Mann of My Dreams Book 2: Things Happen That Way

Chapter 1-2

A shrill, encouraging whistle rose over the noise of the crowded pub. I could feel my face flush, and drops of sweat beaded down the curve of my cheekbones.

The band and I both ended with a flourish. There were cheers, applause, and approving whistles, but only one meant anything to me. I smiled and waved and made my way back to the table where Mark was waiting.

“I’m impressed, babe,” he said as he offered me a bottle of ale.

“Thanks. God, I’m thirsty!” I took the bottle, then paused. “This is full.” But not for long. I tipped the bottle to my lips and guzzled down about three quarters of it. I really was thirsty. “What happened to the other bottle?” I was sure I hadn’t finished it.

“I sent it back. You think I’d let you drink anything that had been left unattended?”

“You take good care of me.” I thought of his coming to my rescue when I’d been kidnapped, of him taking me shopping for a new cell phone when it turned out mine had been sabotaged, of him dealing with the man who’d been behind the accident that left my mother in a coma and then in a hospital bed.

“Damn straight. Portia would have my—she’d come after me if I let anything happen to you.”

“Of course.” My mother might look as if she was too delicate and refined to use anything more than words to indicate her displeasure, but she carried a Smith & Wesson Centennial wherever she went. In addition, she had been accomplished in savate—French kickboxing—and was gradually getting back into the swing of if after breaking her hip in that “accident” last fall. Mark was wise to be cautious around her. I raised the bottle to my lips and tipped it back, humming in pleasure as the cool ale flowed down my throat.

Mary Kate stopped by our table and placed another bottle, this one labeled Dungarvan Special, in front of me. “From the Boys.”

“That’s very kind.” I was curious enough—and thirsty enough—to try the unfamiliar beer. I picked up the bottle opener and removed the cap.

Mary Kate gave me a charming smile and bounced off to see to her other customers

I raised the bottle again, this time toward the band members, and they grinned and waved at me. What nice men. And what a good-tasting ale. I swallowed it down appreciatively.

I had to interrupt a final swallow to take the bottle from my mouth and burp as quietly as I could into my palm.

“Oh, my. Pardon me.”

“Okay, Quinn, that’s enough for you.” Mark took the bottle from my hand, glanced at the label, and frowned. “You’ve been drinking Irish Red. Is this the bottle the boys in the band bought you?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Goddammit.”

I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Time to call it a night.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but thought better of it when I realized that meant we’d be going home—to my place this weekend. I’d disarm my security system and let us in, then lock the door while Mark re-armed the alarm. We’d climb the stairs to my master bedroom on the second floor, and then I’d usher him in and start stripping off his clothes while he stripped off mine. We’d fall on the bed and make passionate love....

“Yes, Mark.”

“I’m gonna settle our tab. I’ll be right back. Don’t fall off your chair.”

Why would he think I’d do something like that? I shook my head, took a couple of bills from my wallet, and then half rose and waved Mary Kate over.

“Another Red Ale and a Coke, or would you prefer another Dungarvan Special?”

“No, it’s time we headed on home.” I tucked the bills into her hand. “Thanks very much, and I hope you have a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Thank you.”

I hiccupped and felt myself blushing. “Pardon me.”

“No problem. And if you ever decide you want a job as part of the entertainment, Liam and the boys would love to have you. They were really impressed with your dancing.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Mark who’d returned in time to hear the offer of a job, almost choked on his laughter. “Come on, Baryshnikov.”

“Yes, Mark.”

“Good night, gentlemen. I hope you’ll come back and visit us soon.” Mary Kate smiled and went on to other patrons

I wrestled into my jacket with a little help from Mark, and then we headed for the door. Once out into the night, I began to hum “The Seven Drunken Nights.”

The remainder of the night was a chilly blur, although to my embarrassment, I clearly remembered falling asleep while attempting to give my lover a blow job in his car.

However, that was all I remembered.

When I woke in the morning, I discovered I was in Mark’s bed. I had my arms wrapped around him, holding him tight against me, while my c**k nestled in the crack of his ass. I nuzzled his ear and let my hand wander over his chest, down past his waist, and through the tight curls that surrounded his c**k.

“Mmm.” He turned his head and did a little nuzzling of his own. His exhalations teased the hairs under my arm, and I couldn’t prevent a gasp as my c**k hardened and I shivered.

I had no hangover—I never did, but I was mortified when he told me a cop had arrived while my face was buried in his lap.

He insisted it was okay, but the fact that the cop knew him made it even worse. “Your reputation—”

“Quinn, everyone thinks I’m a sociopath. What do I care if they think I’m a sociopath who likes guys?”

“But….” I hated when he referred to himself in such a cavalier manner. And I blamed it on that smug, supercilious i***t, Jonathan Drum II.

Mark was still angled away from me, but he curled his arm around and petted my hip. “I tell you what, Sleeping Beauty. If you want to make it up to me, I’d have no objection.”

I paused in mentally castigating myself. “Excuse me?”

He turned in my arms and indicated his very erect c**k.

“Ah. I see what you mean.” More than anyone I had ever... been involved with... Mark could raise my spirits. I began edging down between his legs.

He caught my shoulders, stopping me. “Why don’t you swing that sweet ass of yours around so I can give you some attention too?”

My previous lovers were gracious in their reciprocity, but none had ever been as enthusiastic as Mark.

“I’d like that,” I murmured as I changed my position.

“Then hop to it. Time’s a-wasting, and we still have to have breakfast.”

