Chapter 12

“And now the latest on the True Bliss Power Plant attack we go live to Gabrielle Potts.,” the newscaster announces before the news feed switches over to pretty tall blonde standing before a mass of fire and wreckage.

“Thank you, Jim,” the reporter says with a subtle smile. “I’m standing in front of what used to be the True Bliss Electric Power Plant. Earlier this morning the power plant was the latest attack in a series of attacks that have been taking place in the country. Similarly, an attack at Rapid Power Electric this morning also took place. After repeated questioning regarding the attacks, neither the FBI nor the newly organized TDF have responded.”

“What sis local law enforcement saying, Gabrielle?” Jim, back in the studio prompts.

“The local police are baffled as to how this attack occurred,” the reporter says after the delay in the feed. “Road blocks are set up outside city limits, yet somehow the terrorists were still able to strike. Like all other attacks happening in the northwest, there aren’t any survivors and this is yet another city left in the cold. I had ... wait a minute ... TDF are arriving now...”

Strandon puts down his razor and grabs a towel. “What the fuck?” he says under his breath. Running to the living room to watch the news report he passes by the phone. And as he does so it rings. Perfect timing or eerie coincidence he stops and dreads picking it up, almost deciding not to. He does anyway. “Yeah?”

“Insolent human,” the voice on the other end says. “You are on the verge of failure.”

“I have done what you asked,” the man quickly replies.

“Then why does Commander Jiang Chi have members of the TDF riding on his heels?” the voice demands.

“We just underestimated them, that’s all,” Strandon gives for an excuse.

“No. You have underestimated them,” the Goji corrects. “I do not tolerate failure either.”

“I haven’t failed you,” Strandon argues. “I anticipated something like this happening, so I recruited someone inside the TDF. He notified me of the problem and I relayed it to Chi.”

Not wanting to hear excuses, the creature says, “Find a solution to fix this problem. Your life is unimportant if I deem it so. Do not fail me again.”

The line goes dead. Strandon sinks down, leaning against the couch. The broadcast is far from his concerns now. He has to think, has to come up with something new. A distraction... yes, I know the perfect target...

Maykov takes Spencer to a safe house used by Interpol. After she dresses his wounds and bandages his ribs, determining that none are broken—just heavily bruised—she sets off to get them some breakfast. When she gets back, Spencer is dressing, ready to get back on task.

“Where do you think you’re headed off to?” she asks as she walks through the door.

“I have a job to do,” he answers, wincing when he puts on his shirt.

“You’re not going anywhere at the moment,” Maykov counters. “Besides, it is too hot out there right now. The KGB has agents throughout the city looking for you, not to mention the army.” She takes ahold of Spencer’s hand and guides him toward the bedroom. “You need to lie down and get some rest. Give your body some time to heal.” She holds him close, her perfume alluring. Spencer tries to shake the thoughts from his head. When Samantha went over that cliff it felt like his heart was ripped violently from his chest. And now to have these thoughts toward Maykov, he feels like he is betraying partner’s memory. Maykov helps him to the bed and sits down next to him. “Now get some food in you,” she says, beginning to stand.

“Spencer’s hand shoots out as if without his consent and takes hold of her arm. “Was there any news about the bus attack?”

Maykov’s face shows concern and sympathy for the man. She sits back down beside him. “There was nothing left, no survivors. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

The agent lies there letting what he already knows to sink in. Before he can even begin thinking of anything else, Maykov is
holding and comforting him. He looks into her eyes, which are more alluring than the perfume she wears. He reaches in and they kiss. As he realizes what he is doing, he pulls away. “Maykov, I...”

“Jennifer,” she whispers.

“What?”

“Call me Jennifer,” she says in the same low whisper like a touch of a gentle breeze.

“Jennifer, I don’t think I can do this,” Spencer tries to argue, though the alluring pull of the woman doesn’t make his words sound too convincing.

“Then don’t think,” she says, leaning back in to lock her lips with his.

Their hands roam over one another’s bodies, caressing and feeling. Spencer’s hands play with and admire Jennifer’s large, shapely chest while she reaches down to get a handful of his cock, squeezing and pumping it playfully. The man’s fingertips feel her large nipple where he then begins rolling and pinching them gently between his fingers. She squeals with delight when he does. Her hands go up, sliding along his muscular belly and then his equally strong chest.

