Forever

Chapter 1-2

“I’ve noticed. Why is that?”

“The better to lure you into it.

“Ah. You’re luring me, are you?”

“Of course. What better way to have my way with you?”

“Devious to the core. I like that about you, Quinn.”

“I thought you would.” He wrapped my tie around his fist and gave a slight tug. “Come on, tough guy.”

I didn’t tell him he was wrinkling my tie. I didn’t care. I followed him down the hall and into his bedroom, leaving clothes like a trail of breadcrumb as I went, until all I wore was that tie.

The overhead light was off, but lamps scattered around the room cast a warm, sensual glow.

The lightweight summer bedspread had been folded back to the foot of the bed. On the nightstands on either side of the bed were tubes of Wet and a handful of condoms.

Quinn really hadn’t been taking a chance when he’d sucked me off on my birthday. I’d been so wrapped up in my job that I hadn’t gone to bed with anyone, male or female, in at least six months.

The WBIS, a conscientious employer, saw its employees were tested periodically, and I was clean. Which Quinn had known, having managed to get hold of my records.

After that incident in the men’s room of Raphael’s, and in an effort to persuade myself that I wasn’t obsessing over that CIA spook, I’d f****d Pierre de Becque, the Division cold op who was my friend, but even then, I’d used a condom, and not simply because it made sense. I never let anyone get close to me.

Until Mann.

The little voice in the back of my mind had finally shut up with the snarky comments. Maybe it was simply overjoyed that I’d found myself in an actual, honest-to-God relationship, and with Quinton Mann, of all people. Whatever it was, I intended to enjoy the blessed silence.

More importantly, I intended to enjoy Quinn.

He used the tie to bring me close, then lifted it over my head, curled his hand around my neck, and brought my mouth down to his. The kiss hinted of need. He flicked his tongue out and probed the seam of my lips, and I groaned, but he didn’t take advantage of my open mouth to ravage it. Instead, he drew back.

“Lie down.” His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were steady on mine. He tossed his tie aside to join mine somewhere on the floor, removed his shirt, removed his trousers and shorts. The corner of his mouth curved in a grin. “I’m waiting, Mark. On your back.”

“Right.”

He waited until I had arranged myself on the bed, then lay down on top of me, lining up our c***s. “I’m going to f**k you tonight.”

“You won’t get an argument about it from me.” I paused for a beat. “Are you going to spend all night just talking about it?”

Quinn laughed. “Oh, no.” He twined his fingers with mine and extended my arms above my head, lazily humping his hips so his c**k teased mine. He nipped at the side of my throat, distracting me so that when he released my hands, I just kept them where he’d placed them.

By the time I realized my wrists were no longer manacled, Quinn had gone on to explore other horizons. He ran the fingernails of one hand over my ribs to my n*****s while the other palmed my flank, and he traced my collarbone with his tongue.

I worked a hand between us and found one of his n*****s. Always extremely sensitive, it was already an erect nub, and when I stroked my fingertips across it, he gasped and shuddered and twisted my n****e with enough force that I arched up into him, smearing precome along his c**k and against his belly.

“Dammit, Vincent, you know what that does to me!”

“Then don’t dawdle, Mann. I’ve been waiting all night for this.” I angled my head up from the pillow and looked into his eyes. His pupils had dilated, and they were dark with passion.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he panted. “I wanted to get you in the men’s room and do you in the stall.”

“In the theater, Quinn? All those bluebloods would have been shocked.” I loved that I could make him so out of control.

“In the theater, in that place where we stopped for a drink, f**k, even in the back seat of my car.”

“Jesus, Quinn. Stop toying with me, and f**k me.”

He reached across to the nightstand, got the tube of Wet, and slid back off my body until he was kneeling between my legs. I spread them wider and planted my feet on the mattress, opening myself to him.

I watched as he opened the tube of lubricant, as he squirted some onto his fingers, as he parted my ass cheeks. My c**k was hard against my abdomen, oozing drops of precome. I bit my lip and tried to prevent myself from shaking so hard. When he finally touched my hole, dipping a finger into it, I was unable to contain the cry that was torn from my throat. I dropped my head back against the pillow and arched up, taking his entire finger into me.

“Mark….”

“More, Quinn. Dammit, more.”

He had two fingers inside me, stretching me, curling to rub across my prostate, making me shake even more.

Quinn must have put on a condom—hell, I saw him toss away the empty packet—but I was so far gone he could have taken me bareback and I wouldn’t have even thought to protest.

He slid his c**k into me, and I was filled by him.

He braced his arms on either side of my torso, and I was surrounded by him.

“Mark.”

