigations’ division. Tensions between the two countries had grown over the last couple years. That damn election. The Americans were still complaining about it, at least half of them were, still accusing Russia of having plotted to undermine the losing candidate’s campaign.
He shook his head. Those silly Americans, he thought. They go around the world meddling in everyone's elections. And now they expect the whole world to feel sorry for them.
But politics wasn't his game. Drop offs and pickups. That's what he did. Hobnobbing with the with DC's elites was what he did, as well as rolling expensive beds with models and actresses and more than a handful of women who were neither.
He was still waiting for the next part of his mission. When would things get serious? He wondered. This couldn't be all there was, could it? No, at some point they would require a decisive action from him. That thought kept him up at night, sometimes and sometimes it woke him up in the middle of the night, sweating as the images of former spies with their brains blown out came back to him. Those were the pictures he had been shown in Moscow just before taking off. They were a reminder that if he ever tried to take the money and run, attempting to start his life over again, they would come after him. They would find him. They would kill him.
He had gotten the message. But he wouldn't allow himself to think about that. It was probably just posturing anyway. Those pictures might’ve been fake.
Sergei turned around. The black car was gone. He smiled, rested his head back in the seat, and closed his eyes. A smile crossed his lips. Diana and Caroline. Two buxom California beauties. Models, actresses, whatever. He looked forward to seeing them. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to leave the hotel room. They would order food and booze and a little bit of the white powder. They would play. They would sniff and snort, suck and fuck, lick, and nibble. He couldn’t wait.
These days, he didn't want to play with anything less than two women at a time. He had the stamina, the muscles, the big driving cock. Two women at one time. It was easy. Lick them up, then dick them down. All in a days’ work for a Russian playboy. The American girls loved his accent. They also loved that he would get rough with them, a little bit dirty with them, slap them around on the ass, across the face with some choking and spitting, for good measure. Sergei loved pushing women past their limits and seeing what they were capable of enduring. He loved it. It got his blood boiling and his cock throbbing in his pants.
The car pulled to the curb. The driver got out and opened the door.
When he walked into the hotel lobby, Sergei saw two women at the front desk wearing short skirts and heels. He smiled. One blonde, one brunette. Diana and Caroline.
“Ladies?” he said in his deep gruff voice.
They both turned and smiled, batting their lashes, playing with their hair. They both had huge fake breasts that looked like they were screaming for air, begging to be set free, sucked and nibbled. He would take care of that in due time. They had all night to play.
He went up to the brunette Caroline, hugged her, squeezed her ass, and kissed her on the cheek, looking over her shoulder and winking at the blond Diana. She stared back, lust and jealousy in her eyes. He let Caroline go and opened his arms wide for Diana. He squeezed her tightly. Her huge silicon breasts felt so nice against his chest.
She whispered in his ear, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your cock.”
Chapter 4
Grabowski parked the car a few blocks away from the hotel. Four Seasons on Pennsylvania Avenue. She had never been inside. And she had no desire to ever be. But tonight she would be going inside, both of them would, at least virtually. Cameras had been set up in the room that the Russian spy Sergei visited a few times a week. He was careful to keep moving around the city. But she was onto him. She had teams of guys who could get into any hotel, wire it, set up cameras, and audio in under 10 minutes.
She pulled a mini laptop out of her bag and set it up on the dashboard.
“This is some crazy shit,” Nicholson said, shaking his head. “This guy is pretty wild, isn’t he?”
“Let’s just focus on the investigation,” she replied.
But she couldn't deny it. She could feel the desire, the hunger, the loneliness, bubbling inside of her.
This guy had quite the reputation of being a playboy. She couldn't wait to see if it was true. Was he as well hung as people whispered he was? She couldn't wait to find out. Even though, she couldn’t help feeling that it would be kind of awkward watching any sort of erotic encounter with Nicholson sitting next to her.
He pulled a bottle of Jameson from inside his jacket pocket.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you really going to drink that right now?” Nicholson and his damn Jameson. He could never put it down, always needed a sip. She hadn't smelled it on his breath yet today, but she figured he had a nip somewhere along the way. He always did. She hated seeing a guy who used to be a good cop, waste away, pissing away all his talent and ambition.
“What's the big deal?” He asked. “What's better than whiskey and porn alone in a car?” he grinned, tilting his head back, closing his eyes, and taking it down his throat.
She shook her head.
“You know that stuff is going to kill you, right?”
He ignored her, took another swig from the bottle, twisted the cap back on, and put it back in his jacket pocket.
“I'm an Irishman. This is what is supposed to kill me.”
“You’re a fucking idiot is what you are.”
He burst out laughing. “I love it when you talk to me like that, Grabowski. Lets me know that deep down you really care about me.”
“Care about you? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He turned and stared at her. “Nope.”