The start kissing each other in different places—ears, cheeks, foreheads, chins—all the while stripping one another’s clothing. Their kisses move to the neck and then lower. Spencer moves down her body, slowly tasting each bit of flesh that she has to offer. His lips are soon on a breast. He drags his lips all over the globe until finally arriving at her nipple. Taking it in his mouth, he puts suction to it, letting it swell a little. His teeth close together around the thick nub and he bites down lightly. Jennifer loves it! When he is done with that one, he moves to the other and does the same.

“More!” she moans at him. “I need more!”

Spencer moves further down, pausing at her belly button to lick it. Then he is at her mound. He inhales her musky excitement. With a lusty grin and forgetting about his pain, he brings his mouth lovingly to the folds between her legs.

First he lightly kisses them, her soaking wetness coating his lips. Eagerly, he goes further taking his tongue as far inside her as he can put it. He moves it back and forth, up and down, side to side and in circles. Sweet sexual moans are escaping Jennifer’s mouth, her body grinding against his face, which is now covered in her juices. Spencer starts to lick her clit like a small ice cream cone. He nibbles on it while working one, then two fingers inside her cunt, giving her double the stimulation. The woman’s moans are louder now and her body is glistening with sweat. He works her faster and more urgently, yet he never loses the tenderness of his passion. The next thing he knows she is reaching the edge.

Jennifer screams with passionate release. A flood of hot, sugary juice splashes him in the face. Spencer savors her nectar as he drinks it like wine. He gets on his knees and lifts her legs, wincing only slightly, over his shoulders before entering her. Taking himself all the way to the hilt, he lingers for a few seconds, his cock twitching inside her like a nervous tick.

Before long, Spencer is getting into a good, steady rhythm and keeps it up for several minutes, never stopping. Lusty grunts escape his lips as he rams into her again and again. Jennifer is expressing her ecstasy with dirty words, guttural groans and breathy sighs. Her pussy muscles hug and squeeze his prick with pleasure. Her full breasts bounce and jiggle with every thrust. Her body writhes around wildly as the sweet, dirty words pour from her pretty mouth. Her eyes are like a wild animal. The point of no return draws near and both brace themselves for their powerful orgasms.

Then it happens. They reach it together without even trying. Electrifying pleasure rocks through each of their bodies and both gush—his filling her completely and hers spraying all over his member and thighs. After their loud moans and dirty words, they fall into one another’s arms to caress and kiss. Then they lie there together, all hot and sticky, resting.

Abruptly, Jennifer gets up and slips from the room. Her ass bounces lightly as she steps. “Where are you going?” Spencer calls after her.

“Be patient,” she replies over her shoulder. ‘I have more in store for you.” She slips into the kitchen and back out. Within moments she is returning with some items—a can of whipped cream, some chocolate syrup and some grapes.

“You planned this, didn’t you,” Spencer says accusingly with a crooked smile.

“Well, let us just say that we won’t be getting much sleep today,” she says, matching his grin. “We’re about to have a really interesting breakfast.”

“Get a perimeter set up!” Doug shouts to his men as he steps out of the semi. “Get those damn reporters back too!”

“Agent Wiltkins!” shouts Gabrielle Potts. “Would you care to share your thoughts about what is going on? Maybe shed some light on what the TDF plan to do to stop these attacks?”

“Whitmire!” he shouts again, casting the reporter a glare.

“Yes sir!” Whitmire says, changing direction to run toward the man.

“Can you escort Miss...” he pauses to look at the young woman.

“Gabrielle Potts, Morning Six News,” she offers, her smile is enough to make butter melt.

“ ... Miss Potts, out of the area.” It also goes ignored by the man in charge.

“Come with me, ma’am,” Whitmire says, grabbing hold of her arm. That smile is ignored by him too as he guides her out of the perimeter.

Doug pulls out his phone from a side pocket and dials a number quickly. It rings two times before an answer comes from the other side. “Cornelius, go ahead.”

“Roger, I need an answer about a second team,” Doug says.

“I’ve been on the phone all night, but so far it’s a no go,” Roger declares woefully. “There just ain’t enough resources available here and none of the other agencies are cooperating.”

“What about Frank?” Whitmire asks. His voice has an edge to it.

“He’s not answering at his office or his personal phone,” Roger explains. “I can’t seem to get through to the FBI either.”