A Swallow's Bite Act 01

TOKYO.

Tomiko's leg muscles slowly relax. Behind her eyes, a universe of stars explodes as Niguri's thick cock tantalizes her pulsing clitoris as it sinks deeper into her special place. Tomiko's jaws clench together as early orgasm explodes into body-thrashing, hair-whipping excitement. Pleasure rockets from her head to her breasts, pelvis to legs and into her tightly curled toes. She feels her pussy flood. Niguri grabs her butt-cheeks, pulling with near painful force.

"Mooorrrr," he demands in a long throaty groan.

Tomiko gasps as a hip-wiggle pulls in another inch. His mouth crushes hers. Tongues collide. His sidesteps hers and pushes deeply into her mouth. She forces her tongue into his. They battle as if craving to feast on each other. Tomiko's thigh muscles relax. Niguri's cock slides in deep -- deeper -- until his cock-tip invades the deepest part of her very roots.

"Ummmm," Tomiko sighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"You're so tight," Niguri gasps.

"As are you," Tomiko moans softly, running her wiggling tongue-tip along his chiseled jaw line.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

Twenty people-packed feet separate the hunter from the hunted. Dmitry moves near to Nikolay Svyatoslavich. Sergei Godunov is a short five feet away. Dominika's heart thunders like a base drum.

TOKYO.

Tomiko's heart thunders with similar force. Niguri's fingers slide up and down her soft middle. As if propelled by superconductors, pent-up electricity shocks through her clitoris. Jet-black hair whips around as he gropes for the underside of her jiggling breasts. He squeezes. Niguri's lips snare a nipple. His suck forces out a shrill scream.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

Dmitry is almost close enough to feel his heat. The self-preservation instinct pushes blood through Dominika's veins like a river-wild. An erotic, bubbling sensation leaps forward. She must carry out Viktor's orders. Dominika slides her right hand into her shoulder bag.

TOKYO.

As Tomiko licks the outline of the tattooed dragon on Niguri's chest, she feels his finger stroking the soft and sensitive flesh between her ass-cheeks. She gasps and whimpers, then releases a long soft pleasure-moan. Cradled and controlled by Niguri's large hands, Tomiko is like a coiled spring clamped in a vice -- a vice from which he thinks only one explosive event can release. She knows there are two.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

Inside her purse, Dominika's fingers fold around her Beretta pistol. The line of fire opens. Adrenaline shoots through her veins. Blood is about to be shed. "Shit," she mutters as four dark-suited Koreans step in the way blocking a clear shot. Emotions blink off half-second images. Dmitry's lips grazing hers'. His muscled chest crushes her breasts. Smooth, deep, sliding strokes spawn internal contractions that reach for Dmitry's sperm with titillating momentum. Flaming, burning nipples beg for his kisses. She shudders as his lips latch on. Each intimate touch, each thrust, each erotic plunge, seems to burn in Dominika's heart like flames of blazing benzene.

Viktor's echoing voice suddenly shouts in her ears. "Your orders are to kill Rostislav."

TOKYO.

Tomiko's eyes are closed. She's facing away from Niguri, her knees on the floor and her butt pressed to his crotch. She murmurs and moans, rocking, pivoting at her hips, thrusting down then clamping her powerful muscles while rising and pulling on Niguri's cock. Niguri's hands reach around and cup the softness of her rigid breasts. She wags left and right then sits back, slamming down on his raging cock. She jerks her pelvis from side to side, molding, mashing and forming her angles and curves to Niguri's pulsing belly. Tomiko's butt muscles clamp together. Her clitoris feels like an expanding bubble that's ready to burst.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

Pushing her way around the Koreans, peculiar feelings crawl across Dominika's chest. If that bomb explodes, my life is over. Inside her purse, the cold steel of the Beretta's trigger snaps away fear and uncertainty. Dmitry is working his way closer to Svyatoslavich, Novokuibyshev and Godunov, three of the most important men in the Russian oil industry. They and anyone else in the immediate vicinity are the target. It's act now or be blown to bits.

TOKYO.

Niguri's fingers grip Tomiko's writhing waist. His arm muscles flex as he lifts her up and down. Teeth clench at each pleasure-slide. Deep inside her groin, Tomiko feels excitement mushroom as her internal clock signals the time is near . . . very near. Her body tenses. Lifelong dreams are just seconds away. Her backbone arches. With one last down stroke, her toes curl tight. Her cervix grips Niguri's cock like vice jaws.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

"Get out of my way," Dominika growls plowing through the Koreans. Eye contact.

