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section7mfu
Illya Kuryakin stood poised, his gun in his outstretched hand, turning his head as a form stepped slowly out of the shadows.
She was nearly naked, moving sensually, undulating slowly. Her hands above her head with fingers telling a story like a Balinese dancer.
His hand dropped, mesmerized by her movement, with his libido suddenly calling to him.
Illya stood transfixed, a spell woven over him by her, unable to free his gaze. She was too... desirable.
A gunshot broke the spell. She collapsed.
“She would have gotten you tovarisch.” Napoleon held up a poison needle, taken from her hand.
She was nearly naked, moving sensually, undulating slowly. Her hands above her head with fingers telling a story like a Balinese dancer.
His hand dropped, mesmerized by her movement, with his libido suddenly calling to him.
Illya stood transfixed, a spell woven over him by her, unable to free his gaze. She was too... desirable.
A gunshot broke the spell. She collapsed.
“She would have gotten you tovarisch.” Napoleon held up a poison needle, taken from her hand.
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