by Tinnean
“Right.”
He waited until I had arranged myself on the bed, then lay down on top of me, lining up our cocks. “I’m going to fuck you tonight, Mark.”
“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 cock 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 nipples 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 nipples. Always extremely sensitive, it was already an erect nub, and when I stroked my fingertips across it, he gasped and shuddered and twisted my nipple with enough force that I arched up into him, smearing precome along his cock 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, fuck, even in the back seat of my car!”
“Jesus, Quinn! Stop toying with me, and fuck 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 cock 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 cock 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!” His fingers wrapped around my cock, his thumb pressing firmly on the slit, and I shivered and clamped down internal muscles and began to shoot come between us.
Quinn’s mouth came back to mine, and he swallowed my moans and 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 sexual high. I thought he had eased into sleep, but when his cock 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 cock, 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.
V
THE telephone rang, and the warm, pliant body that was writhing under my hands stilled.
I pulled my mouth off his cock. “Fuck 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 cock out of the way and licked his balls. He tasted good. He smelled good too, of sleep and sex 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 fucking mind? I can’t—”
“She knows you’re here, Mark,” 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….”
“Mark, are you insulting my hospitality?”
If it had been my old lady on the other end of the phone, I’d have said yes and hung up. “No, ma’am! Of course not! I—”
“Good.” Was she laughing at me? “I’ll see you both at eleven. Give Quinton a kiss for me. Good-bye, Mark.” There was a click in my ear.
“You set me up.” I hung up the phone, then leaned over grudgingly and brushed my lips against his cheek.
“What…?”
“From your mother.” I deliberately turned my back; I was annoyed with him, dammit, and had no intention of letting him think that I’d kissed him of my own free will.
“Now, Mark….”
“Don’t ‘now, Mark’ me. I told you I didn’t have riding boots, and you said you had a pair in my size.”
“Yes, and wasn’t that fortunate?”
“‘Fortunate’ my ass. You went out and bought them especially, didn’t you?” He didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. “And now your mother’s invited me to lunch.”
“Even you have to eat, Mark.”
That was beneath my notice. “You know Novotny hates my guts.” Gregor Novotny had been part of the family from the time he was eighteen. Yeah, I’d researched him. His sister came to work for the Manns, and he came along. A Feeb who’d had to retire when he was wounded on the job, now he was not only Mrs. Mann’s chief cook and bottle washer, but her bodyguard as well. And he resented like hell the fact that I was in Quinn’s life. “He’ll probably slip something into my food.”
“Something that would leave you at my mercy? Damn, I wish I’d thought of that.” He reached for the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling Gregor.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’ve changed my mind, Mann. Just for that, I’m not going to blow you.”
“Fine by me.”
What the fuck? Before I could say something really stupid, like, “Are you telling me you don’t want to make love with me anymore?” he dragged me backward onto the bed, and I found myself flat on my back.
Quinn was in top-notch physical condition; he was a superb fencer and an Olympic-class horseman. It was just that when I had him under me, when he was moaning and begging, it was hard to remember.
He worked his way down my body until he was settled between my legs, gave my cock a leisurely lick, and grinned at me through that lock of hair that was always falling over his eyes.
“Remember your birthday, Mark?”
How could I forget it? It was the first time those lips of his that were grinning so cockily had been wrapped around my cock.
“I’ll blow you!”
VI
QUINN threw his mother up into her saddle and then swung up onto his horse. Poetry in motion, and if we’d been alone, I’d have dragged him into the stable, found an empty stall, and fucked his brains out.
“Just don’t kick Blue,” Quinn was saying, and I shook myself out of the pleasurable reverie of him bent over a hay bale.
“Sure.” How difficult could following such simple instructions be? I mounted the horse the groom was holding for me.
But Blue reacted every time my heels brushed against his sides and continually broke into a trot that had me bouncing in the saddle, rattling my teeth.
I’d warned that fucking flea-bitten, sway-backed, hay-burning refugee from a glue factory that I had a gun and had no problem using it if he made me look bad in front of my lover. Obviously, he hadn’t taken my warning seriously.
I studied Quinn’s posture in the saddle and copied it. I’d shoot the nag later.
Quinn and his mother became involved in a conversation about family, and I listened.
“I understand Uncle Tony’s back from the Coast, Mother.”
“Yes. He’s staying at the manor with Uncle Jeff and Ludovic. It’s odd. Tony and your Uncle Bryan were never that close when they were younger.”
