You Were Made for Me Page 4

  He leaned against me and hummed that song about him being made for me again. Maybe I’d try to find a copy of it for him.

  It didn’t take much longer for us to wind up in bed.

  II

  QUINN SPRAWLED OVER me, trying to catch his breath. “God, you felt amazing!”

  “Yeah?” I couldn’t help preening.

  “I mean… making love with you has always been good—”

  “Just good?” I snickered when he pinched my ass.

  “You know what I mean. This time, without the condom… It was like having my cock surrounded by hot silk... being caressed by it.” He almost purred in pleasure.

  “I thought of you as velvet.”

  “Mark.” He nipped my shoulder. “I’m trying to wax poetical.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. God, this feels like…”

  I angled my head and looked into his face. “Like what?”

  “I feel like a kid… giddy and excited and on top of the world.” He gave a satisfied sigh. “This was amazing.”

  He was repeating himself, but yeah, it fucking was. And to feel him coming inside me, rather than having that heat blunted by latex, was one of the best sensations I’d ever felt.

  His next words were so soft I almost missed them. “I never realized what it could be like.”

  “Wait, you had sex with the French kid without a condom.” That was back in 1980, before the threat of AIDS, when no one used condoms. Well, except me.

  “Yes, but I… er… I usually bottomed for Armand.”

  “Usually?”

  “Well… always.”

  I wanted to find that son of a bitch, tear off his cock, and shove it up his fat ass. And it wasn’t because I was jealous he’d had Quinn, although it should have been me. That was the year of the boycotted Summer Olympics that Quinn and I both would have attended. If we had, he never would have become involved with Armand Bauchet and wasted all those years thinking the French fuck was his “one.” Instead, he would have met me, and I’d have been the one who took his cherry. Because I never would have been able to resist him.

  “We only had that summer together, and the physical part… well, that was just a few weeks.” Quinn stroked his hand over my hair. I’d have returned the favor, but my hands were still cuffed to the headboard. I’d thought he was going to come as soon as he saw the cuffs lying next to the lube. “You have to remember he was only seventeen.”

  “And you were fifteen. Out of common courtesy, he should have let you have him a few times.” Jesus, the guy was a moron.

  “I suppose. But… you won’t laugh at me, will you?”

  I raised my head and shoulders up, grimacing a bit at the pull on my upper arms, and peered at him. “Why would I laugh at you?” But I absolutely would if he said something sappy about that guy.

  “I have to tell you something, Mark.” He dragged himself up and kissed my wrists where they were secured to the headboard while I licked a convenient nipple.

  I grinned when that caused him to jerk and trail his cock along my diaphragm—his nipples were as sensitive as ever, and I’d have given them the attention they’d deserved if I hadn’t been at his mercy.

  Quinn rolled to the side and stretched out a long arm. “I like the idea that my first time making love without a condom was with you.” He found the little key on the nightstand and unlocked the handcuffs.

  “Yeah?” Okay, that was sappy, but it was Quinn being sappy about me. And yeah, it was special. “Well, I liked that you were my first too. It would have been even better if we’d been each other’s first first.”

  Quinn’s eyes widened. “My God, Mark!”

  “What?”

  “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. Well, except when you explained about varlebena.” How after the squaw-seeking ceremony in the movie Hondo, one word was spoken—varlebena—and that it meant forever.

  At that point I hadn’t been able to say I love you, but Quinn was a smart guy, and he realized what I’d meant.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Maybe in our next incarnation.” He removed the cuffs before I could and made a distressed sound.

  “What?”

  “Your wrists. I’m so sorry.”

  I raised a hand. Circling my wrists were the marks the cuffs had caused when I’d tugged on them each time Quinn nailed my prostate. “Don’t be. You drove me crazy.”

  “Yes, but—” He kissed the reddened abrasions. “I’m sorry.”

  “Y’know what? You’re right, it was your fault.”

  His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Didn’t think I’d call you on it, did you?

  “You did things to me—”

  “Would you please be serious?”

  “I am serious.” There was a mild ache in my ass, but I relished it.

  He stared into my eyes, surprised, and I pulled him into a hug.

  “Hey, did I, or did I not, have a massive climax?”

  “Well, you did come like a freight train.”

  “Damn straight I did. And I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?”

  “No, but if we’re going to do this again, I think we’d better come up with a safe word.”

  I sank my fingers into his hair and tugged back so he had no choice but to meet my gaze. “What do you know about safe words?”

  He laughed. “I read.”

  “Yeah? You don’t know by experience?”

  “No. I’m a very vanilla kind of guy.”

  “Like hell you are. Who was it who stripped naked and waited for me in his living room last summer, keeping himself hard and on the verge of coming until I got there?”

  He blushed a little. “You bring out the devil in me. I guess you might say you melted the Ice Man.” He yawned and tucked his head under my chin. “Thank you, Mark. I didn’t realize how much I needed to take control after the events of this afternoon.”

  “You’re welcome.” This was my guy, and I’d move heaven and earth and go through hell to keep him safe and satisfied. And happy.

  Oh Jesus. I was getting sappy. Good thing Quinn was too out of it to realize where my thoughts had gone. He yawned again.

