Extraordinary Powers

By Joseph Finder

"Spectacular…The motion is unrelenting…Electrifying."―Boston Sunday Herald

The information is shattering: The director of the CIA, Harrison Sinclair, has been killed in a automobile coincidence. Sinclair could have been a traitor―or the Agency's final sincere guy. Even his son-in-law, Ben Ellison, an legal professional and ex-agent, has heard rumors of sinister forces in the corporation that can have ordered Sinclair's assassination. quickly he's thrust right into a internet of intrigue and violence past his regulate again into the CIA, and lured right into a top-secret espionage venture in telepathic skill funded by way of American intelligence.

"Gripping drama during which not anything is kind of what it seems."―Seattle Times

As the project's first luck, Ben makes use of his "extraordinary powers" within the perilous look for Vladimir Orlov, the exiled former chairman of the KGB―and the single guy who could liberate the key of Sinclair's demise and the whereabouts of a multibillion-dollar fortune in gold lively out of Russia within the final days of the Soviet Union. the search for the reality will deliver Ben nose to nose together with his prior and culminate in a crowded Washington listening to room the place, in the back of excessive safeguard boundaries, a Senate investigating committee is set to name its mystery witness…as an murderer prepares to strike…in Joseph Finder's Extraordinary Powers.

"An impressive, robust book…ingeniously plotted, fast moving, and frighteningly credible."―Nelson DeMille

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She slid her fingers, chilly and dry, down my again, lower than the elastic band of my shorts. “Mmm,” she stated. Her breath was once sizzling at the again of my neck. Now I slipped my arms below her shirt, up less than the white cotton textile of her bra, felt her hot, erect nipples, stroked. “Mmmph,” she stated. “Upstairs? ” I requested. She moaned quietly, then gave a quick shiver. —the kitchen—I heard. I leaned towards her, nonetheless working my fingertips over her correct breast, squeezing the thickened nipple. —do it within the kitchen. status up. Ah, the following— I acquired up, took her through the shoulders, and lightly maneuvered her from the sitting room into the kitchen, then driven her again opposed to the burnished, scarred oak tabletop. Her options. It was once mistaken, it was once evil, it was once shameful, yet, over excited in my lust, I couldn’t cease myself— Oh, sure— She moaned softly as I pulled off her shirt. —my different breast. Don’t cease. either breasts— Obediently, I caressed either her breasts with my hands, then bent my head down and sucked first one nipple, then the opposite. Don’t movement— I persisted to suck and lick, the entire whereas pushing opposed to her until eventually she used to be mendacity flat at the desk, appropriately away from the bowls. I had by no means visible The Postman continuously jewelry two times, yet I remembered the iconography of it; hadn’t Lana Turner and John Garfield performed it at the kitchen desk, too? Now, nonetheless nuzzling her breasts, I pressed my erect member opposed to her thigh, grinding slowly, and as i started to undo the drawstring of her sweatpants, I heard —No. no longer but. And, obeying her unstated needs, I grew to become my complete cognizance to her breasts, dallying there longer than I another way may need. *   *   * We did in truth make love at the kitchen desk, wasting one reasonable china bowl to the commotion, yet neither one among us a lot spotted the crash. It was once, i must say, the main erotic, excessive intercourse I had ever had. Molly have been so over excited, she had forgotten to insert her diaphragm. She got here time after time, the tears flowing down her cheeks. later on we lay tangled in each one other’s hands, rainy with sweat and musky with the fluids and odors of lovemaking, at the sofa within the sitting room subsequent to the kitchen. but whilst it used to be over, I felt drastically to blame. they are saying that every one humans are unhappy after intercourse. i feel that it's only males who event the postcoital blues. Molly checked out as soon as comfortable and disoriented, stroking my now-flaccid, reddened, tired penis. “You weren’t protected,” I stated. “Does that suggest you’ve replaced your brain approximately young children? ” “No,” she acknowledged dreamily. “I’m now not on the fertile a part of my cycle at once. no longer a lot of a threat. yet that was once nice. ” I felt more and more accountable and predatory and usually evil. I had violated her in a primary manner, I felt. by way of responding to her each unstated hope, I had in a bad feel manipulated her, engaged in a reprehensible dishonesty. I felt shitty. “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “That was once nice. ” *   *   * Our marriage ceremony used to be hung on the grounds of a stunning outdated property outdoors Boston. The day continues to be a blur. I bear in mind bustling round, searching for my cummerbund and studs and 2 half-decent black socks to put on.

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