Chapter 1: Introduction
A drop of sweat traced a path down Cla's nose and fell onto her chest, blending with the hot spring's bubbles that tickled her bare skin. She stifled a giggle that threatened to release the tension she had barely contained since she stepped into the spa an hour ago. In her skimpy bikini, she lazed on a hot stone slab while she secretly surveyed the guests' movements.
This place was more than it seemed from the outside. The faint aroma of sandalwood and lemongrass mixed with the guests' musky scent. The gentle sound of trickling water combined with muffled voice and occasional laughs from other rooms.
Cla's gaze slid over the mostly naked men and women scattered throughout the area. Not all were attractive, but their easy confidence and comfortability in their own skin had the same effect on Cla as a fine, strong liquor.
Her body reacted before her mind even registered what was happening. She was in a trance, her eyes half-closed, body unwinding as the tension grew within her. Unnoticed by anyone, her slender fingers unconsciously rubbed against her toned legs, sliding upwards, skimming along the dip in her body where the high-cut bikini bottom fell just short, tantalizingly short of revealing her most intimate secrets. She almost groaned aloud as her index finger traced the outline her bare pussy lips, slick from the pool's warm water.
Cla couldn't resist glancing around her, ensuring none of the few other guests noticed her shameless touching.
As someone who'd been a spy for years, she must admit this mission was one hell of a twist. Never did she think she'd have to pose as a guest at a lavish spa to get near her target, Mr. Who—an infamous arms dealer whose dealings were now putting national security at risk.
She tried to force herself to focus on Mr. Who, who was now heading her way.
A shiver ran down Cla's spine. Not from fear but from intense excitement. An encounter with him might be the breakthrough she needed to steal critical information to expose his illicit activities.
She watched as Mr. Who settled into the hot spring next to her, eyeing her boldly. "Enjoying yourself, honey?"
Her eyes trailed across his broad shoulders, toned arms and chest, and the dark hair trailing down to his fit stomach. He had the body of a fighter and carried himself with a supreme aura of power.
And yet he had the obsidian gaze of a predator, captivating Cla under his primal watch. His lips twitched in a smile, but the look remained cold and calculating.
"Relax, sweetheart," he said gruffly. "You can't keep that tension up all day. It's bad for your health."
Cla found herself responding to his voice, the low growl stirring something deep within her. Her fingers increasingly wandered and explored her slick softness, her thumb circling around her clit in a slow, practiced motion.
All the while, her gaze was locked on Mr. Who, who continued to observe her every move. Cla slipped her fingers into her warm pussy, gasping at the sensation as she delved deeper. Her slender fingers slid in and out of her tight opening, as if begging to be filled.
Mr. Who's eyes darkened with desire. Cla felt her face flush, and she knew he had read her thoughts. "I see I've ignited something in you," he said softly.
"I-I don't know what you mean," Cla stuttered, even whilst her wet fingers continued to probe her depths with a renewed hunger.
She attempted to regain her composure but failed miserably under his lascivious gaze. Unleashing a primal moan, she arched her back suddenly, letting the pleasure course through her body as if she was losing control.
"That's it, show me how much you want it," Mr. Who commanded, his voice brimming with lust.
With hooded eyes and trembling lips, Cla couldn't help but follow his carnal desire, a wave of unstoppable pleasure crashing over her.
"I can see that your fingers can't quite compare to the real thing," Mr. Who murmured, leaning closer. His breath caressed her face, sending wild tingles through her.
Then, with surprising swiftness for his size, he pushed her back onto the hot stone slab, covering her quivering body with his own.
"Tell me you want it, you dirty minx," he whispered into her ear, rough stubble grazing her cheek.
Cla shivered with need. "I want it, Mr. Who, please... God yes."
A flash of primal satisfaction crossed his face before he crushed her lips with his. His tongue parted Cla's lips and plunged inside, tasting her, as if she were the sweetest fruit he'd ever had.
His hardness pressed against her leg, making her gasp and squirm in anticipation.
"You're so wet for me," he groaned, his hand trailing between her thighs.
"Mr. Who," she gasped, spreading her legs wider, inviting him in to touch her more.
His fingers delved into her pussy, finding her swollen clit. He rolled it between his thumb and fingers, sending a bolt of ecstasy racing through her body that was as sudden as it was intense.
"I love how responsive you are," he growled, rough stubble grazing her cheek.
He toyed with her, alternating between firm and barely-there touches that had her trembling beneath him, begging for more.
