Immoral

by Nicole Dykes

  Grady tells them he’s happy to be back home and flashes a peace sign before climbing in the passenger side. I see them rushing to get back in their cars and follow us as I drive leisurely back to my house. I have a gate that keeps everyone out and far from the front door of my house so I’m not really worried.

  My house is public record. They already know where I live.

  “A fucking peace sign? Really?”

  He chuckles, and it’s good to hear. “Fuck off. I’m supposed to be more family-friendly these days.”

  “And why is that?” I know Victoria, the woman he’s supposedly dating is on a family show, but he’s a rockstar. Does anyone really expect him to be a good boy?

  He shrugs, and his expression darkens. “I do what the label tells me to do.”

  I recognize that anguish, doing what you have to for everyone else. But I don’t commiserate with him out loud. There’s no point.

  We both know we’re both stuck in our own hell, although he plays it off a hell of a lot better.

  I need to get my shit together.

  I know that. I’m fucking losing it.

  After coffee, Ry headed downstairs to his home gym to work out, and I went for a swim, hoping to release some of my tension. This isn’t me.

  Tense. Angry. Brooding. Jealous.

  None of those things describe me.

  But I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Seeing that fucker grin and wink at Ryan at the coffee shop and Ry actually fucking flirting back? Yeah, that shit set me off.

  Because maybe I’m not his fucking type. Maybe that bullshit about a bigger, more solid guy was all bullshit. Justin was thin with a hint of muscle but nowhere near my build. And not even close to Ryan’s.

  And then, Justin’s little shot at me getting plain coffee. Like I’m just a boring straight guy? Fuck him.

  I pull myself out of the pool and dry off, wrapping the towel around my shoulders and walk inside.

  Waylon said to be sure. Well, I’m fucking sure. I don’t want Ryan fucking any baristas. Or managers. Or anyone else. That thought alone makes my stomach turn and my heart clench tightly in my chest.

  But I need to be confident.

  Something I’ve never had a hard time with before.

  I walk into the gym and see Ry, stopping short at the entrance and in a fucking trance as I watch him lift weights, cultivating every single muscle on his body. He’s only wearing a pair of black shorts.

  His skin is glistening with sweat, and I can see he has earbuds in so I take this moment to watch him. He lifts a weight, curling it and making every muscle in his arm and shoulders flex. His abs are fucking shredded and ripple with each movement.

  I’ve been able to admit when a man is good-looking before, but none of them have ever made my mouth fucking water. Ry though, holy fuck. I’m stunned stupid by each bicep curl as he slowly lifts the heavy weight up and then down.

  He’s beautiful.

  Everything about him is fucking beautiful. And I have no idea what it means for my sexuality, but I don’t care. I know I’m attracted to him, and I’m not afraid to explore that.

  “Ry.” He doesn’t hear me, but he places the weights down and then turns, startling when he sees me.

  “Fuck.” He rips his earbuds out. “What are you doing in here?”

  “What?” I stride into the gym. “I’m not allowed to use your fancy gym?”

  He’s still in a pissy mood from earlier, which I expected. “I told you my house is your house.”

  “Right.” I walk closer to him, ignoring his obvious apprehension at my close proximity. “You look good.”

  I watch in awe as his throat flexes. He swallows tightly, and I can see the nerves there. “Grady . . .”

  I hold up a hand, halting his words. “I was fucking jealous today.”

  “Don’t—”

  I cut him off. Confidence is sexy. “I was. I hated seeing that guy flirting openly with you. I fucking hated it. Hell, I think I was jealous of both Bennett and Waylon the other day.”

  His blue eyes search mine, and he swallows again. “Bennett is straight.”

  I grin. “You thought I was too.”

  He looks at me, confused and gnawing on his pink bottom lip. “Thought? Jesus, you’re out now?”

  I grin, bringing my hand up to cup the back of his sweaty neck. I don’t care. “Sure.”

