by Tinnean
“Quinn!”
He nipped my earlobe and continued his leisurely exploration, all the while fucking me.
Finally he closed his fingers around my cock, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, he began teasing my nipples with the fingers of his other hand, and I gave a full body shudder. They weren’t as sensitive as his, but they did enjoy the attention.
Quinn gasped and panted and growled in my ear, words of want and need and passion, but I was feeling so good that he could have been reciting how to assemble his Smith & Wesson Combat Magnum. I spread my legs as far as the prison of my tangled jeans would allow, and all the while his cock drove in and out of me, again and again and again.
I shivered and clamped down on his cock, milking it for all I was worth, and his movements became erratic, his breathing harsher, and with a final gasp, he stilled and came.
Mmmm.
Finally, he eased us onto our sides.
The aftermath of sex, no matter how good, tended to be a little awkward. Even the men I’d taken to bed would want to talk it to death, or—worse—cuddle, which was why I’d never encouraged the partner of the moment to stay longer than it took for both of us to get our rocks off.
Quinn was different, though. The sex was the best I’d ever had, and the quiet moments afterward were as good. Maybe it was because we were in the same line of business. Maybe it was just my age, and I was ready to stay with one person for longer than a night.
Either way, I was in no rush for him to move, and for long seconds he lay there, grazing his lips from my shoulder to the base of my neck and up to the hinge of my jaw.
“Thank you,” he murmured in my ear.
“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” I didn’t want him to get a swelled head, but…. “Jesus, that was awesome.”
“Yes.” From his movements, I could tell he was grasping the condom before he slid out of me. He got to his knees, stood, and it was only then that I realized he was still completely dressed. All he’d done was unzip his fly.
My cock twitched. We both thought that was pretty hot.
He went into the bathroom, and I stood up. My shorts and jeans had gotten twisted, and it took a minute before I could wrestle them up my legs.
Quinn came out of the bathroom, looking cool and unruffled.
“There oughta be a law, Mann.”
He grinned at my disheveled appearance. “I could say the same for you, Vincent. You look like the reason the riot started.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s how it was meant. Now, didn’t you say something about a steak?”
He followed me into the kitchen, and we worked in companionable silence, getting the potatoes ready, steaming the green beans, putting the steaks in the broiler. In about forty-five minutes, everything was set. Quinn took out a bottle of red wine, and we sat down to eat.
After dinner, we cleared off the table, and I started the dishwasher. We went into the living area, sat down on the couch, and made out to CDs until it was time to go to bed.
IX
QUINN had a good night. I didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t used his cell phone or if it had to do with something else.
The next morning, we made breakfast together—scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast—and then we changed to go riding. He held up a pair of jodhpurs.
“Now I know I didn’t have these with me!”
I grinned at him. “Are you sure?”
He shook his head and stepped into them, and I watched as he pulled them up his legs and over his hips.
The man was mine. Oh, maybe not forever, but I intended to hold onto him for as long as I could. And maybe that was totally out of character for a man like me, but fuck it. Who said I couldn’t change?
Well, except for a certain major who worked for the Office of the Inspector General?
Before driving to the stable where Quinn and his mother kept their horses, I stopped by Aspen Reach, picking the lock to get us into my condo, and I gave him a quick tour.
“Powder room, kitchen, living room, den, guest wing….”
Quinn blinked. “Jesus, Mark!” He cleared his throat. “I mean…. Um…. This certainly is pink.”
“I know. That door leads to the roof. One dark night we’ll go up on it and screw our brains out.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“The master suite is this way.” I led him back through the living room and into the bedroom. “Try to picture it beige, or buff, maybe, or a blue gray.”
“Anything will be better than this pink. This is a nice fireplace.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He was watching me from the corner of his eye.
“That a rug would go great in front of it? My first thought.”
“And us on that rug, naked and making love?”
“That was my second thought.”
He laughed softly and wound his fingers in mine. “What happened to the carpeting?”
“Someone ripped it up.”
“Obviously. Why?”
“Delilah Carson, the previous owner, met her demise here.”
“Was this a wise choice?”
I shrugged. “It got me the place cheap. They’d have sold me the furniture as well, but that would have kept even me awake at nights.”
“What do you mean, ‘even you’? It would keep anyone awake.”
“Oh, listen, if you tell me I have to get a priest in here and go the holy water and salt route—”
“Yes?” He was grinning. He wrapped his fingers around my neck and pulled my mouth down to his. When the kiss finally ended, he murmured, “You were saying?”
“Nothing.” I wasn’t going to tell him that if he wanted the place exorcised, I’d see about having it done.
He stepped back and looked around the bedroom. “I remember reading about her murder in the newspapers. It was pretty nasty. Her boyfriend got the blame.”
“Yeah, well, someone wanted her dead, and dead men can’t defend themselves, now can they?”
He gave me a sharp look. “You’re not planning on investigating it, are you?”