So many different emotions struggled inside of her. She bit her lip, shook her head, and looked away. Was this really the time to get into a deep conversation? Was it really the time to explain why she hated to see him drink like this?
She looked towards him, blinked several times. Finally, for the first time in such a long time, she saw the sincerity in his eyes.
She closed her eyes, sighed, and thought of her father. Stanamir. A Polish immigrant who had worked his way up to lead detective in the Philadelphia PD. But his ambition was always to go even higher than that. He had interviewed several times for Bureau, each time getting a little bit closer to actually being hired. But it had never worked out. She wanted to make him proud. And she also wanted him to be able to live vicariously through her as his days slowly came to an end.
“You’re just wasting everything,” she said, not looking at him, her eyes facing forward. “From everything that I’ve heard you used to be a good cop. That's what they say around the office.
He turned and glared at her. His bottom lip trembled.
“Shut up, Grabowski. Just shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask your opinion did I?”
She could never remember seeing him like that. There was rage in his eyes. There was anger in his voice, deep anger and bitterness.
“I’ve seen it before,” she continued.
“I said shut up.”
“My father. He was a cop. A good one. Probably not as good as you. He never made it to t
he Bureau, even though dreamed and talked about it every day. Ultimately, that disappointment or failure, or whatever you want to call it, was too much for him and then the cancer…”
“Jesus Christ, Grabowski, don't you know when to shut up?”
“If we’re going to be partners, I can’t watch you just drink and drink. There’s a time for that. But it’s not during working hours.”
“Shut up!”
“No! You need to hear this. You're wasting away. I don't know what happened with your ex-wife but you've got to get over that. Suck it up. Be the tough guy that you like pretending you are.”
Her chest was heaving, heart was racing. Adrenaline surged through her body. She didn't know what had come over her. She was never one to lecturer. It didn't quite make sense to her. But she couldn't help it.
She turned towards him, her eyes full of compassion, hoping that he would forgive her, and wouldn't hold that short preachy speech against her.
He wouldn't look at her. He kept his eyes facing forward as he wiped a tear from his eye. He bit down on lip, quickly turned to her, then looked away. He closed his eyes, scrunched up his face as if he had some deep pain in his head as if he were trying to work out some complicated problem.
For the next few minutes, the only sound in the car was Kowalski typing on the computer, logging them into the feed in the hotel room.
“Shit!” she said.
“What is it?”
“Not all the cameras are working.” She pounded her fingers on the keys.
Suddenly her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Bingo!”
Six different camera angles showed on the screen. Her Russian spy was sitting in the living room area of the suite, talking to a buxom brunette.
She looked at the other cameras. There was a blonde in the bathroom.
“A bathroomcamera? Nicholson said, leaning over and looking at the computer screen. “You might be even kinkier than I thought.”
She rolled her eyes and suppressed her desire to say anything. It wasn’t easy but she managed.
Nicholson pointed at the screen. “Look at this.”
She turned her eyes back to the action. The blonde was crushing something up with a credit card. Then she bent over and snorted it off to the bathroom counter.
“It looks like they are going to have quite the party,” Nicholson said. “How does this guy get any time for spying?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ll be on his ass until I figure it out.”
They turned towards each other and smiled.
Chapter 5
It didn't take long before the Russian spy and the two girls started to get intimate on the couch, both of them sitting on his lap, taking turns making out with him, their hands roving up and down his body.
Nicholson could feel his cock throbbing in his pants. This surveillance assignment was a lot more exciting than he had expected. He was doing his best to cover his boner. He didn't want to do anything more to piss off Grabowski. He had taken things far enough. It would be best to lay off for a bit. But he couldn’t help noticing that more than once her eyes had quickly glanced down to his crotch. Maybe he was just imagining things. He couldn’t be sure.
No way, he said to himself. That would be too good to be true. Could this girl who is twelve years younger than me, actually be turned on by me? He looked away from the screen for a moment and pulled down the mirror, letting his vanity take hold of him. He smoothed his hair back into place. He was proud that he hadn’t really started balding yet. But the lines in his face and the bags under his eyes horrified him. This job was definitely wearing him down.
Back on the screen: One of the girls got down on her knees, and put her head in between Sergei’s legs. Nicholson closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't contain himself anymore. He reached down and squeezed his cock. When he opened his eyes and turned to his left, Grabowski was staring straight at him. Her pupils were dilated, filled with lust. He could almost hear her calling out for him.
He swallowed hard, not sure what to say. He loved to use a lot of sexual innuendoes to get her going. But now that they actually found themselves in this tight, intimate space with their energies passing back and forth, the blood surging through his dick, he wasn’t sure what to do.
They both shifted their eyes back to the screen. One of the girls was going up and down, bobbing her head in Sergei’s lap. There was no doubt what she was doing: sucking him dry. And the other girl had put her pussy directly in the lucky bastard’s face.
