cb.damnationgame-第34部分

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　　He　slid　the　jeans　lower；　and　when　she　didn't　resist；　all　the　way　off。　Her　panties　followed；　and　she　closed　her　eyes；　blotting　out　everything　but　his　exploration。　In　his　eagerness　he　displayed　the　instincts　of　a　cannibal；　nothing　her　body　fed　him　would　be　rejected；　he　pressed　as　deep　as　anatomy　allowed。
　　Something　itched　at　the　back　of　her　neck；　but　she　ignored　it；　too　concerned　with　this　other　sport。　He　looked　up　from　her　groin；　with　doubt　on　his　face。
　　〃Go　on；〃　she　said。
　　She　wriggled　up　the　bed；　inviting　him　into　her。　The　doubt　on　his　face　persisted。
　　〃What's　wrong？〃　〃No　protection；〃　he　said。
　　〃Forget　it。〃　He　needed　no　second　invitation。　Her　position；　not　lying　beneath　him　but　half…sitting；　allowed　her　to　watch　his　sweet　display；　pressing　the　root　of　his　cock　until　the　head　darkened　and　glossed；　before　entering　her　slowly；　almost　reverentially。　Now　he　relinquished　hold　of　himself；　and　put　his　hands　on　the　bed　to　either　side　of　her；　his　back　arched；　a　crescent　within　a　crescent；　as　his　body　weight　carried　him　in。　His　lips　parted；　and　his　tongue　emerged　to　lap　at　her　eyes。
　　She　moved　to　meet　him；　pressing　her　hips　up　to　his。　He　sighed：　frowned。
　　Oh；　Jesus；　she　thought；　he's　e。　But　his　eyes　opened　again　still　raging；　and　his　strokes；　after　the　initial　threat　of　mistiming；　were　even　and　slow。
　　Again；　her　neck　irritated　her；　it　felt　more　than　an　itch。　It　was　a　bite；　a　drill　hole。　She　tried　to　ignore　it；　but　the　sensation　only　intensified　as　her　body　gave　way　to　the　moment。　Marty　was　too　intent　on　their　locked　anatomies　to　register　her　disfort。　His　breath　was　jagged；　hot　on　her　face。　She　tried　to　move；　hoping　the　ache　was　just　the　tension　of　this　position。
　　〃Marty　。　。　。〃　she　breathed；　〃roll　over。〃　He　wasn't　sure　of　this　maneuver　at　first；　but　once　he　was　on　his　back；　and　she　sitting　on　him；　he　caught　her　rhythm　easily。　He　began　to　climb　again：　dizzy　with　the　height。
　　The　pain　at　her　neck　persisted；　but　she　thrust　it　out　of　focus。　She　bent　forward；　her　face　six　inches　above　Marty's；　and　let　saliva　fall　from　her　mouth　into　his；　a　thread　of　bubbles　that　…he　received　with　an　open　grin；　pushing　up　into　her　as　deep　as　he　could　go　and　holding　himself　there。
　　Suddenly；　something　moved　in　her。　Not　Marty。　Something　or　somebody　else；　fluttering　in　her　system。　Her　concentration　faltered；　her　heart　too。　She　lost　focus　on　where　she　was　and　what　she　was。　Another　set　of　eyes　seemed　to　look　through　hers：　momentarily　she　shared　their　owner's　vision。　She　saw　sex　as　depravity；　a　raw　and　bestial　exchange。
　　〃No；〃　she　said；　trying　to　cancel　the　nausea　that　had　suddenly　risen　in　her。
　　Marty　opened　his　eyes　to　slits；　taking　her　〃no〃　as　a　mand　to　postpone　the　finish。
　　〃I'm　trying；　babe　。　。　。〃　he　said；　grinning。　〃Just　don't　move。〃　She　couldn't　grasp　what　he　meant　at　first：　he　was　a　thousand　miles　from　her；　lying　below　in　a　foul　sweat；　wounding　her　against　her　wishes。　〃OK？〃　he　breathed；　holding　on　until　it　almost　hurt。　He　seemed　to　swell　in　her。　The　sensation　drove　the　double　vision　out　of　her　head。　The　other　viewer　shrank　away　behind　her　eyes；　revolted　by　the　fullness　and　the　fleshiness　of　this　act；　by　its　reality。　Did　the　intruding　mind　feel　Marty　too；　she　half…thought；　its　cortex　plumbed　by　a　cock…head　that　was　swelling　to　cream　even　now？