“As long as she doesn’t haunt me, it’s not my business. Come on, the closet is this way, and the bathroom.”
He was suitably impressed by the size of the tub. “We’ll both fit in here.” The man had his priorities straight. “How many square feet did you say this place has?”
“About three thousand, and that’s not including the terrace.”
That got him curious, and he wanted to go out and take a look at it. “Oh, very nice. By the time you move in, it will be too cold to grill, but maybe next summer….” He ran his palm over the granite countertop of the summer kitchen.
He was thinking about us being together next year. I cleared my throat and said gruffly, “There are a couple more rooms.” I led him through the kitchen, past the alcove that housed the laundry room and pantry, and into the formal dining room.
“This is going to be very nice.” He seemed excited.
“You think?”
“Definitely. This room is large enough for some nice-sized dinner parties. Do you have a dining room set?”
“No. I never was one for dinner parties, and I never had a dining room. I was actually thinking of using this room for something else. A library, maybe.”
“But—” His face closed off.
“Quinn? What is it?”
“I thought… it was stupid. Forget it.”
“Mann, don’t make me knock you on your ass. What’s bothering you?”
“I just thought maybe we’d have Thanksgiving here, or…. But this is your place, and of course what you’ll want to do or not do is your choice.”
We? “You want to have Thanksgiving with me?” I mean, yeah, he was thinking about next summer, but holidays….
“Well… well, I was hoping….”
I shut him up with my mouth. He sighed and leaned into me.
&n
bsp; “That’s a great idea.” Especially if Quinn was going to be here. I’d usually been out of the country, and never celebrated Thanksgiving or had anyone who I wanted to celebrate the holiday with.
“But you were going to make this room into a library.”
“It was just a thought.” The Library of Congress was a fifteen-minute drive away. What did I need one for in my home? “We can invite your mother. But not Novotny!”
“That’s all right. Gregor visits with his cousins up in New York.”
“What about your uncles?”
He tightened his hold on me. “Jeff and Ludo are going to London to spend some time with Ludo’s family. Tony and Bryan may be free. I’ll give them a call.”
“Okay, we can bring it up to your mother when we see her. If I order soon, there should be plenty of time for the table and chairs to come in. Will I need this other stuff too?” I pointed to the buffet, hutch, china cabinet, and sideboard.
“That’s up to you.”
I grinned at him. “How about we go today? We could drive over to Rockville this afternoon, and you could help me pick it all out.” Theo shouldn’t mind. He had Matheson to keep him busy. “And a new rug too. I hate this rug!”
He laughed softly. “I can’t imagine what Ms. Carson was thinking when she chose it.”
“It was probably someone else’s idea.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, it isn’t pink.”
“That’s true.”
I glanced at my watch. “We’d better get going now.”
“Thanks for showing me around, babe.”
I stole a quick kiss. “It’ll look better in a few weeks.”
“I have no doubt.”
I tripped the lock and shut the door behind us, and we left.
X
MRS. MANN was waiting for us as we strode up to the stable. She was already mounted on the horse she’d ridden the last time I allowed my lover to torture me like this. Her eyes studied her son sharply, but she said nothing beyond, “I’m glad you felt rested enough to go riding today, Quinton.”
Quinn smiled up at her and then gathered the reins in his left hand, put his toe in the stirrup, and swung his leg over his mount’s back with an elegant economy of motion.
“Come on, Mark. Mount up.” He’d caught me watching him.
“Where’s Blue?” I pretended I’d been looking for the horse I’d ridden the last time.
“I told you I was going to give you an easier mount. This is Kathy Thorn.”
“You didn’t have to do me any favors,” I muttered under my breath.
The horse the groom held was dark brown with black legs, mane, and tail. She stood there looking as if she were about to fall asleep, and I scowled at her. I didn’t know whether or not to be insulted.
I took the reins from the groom, copied Quinn’s movements, and settled into the flat saddle. The horse turned her head to look at me, her expression clearly surprised. “Quinn?”
“She won’t give you a hard time.”
“She’d better not!” I leaned forward and whispered, “Your brother didn’t believe me when I said I’d shoot him. I didn’t, but only because Quinn wouldn’t have been happy about it. You’d better have more sense.” I sat up and found Mrs. Mann watching me, a small smile on her face. I cleared my throat. “By the way, ma’am, Quinn’s talked me into hosting Thanksgiving. I’m hoping you’ll join us?”
“Why, thank you, Mark. I’d love to.”
“Great.”
“I’m going to call Uncle Tony and see if he and Uncle Bryan would like to fly east.”
“I think they can be persuaded to.” She nudged her horse with her heels, and we began to move forward at a sedate walk. “That is, if you don’t mind inviting Cara Mia and Sunday as well.”
“Sure.” I shrugged. I knew who they were.
DC was a small town, and the people Anthony Sebring had worked with were shocked that a man his age would get involved with such a young woman, and one who was saddled with a child.
I’d wondered about it myself.
