Ian Nicholson settled back against his chair inside the FPA conference room. He didn’t mind the mandatory meetings. It was a legitimate excuse to bring them all together, and Ian liked spending time with the other agents. They were his family. Scanning the room, Ian looked at the other guys. There had been quite a few changes recently—new faces joining their ranks, agents finding their mates and an overwhelming number of violent cases.
“This case is top secret.” Abram started the meeting, placing his hand on top of a manila folder. “I was contacted by Senator Grom. If the name sounds familiar, it should. The senator has always been an advocate for paranormals. He’s asking for our assistance in this case. It involves the kidnapping of a VIP.” Kidnapping? “The victim is Winston Grom, his son. Whoever takes the lead on this case is scheduled to meet with the senator this afternoon.”
“I’ll take it,” Ian volunteered before anyone else said a word.
He wasn’t sure what possessed him to speak up, but something in his gut told him that this particular case would be life changing.
Abram slid the folder across the shiny table, and Ian grabbed it. Confidential was stamped in red across the front. He was tempted to open it, curious to see the details of the case, but decided against it. There would be plenty of time later.
“Travel for this one is required,” Abram told him. “You’ll be going into hostile territory. You’ll need backup. Dylan…Max…I want you both to clear your calendars for the next couple of weeks.”
“Yes, sir,” they said simultaneously.
“Good.” Abram nodded. “You’re excused.”
Ian pushed his chair back and stood. He made a quick exit as Abram continued talking, going through the other assignments.
Holding the manila folder in a tight grip, Ian walked down the hallway with Dylan Aldian and Max Lumeria at his heels.
He knew he was supposed to meet with Senator Grom, but Ian wanted to familiarize himself with the case beforehand. He didn’t want to show up at an important meeting unprepared. This mission was serious. The fact that the victim was considered a VIP was irrelevant. Every case Ian worked mattered, and all the victims were important. When he reached the elevators, Ian pressed the call button.
“Are you heading to the meeting with the senator?” Max asked, stopping beside him.
“Not yet.” Ian shook his head. “I’d like to go over the case first.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dylan said. “Once we know where we’re going, we can start prepping for our trip.”
“Abram mentioned something about hostile territory. Where do you think we’re going?” Max asked.
“There are a lot of places deemed hostile according to the government,” Dylan said. “Unofficial missions happen all the time, all over the world, military personnel trying to eliminate extremist groups and terrorists. If our guy is military or special forces, he could be anywhere. And I’m sure the government is pretending that they don’t know anything, which is why we were called in. We could be heading anywhere—Lebanon, Iraq, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Syria, North Korea, Ukraine…” Dylan went on and on, listing country after country as the three of them stepped into the elevator.
Ian pressed the button leading to their building. A red light flashed as his fingerprint was read. When the light turned blue, the elevator closed. He stood in front of the camera, and a light beam projected from the device, performing a retinal scan. When he passed the security requirements, the elevator started moving rapidly, gliding toward their building parallel with the subway.
The doors opened in the underground parking garage, below their building on Leonard Street. Ian strode across the cement structure toward another bank of elevators that would lead to his home on the forty-seventh floor.
“Do you have any snacks at your place?” Max asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Anything you can find, you can have,” Ian simply said.
“Thanks, man.” Max bumped his shoulder into Ian’s, a big smile on his face.
As soon as they reached Ian’s place, Max stepped in front of him, making his way toward the kitchen. Ian followed behind him. Sitting down at the table, Ian flipped the folder open. He ran his eyes over the report, learning a bit more about the victim. There wasn’t nearly enough information, but he assumed the senator would be providing him with more details.
“Who’s our VIP? Is he special forces?” Max asked as he opened the refrigerator door, searching for food.
“Winston Grom. Thirty-four years old. Doctor. He was working with Doctors Without Borders until they pulled out of Somalia a couple of years ago. He decided to stay behind in Baidoa.”
“Damn,” Dylan breathed out, leaning back in his chair. “Somalia can be extremely dangerous. Quite a few humanitarian groups pulled out of there a few years ago because of violent actions against the volunteers. I heard four people were executed, two were kidnapped, and the list goes on and on. The government doesn’t have control over their people. The man with the biggest gun wins.”
