by Tinnean
“You’re a dangerous man, Mark. I’ll grant you that. But so am I. Do you honestly think I couldn’t take you in a fair fight?”
“That’s the thing, Quinn. I don’t fight fair.”
“Is that a warning?”
“Oh, fuck it. Unlock the fucking door, will you? I’m freezing my ass off.”
“I had better plans for your ass.” He sounded wistful.
“Did you?” I had the weirdest sensation in my chest. I’d never take a chance with a CIA spook, but maybe with Quinn? “Then why are we standing out here on Massachusetts Avenue getting snowed on?”
He unlocked the car, and this time he waited until I got in before he slid behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life. It was a nice car, but I thought a Jaguar would have suited him better—burgundy maybe, because red was what someone having a midlife crisis would go with. Sleek, powerful. I couldn’t help grinning as I pictured him going from zero to sixty in nothing flat….
And what the fuck was I doing? We needed to have a serious discussion about this. He was straight, goddammit, even if he was willing to “experience” what I could give him.
“Look. I want you.” There was no point in denying it. Mann was good at what he did. Maybe not as good as I was, but his eyes were sharp enough to see the wood I’d been sporting since I’d kissed him in the doorway of that shop. And what had I been thinking to do something half-assed like that?
It was those kissable lips of his, dammit!
“But this isn’t going to last, Quinn.” It couldn’t. The CIA would have a shit fit if their golden boy ever got together with the WBIS’s best. It would cost him not only his job but his reputation. “You can see that, can’t you?”
“You’re worse than a woman, Mark.” What the fuck is Quinn talking about? “Am I asking for a pledge of undying love and affection?”
“I don’t know what you want,” I snapped.
“Oh, are you annoyed?” he asked, all innocence. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“What?”
“It looks like I want you too. Mark….” He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his palm over his thigh. Yeah, his hair had to be as wet as mine had been. “Are you trying to spare my feelings?”
“What?” He was confusing the hell out of me.
“I’ll be thirty-seven on my next birthday, as you were so kind as to inform me. I’m a big boy. It’s not necessary. Fasten your seat belt, please.”
“Are you sure?” Buckling up could wait. Was he serious about wanting me?
“Jesus, Mark.”
Before he could put the car into gear, I moved. I placed my palm on his cheek—it was starting to get rough, and I wanted to feel that on my skin. Preferably as he worked his way down my body. I turned his face toward me.
“Mark?” Looked like it was his turn to be confused.
I licked my lips and kissed him, a smooth glide of mouth against mouth. I’d never had a problem with kissing someone and keeping my eyes open if that was what I wanted, but this time it fucking took some effort.
Quinn’s eyes were also open, his gaze steady.
I did one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I took my mouth off his.
“Is that the best you can do?” he asked.
“While we’re in a car? Yeah.” Go ahead, Ice Man, act disinterested. But your breathing is faster than it was a minute ago. “But when we get to my place? I’m going to kiss you till your eyes cross!”
That got him shivering. “Really?” Was he going to question my sudden change in attitude?
“Among other things.” I wasn’t going to tell him I’d decided to throw caution to the winds. I wanted him, it was Christmas Eve, and goddammit, I was going to have him before the night was over!
When I’d been in my early teens, I’d learned the trick of multiple orgasms from one of my old lady’s men. Of course I hadn’t realized that was what it was. He’d simply taught me to stop peeing in midstream. I’d asked what good something like that was, and he’d smiled and told me when I grew up, my partner would enjoy it.
I didn’t do it often, but for Quinn…. He was going to enjoy the benefit of my expertise. While he was recovering from the mind-blowing climax I intended to give him, I’d just keep on going.
Until he was ready to come again.
I was going to be the one he measured the others against, and they’d all come up wanting.
“Are you going to tell me what those other things are?” He wasn’t going to question me. Which was a good thing, because how could I explain it to him without revealing my intention of fucking him through the mattress?
I was going to get that Christmas present.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you, baby.”
“You know, no one’s ever called me that.”
“‘Baby’? What do they call you? Sweetheart? Darling? Angel eyes?”
“When I was much, much younger, mon coeur, mon ange.”
“You’re not an old man, y’know.” And I was older than him.
“Thank you.”
“So you had a French girlfriend when you were what? Sixteen? And in the time since then? What do your lovers call you now?”
He smiled a little ruefully. “Quinton.”
“What, not even ‘Quinn’?”
“Well, DB is about the only one who does that.” A smile ghosted over his lips. Was he remembering that I did too?
“You ever think of getting him into bed?” If he had, I was going to tear DB to little bitty Cooper shreds.
“No.” I could hear the amusement in that single word. “He’s my friend.”
“Yeah, well, friends fuck friends. It’s been known to happen.”
“This is true, but in DB’s instance, it would be like sleeping with my brother. And besides, he’s straighter than I am.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that, but it still doesn’t tell me why no one’s called you by a pet name.”
He sighed. “It has to do with being the Ice Man.”
So that was why he’d gotten upset earlier. That was just sad. “I’ll have to change that for you, baby.”