I opened my eyes and, snared by the intensity of his gaze, found I could neither shut them nor look away. I surged up and wrapped my arms around him, pulled him down, and took his mouth in a kiss that was hot and wet and hungry. He moved his hips in a steady rhythm, and I locked my ankles behind his back as he thrust into me again and again, driving me to the brink of orgasm.

Quinn tore his mouth off mine, gasping for breath, but he hardly gave himself a minute to catch it before he fastened his lips against the spot where shoulder and neck joined, and began to suck hard.

“Quinn. Please.” I knew that would leave a visible bruise, but I arched my neck to give him better access.

“Yes.” He wrapped his fingers around my c**k, pressed his thumb firmly on the slit, and I shivered and clamped down internal muscles and began to shoot come between us.

Quinn brought his mouth back to mine, and he swallowed my moans, then gave them back to me as his movements became more erratic. I tightened my embrace, and he stilled, gasped my name, and came.

His breath against my throat was warm and damp, and gradually slowed as we both came down off our s****l high. I thought he had eased into sleep, but when his c**k slid out of me, he rolled to the side, removed the condom, and tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket on his side of the bed.

“Need to…get a washcloth…and…clean us up.” But he really was on the verge of sleep.

I stroked his c**k, gathering the remains of the fluid that coated its sides, and rubbed it into the semen on my belly.

In the morning I’d probably be itchy, but I’d have our mingled scents on my body. Better yet…I pulled Quinn into my arms until we were plastered together from chest to groin.

In the morning we’d both smell of us.

* * * *

The telephone rang, and the warm, pliant body that was writhing under my hands stilled.

I pulled my mouth off his c**k. “f**k it, Quinn. Let the machine pick it up.”

“Ca-can’t, Mark. Mother said she’d be calling.” He tried to roll toward the nightstand, but my finger was still up his ass, rubbing against his prostate. “Mark.” He groaned, gave a full body shudder, and clenched around my finger.

I took pity on him and eased my finger out of his body.

“What you do to me.”

Yeah. I was insufferably smug about that.

He leaned toward me and cupped my cheek in his palm. The phone shrilled again—he needed a better ringtone. I’d have to see about programming something suitable into his phone.

He smiled into my eyes, then stretched a long arm and retrieved the receiver. “Mann.”

I snickered at his automatic response, even when he knew it was his mother on the other end of the line. He pulled a face, not bothering to pretend he hadn’t heard me.

“Sorry, Mother. I was a little distracted. How’s everything?” He listened for a minute or so, and finally I nudged him, reminding him I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation. He covered the receiver and whispered, “Fine.”

He had lost his erection, which didn’t surprise me. Portia Mann was a classy lady, and sporting a hard-on when she was around would be crass to say the least. Her son was not crass.

I nuzzled his c**k out of the way and licked his balls. He tasted good. He smelled good too, of sleep and s*x and…trust. He shifted, winding his fingers in my hair and giving a warning tug. Behave, he mouthed when I looked up at him, then returned to his conversation.

Hmm. Behave, or taste Quinn. I knew what choice I was going to make. I went back to licking his balls.

“Yes, Mother.” He grabbed the pillow that I’d been sleeping on, whacked me over the head with it, and then placed it over his groin. I laughed silently. I loved watching Mrs. Mann wind him around her little finger. “Oh…er…Mother, I’m not sure.”…“Yes, of course. All right.”

I stopped laughing when he handed me the phone.

“Jesus,” I hissed, trying to avoid taking it. “Are you out of your f*****g mind? I can’t—”

“She knows you’re here,” he hissed back at me. “Now take the goddamned phone!”

“Fuck.” I swung around until I sat on the edge of the bed, putting some distance between my lover and myself—after all, I was about to speak with his mother—and cleared my throat. “Mrs. Mann?”

“I apologize for calling so early, Mark.” Her voice was warm but brisk. No one should be that awake so early on a Sunday. Not if they weren’t in bed with a man who was so hot his presence set the sheets to smoking. “However I wanted to be sure you were joining us for lunch after our ride.”

Quinn had been at me and been at me until I’d reluctantly agreed to get on a horse, but there had been no suggestion of having lunch with his mother. Had he intended to toss that at me once I was at the mercy of the nag he’d mount me on, and in front of Mrs. Mann? His innocent expression told me “yes.”

“Damned spook.”

He had the audacity to look injured, and I bared my teeth at him to let him know I wasn’t buying it. He laughed.

“Uh…Mrs. Mann, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’ll take my own car, and Quinn can drive you home.”

“You don’t have your car, Mark,” he murmured.

I covered the mouthpiece. “You can damn well drop me off at my place so I will have my car,” I growled at him.

“Not going to happen, babe.” He stacked his hands behind his head and whistled something I didn’t have the patience to recognize just then.

Maybe I could persuade his mother. “There really isn’t any need for you to have me over for lunch—”