  “I really need a nap,” he said.

  “Sounds like a good idea, babe.” I shifted a bit, making sure we were both comfortable.

  “Mmm.” And just like that, he was out cold.

  I set the alarm on my watch—two hours should be enough—tightened my grip on him, and closed my eyes.

  ~*~

  “WHAT THE FUCK?” The sound of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” blasted me awake.

  “Mark? Get that, would you?” Quinn mumbled, still more asleep than awake. He rolled over and freed my arm, which tingled with pins and needles from him lying on it, then grabbed a pillow and curled his body around it.

  I scooped up his cell phone and took it into the bathroom, shaking my arm to get the feeling back. “Quinton Mann’s phone.”

  Other than a startled intake of breath, there was quiet on the other end.

  “Okay, hanging up now,” I said, and only a fool would have mistaken my tone of voice as pleasant.

  “Just one second. This is Bramwell Rayner. I’m Mann’s director.”

  “Not anymore you’re not.” Asswipe.

  “Look, there’s been a misunderstanding. If you’ll put him on the phone… Who is this?”

  I gazed off into space for a moment. Would it be a good idea to let him know I had access to Quinn’s phone? Fuck it, Quinn no longer had to answer to the fucks at the CIA. “Mark Vincent.”

  He groaned and spat out, “Fucking son of a bitch.”

  How rude. But that was the CIA for you. No ingenuity at all. Quinn would have come up with something a hell of a lot more creative.

  “What do you want, Rayner?”

  “That’s between Quinton and me.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? Quinn doesn’t answer to you anymore. He’s the most honorable man in the business. Did y
ou think he’d sit back and not say anything when the company he and his family gave so many years to is betraying everything he believes in by going along with a boneheaded stunt—?”

  “What do you know of the situation?” He sounded like he was getting pissed. Good. Maybe he’d have an aneurysm.

  “Do you think we in the WBIS don’t read the newspapers or listen to the news?” Along with our other sources, but I had no intention of mentioning them. “You’re letting your operative’s assets face the music without doing a fucking thing to help them out.”

  “They’re not—”

  “If you say in danger, I swear to God I’ll come to Langley and kick your ass.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Then what were you going to say?”

  “They aren’t Mann’s assets.”

  “I know that. Do you think that matters to him? Haven’t you heard? Any man’s death diminishes me, because I’m involved in mankind? Well, Quinn is fucking involved.”

  “You’re quoting Donne to me?” Rayner’s growl sounded disgruntled. “Look, would you just put Mann on the line?”

  “For what purpose?” I felt a touch on my arm and turned to see Quinn standing there. He’d taken the time to pull on a pair of shorts.

  “Let me talk to him.” He must have been listening long enough to get an idea as to who I was talking to.

  I handed him the phone, then got a washcloth, wet it, and wiped myself down, all the while listening shamelessly, although all I could hear was Quinn’s side of the conversation.

  “What did you want, Bram? … No, I was not overreacting. … Why would I do that? I resigned, if you’ll recall. … You didn’t seem to have a problem accepting it earlier. … Excuse me?” Red began to climb up his cheeks, and it wasn’t from embarrassment. He was fucking furious. And damn, that was hot. His voice, though, was ice cold. “Is anything going to be done to save those people? … I see. In that case, this conversation is finished. I’m having dinner with my mother, and I need to dress. … As a matter of fact, yes, not that it’s your business or the business of the CIA. … Goodbye, Bram.” He hung up.

  See, that was the thing about cell phones; they were convenient, but there were times when nothing expressed your aggravation as satisfactorily as slamming down the receiver of a landline phone. I had a feeling this would have been one of those times.

  Just then, the alarm on my watch went off. I pressed the button and the music stopped. “Well, that’s half an hour of sleep we won’t get back.” I ran the washcloth under warm water, tugged Quinn’s shorts down and off, and cleaned him up while he stood there literally vibrating with anger.

  “I’m sorry—I should have set my phone to mute.”

  I’d never seen the Ice Man like this. Come to think of it, I didn’t think anyone had.

  “My relationship with you is no one’s fucking business,” he snarled. “Most especially not the CIA’s. Can you believe they didn’t expect me to mean it when I said I resigned? They thought I was just making a fucking statement, and that as soon as I cooled off I’d be back at my desk. It surprised the hell out of Bram when DB went to his office and asked to have Janet assigned to him.”

  Yeah, that was stupid of them, but what could you expect? Meanwhile, I wanted to punch someone. I’d finally gotten Quinn calmed down, and now he was pissed off all over again. And we just didn’t have the time to go back to bed. I ran a fingertip from the base of his cock to the crown.

  “Mark…”

  “Shh.” He was flaccid, but not for long if I had anything to say about it. I took his cock in my mouth, tickled his balls with my spare hand, and he hardened, just as I’d intended.

  “We can’t—” He moaned, shivered, and gripped my shoulder, then groaned when I took him at his word and let him slip from my mouth. “You pick the damnedest times to obey me.”

  “Kinky.” I leaned forward and nuzzled the wiry curls that surrounded his cock.

  He chuckled and threaded his fingers through my hair.