He smiled, and God, I wanted to toss him into the backseat and tear his pants off. The rest of his clothes could stay on at this point, but….
“I’m listening, Mark.”
Huh? Oh, yeah the other things I was going to do to him.
“Okay. To start with, when we get back to my place…. By the way, did you want to start driving?”
“Of course. However, I’m still waiting for you to fasten your seat belt.”
“Pushy.” But I buckled up.
“And do you object to that?”
“Damn straight, I do.”
“I see.”
Shit. That cool tone was in his voice again; he was getting his shorts in a bunch. I reached across and laid my palm on his thigh. “The only other person I’d let do that was Mr. Wallace.”
“Did you ever….”
“What? Have sex with The Boss? God, no!”
He smiled and looked over his shoulder to make sure a car wasn’t coming up behind us, then steered the Lexus into the street.
“You were saying what we’d be doing when we get back to your place?” he prompted. He didn’t object to my hand on his thigh, so I kept it there.
“First, I’ll take your coat and hang it up.”
“Thank you. I’m rather fond of this coat, and I appreciate the consideration.”
“I thought you would.” I laughed softly. I didn’t have much of a sense of humor—I’d had to kill too many people—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate it in others. “Now stop interrupting me or I’ll lose track. Then I’ll pour you a drink. A brandy.” Champagne would have been better, but I didn’t usually keep any at my place. “I’ve got a bottle of Marquis de Montdidier V.S.O.P. that I think you’ll enjoy.”
“For Christmas Eve? Wouldn’t that be more suitable for another time? I always—”
&n
bsp; “Doesn’t matter what you did. We’re starting our own traditions here.” Even if they were only for one night.
“Yes, Mark.” He didn’t seem pissed that I’d taken that tone of voice with him. Some people did, and it killed the buzz.
We were going to have fun.
“And if you don’t stop interrupting me, we’ll be home before I can finish turning you on.”
“Do you think you can do that simply with words?”
“You bet your ass.” Hadn’t anyone done that to him before?
He cleared his throat. “I think, perhaps, you should give me directions to your apartment. Otherwise they’ll be sending out the St. Bernards for us.”
He had a point. The street ahead was becoming more snow-covered by the minute.
“Sorry.”
“You could at least have the courtesy to sound abashed!” He swatted the hand that was still on his thigh, but when I started to remove it, he snatched it back. “Keep it there.”
“You are pushy, aren’t you?”
“I don’t consider that pushy. I’m a deputy director of Operational Targeting, and as such, I’m your superior. Your position is under me.”
“You deliberately going for the double entendre, Quinn?” Did he picture us in bed, with him above me, driving into my body with smooth, steady thrusts?
I had no intention of letting him fuck me. I’d bottomed a few times and hadn’t seen what all the hoopla was about. Oh, sure, when I topped I made sure my partner just about passed out from pleasure, but for being on the receiving end…. A high degree of trust was necessary, for me at least, and there was no one on earth I trusted enough. Not even that jackass partner of mine, as much as Chen might have thought otherwise.
“At any rate, get used to it.”
“Being under you is something else for me to get used to?” I took my hand away, but before he could object, I ran my palm over the front of his trousers, and he stifled a groan. He was really hard. “Make a right at this light. Y’know, I think a fire would be nice, especially on a cold night like tonight, and especially since I’m gonna strip your clothes off.”
“Oh, you have a fireplace?” Everything I’d said, and he chose to focus on the fireplace? I bit back a laugh. He was trying so hard to show he was indifferent to my words, but his cock didn’t lie.
“Yeah, I’ve got a fireplace.” And I intended to start a fire not only in the fireplace but in him as well. I kept my eyes on him and smiled. “I have a rug in my living room, by the way.”
“In front of your fireplace? Or was that a metaphorical fireplace?”
“Oh, it’s real. I’m looking forward to having you on the rug.”
“I’m not a bottom, Mark.”
“How would you know? Seeing as how you’ve never had this ‘experience’ before?”
He muttered something under his breath and shifted in his seat. I squeezed his cock. Poor baby couldn’t even cross his legs to ease some of that pressure I was sure was building in his balls.
“Left at the next light.”
“Do I at least get a turn on top?” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He’d never been with a guy, but he was willing to try it with me.
Damn, I am good!
“I’ll give you whatever you want.” Wait, what? I said that? I didn’t—
“Thanks, Mark. It’s good to know you’re… versatile.”
Yeah, that’s me.
“So. What else will you be doing? Or is that your best shot?”
“Not hardly! Remember that brandy I’ll be giving you? Well, while you’re sipping at it, I’ll be undoing your tie, and then unbuttoning your shirt. How responsive are your nipples, Quinn? Do you like getting them licked or nibbled on? Or would you rather I rolled them between my thumb and forefinger, maybe tugged on them a little?”
He actually groaned and swore under his breath again. Oh, yeah, very good!
“Then I’m going to leave your shirt hanging open and start working on your belt. I’ll open it and then unbutton your trousers and just… kind of run my thumb nail over the zipper. That’s my building on the right. Turn here for the parking garage.”
“You’re a bastard, Mark.”