Things were definitely getting hot! He felt like he was watching a really raunchy amateur porn video.
“Can we get a tighter shot?” He asked, tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.
Grabowski banged on the keys for a few moments. Voilà! They zoomed in on the action.
“I can see our Russian friend is really packing some heat,” Nicholson said shaking his head. He didn’t feel a bit insecure. He had plenty of man meat himself. This was his moment, the one that he had been waiting for. And maybe she had been waiting for it as well. But how would he do it?
If he'd made a serious advance and she rejected him, he would be done. Career over. They would send him straight to HR, then quickly usher him out of the building. He would be forever banished from the Bureau.
But he wasn't going to be able to contain himself. He squeezed his cock again, then pulled his hand away. Seconds later he felt something else grabbing hold of his member. His eyes opened wide. He looked down. Grabowski’s pretty, pale hand gripped his crotch. Then her nimble fingers were undoing his belt buckle. The whole time their eyes were locked on each other.
Nicholson felt but fear and desire—a broiling desired. He threw his head back and sighed deeply as her fingers, wrapped around his thick, blood engorged rod. She began stroking it up and down, up and down.
“Oh my God! That feels so good!” he said. He took hold of her face, kissing her hungrily on the mouth, their tongues twisting and turning, slowly, just as slowly as her hand worked up and down his dick. And then she pulled away from the kiss and lowered her head into his lap.
What a feeling! Incredible! Her tongue ran up and down the shaft, swirled around they head, then dipped into the piss slit, which was already leaking cum.
“That feels so fucking good! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”
She began to gag but that didn’t stop her from trying to get his entire fat cock into her mouth. While her mouth took care of his member, she swirled a finger around his asshole, gently rubbing those sweet lips. As she pushed two fingers inside his ass, he held his breath, then he let it out in a deep moan. What a feeling! Fucking incredible!
He felt the cum rising in him. She pushed her mouth down harder and harder on him and jammed the two fingers in and out of his asshole, pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
He let out a loud, manly groan as the cum shot from his cock, straight into her mouth. She hungrily swallowed every drop. It was definitely the best head that he’d ever gotten.
Nicholson panted. A sheen of sweat covered his body. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He wondered whether she had. Maybe she had planned this all along. He looked down at his thick, floppy cock. There was saliva and cum on his lower stomach and upper thighs. She had really worked him over good. Really fucking good.
A few minutes later, they both regained their composure. An awkward silence slipped between them. Nicholson didn't know what to make of her calm demeanor.
He turned towards her smiling, appreciatively. “Wow! That was incredible. I hope I get a chance to return the favor.”
She smiled slyly and faced him, lust playing on her lips and in her eyes. She swirled her tongue around her mouth. “Yes, I think you will definitely have to return the favor.”
She paused for a moment as she glanced down at the semi-hard cock that still hung out of his pants. “I’d love to feel that thing inside of me.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you would.”
After they finished tongue kissing, Nicholson put his cock back into his pants. He felt like a new man. It was so strange what one great orgasm, one wonderful moment of intimacy could do for a man's confidence and mojo. He suddenly felt 10, maybe 15 years younger. He was ready to take on the world. Ready to bring down this Russian bastard.
For the next couple hours, Sergei and the two women engaged in some very hot and kinky sex—ass licking, fisting, girl on girl.
“Wow!” Nicholson said, shaking his head.
“What?”
“He would be fun to play with.”
Grabowski stared at him sharply.
He wondered if he said something wrong. Had he crossed the line?
“I mean imagine if Sergei and I were both fucking you at the same time. Do you think that you could handle all of that cock?”
“Are you serious?” She asked. “Are you trying to ruin the moment?”
“Not at all. But what if we told him we had something on him and forced him to participate in a threesome with us?”
Grabowski’s mouth gaped open.
“You must be kidding. There’s no way that you’re serious, right?”
“Listen, this guy probably doesn't know anything. He's probably just here as a high-profile distraction. Moscow has got to know by now that we’ve had him under surveillance.”
“What about the briefcase that he was carrying?”
Nicholson shrugged his shoulders. “It might just be a prop. Like I just said. Probably nothing in it. They’ve got us on a wild goose chase. This guy stands out anywhere he goes. Why would they give him anything important? And think about how much and how hard he parties. It would be crazy to trust him with any secrets. That's not how the Russians operate.”
“So now you're an expert on Russians?”
Nicholson laughed and shook his head. “Hardly. But by the end of the week, I’ll make it happen.”
“And if you don’t what happens?”
“You mean like a bet?” He responded.
She nodded up and down slowly.
“What do you want?” He said cautiously, not sure what to make of the strange look in her eyes.
Chasing Sergei: Dark Romance Page 2