For those who want more Mark/Quinn
OMG, how could I have forgotten to post about this? A while back I came across something called CNC- consensual non-consent, which is kind of like role-playing. So I whipped up a little something I call... wait for it... CNC.
I regained consciousness in a surprisingly elegant room, which I studied through my lashes. I was too experienced to give any indication I was awake and aware. My arms were secured above my head, not a painful position, but not exactly the epitome of comfort. However, the bed I was lying on was so soft it almost swallowed me in its embrace.
“It’s good to see you’re with us once again, Mr. Bridger.”
Shit. I recognized that voice, even though I’d only heard it on surveillance tapes. “Double D,” I said coolly, hoping to throw the man off. Word in the intelligence community was he loathed that nickname.
He laughed softly. “Trying to get under my skin, Bridge?”
I ground my teeth. I hated that shortened form of my name. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised to find you here and not your sister.”
“She’ll be devastated to learn she was missed.”
I didn’t reply to that beyond the scoffing sound I made. They were known as the Deadly Duo, another reason for “Double D.” Her name was Dulcie Dylan—a sweet name for a poisonous bitch—and his was Dalton Dylan. God alone knew if those were their real names.
“No, seriously, Bryce, everyone enjoys being appreciated.”
I ignored that. “To what do I owe the honor, Dalton?”
“I thought it was time we met. We’ve been playing cat and mouse for too long.”
“So this is personal?” I closed my eyes to indicate my utter boredom with the situation.
“I like to think so.” He ran a hand up my thigh, and I jerked, the sudden knowledge that I was naked causing a heated flush to rise up over my body. How could I not have known something like that?
“You’re a sick bastard,” I snarled at him.
He just laughed again. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Bridge. You’re so… feisty.”
“Son of a bitch.” I tugged futilely at the cuffs fastening my wrists to what I now discovered was the headboard of the oh-so-comfortable bed.
“Now, now. You don’t want to hurt those elegant wrists of yours, do you?”
“What do you care?”
“Ah, Bridge, I’m cut to the quick you’d think I wanted you to injure yourself.”
“Then what do you want?”
“A taste of that delectable ass of yours.”
“I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to be. All you have to do is lie there and think of the CBI while I fuck you.”
The agency I worked for—the Central Bureau of Intelligence.
“No.” I turned my head to glare at him.
“Oh, Mr. Bridger, you’re hardly in a position to deny me.” He came close enough to the bed so I could finally see him. His twin sister was lovely, but he… in spite of what I’d said, my mouth began to water. He stood about six foot three—his sister wasn’t much shorter, although she could appear delicate. No one knew the color of her eyes, not even the Organization for National Security, the agency for which she worked. She wore her golden-brown hair in long waves down her back. Dalton’s mass of curls, on the other hand, was the dark brown of a mink’s pelt, while his eyes were a gold-tinged hazel. My gaze was drawn to his chest as his casually began to unbutton the white shirt he wore, and now my mouth went dry as the light dusting of hair that covered his torso was slowly revealed.
“You son of a bitch.”
“You’re repeating yourself, and it’s becoming tiresome.”
“This is rape.”
“Hardly.”
“I said no.”
“Now, perhaps, but soon you’ll be begging me.”
“It will still be coercion.”
He leaned forward and caught my chin in his long fingers. “But you’ll enjoy it.”
“I—” Whatever else I planned to say was cut off by his lips.
****
“You okay, Quinn?” Mark asked as he removed the cuffs from my wrists and rubbed them before planting kisses on my pulse points.
“I’m fine.” I cradled his cheek, then stretched luxuriously. The cuffs were so well-padded they hadn’t even left a mark. “That was fun.” We didn’t often get into role-playing—we’d had to do it too often in our work for the CIA and the WBIS, although never honeymoon work—but this really had been fun.
“Especially since I didn’t have to be the woman,” he groused.
I couldn’t help laughing. It always left my husband disgruntled that I’d written the character that was supposed to represent him as a woman. My publisher would never have accepted Mind Games otherwise.
Little did they know that I planned to introduce Dulcie Dylan’s brother in my next book, Bridger’s Law. The nameless character had been mentioned in a flashback in the first book, but now I’d given him a name, and although my publisher was unaware at this point, Dalton would eventually become Bryce Bridger’s love interest.
Mark rolled me onto my side and curled around me. “Do we have time for this?” I asked. Andrea, our nanny, would be bringing the twins home from the park soon
“I suppose not,” he agreed reluctantly. He dropped a kiss to the back of my neck, but he didn’t let me go.
It was okay. Our bedroom door was locked, but even so, unless there was a fire or someone was bleeding, the entire household knew not to try to open it if it was closed. I pulled his arm tighter around me, and sighed happily.
Life was good.
