“—rushing this will only compromise the entire operation,” I finish, though I have no idea if those are the words that actually come out.
“What’s the hold up, Tony? From everything I heard during your little romantic getaway, you and the little Kozlov princess seem quite cozy.”
Sasha hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and starts pushing them down. She takes her time with it, letting the fabric slide inch by inch while I struggle to remember how breathing works.
“That’s the job,” I manage. “Making her trust me.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re enjoying yourself a bit too much?” he questions just as the leggings hit the floor, and Sasha steps out of them wearing nothing but a scrap of black lace that barely qualifies as underwear.
I swallow hard and reply, “I’m a professional.”
“You’d better be,” Adrian barks. “Because if I find out you’ve developed feelings for?—”
Sasha drops to her knees in front of me.
Jesus Christ.
“—her, I’ll make sure you both suffer in ways you can’t imagine. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly.” I force the word through a throat that’s gone completely dry.
Sasha reaches for my belt buckle.
I grab her wrist with my free hand. She looks up at me, and those green eyes are glittering with challenge. She’s testing me, seeing what I’ll choose.
The mission or her.
I loosen my grip on her wrist.
She takes that as permission and works my belt open while Adrian drones on about potential extraction and documentation requirements. I hear maybe one word in ten because the rest of my attention is fixed on Sasha’s fingers working my zipper down.
“—need copies of all financial records related to the Geneva operation by next week. Can you manage that, or do I need to send someone more competent?”
“I can manage it.”
Sasha frees me from my boxers, and her fingers wrap around my length. I’m already hard because I’ve been half-gone since she pulled that sweater off.
“Good. Now about Sasha. I want more detailed updates on her emotional state. Is she vulnerable? Does she?—”
Sasha’s mouth closes around me.
I slam my thumb against the mute button.
“Fuck.” The word rips out of me as she takes me deeper. Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock before she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard enough to make my vision go white at the edges. I fist my hand in her hair, unsure if I’m trying to stop her or pull her closer.
She looks up at me through her lashes with her lips stretched around my shaft, and the sight nearly undoes me right there.
Adrian’s voice continues through the speaker, oblivious. He’s saying something about psychological warfare and points of leverage.
I force myself to breathe and unmute the call.
“Sorry, bad connection. Could you repeat that?”
“I said I want weekly reports on her mental state. What makes her afraid. What would break her. The usual?—”
Sasha takes me all the way to the back of her throat.
I choke back a groan and hit mute again.