"You want more, my sweet?" he asked, a wicked glint in his eye.
Cla's head nodded rapidly, unable to form words. She craved him, needed him inside her.
"Beg me for it," Mr. Who demanded, circling his finger over her clit with maddening slowness.
"Mr. Who, please... Fuck me," Cla pleaded, unable to contain her urgency anymore.
"As a spy," he murmured, looking down at her with unreadable eyes, "you should be more careful about who you beg! I'm a notorious arms dealer, and you want this?"
He thrust a finger knuckle-deep into her pussy, and Cla gasped.
"Yes, godyes," she replied frantically. She couldn't get enough of him; her body screamed for release.
"You're a dangerous man, Mr. Who," she breathed heavily. "If you're not inside me soon, I swear that I will do something you'll regret."
The threat only deepened his lust-filled gaze, and he chuckled. "I can see you're a woman who doesn't make false promises. But now isn't the time nor the place," he said with a wink, pulling away from her.
Instantly, Cla felt empty, wanting him back.
Her core ached, craving his punishing touch, hungry for more. Mr. Who must've noticed, for he gave her an assessing look.
"Meet me tonight. There's something I want to discuss," he whispered. His lips hovered just above hers, near enough to taste his breath. The scent of bold, dark wine teased her nostrils, and she longed to taste more.
Cla nodded silently and watched as he pulled away. A delicious chill ran down her spine when his eyes rested on her taut nipples.
"If you're not back in my room tonight, 10 o'clock sharp, Min and Sin won't hesitate to end our little game," Mr. Who warned, a sudden bite to his voice.
Curiosity gnawed at Cla. What did he mean by their little game? Her pulse quickened in anticipation. As rage brewed inside her from being orders like a plaything, she lay back on the slab, her body still damp from the pool's warm waters.
Min and Sin caught her leaving the spa.
Their eyes flashed with ire, but Cla feigned ignorance. She climbed into the armored SUV, deflation settling in her chest. Mr. Who was troublesome in a whole new way—the man stirred something in her, something she couldn't ignore.
As the black SUV sped off from the secluded spa, Cla's thoughts raced.
What did Mr. Who mean by "our little game"? Did he think she was playing with him, powerless to resist his charm?
Preposterous. If he could seduce her so easily, it was because she let him. After all, she wasn't immune to desire. But he didn't need to know that.
She made up her mind. Mr. Who wanted to play hardball? Two could play at this game. Tonight would be a night to remember for both of them.
The armored vehicle crawled forward through the thick traffic, and Cla settled back in her seat as she crafted an intricate plan. Her mind raced with possibilities. Surprise was her best weapon.
As Mr. Who's room stood in darkness, Cla slipped through cracking open the door with ease. She knew her moves, each step flowing like a well-rehearsed dance in her sleek black body suit.
The tension in the air was palpable, Mr. Who waiting for her, a dark figure against the backdrop of a window overlooking the night-lit city. Her eyes trailed up over the thick corded muscles, his trim and lean waist. He swiveled around in his chair to face her.
The dim light from the window revealed that bulging muscles beneath his plain grey t-shirt and a sheen of sweat dotting his brow. "Ah, Miss Cla," he said, his rich voice fizzing with a hint of amusement. "You were missing out last night. I wondered why I couldn't get you out of my head."
He looked her over, head to toe, his hard gaze lingering on her thigh-high leather boots.
His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and she felt herself grow wet with anticipation.
Mr. Who rose from his chair, pacing around Cla; she remained impassive, each step of his closer increasing her desire. "You see, Miss Cla, there's much more to me than meets the eye," he said, stopping in front of her, too close for comfort. "More than my arms dealing and reputation suggest."
She licked her dry lips nervously but kept her voice steady.
"Mr. Who, I'm here to find out more about your business. What exactly do you want from me?"
The fire in his eyes burned brighter, and it took everything Cla had not to shrink back. "I want you to see the real me," he said, his voice low and husky.
She shook her head before he could continue. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Ignoring her protest, Mr. Who pressed his firm, warm lips against Cla's, silencing any further objections.
His hands cupped her face, gently grazing her cheeks before one hand found its way down to grab her chin, holding her in place. The kiss deepened, fueled by their pent-up desires and hungry for release.
Cla let out a moan, the tip of her tongue darting out to explore Mr. Who's mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body arching towards his. He obliged, guiding her backwards until they collided with a table, the force of his kiss causing them to stumble.