“Me?”
“You’ve made me fog up the windows!”
“Well, you had some help.” I’d aroused myself with the images I’d painted. I cleared my throat. “That’s my spot on the right. You can park there.” I’d need to get a guest spot so he could—
Shit. What was I thinking? After tonight he’ll—I’ll—we’ll never see each other again!
We exited the car, and I headed toward the stairwell.
“You really do always take the stairs?”
“Yep. I’m up on five.”
I was in good shape, but there was no rush taking those stairs. Well, other than wanting to get into Quinn’s pants.
He was in good shape too. He was still breathing easily when we reached the third floor. I’d have to shake him up a bit.
“Know something, Quinn? I’ve been giving a lot of thought to sucking your cock.”
He choked. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah. That time I went to your office, when those assholes didn’t act on the information I’d forwarded to them? You were so pissed.” I looked over at him and grinned. “You’re hot when you’re pissed. You know that?”
“Obviously I don’t.”
“Oh, yeah, smokin’!” I let my grin widen and started the climb to the fourth floor. “I wondered how you’d react if I dropped to my knees and started going down on you. What would you have done, Quinn?”
“I….” He touched my sleeve, stopping me. “Actually, I’d been envisioning that very act. However….”
“However?” Fantasy and reality were two different things—no one knew that better than I did. The fact that he’d pictured me sucking him off could mean either he was interested or he was about to freak out. “I’ve been teasing you, but I’m not a selfish lover.”
“You’re not?”
“Well, I’ve never had any complaints. Come on, just two more flights.” We resumed our climb. I couldn’t resist asking, though, “What about you, Quinn? What would you like to do to me?”
“Other than having you fellate me?” Dammit! Did he realize how hot that sounded? “I take my dates out to dinner, usually to a restaurant like Raphael’s.”
I let out a low whistle. Raphael’s was one of the classiest restaurants in the Capital.
Quinn smiled. “I ply them with expensive wines. Sometimes we’ll go dancing. I—”
“I’m not a date, Quinn. You don’t have to wine me or dine me.”
His smile faded. “No, I imagine not.”
“There is one thing you’d have to do, though.”
“Yes?”
“Sixty-nine me.”
“Yes, Mark,” he said, utterly serious. “I want that. I want everything you’ve been describing to me tonight.”
I’d been playing, but I didn’t want to play anymore. I opened the door leading out to the fifth floor. “My place is right this way.”
We headed down the corridor.
Chapter 8
Mark was silent as we walked toward his apartment, so I took that opportunity to do some musing. It would be dishonorable to let him continue thinking I was a virgin. I had to tell him I’d had a few male lovers, that I wasn’t as inexperienced as he believed. They had all been in Europe—once when I’d gone with Mother on a wine-buying trip to France, and a few times after I’d graduated from Harvard, before I’d returned to the States to obtain my master’s. At that point, knowing I’d be following my father’s and uncles’ footsteps by joining the CIA, I’d regrettably curtailed all further encounters.
How was he going to react to this knowledge, though? Would he be angry? Disappointed? Blasé?
We stopped in front of a door that would have been as nondescript as all the others except for the series of locks on i
t. He glanced at me, then angled himself so he blocked my view.
Word had it that if his door wasn’t unlocked in a specific configuration, it would explode. I’d been inclined to doubt that even Mark Vincent could be that paranoid, but it seemed as if he was.
However, he’d been the most senior of all the WBIS’s agents, and after fifteen years with them, he was still alive.
He threw open the door, and in spite of myself, I held my breath, but there was no boom.
“Just wait here a minute, okay?” He took out the Glock he always seemed to carry and entered his apartment.
In a matter of minutes, he was back, sans his weapon and shoulder holster. He’d removed his overcoat and jacket also, and loosened his tie.
“C’mon in.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to ask if these cloak-and-dagger tactics were necessary. It was obvious he felt they were.
Aside from that, I was a guest in his home, and that wouldn’t be polite.
He closed the door behind me, and I heard numerous snicks as the multiple locks engaged.
“Let me take your coat.” As he’d promised, he carefully hung it in his hall closet. “The living room is straight ahead, and if you need the bathroom, it’s to the left through the master.”
“That must be a little inconvenient when you have guests.”
“I don’t have guests.”
“I… see.” I knew he’d lived in this apartment for the past seven years, but in that time not a single person had come to visit him?
He shrugged, and I decided not to pursue it.
“Listen, why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I’ll get the brandy.” The kitchen was to the right, and he went into it.
Beyond was the living room, and I walked to it and glanced around.
It wasn’t as large as the living room in my town house, but it was a decent size for what it contained. A long couch faced the large-screen TV, an oak coffee table topped with glass inserts between them. There was a three-shelf bookcase filled mostly with paperbacks, a small multimedia stand that held CDs and video tapes, and the fireplace and rug Mark had talked about.
The walls were bare except for a sword that hung in a case above the television.
In one corner was the large statue of a dog with a Santa hat sitting at a jaunty angle over an ear and a Christmas star dangling from its mouth. Beside it was a Christmas tree, so small the dog dwarfed it.