Page 113 of Weston’s Treasure

And that was when it finally hit me, the joy and excitement. All of it came crashing over me, and for the first time in my life, I felt nothing but happiness.

35

Two days later, Weston stood in bright October sun, a slight fall chill in the air, with Silver tucked close, and watched as Nixon and McKenna took their vows.

It was then that Weston knew, that was the very spot, with the beauty of Nixon’s land surrounding them, where he wanted to marry Silver.

* * *

“Mrs. Swagger.” Silver giggled as she pulled Micky in for a hug.

“Congratulations,” Weston added.

“Thank you.” Micky looked around the small tent and smiled.

“Everything’s perfect, just like you said it would be.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. But Weston knew the moment they’d lost McKenna’s attention.

Her eyes went lazy when she spotted her husband. A look he’d seen from Silver, a look he’d work his ass off to keep getting for the rest of his life.

* * *

“You’re there,” Weston growled, and lifted his head from the crook of Silver’s neck. “Fuck baby, so good.”

“So good, honey. Harder.”

Weston gave his woman what she wanted and drove deep, her pussy clamped down and he knew she’d found it. Silver’s nails dug into his back, her sexy legs wrapped around his waist and he pounded deep until he found it.

“Love you, Silver,” Weston groaned and stayed rooted.

His cock throbbed as he spilled himself into Silver’s hot, tight pussy. But he wasn’t thinking about how good it felt. He wasn’t thinking about the beauty she created every time they came together. Not how she went wild for him, how she mewed his name, begged him for more.

No, Weston was thinking about the day he’d make her his wife. And how that day was going to be soon.

* * *

Three days later Weston put a bid on the house next to Nixon and McKenna. Two hours later his offer was accepted.

* * *

A week later Weston, Nixon, and Alec were sitting in a fancy restaurant in DC across from Ellis Hopper. They hadn’t been invited, nor had Ellis offered them the seats they were now occupying when they’d found him eating lunch alone.

“You still don’t get it,” Hopper said. “That’s your problem.”

“Get what?” Alec snapped.

“How to play the game.”

“What fuckin’ game is that? You scratch my back, I scratch yours? Or more to the point, you give fuckwits a heads’ up they’re about to be arrested and they line your pockets.”

“No money was exchanged,” Hopper defended.

“And that makes it right?”

“What it makes is smart. That’s the part you don’t get. In this city, it’s good to be owed markers. Even better when those markers belong to powerful men.”

“You’re right, I don’t get it. Never will. But I have learned a few things.”