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"What we have to do," Michael said, pointing to the map he'd spread out before them, "Is sneak up on Griffin the old-fashioned way."
Fiona started tapping the end of her pen against her pad, the tip of her heel clicking on the metal floor beneath the counter, indicating her boredom with her blasé reaction.
Sam poked her with an elbow. "Stop it," he mouthed. If they made too much noise, Madeline would kick them out and they'd have to strategize in Fi's gut-roastingly hot Hyundai. It was bad enough that they were crammed so closely together at the table that their sides touched. She narrowed her eyes, shifting her shoulders and dropping the pen and pad. "But what about the guards, Mikey?" Sam asked.
"We'll take them out by force," he said. "Cut through them as quickly as we can."
Sam nodded his head. "Small arms?"
"Big arms," Fiona said. Sam had tuned out her voice to take a drink, and when her small fingers brushed across his fly he choked on his beer. "Very big," she said, in the same bland tone another woman would use to order dinner.
Sam flung her a look when Michael turned around to pour himself a drink, but her expression was utterly nonplussed as she fished Sam's cock out of his fly and started stroking it. Sam studied his surroundings quickly. Michael couldn't see anything from across the table; he'd have to be behind them to get an eyeful of what Fi was doing. "If we go in with guns blazing we'll pull down half the Miami mob on our heads," Michael declared. "There are only four of us and twenty of them."
"I love those odds," she said, running her thumb across the top of Sam's cock, giving him the heat and pressure he needed to grow. A strangled squeak came from Sam's throat, and Michael looked over his shoulder.
"Beer went down the wrong pipe," Sam lied, his breathlessness giving his words credence. Michael quirked a brow but didn't pursue it. Fiona's clever fingers teased the outline of his cock before surrounding it again, barely touching him but stroking softly.
"Yeah. So I'll climb the wall on the north side, and Fi will take the south," Michael said.
"What about the east?" Fiona asked, stroking the right side of Sam's cock – he twitched involuntarily, and the corner of Fi's mouth ticked up in response.
"No one ever comes up from the east," Sam said. He slipped his left hand so quickly up Fi's silky right thigh that she didn't have time to squeeze them together in defense. "You have to fight problems head-on."
"Mmmm." Fiona kept her voice even as she began to trace the rim of his head, stroking his sensitive glans while Sam teased her inner thighs. "The direct course is always the best approach." He took the hint and glided toward her mons, cupping it with his palm. Fiona's gauzy short skirts and lack of panties were a miracle, and he relished the spring of her close-cropped pubic hair and the slick kiss of her private lips against his palm.
"But if we hit them head-on we're risking too much," Michael insisted, turning back toward the sink. "Damn it, Fiona!" Sam masked a grunt as her hand tightened on his dick in surprise as Michael said, "we can't risk our lives on something so risky."
"We could always risk a big explosion," she said. Sam gently opened her labia, dipping his fingers into her abundant wetness before drawing his index finger up toward her clitoris. The hood had retracted backward in excitement, the firm pearl standing out for him already.
"Yeah," Sam replied; her fingers had closed around his dick and were stroking him in a regular rhythm, speeding up gradually. "A big explosion'd be a great distraction. I mean…it'd help us get out."
Michael's brow quirked. "Sam, I never knew you cared about explosions." He turned around to retrieve a yogurt from his mother's refrigerator.
"Who doesn't like a big bang sometimes?" Sam asked, trying to control his breathing as Fiona teased the sensitive spot just above his circumcision scar. She started jerking his prick in earnest, her thumb brushing against his glans at every upstroke.
"That's why I love C4-it gets the job done," she sighed, giving his hand a half-grind. Sam was relieved that she was wearing a bra for once; she was dripping wet and he didn't doubt that her nipples were diamond-hard by now.
"The rush of heat….the smell of cordite burning," Fiona rhapsodized. Sam's fingers were brushing her clit in a teasing manner and he took the hint and gave her more direct stimulation. Her clit bloomed for him, jutting out from its hiding place, begging for more.
"Yeah," Sam growled. He retreated from Fi's clit to insert two fingers into the soft heart of her; her thighs tensed and relaxed in matching rhythm to his withdrawals and entrances. "The power of knowing you've got the kill in your sights…"
Michael stared at them both, a spoonful of yogurt held aloft, clearly confused by the intensity of Sam's voice. Sam could feel himself sweating, beads of moisture collecting at the end of his sharp nose, dripping down his prominent temples, slicking his arms.
He wanted to come, was achingly close to coming, but didn't want to make an obvious mess in front of Michael.
Fiona's words came out in a chant, and Sam took that as a hint to pull his fingers free of her honeypot and started working on her clit again. Her hand began working his cock more urgently, using Sam's free-flowing precum to lubricate her strokes. "…The scent of blood, and then…when you plant the charges in all the right places…"
"Michael!"Madeline shouted from the living room, "I can't get the remote from under the sofa."
He winced at Madeline's tone; Sam winced at Fiona's grip and Fi winced as Sam's thumbnail scraped her clit. "I'll send in Sam," he shouted.
"I DON'T WANT SAM!" Madeline called.
Michael arranged his features into a parody of a smile. "Alright, ma," Michael called, and left them to their devices.
Sam whipped his head toward Fiona. "Whatthehellareyoudoing?" he hissed.
She rocked up against his hand. "Do you think that matters now, Sam?"
"You're so fucking wet," he growled, returning to his stimulation of her in earnest.
Her free hand grabbed the edge of the table. "Keep going. Almost there…" Fi's eyes had glazed over, and her hips bucked up, pressing her clit against the flat of his thumb. Once, twice, and she pulsed against the palm pressed to her sex.
Fiona appeared to be having a moment of transcendence, not a simple orgasm. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, and her thighs squeezed quickly together before being flung wide apart. The only sound she made was a soft 'ungh' during the final pulsation. Then she slumped in her chair, loosely holding onto Sam's still very needy and throbbing dick.
He grabbed her arm and tried to shake her out of her lassitude, all attempts at gentlemanliness forgotten. "What about me, Fiaahhh!" The words were bit off when Fiona ducked down in an incredibly swift movement and swallowed his cock.
She sucked him once, twice, and bobbed her head with precision deadliness.
Sam tensed. His toes curled in his sandals. Sweat rolled down the tip of his chin to gilt her hair. He mumbled some incoherent pagan prayer or request and then his head lolled backward, his eyes wide and sightless as he grabbed Fi's shoulders and shot and shot into the welcoming heat of her throat.
Some part of him was aware of the fact that she was still sipping gently at his cock as he made the journey through orgasm. When it was finished, she lifted up and away from him, his cock glistening with her saliva but not a drop of his semen.
"What in the hell was that?" Sam panted, pushing his cock back into his pants, wincing at his oversensitivity.
Fiona sat up in her chair, her lips glistening with gloss and just a hint of his cream. She pushed back a few sweaty locks of hair that had escaped her bun. Sam realized with horror that he thought she looked beautiful.
The words came when she finally regained her breath.
"I was bored."