“Mark, I….” I shivered as he ran his tongue over my c**k. Mark had never declared outright that he loved me. Oh, he’d said “forever,” and I was willing to accept that from him, but while he’d been away I’d come to the realization not only that I loved him, but that he was, to put it bluntly, my one. I’d always thought Armand had broken my heart, but if Mark ever walked away from me, I wasn’t sure how I could survive it.

“I love the way you taste,” he growled, distracting me.

“Do you really?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“In that case…” I set about making up for the previous night’s fiasco.

“There—there really is no justice, y’know?” Mark muttered as we both struggled to bring our breathing under control.

“Oh?” I dragged myself around and up over his body, and collapsed across his torso.

“Oof.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem.” He ran his palm over my ass, then stroked a fingertip over my hole, and in spite of having just come, my c**k twitched with interest.

“You have got to be kidding!” It was my turn to mutter.

“Huh?” Mark started to take his hand away, but I grabbed it and replaced it.

“Never mind. Why is there no justice?”

“No one would ever guess you were smashed last night.” He appeared so disgruntled by the fact that I didn’t have a hangover, in spite of the amount of ale I’d drunk the night before, I was tempted to act as if my head were pounding and my stomach roiling.

I imagined he’d just have to get used to it. Most people thought I got my ability to handle alcohol from my father, but it was actually from my mother. Her brothers often spoke—not in her presence, of course—of how in her younger years she’d discreetly drunk some beau or diplomat under the table.

Would Mark fuss over me, if I were… unwell? It was a gratifying thought, because other than Mother and Gregor, no one had looked after me when I was less than 100 percent. Well, there hadn’t been much need. Grandmother had told me I took after the Sebring men and was disgustingly healthy.

Of course there were times when it wasn’t a matter of being ill, but rather of being injured in the line of duty: when I’d been shot by Buonfiglio a couple of years ago, while I was attempting to meet with Dr. Bruchner and obtain the formula for his renewable energy source, and then last May, when I’d been kidnapped by a rogue antiterrorist organization. One of the men who was supposed to guard me took pleasure in using me for a punching bag. With my hands restrained, I hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight, although I had managed to get in a kick to Gaston’s balls.

The beating that resulted from that left me fearing my lungs had been punctured, but fortunately, it had only bruised my ribs.

Mark had come after me, and I recalled the expression on his face after I’d been shoved into the interrogation room. I was no longer pretty, but rather battered and gaunt, my clothes a disgrace, and I had no doubt I smelled rank, although I’d grown so used to my own odor, I was unable to tell how bad. I wasn’t certain how he would react to that.

I should have known it was unimportant. After I’d dispatched the madman who ran Prinzip with a scalpel to the throat and Mark and I had both dealt with my guards, he’d seen that I had medical care. Finally, with a prescription for painkillers in hand, he’d taken me to a nearby hotel and looked after me until I was well enough to travel home.

And that was one of the reasons he’d been so… cross… with me when I’d slipped out to take care of Drum while Mark dozed.

“f**k it.” Mark’s expletive pulled me out of my thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Let’s take a shower. We don’t want to be late meeting your mother.”

“All right, Mark.” But I made no effort to move off him.

“Okay.” His palm was back on my ass. “I’ll give you half an hour to move your gorgeous butt.”

You sweet-talker, you. “And then?”

“Then I’m going to screw you to within an inch of your life.”

“Well, that will guarantee I don’t move.” I grinned into his collarbone.

And half an hour later, he made good on his promise.

I smiled to myself. Yes, there were the weekends, but on occasion I didn’t wait for them.

It was a dreary, wet Thursday. I stared out the window of my office at Langley, watching as raindrops chased one another down the windowpane, and I decided this would be a perfect day to spend with my lover.

I retrieved my overcoat from the coat closet and went into the outer office. “I’m taking the rest of the day off, Janet,” I told my personal assistant.

She smiled at me. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Thanks.” I definitely intended to. “Why don’t you finish off the last of that paperwork and take the afternoon off yourself?”I knew she was seeing someone from the Treasury Department, and I wondered if the scent of orange blossoms would be in the air soon.

“I think I will!”

I drove to Mark’s condo and let myself in.

A couple of weeks before, he’d given me a swipe card for the building’s door and a key ring with six keys on it. “This is this week’s sequence.” He told me, showed me, then locked the door and made me try it.

Robert Sperling hadn’t realized there was more to those locks than a manic need to prevent anyone from getting past them, and when he’d tried to enter Mark’s apartment in Forest Heights, all he’d succeeded in doing was setting off an explosion that did more damage to him than to the apartment. As a result, Mark had been asked to leave Forest Heights, but that led to him moving in with me for a couple of months.

Once he was satisfied I wouldn’t blow myself up, he urged me to enter his condo with a hand at the small of my back. I liked how cared for that gesture made me feel.

Now I strolled into the master bedroom and turned on the gas fireplace. Then I stripped off my clothes and called Mark.

He sounded a little stressed, so when he got home, I let him know I was taking control. I was the one who prepared his body, working lube-coated fingers into his ass. I was the one who put on the condom, although he slicked it up, and then I slid into him. The heat of his channel, the ripple of his internal muscles as they clenched and caressed my c**k, driving me closer and closer to the edge until we both finally tumbled over—this was a fantastic pleasure I could live with the rest of my life.

What would it be like without the latex barrier between us?

I knew Mark never had s*x without a condom, but it was a fantasy I’d treasure during those nights we were apart.

We spent the afternoon, evening, and early hours of the following morning making love, and before I left for Langley the next morning, I ravaged his mouth, swallowing his moans of pleasure....