Ian teased Winston relentlessly, driving him closer and closer to climax, only to pull back at the last second. He played with his mate, driving the man crazy. Winston rolled his head side to side, nonsensical words spilling from his lips as he begged and pleaded to come. Ian refused. With one fist tightly wrapped around the base of Winston’s cock, Ian bobbed his head, applying suction.
“Oh God…I’m gonna…”
Pulling his mouth off Winston’s shaft, Ian flipped his mate over onto his hands and knees.
“Stay,” he ordered.
“Please…please fuck me.”
Winston was trembling, his entire body shaking with need.
Grinning, Ian spread Winston’s ass cheeks, and Ian stared down at the tight rosette begging for his attention. He leaned down and pressed his face into the crease of Winston’s ass. Ian lashed Winston’s hole with his tongue, coating the rosette in a thick layer of saliva. Winston’s muscles flexed, and his asshole fluttered.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Winston chanted, swiveling his hips.
Ian tightened his grip, holding Winston in place, refusing to allow Winston any movement. With his tongue, Ian circled Winston’s hole, writing out his name onto his mate’s ass.
I-A-N. I-A-N. I-A-N.
He alternated speeds, adding more stimulation. Ian put a finger into his mouth, getting it nice and wet before slowly penetrating Winston’s ass. Ian moved his digit in and out, stretching him nice and easy before adding another finger.
“Please…” Winston begged. “I need—”
“Lube.” Ian planted a kiss on each of Winston’s cheeks.
He jumped out of bed and started frantically searching for lube. Running to the other room, Ian ripped his duffel bag open, tearing the material to shreds in the process. He found the tube of lubricant among the mess he’d made and flicked the lid open. As he marched back to his mate, Ian coated his shaft.
Winston was in exactly the same position that Ian had left him in. His head pressed against the pillow, ass in the air. Growling in pleasure, Ian climbed back onto the bed. He coated Winston’s hole with the excess lube on his fingers before tossing the bottle to the floor. He ran his hands along Winston’s back, from his shoulders to his waist. Gripping Winston’s hip with his left hand, Ian wrapped his right hand around the base of his shaft. He watched as the head of his cock kissed Winston’s hole. Damn!
Ian applied some pressure, and the head of his cock slid past the tight ring of muscle, slowly sinking into his mate’s body. Ian held Winston’s hips in a tight grip, preventing any movement, even though Winston bucked, trying to push his hips back. When he was buried balls deep inside his mate, Ian paused.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “My mate.”
“Yes…yes…yours.” Winston moaned. “Fuck me!”
Ian looked down at where their bodies were connected. He pulled his hips backward, watching his cock pull free before slowly pushing forward, burying his length once more. He started a slow rhythm, building up speed. Each thrust was deeper, harder. With each drive of his hips, Ian felt his control slipping away. He moved faster, fucking his mate with long, deep strokes.
“Ah…ah…ah…” Winston cried out. “Ian…oh God…Ian…”
The cries of pleasure spurred Ian on. He ran his hands up Winston’s back and grabbed hold of his shoulders. Ian continued to thrust, deeper and deeper, driving his shaft in and out of Winston’s ass. Swiveling his hips, Ian drove his mate toward orgasm. The only sounds that could be heard were their combined breathing and skin slapping against skin.
“I need…” Winston panted. “I’m gonna…”
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
Winston shouted, crying out Ian’s name as his muscles tightened and his body jerked.
Leaning forward, Ian covered Winston’s sweat-slicked back. His teeth lengthened as he ran the sharp points along the fleshy part of Winston’s shoulder.
“Mark me,” he breathed out.
Biting down, Ian sank his teeth into his mate, claiming him. The taste of Winston on his tongue pushed Ian over the edge. His hips jerked forward…twice…before his muscles tensed. He came deep inside of Winston’s body, his spunk filling the man’s hole.
My soul. My mate. My love.
Ian could barely breathe. His heart felt full for the first time in his life, beating in harmony with Winston’s. It felt as though a piece of his soul had broken free and passed along to his mate. The connection he felt toward Winston was intense and indescribable. Licking the wound shut, Ian wrapped his arms around Winston’s waist, holding him in a tight embrace. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of Winston’s body, so instead of pulling away, Ian slowly lowered them both to their sides onto the bed.