　　〃God　。　。　。〃　she　said。
　　With　the　other　eyes　in　retreat；　the　joy　came　back。
　　〃Can't　stop；　babe；〃　Marty　said。
　　〃Go　on；〃　she　said。　〃It's　all　right。　It's　all　right。〃　Flecks　of　her　sweat　hit　him　as　she　moved　on　top　of　him。
　　〃Go　on。　Yes！〃　she　said　again。　It　was　an　exclamation　of　pure　delight；　and　it　took　him　past　the　point　of　return。　He　tried　to　stave　off　eruption　for　a　few　more　trembling　seconds。　The　weight　of　her　hips　on　him；　the　heat　of　her　channel；　the　brightness　of　her　breasts；　filled　his　head。
　　And　then　somebody　spoke；　a　low；　guttural　voice。
　　〃Stop　it。〃　Marty's　eyes　fluttered　open；　glancing　to　left　and　right。　There　was　nobody　else　in　the　room。　His　head　had　invented　the　sound。　He　canceled　the　illusion　and　looked　back　at　Carys。
　　〃Go　on；〃　she　said。　〃Please　go　on。〃　She　was　dancing　on　him。　The　bones　of　her　hips　caught　the　light；　the　sweat　on　them　ran　and　ran；　glowing。
　　〃Yes　。　。　。　Yes　。　。　。〃　he　answered；　the　voice　forgotten。
　　She　looked　down　at　him　as　imminence　infested　his　face；　and　through　the　intricacies　of　her　own　flaring　sensations　she　felt　the　second　mind　again。　It　was　a　worm　in　her　budding　head；　pushing　forward；　its　sickness　ready　to　stain　her　vision。　She　fought　it。
　　〃Go　away；〃　she　told　it；　under　her　breath；　〃go　away。〃　But　it　wanted　to　defeat　her；　to　defeat　them　both。　What　had　seemed　like　curiosity　before　was　malice　now。　It　wanted　to　spoil　everything。
　　〃I　love　you；〃　she　told　Marty；　defying　the　presence　in　her。　〃I　love　you；　I　love　you…〃　The　invader　spasmed；　furious　with　her；　and　more　furious　still　that　she　didn't　concede　to　its　spoiling。　Marty　was　rigid；　on　the　threshold；　blind　and　deaf　to　anything　but　pleasure。　Then；　with　a　groan；　he　began　to　spurt　in　her；　and　she　was　there　too。　Her　sensations　drove　all　thoughts　of　resistance　out　of　her　head。　Somewhere　far　off　she　could　hear　Marty　gasping　〃Oh；　Jesus；〃　he　was　saying；　〃babe　。　。　。　babe。〃　…but　he　was　in　another　world。　They　weren't　together；　even　at　this　moment。　She　in　her　ecstasy；　he　in　his；　each　running　a　private　race　to　pletion。
　　A　wayward　spasm　made　Marty　convulse。　He　opened　his　eyes。　Carys　had　her　hands　glued　over　her　face；　fingers　spread。
　　〃You　all　right；　babe？〃　he　said。
　　When　her　eyes　opened；　he　had　to　bite　back　a　shout。　It　was；　for　a　moment；　not　her　who　stared　out　between　the　bars。　It　was　something　dredged　up　from　the　bottom　of　the　sea。　Black　eyes　swiveling　in　a　gray　head。　Some　primeval　genus　that　viewed　him…he　knew　this　to　his　marrow…with　hatred　in　its　bowels。
　　The　hallucination　lasted　two　heartbeats　only；　but　long　enough　for　him　to　glance　down　her　body　and　up　again　to　meet　the　same　vile　gaze。
　　〃Carys？〃　Then　her　eyelids　fluttered；　and　the　fan　of　her　fingers　closed　across　her　face。　For　a　lunatic　instant　he　flinched；　awaiting　the　revelation。　Her　hands　dropping　from　her　head；　the　face　transformed：　a　fish's　head。　But　of　course　it　was　her：　only　her。　Here　she　was　now；　smiling　at　him。
