” All right, I admit. It’s not quite as dramatic as “Bond, James Bond.”“Yes, Mr. Hamar, and Swedes don’t open Thai restaurants,” he said...bluntly. “Why don’t you just come out and tell me why you are here?” Okay. Either he was an especially sharp cookie, or he already knew a lot about the case.“Simon Barnett is missing,” I said.“I heard that already,” he answered. “You work for that lousy two-bit partner of his?”“No,” I answered. His assessment of Bradley Keane matched my own. “Simon’s wife. " he demands. You spread your legs apart and pull the fabric out of his way as he roughly shoves a finger up your pussy. While wriggling it around, he whispers, "My, you are wet, just like the slut I know you are." You moan quietly as he pulls away from your pussy and holds his wet finger to your nose, commanding you to sniff yourself. You deeply inhale your own musky odor. "Clean it off." he says as he places the finger against your lips. You part them and take the finger into your. More

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