Black Ops (Presidential Agent 5)

In this case, remolding a toothbrush handle into a key for a simple lock.

She opened that door!

"I don't wish to be alone tonight," Svetlana said softly if a bit awkwardly. "Do you?"

"Jesus H. Christ!"

She looked into his eyes and then, as if suddenly embarrassed, averted them.

Then, still looking down, she chuckled softly and said: "I'll take that as 'No, I don't wish to be alone either,' yes?"

"What?"

She nodded toward his groin. He looked.

The father of all erections was standing out from the hands with which he had hoped to conceal the symbol of his gender.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Castillo said when he had regained enough breath to speak.

"I hope that's an expression of satisfaction," Svetlana said.

He turned his head to look at her.

She was also sprawled on her back, with her head turned to him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't have much to compare it with," she said.

Oh, for Christ's sake, don't try to paint yourself as Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes. You couldn't do what you just did without a lot of practice.

I don't know how you feel, but that was the best piece of ass I've had in a long, long time.

Ever.

"Really?" Castillo asked.

"You're the second man I've been with."

"That's a little hard to believe."

"And you don't believe me?"

"Let it go, Svetlana."

"I can't." She sighed. "Will you listen?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Sexual relations can cause a lot of trouble . . ."

No fooling?

Like this one's going to cause more fucking trouble than I want to think about?

". . . and in the Oprichina there are rules," she went on.

"You don't say?"