Dmitry freezes.

"Dmitry, don't," Dominika says softly.

His finger reaches for the loop of fish line.

In a blur, the Beretta is out. Her feet and arms snap into the shooter's stance. Their gazes lock. His eyes are sad, like an injured puppy.

There's a muffled poof.

TOKYO.

Something shatters in the depths of Tomiko's brain. It's like a crystal vase, struck by a bullet in ultra-slow motion.

"Yesssssssssssss," she shrieks as orgasm balloons then explodes, drowning her trembling body in all-encompassing shockwaves.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

Blood gushes from a bright red hole in Dmitry Rostislav's temple. He drops to the carpet floor like a puppet whose strings have just been cut.

TOKYO.

Tomiko's spine snaps tighter. Niguri groans in a wild release of constricted pleasure. Tomiko shudders as squirts of white-hot nectar fire into her. Torpedoes of thrills surge up and down Tomiko's legs. They're rocketing into her womb, spreading like an exploding nebula, burning into her jiggling breasts, twisting her neck and melting sex-charged hips. Numbing pleasure surges from her scalp to her feet even into her toenails and fingertips.

THE GRANDE BALLROOM.

"Assassin -- assassin!" Sveta shrieks frantically pointing at the Cuban who's charging out the door. "Stop that man!"

Two robust bodyguards grab Dominika by her arms. On the floor a few feet away, Rostislav's arm is moving.

"Let me go," Dominika shrieks struggling frantically. His fingers claw for the fish line.

"I'm a GRU agent!" Dominika yells. "That man! He's got a bomb!"

The word BOMB resonates through the ballroom like a bolt of lightening. Women scream. Hordes dive for cover or stampede for the door. In the chaotic confusion, Dominika twists away from the two bodyguards. She charges forward. Rostislav has the fish line between his fingers. Her shoe catches his hand thwarting further movement. A point-blank shot incapacitates his free arm. She squats and presses the Beretta to Rostislav's ear.

"You're shot to pieces comrade," Dominika whispers over the frenzy. "Don't even try to move." She twists her head toward the gawking bodyguards. "Don't just stand there! There are explosives under his coat. Evacuate those people! Move it, move it! Sveta?"

"Right behind you, babe."

"Call Viktor. Get the bomb disposal unit down here fast."

"Already done."

One of Dmitry's blood-washed eyes open. Under her foot, his hand strains, trying to get free. He gurgles and spits up blood.

She leans in close. "Dmitry, as I see it you got two picks here. Tell me who put you up to this and you get a doctor. Or I pull the trigger and your corpse gets carted out of here in a rubber bag." She presses the Beretta harder into his skull. "Out with it Dmitry. Blink for yes. Your life for no."

Rostislav's eyelids shut then open. His mouth quivers as if trying to speak but agony chokes off his words.

Dominika's finger tightens on the trigger. With her free hand, she grabs a hunk of his hair and yanks. "Don't fuck with me comrade," she growls. "Viktor wants to know."

"al-Gama'at al-Islamiyya," he mumbles in a garbled whisper.

"al-Gama whaaaat?"

"Dirt -- . . ." Rostislav's face stretches like a rubber band.

"Dirt? Dirt what?"

"Tee."

Rostislav's bloody face fades wax-white. His eyes roll upward then go blank like a doll's eyes.

"Do svi danya, Dmitry Rostislav," Dominika whispers shaking her head.

TOKYO.

For five minutes, Tomiko sits in Niguri's lap holding his full length inside. She hunches over slightly, shivering, coaxing her clitoris to trigger the last orgasmic shockwave no matter how minuscule.

Niguri's face tightens, then relaxes as he feels her insides rippling over his length, squeezing, as if milking the very last drop of his precious sperm.

Dragging a silent sigh through her lips, Tomiko wiggles her hips and lifts her abdomen. Her pussy releases his cock with a delightfully wet sound -- a soft slippery sound. She immediately misses its warm presence and the incredible feeling of just a moment ago. Turning on her knees, Tomiko bows until her nose touches the floor. "I am honored to be granted such wonderful pleasure," she whispers. Rising, she places tiny kisses over his face, neck and shoulders.

"Cleanse me," he snaps.

"As you wish," she whispers obediently. Tomiko's lips move to-and-fro as she leans forward then down. Her pink tongue licks with warm saliva-covered swaths as she washes his wilting erection with tongue and mouth. Her stomach accepts their mutual fluids without rejection.

Deep in Tomiko Kasawara's eyes is a look of grand accomplishment. The first step has been taken. The second is about to begin.