  “Want me to get you off now?” I could feel him relax.

  “Raincheck?”

  “Sure. How are you feeling, babe?” I asked him.

  “Good. Better. I needed this—all of it.”

  “Good.” I rose and kissed the corner of his mouth.

  “How are you?”

  “Excellent.”

  “Your wrists?”

  I held up a hand so he could see for himself. The marks had already faded. “Ready to go visit Portia?”

  “Do I have time to dress?”

  “Ass.” I slid an arm around his shoulders and tugged him back into the master closet.

  “Speaking of which, how does your ass feel? Was I too rough?” He opened one of the organizers that held his clothes, took out another pair of shorts, and pulled them on.

  “I feel fine, and no, you weren’t too rough. I don’t think you could be.”

  “Still, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Not a chance, babe.”

  “Just promise you’ll let me know.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good.”

  What I really liked about this conversation was that Quinn didn’t question the validity of my promise.

  “Why don’t you pick out what we should wear, and I’ll straighten the bedroom.”

  He laughed softly. “You’re so domestic.”

  I pinched his ass and left him in the closet.

  The bed wasn’t the disaster I’d been anticipating—so that was what had caused Quinn to laugh. He had already tidied the sheet and comforter. The cuffs were on the nightstand, and the clothes we’d worn earlier and had left lying on the floor were folded neatly on a chair. We’d sort them later as to what needed to be laundered and what sent to the dry cleaners.

  Quinn came out of the closet, casual clothes draped over his arm, and he tossed me a pair of shorts.

  “When is Mother expecting us?”

  “Whenever we get there.”

  “All right.” He finished sliding his trousers up over his hips, zipped his fly, and fastened the button at the waistband. “Mark?”

  I’d been standing there watching him, doing my best to keep my hands to myself and to not drool. “Right.” And I hurried to get dressed

  ~*~

  QUINN SELECTED A CHARDONNAY when I told him what we’d be having for dinner.

  “That’s what Mother told Gregor to make for me when you left me.”

  Yeah, it was his go-to comfort food, just like mac and cheese from the blue and orange box was mine.

  “Mother probably has a chardonnay just as good, but—” He’d always bring something. He was a classy kind of guy.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  We left the condo, and this time we took the stairs down to the lobby level. We had just exited when a woman’s voice sang out.

  “Mr. Vincent!” One of our neighbors approached us.

  I sighed, while Quinn, the bastard, smothered a chuckle. “Hello, Mrs. Marten.”

  “I’m so glad I ran into you. You’ll be at the meeting, won’t you?” The older woman was like the grand dame of Aspen Reach. She’d had a unit in the complex from the time they had been offered for pre-purchase, but she’d moved into a unit on the first floor of this building as soon as it was ready for occupancy. And while everyone suspected it was because it was more convenient for a woman her age, no one suggested it in her presence.

  “What meeting?”

  “We have to begin planning the Christmas decorations for our building.”

  “It’s July 14.” Flag Day in the US, Bastille Day in France.

  “Precisely.”

  “And?”

  She gave me an impatient look. “And in eleven days it will be Christmas in July. Five months after that, it will be Christmas for real. We can never get started soon enough. And it was thanks to you that our building finally won best decorated this past holiday season.”

  No, that was thanks to Qu
inn. I hadn’t planned to decorate much, if at all, but then he’d taken over, which just went to show: no good deed goes unpunished.

  “When is the meeting?” Quinn asked.

  She beamed at him. “I’ve seen you here rather frequently, haven’t I, young man?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s living with me.” Maybe if she realized we were in a relationship, she’d be so disgusted she’d stalk off?

  “Well!”

  Success, I thought smugly.

  “I must say, it’s about time!”

  “Excuse me?” Meanwhile, Quinn had turned away, his shoulders shaking, and this time unable to keep his laughter silent.

  “You’ve had your boyfriend coming to visit so frequently, I was beginning to think you’d never ask him to move in.” She patted Quinn’s arm. “I’m Hildegarde Marten. And you are…?”

  “Quinton Mann. It’s nice to meet you.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.

  “You’ll come too, won’t you?”

  “When will it be?”

  “Quinn.”

  He smiled at me, and I swallowed a groan.

  “Our first meeting will be next Wednesday evening at seven.”

  “At seven?” I shook my head. “Sorry, I’ve got ”

  “I’m at loose ends just now, Mrs. Marten. I’ll be there if Mark can’t make it.”

  “Wonderful!” She might as well have been a Christmas tree with the way she lit up. “We’ll see you then. Oh, and perhaps you can talk Mr. Vincent into running for the association board?”

  I opened the door for her, hoping she’d get the hint that this conversation was concluded. She smiled, patted Quinn’s arm again, gave me a nod, and sailed into the lobby.

  I let the door close behind her. “You didn’t have to encourage her,” I muttered and hurried him to where the Dodge was parked.

  “I think I’d like to be known as the boyfriend of the man who runs the condo owners’ association.”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn’t know if he was serious or joking, but either way, I wasn’t certain I could win this argument. “Get in the car.”

  He tossed me a salute, and I waited while he got in and buckled up before I did the same. It was a relief to see him in better spirits.