Desperate Enemies 3 by Adam Carpenter (latest ebook reader .txt) 📕

of his lover. Then, without warning, he spun Jack around and began licking his asshole, inhaling the scent of his partner's flesh.

“Aw, yeah,” groaned Jack, “eat me.”

Edgar's tongue worked hungrily at the tight hole, licking and nibbling at the soft flesh and Jack bent over, bracing himself against the coffee table in front of him. His cock throbbing with each heartbeat, Edgar stood up and pushed his meat into the pliant hole, causing Jack to gasp with the effort.

“What about the neighbors?” he asked suddenly. “The door's not locked.”

“Nobody's out in this weather,” replied Edgar, shoving his dick in deeper. “Besides, it's nothing they haven't seen, nothing they haven't been doing all summer long.”

“You said long,” Jack said.

Urged on, Edgar's cock filled Jack to the point that he thought he would burst, but he backed onto Edgar just to be sure that he had it all, every inch, every thrust. Edgar reached around his lover and stroked Jack's erect nipples.

“Pull them,” he instructed, “pull them hard.”

Edgar complied, yanking at Jack's nipples with each thrust of his stiff cock a sensation, Edgar imagined, as being no different from riding a wild horse. Jack's body was covered in goose bumps and Edgar could feel from the contractions of Jack's hole that he was about to come.

“Fuck!” Jack said, shooting a white stream across the surface of the coffee table.

“Here I come,” replied Edgar.

His head grew light as he unloaded in Jack's ass, his cock erupting like a bottle rocket.

Still coupled, the two men fell back onto the sofa, sweating and panting heavily.

After showering, Jack and Edgar dressed again.

“I'm going to make us some lunch,” announced Jack.

Edgar caught his arm and spun him around, kissing him passionately on the lips.

“What was that for?” asked Jack.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” replied Jack.

He started to make his way down the stairs and then stopped, turning to face Edgar where he had left him.

“You know I'll go anywhere you want,” he said. “But promise me you won't give up on Wonderland too quickly. We've all come too far to let Converse win by default.”

Edgar hesitated a moment and then slowly nodded his head. If the house on Eldon Court was so important to Jack then certainly he could do whatever was necessary to make sure they didn't lose it. A united front indeed, just like the sex they had shared, they would come together, stay together, tight together.

“Let me make a call,” he said.

* * * *

With Jack downstairs in the kitchen preparing lunch, Edgar retreated to the solitude of his study. Despite the fact that Edgar was a borderline neat-freak, his office was a bit of a shambles. Sticky notes covered a corkboard on one wall and books were stacked on the surface of his oak desk. Piles of his manuscript, in varying degrees of completion and edit, were stacked on the desk, too, along with an ancient fax machine and his new laptop, recently supplied by his insurance company to replace the one that had been stolen during the break in.

Edgar picked up the latest printout of his manuscript, Fool's Gold: Political Corruption in SanFrancisco, 1848-1990, an expose of dirty politics in the region, and suddenly felt chilled to the bone. How much corruption had his research uncovered, and how were the current problems in Wonderland tied to some of that history? Edgar wasn't certain but had a good idea that dirty politics were somehow involved with the threatened land grab.

Edgar had been working with a shadowy figure who he only knew as “Stokes” and who he only dealt with by phone. Stokes, who was no doubt involved in the criminal underground, had been able to pass on numerous documents for Edgar's book and had even supplied a few contacts. But Edgar knew that it was time to bring out the big guns if they were to have any real chance at beating Danvers Converse. He remembered a man from his days with the Chronicle, a man he only knew as Miller. Miller was a criminal, yes, but an informant, too, for the right price. If anyone could get him on the right track it would be Miller, considering he was still alive and not in prison and Edgar was sure that he still had his number, safely locked away in his file cabinet.

The file cabinet, like the rest of the office, was a mess, although Edgar told himself that this was acceptable, since the mess couldn't be seen with the drawers closed. He took a warn dictionary from a nearby shelf and, from inside the pages, retrieved the key to the file cabinet. The act of hiding the key had at first seemed almost a silly afterthought but, after the break in and theft of his laptop, Edgar had been grateful for the precaution. He unlocked the cabinet and opened the top drawer, carefully perusing its contents. When he didn't find what he was looking for he closed it and moved to the second drawer. To his relief, he quickly found what he was looking for in a file marked “contacts.”

Edgar pulled out the folder and sat at his desk, switching on the lamp for light. The paper was simply marked “Miller,” with a San Francisco number. Edgar picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the number and, to his surprise, heard a familiar voice after only two rings.

“Miller.”

Edgar had always liked Miller, despite his knowledge that the man could have killed him if he felt like it.

“Miller,” said Edgar, “it's Edgar Newcastle. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“Edgar,” replied Miller, “how the hell have you been? It's been a long time since we last spoke.”

“I need your help,” replied Edgar. “Can we meet?”

“You know I don't do these things on the phone,” was the humorless reply. “Where are you?”

“I live down the coast in Wonderland,” replied Edgar. “But I can come into the city tomorrow.”

“Fine,” replied Miller. “Meet me at the Condor Club at eleven, your treat.”

Edgar winced. Of