Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

"Is this what you came for?" Tyler Weston, my father's former spymaster, asked when he could catch his breath. He was on his back on one of the twin beds in the guest room of his foreign artifact-stuffed apartment on Q Street near Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. I was saddled on his midsection, my hands gripping his outstretched wrists, my channel still moving slowly on his cock, now becoming flaccid inside me.

I had told him I wanted information more than comfort and solace when he'd opened his door to me. But he'd made no bones about what I'd have to do to get any information that was classified.

He was vain enough to believe that I'd really come for his cock. And this was the second fuck, the first one having been on a bear-skin rug in front of his fireplace with me on all fours. He was proficient enough to have his vanities, if he wanted.

But I had come for information that I suspected only he could—or would—give me.

"I want to know how my father died. I've been told he was murdered. How?"

"He was strangled. In his room in his hotel in Tunis," Weston answered. He reached down to start stroking my cock. That was fine with me. I wanted release too. But not just that kind of release.

"Was he on the job?"

"Yes."

"Was he on the job alone?"

"No. He had a partner."

"A partner? Henry Holden, perhaps?"

"Yes, but how did—?"

"How much of a partner was he?"

Weston hesitated. "What is it that you think would shock me—that should be kept back from me—when we are here as we are?" I asked.

I moved my channel on his cock, which was reawakening. I was about to blow myself. I leaned down and took his mouth in mine, kissed him deeply, and then moved my mouth to his nipples. He moaned and I could feel him rising inside me.

"Do you want to fuck me again?"

"Yes."

"How close was their partnership?"

"As close as it could get; as close as you and I now are," he answered with a whimper. I let him turn me, onto my stomach, mount me, and begin the fuck once again.

Later that evening, having arrived back at Clifftop, I asked if Hal wanted to take that sail out into the bay. "The scenery will be beautiful in the twilight, the sunset and everything. Then I can show you how accommodating the cabin of the sailboat is. Out on the bay, there will be no one to surprise us. It will just be you and me."

"It sounds great," Hal answered.

I didn't know about great, but it sounded just and fitting to me. Boating accidents were fairly frequent on the bay. I hadn't had my quota of those yet.