　　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　he　ventured。
　　〃What　do　you　think？〃　〃I　love　you；　babe。〃　She　murmured　something　as　she　slumped　on　him。　They　lay　there　for　several　minutes；　his　cock　diminishing　in　a　cooling　bath　of　mingled　fluids。
　　〃Aren't　you　getting　a　cramp？〃　he　asked　her　after　a　while；　but　she　didn't　reply。　She　was　asleep。
　　Gently；　he　slid　her　sideways；　slipping　out　of　her　with　a　wet　sound。　She　lay　on　the　bed　beside　him；　her　face　impassive。　He　kissed　her　breasts；　licked　her　fingers；　and　fell　asleep　beside　her。
　　
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　　Mamoulian　felt　sick。
　　She　wasn't　easy　prey；　this　woman；　despite　his　sentimental　claim　upon　her　psyche。　But　then　her　strength　was　to　be　expected。　She　was　Whitehead's　stock：　peasant　breed；　thief　breed。　Cunning　and　dirty。　Though　she　couldn't　know　precisely　what　she　was　doing；　she'd　fought　him　with　the　very　sensuality　he　most　despised。
　　But　her　weaknesses…and　she　had　many…were　exploitable。　He'd　used　the　heroin　fugues　at　first；　gaining　access　to　her　when　she　was　pacified　to　the　point　of　indifference。　They　warped　her　perception；　which　had　made　his　invasion　less　noticeable；　and　through　her　eyes　he'd　seen　the　house；　listened　with　her　ears　to　the　witless　conversation　of　its　occupants；　shared　with　her；　though　it　revolted　him；　the　smell　of　their　cologne　and　their　flatulence。　She　was　the　perfect　spy；　living　in　the　heart　of　the　enemy's　camp。　And　as　the　weeks　had　gone　by　he'd　found　it　easier　to　slip　in　and　oil　of　her　unnoticed。　That　had　made　him　careless。
　　It　was　carelessness　not　to　have　looked　before　he　leaped；　to　mit　himself　to　her　head　without　first　checking　what　she　was　doing。　He　hadn't　even　thought　she　might　be　with　the　bodyguard；　and　by　the　time　he'd　realized　his　error　he　was　sharing　her　sensations…her　ridiculous　rapture…and　it　had　left　him　trembling。　He　would　not　make　such　a　mistake　again。
　　He　sat　in　the　bare　room　in　the　bare　house　he　had　bought　for　himself　and　Breer；　and　tried　to　forget　the　turbulence　he'd　experienced；　the　look　in　Strauss〃　eyes　as　he　stared　up　at　the　girl。　Had　the　thug　glimpsed；　perhaps；　the　face　behind　her　face？　The　European　guessed　so。
　　No　matter；　none　of　them　would　survive。　It　wouldn't　just　be　the　old　man；　the　way　he'd　planned　at　first。　All　of　them…his　acolytes；　his　serfs；　all…would　go　to　the　wall　with　their　master。
　　The　memories　of　Strauss〃　assaults　lingered　in　the　European's　entrails；　he　longed　to　evacuate　diem。　The　sensation　shamed　and　disgusted　him。
　　Downstairs；　he　heard　Breer　e　in　or　go　out；　on　his　way　to　some　atrocity　or　home　from　one。　Mamoulian　concentrated　on　the　blank　wall　opposite　him；　but　try　as　he　might　to　exile　the　trauma；　he　still　felt　the　intrusion：　the　spurting　head；　the　heat　of　the　act。
　　Forget；　he　said　aloud。　Forget　the　brown　fire　off　them。　It's　no　risk　to　you。　See　only　the　emptiness：　the　promise　of　the　void。
　　His　innards　shook。　Beneath　his　gaze；　the　paint　on　the　wall　seemed　to　blister。　Venereal　eruptions　disfigured　its　emptiness。　Illusions；　but　horribly　real　to　him　nevertheles