Sometimes you just look at someone and know you’re gonna fuck. It’s the shine in their eyes and that subtle slip of tongue across lip. High octane, adrenaline sex is the best.
You don’t even wait for the clean up crew to finish carting off the body bags before you’re on her, lip curling with excitement, snarl building in your throat as you slide your hand up her thigh.
“Walker!” you hiss. It’s a mating call and however much she wants to resist it’s obvious she’s not going to. You flick the blonde hair away from her face while your other hand is worming its way into her panties.
“Casey.”
The warning isn’t necessary because you know the kid is there watching, dick pressing against the zipper of his fly. He may as well learn everything about the job.
Her cunt clenches around your finger, muscles tight and slippery gripping you hard. You have to be in her. “Now!”
Unfastening your pants, you push her against the cinder block wall and with blood thundering inside your head, you hike up her skirt and… “Ungh!” Everything’s hot, so fucking hot that you can’t think. Popping open the buttons on her blouse you suck at those pretty tits, teasing each nipple in turn with your tongue then reaching down to wriggle your fingertip against her fat, wet clit.
A glance to the left shows you how much Bartowski’s enjoying the show. He actually has the cojones to be standing there jerking off. He’s a fast learner. You’re impressed.
You lift the girl into your arms and she wraps her legs around you, squeezing those pale, perfect thighs until you’re clamped in position.
(Assume.)
“Fuck me.”
(The.)
It’s a demand.
(Position.)
You don’t like demands. Your cock’s screaming for some action, but there’s no way you’re going to take being ordered about like a whore for the CIA.
“Fuck. Me.”
Each word is a sliver of bitch queen ice.
“I’ll screw you when I’m ready, Agent Walker,” you say, throwing her that smirk, the one that drives her into an instant rage. Unfastening her legs you place her delicately back on the ground, then battle to get your hard on to behave itself and retreat inside your pants. It’s okay; you have plenty of other ways to get off.
Bartowski’s a silent bystander, erect dick poking out of his fist. His eyes are shining, his tongue slides wetly across his lower lip and sometimes you just look at someone and know you’re gonna fuck.
DONE