I’d known Quinn was the equivalent of royalty in the intelligence community; the Sebrings, his mother’s family, had been in the business since at least the French and Indian War, and on his father’s side there had been a Mann ferreting out information during the Spanish-American War.
My father hadn’t hung around long enough for me to start kindergarten, and the closest my mother came to being a Mata Hari was picking up men in a bar.
I lost track of time, which was stupid on my part, but I was fascinated by their family dynamics. By the time we returned to the stable, I realized my error. My body was making me aware of every mile we’d ridden over.
My ass was sore, my balls felt like they were on fire, the insides of my knees were chafed, and the muscles in my thighs complained with every step the horse took.
After I dismounted and handed the reins to the groom who was waiting for us to return from our ride, I managed to walk to the car without limping and sit through the meal at Mrs. Mann’s home without giving the least hint of how uncomfortable I was. It took an extreme act of will, but I did it.
By the time we were ready to leave, all I wanted was some serious drugs.
“Excuse me; I’ll just use the bathroom before we go.”
Quinn and his mother smiled at me, and I escaped to the downstairs john. I locked the door and opened the medicine cabinet.
“Thank God!” I groaned. Extra-strength ibuprofen. The regular dosage was one. I took two.
I used the john, washed my hands, and took another two tablets, just to be on the safe side.
Novotny glowered at me as I walked out of the bathroom. “What, did you think I’d pinch the commode?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you, Vincent.”
I held out my arms and turned in a slow circle, a condescending grin hiding my discomfort. “As you can see, it isn’t concealed about my person.”
He curled his lip, turned on his heel, and stalked away. I went in the other direction, to the front foyer.
“Thank you, Mother.” Quinn accepted a small brown bag from her. “All set, Mark?”
“Yes. Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Mann.”
“You’re very welcome.” She walked us out to the car. “I hope we can do this again.”
Not in a million years. I smiled at her.
“Good-bye, Mother.” Quinn kissed her cheek.
“Good-bye, sweetheart.” She went up the steps and waited.
Quinn opened the door of his Lexus for me, and I was concentrating so hard on appearing normal that I didn’t even realize this was not something he would normally do until after he had done it.
I lowered myself cautiously to the front seat, winced, and buckled up. When were those fucking painkillers going to kick in?
“I’m driving you straight home.” He walked around to his side of the car and got in. “You’re sore, Mark.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re sore.” He put the key in the ignition, not looking at me. “Wave to my mother.”
“Huh?” But he leaned forward and waved, so I did also. Mrs. Mann smiled and waved back, watching as Quinn drove down the length of her driveway. When I looked back, she was still standing there.
“She’ll stay there until she no longer sees me.”
“She used to do that for your father.”
“Yes.” He didn’t ask how I’d known that. We drove for some time in silence.
I shifted from one ass cheek to the other, trying to get comfortable with no luck. A gl
ance at my watch told me it had been fifteen minutes since I’d taken the ibuprofen. Shit. Another five minutes at least before it began to work.
“Mark, I want to explain something to you, and then I want you to explain something to me.” The only time I saw him this serious was when business was involved. He didn’t wait for a response from me. “You’re experienced in many things.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a forensic artist… ”
Well, I liked to think so, but why was he bringing that up now?
“… you fence… ”
Yeah, we’d dueled to a draw. The man was good, I’d give him that. Not as good as me, but….
“… you’ve played the saxophone… ”
That had been years ago, before the WBIS, before I’d even enlisted, and it wasn’t in any of my records. How the fuck had he learned about that?
“You going somewhere with this, Mann?”
“I just assumed you could ride as well. Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me you hadn’t been on a horse before?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” I growled. No way was I going to tell him it was because I liked him thinking there was nothing I couldn’t do. “Would you have changed your mind about me joining you?”
“No. But I’d have given you another mount. Blue really is good-tempered, but his gait can be a bit jarring for a beginner.” A bit? “Next time I’ll see if the stable has Kathy Thorn available.”
“You’re so sure there’s going to be a next time?” Where did these people get the names for their horses? I watched as he glanced sideways at me, and the corner of his mouth quirked.
“I have no doubt that after a remarkably short amount of time, you’ll become a very capable horseman.”
“Don’t try and get on my good side now, Mann. I’m still pissed at you.”
He chuckled.
“Y’know, most people don’t laugh when I tell them I’m pissed,” I groused.
“No, I imagine not. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I pressured you into going riding, Mark.” His apology was so sincere that I had no choice but to forgive him. No one ever apologized to me. But I wasn’t going to let him know he’d gotten to me.