Quinton Mann, a highly ranked CIA officer, is used to being called the Ice Man. He’s astounded to discover himself in a relationship with Mark Vincent, not because Vincent is a man, but because he’s a top-rated WBIS agent. There they are though, for a total of five glorious days. But when Mark uses the excuse of going to Massachusetts for his mother’s funeral to end their relationship, Quinn’s not buying it.<br><br>No one screws with Mark Vincent. Even Mark doesn't screw with himself. Once he realizes how close he's allowed Quinton Mann to get to him, he does what any self-respecting spy would do -- he makes tracks out of there. But Quinn does something no one else ever has -- he comes after Mark. Maybe this relationship thing with a spook isn’t such a bad idea.<br><br>Meanwhile, something strange is going on in the intelligence community worldwide. It takes Quinn’s disappearance while investigating a rogue antiterrorism organization that results in Mark making up his mind. Quinn may be a spook, but he’s Mark’s spook, dammit -- and once he gets Quinn home, he intends to keep him. He knows without a doubt he’ll find Quinn. The question is, will he find Quinn in time?

Not My Spook

“Fuck, baby! I’m trying to make this last!”


I nipped his chest, and he growled a warning. He didn’t like that? I’d have to keep that in mind.


“Fuck me,” I demanded, and he laughed softly, his breath teasing my ear.


I went a little crazy. I hooked my ankles together, concentrated the way I would when I was setting one of my mounts for a jump, and then rolled. The abrupt movement took Mark by surprise, and I sat astride his hips, feeling his cock deep in my bowels and bit down hard on my lip, just containing a whimper.


“I’m—” It took a moment for me to catch my breath. “I’m fine.”


“All right, then.” His eyes glittered. “Giddy up, baby.”


I rose up onto my knees, as if I was posting to a trot, and then sank back down. I had been an Olympic-class rider after all.


Chapter 16