Notes: Thanks to Gail for the invaluable beta. CNC is consensual non-consent, as in role-playing. I only learned that a couple of weeks ago. smh
This is set in the Mann of My Dreams universe and takes place after Mark and Quinn were married. I fudged the timeline a bit, and if I ever expand this I'll have to find another reason for Mark and Quinn to have to get up. ;-)
I regained consciousness in a surprisingly elegant room, which I studied through my lashes. I was too experienced to give any indication I was awake and aware. My arms were secured above my head, not a painful position, but not exactly the epitome of comfort. However, the bed I was lying on was so soft it almost swallowed me in its embrace.
“It’s good to see you’re with us once again, Mr. Bridger.”
Shit. I recognized that voice, even though I’d only heard it on surveillance tapes. “Double D,” I said coolly, hoping to throw the man off. Word in the intelligence community was he loathed that nickname.
He laughed softly. “Trying to get under my skin, Bridge?”
I ground my teeth. I hated that shortened form of my name. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised to find you here and not your sister.”
“She’ll be devastated to learn she was missed.”
I didn’t reply to that beyond the scoffing sound I made. They were known as the Deadly Duo, another reason for “Double D.” Her name was Dulcie Dylan—a sweet name for a poisonous bitch—and his was Dalton Dylan. God alone knew if those were their real names.
“No, seriously, Bryce, everyone enjoys being appreciated.”
I ignored that. “To what do I owe the honor, Dalton?”
“I thought it was time we met. We’ve been playing cat and mouse for too long.”
“So this is personal?” I closed my eyes to indicate my utter boredom with the situation.
“I like to think so.” He ran a hand up my thigh, and I jerked, the sudden knowledge that I was naked causing a heated flush to rise up over my body. How could I not have known something like that?
“You’re a sick bastard,” I snarled at him.
He just laughed again. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Bridge. You’re so… feisty.”
“Son of a bitch.” I tugged futilely at the cuffs fastening my wrists to what I now discovered was the headboard of the oh-so-comfortable bed.
“Now, now. You don’t want to hurt those elegant wrists of yours, do you?”
“What do you care?”
“Ah, Bridge, I’m cut to the quick you’d think I wanted you to injure yourself.”
“Then what do you want?”
“A taste of that delectable ass of yours.”
“I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to be. All you have to do is lie there and think of the CBI while I fuck you.”
The agency I worked for—the Central Bureau of Intelligence.
“No.” I turned my head to glare at him.
“Oh, Mr. Bridger, you’re hardly in a position to deny me.” He came close enough to the bed so I could finally see him. His twin sister was lovely, but he… in spite of what I’d said, my mouth began to water. He stood about six foot three—his sister wasn’t much shorter, although she could appear delicate. No one knew the color of her eyes, not even the Organization for National Security, the agency for which she worked. She wore her golden-brown hair in long waves down her back. Dalton’s mass of curls, on the other hand, was the dark brown of a mink’s pelt, while his eyes were a gold-tinged hazel. My gaze was drawn to his chest as his casually began to unbutton the white shirt he wore, and now my mouth went dry as the light dusting of hair that covered his torso was slowly revealed.
“You son of a bitch.”
“You’re repeating yourself, and it’s becoming tiresome.”
“This is rape.”
“Hardly.”
“I said no.”
“Now, perhaps, but soon you’ll be begging me.”
“It will still be coercion.”
He leaned forward and caught my chin in his long fingers. “But you’ll enjoy it.”
“I—” Whatever else I planned to say was cut off by his lips.
****
“You okay, Quinn?” Mark asked as he removed the cuffs from my wrists and rubbed them before planting kisses on my pulse points.
“I’m fine.” I cradled his cheek, then stretched luxuriously. The cuffs were so well-padded they hadn’t even left a mark. “That was fun.” We didn’t often get into role-playing—we’d had to do it too often in our work for the CIA and the WBIS, although never honeymoon work—but this really had been fun.
“Especially since I didn’t have to be the woman,” he groused.
I couldn’t help laughing. It always left my husband disgruntled that I’d written the character that was supposed to represent him as a woman. My publisher would never have accepted Mind Games otherwise.
Little did they know that I planned to introduce Dulcie Dylan’s brother in my next book, Bridger’s Law. The nameless character had been mentioned in a flashback in the first book, but now I’d given him a name, and although my publisher was unaware at this point, Dalton would eventually become Bryce Bridger’s love interest.
Mark rolled me onto my side and curled around me. “Do we have time for this?” I asked. Andrea, our nanny, would be bringing the twins home from the park soon
“I suppose not,” he agreed reluctantly. He dropped a kiss to the back of my neck, but he didn’t let me go.
It was okay. Our bedroom door was locked, but even so, unless there was a fire or someone was bleeding, the entire household knew not to try to open it if it was closed. I pulled his arm tighter around me, and sighed happily.
Life was good.
Notes: Thanks to Gail for the invaluable beta. CNC is consensual non-consent, as in role-playing. I only learned that a couple of weeks ago. smh
This is set in the Mann of My Dreams universe and takes place after Mark and Quinn were married. I fudged the timeline a bit, and if I ever expand this I'll have to find another reason for Mark and Quinn to have to get up. ;-)
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