Kompromat 2 - Crystal Rush

Glenn spits it out like a bad joke. He’ll die before he gives the Russians a single line of code. The handler hears him out, then smiles and sends for Crystal Rush. She steps in wearing nothing but heels and a cruel little grin. Glenn’s eyes drop straight to her chest, fake and perfect, then lower to the curve of her ass. The Russians know his file. They know what breaks him. Crystal plants one heel on the arm of his chair. She leans in so her tits nearly touch his cheek. “Tell me,” she says, slow and Russian-sweet. He stays silent. She drops her weight straight onto his face. The room goes dark, warm, heavy. Her ass crushes his mouth and he breathes in the scent of skin and power. She rocks once, twice, and the first secret spills out in a muffled moan. He tries to close his lips. She laughs. Her toes find his mouth next, painted nails pressing down until he licks. She keeps him there, breathing nothing but her. Every swipe of his tongue drags another piece of intel into the open. Crystal lifts just enough for him to see her smile. Shame burns across his face. She watches it, savoring the moment he realizes he’ll sell out his flag for the chance to worship what she’s got. She slides down his body. One hand wraps around him, stroking, teasing. Her mouth follows, hot, wet, relentless. He talks faster now, giving up locations, codes, contacts, whatever she wants. The words pour out between desperate grunts while her lips slide up and down, slick and obscene. Every secret costs him another second under her. Crystal takes it all, laughing softly when the last scrap of loyalty finally cracks and he begs her to stay right where she is.