Allen Ford, Cara Mia’s father, had worked under Sebring at the NSA. He had a weakness for single malt Scotch and blue-eyed brunets, although he tried to keep that hidden. He also had a tendency to have a routine, and to follow that routine religiously.
He had been working on a code the WBIS wanted. A week following him, and I’d had his routine down pat. He’d leave work, his briefcase cuffed to his wrist, and stop at a dark little bar for a drink. Every night, like clockwork.
So I’d put in a pair of blue contacts and put on a pair of skintight jeans that emphasized the fact that I wore nothing beneath them, and every night, like clockwork, I was there too. I’d made sure he saw me, and I’d give him a sultry look. After a few days, he was looking for me to come in, and he’d smile and nod at me when I did. Finally, I’d let him pick me up and buy me a couple of drinks, and when he’d rested his hand high on my thigh, I’d licked my lips and leaned toward him. “I know of a place nearby,” I’d said, my voice deliberately husky.
He was eager to go with me, and afterward, while he was showering, I’d picked the lock on his briefcase and photographed the papers within. I thought the exchange was fair. I’d gotten the code, and he’d gotten the fuck of his life.
I heard he kept looking for me in that bar. He even went back to the no-tell motel, but of course the clerk had no idea who he was talking about.
He wasn’t a bad man, just a weak one, and I wasn’t surprised when I’d learned he’d been killed a year or so later.
Quinn reached over and closed his fingers around my wrist, bringing me back to the present. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to saddle you with such a crowd.”
“Hey, it’s not a problem.” I’d have the whole thing catered. “The more the merrier.”
XI
BREAKFAST on Monday was simple, just coffee and toast.
“You don’t have to go all out for me. I can fix myself something at home.” Quinn came into the kitchen, knotting his tie.
“Will you try to get more sleep today?”
“I think I’m about caught up. I have some errands I’ll need to run before I go to pick up the Lexus.” He took the slice of toast from my hand and bit into it.
“Do me a favor and turn in early tonight,” I told him.
“Yes, mother.”
“Smartass.”
Quinn glanced at the clock. “You’re going to be late.” It was 8:00 a.m. “You really don’t need to drive me home, you know. I can call a cab.”
“Don’t give me a hard time, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Ass. I just need to make a phone call.”
“So do I. I’ll wait for you on the stairs.”
I called my office. My secretary was away from her desk, and I got her voice mail. “Ms. Parker, I’ll be in a little late. Put off my meeting with PR until ten o’clock.” And if the new guy didn’t like it, he could bite me. “If anything pressing comes up, turf it to Matheson.” It was time he learned being a senior agent wasn’t all fun and games. “You have my cell phone number if you need to contact me before I get in.”
I flipped my phone shut, clipped it to my waistband, and locked the door behind me. Quinn was waiting at the top of the stairs, a satisfied expression on his face.
“You’re looking very pleased with yourself.” We started down the stairs.
“Holmes had left a message with my personal assistant. A laundry list of things he wanted done.”
“Yeah?”
“These things are more suited for a raw rookie—her words—to handle. I told her to find a raw rookie and let him or her handle it, I was taking the day off.”
“Cool.”
“As I said, I have time due me. I’ll take off a day here and there.”
“You need next week off,” I reminded him.
“I already put in for that. I’m looking forward to spending the week at Key West wi
th you.”
“Yeah?” I was too. I’d never gone away with anyone.
He glanced around quickly and then kissed me. “Yeah.”
XII
THE week flew past.
On Monday, I went for the final fitting of my tux at Putting on the Ritz. Jacques, the tailor, had done a good job, and I looked pretty damn good in it. I brought it home and hung it up in my closet.
On Tuesday, Theo came up to show me the paint chips he’d selected. He seemed to favor blues and greens. Since I’d always rented, painting hadn’t been an option, and the walls of my apartments had been bland, to say the least.
“I like this Nurture Green, but this blue—Drizzle—is interesting too,” he told me, “and I think Leather Bound”—surprisingly, a shade of brown—“might be a good color for your study. As for the kitchen and the dining room—”
“Enough! Enough! Just no pink!”
He laughed. “When can I get started?”
“Closing is Thursday. The executors of Delilah Carson’s estate have a week from then to remove the furnishings.” Quinn had told me that his mother didn’t care for Lladró, so those figurines could go too, and I’d find another way to show my gratitude for her help in getting my condo.
“It would be a good idea to have the walls painted first.”
“I’ll let you know when the condo is empty.”
“Okay. Will you be getting rid of the cotton-candy carpeting?”
“Oh, yeah. I want hardwood floors throughout, but I’m not too sure about the master bedroom.”
“You could do that and have area rugs as well. I’ve got my eye on a rug for my living room.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I have plans for Wills on it. I… uh… I thought you’d want to know you were right about him, Vince. I talked to him about it, and he was scared that I could have been killed along with Delilah. It was worth the misunderstanding, though, if only for the makeup sex.”