  “Grady,” he warns, shaking his head but not pulling away, “I can’t be an—”

  I stop him, “An experiment. I know. I don’t experiment, though, and you fucking know that about me. I jump in. Headfirst. I fucking explore.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Right. That’s the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” I argue. “Exploring is knowing that I fucking want this.” I tug him closer to me, using my hold on his neck. “And diving into it. It’s an adventure, Ry.”

  “One that ends. An experience you can say you had.”

  He sounds bitter, and I don’t like it. “No. If you’ll remember, I was more than happy to go exploring both fucking times. You’re the one who ran away like a little bitch.”

  He shoves me back, forcing me to release him. “Don’t call me a bitch.”

  I quickly recover and close the gap between us. “Don’t be one.” I thread my fingers through his damp hair. “I don’t know where this is going or what it will lead to. That’s fucking life. I had no idea what signing with the label would lead to either. Or agreeing to sing at the World Series, but I fucking did it. I went on the adventure.”

  He looks lost, and I fucking hate it. Pulling him closer to me, I drop the towel from around my neck to the floor and rest my other hand on his hip, relishing the cut, hard muscle there. “I’m sweaty.”

  “I don’t fucking care.” I grin. “I’m not a chick.”

  “Neither am I.” His lip curls up in a challenge, and I smile, seeing a hint of my best friend there. Not lost in bitterness. Definitely in his head but relaxing with me ever so slightly.

  “I. Know.” I bring my lips to his, smashing them together in a heated, hungry kiss that, thank fuck, he returns. He doesn’t fight me or push me away.

  Instead, his hands move to my ass, and he pulls me flush against him, and I feel his cock against mine through my trunks and his shorts, eliciting a hearty moan from me.

  I want this. I want all of this with him.

  “Grady . . .” He’s breathless as he speaks against my lips.

  “Ry. I’m not going to hurt you.” My heart actually aches, thinking about when he left. Thinking about last night when he pushed me away. I want to ask him not to hurt me either, but I don’t know if he can promise that. I know Ry.

  “Are you sure about this? I mean really sure?”

  I smile against his lips, my hand roaming over his taut back, loving how the muscles ripple with each touch. Who knew I was into muscles? “Yes. I’m sure. I’m sure about you, Ry. The other shit we can figure out.”

  “Like me having a dick?”

  I laugh but thrust my hips forward, sliding my erection against his and moaning at the sensation. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  “What about everything else?” I’m sure he means our careers and that we’re both in the public eye. And my dad being a fucking bigot and a preacher. And so on. But I don’t care. I just use my hold on his hair to tug his head back and look into his eyes.

  “There’s nothing else. Just you and me. That’s it, and that’s all that fucking matters.” His throat is pulled tight, and I lean down, licking the corded muscle of his neck and groaning from the salty taste of his skin. “You and me, Ry.”

  “Bell and Bailey.” His voice is thick with lust, and I nod, nipping at his jaw before diving back into a heated kiss.

  “Bailey and Bell.”

  His tongue sweeps over mine as he takes control, owning my mouth. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life. My hands slide down his back, pulling him tighter against me as I dip down into h
is shorts and grasp his tight ass.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he gasps into my mouth but doesn’t offer reprieve, kissing me again.

  I smile into the kiss, wanting more. So much more, I push his shorts down without a second thought. I pull away from his lips as my forehead rests against his, and I look down, happy to see he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His thick cock juts out and sticks straight up in greeting. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Regrets?”

  “Hell, no.” My hand moves to his long, hard shaft as I run my thumb over the glistening tip.

  “Yes,” he gasps as his hips buck forward, and I encircle his cock and kiss him again as he thrusts into my fist.

  “Fuck, Grady.” I love how breathless he is, how out of control as he looks between us and growls, “Show me.”

  My heart beats rapidly in my chest, my eyes not leaving his ripped abs as I release him momentarily and shove my trunks down.

  “Fuck,” he breathes and reaches out, taking me in his hand. “Fuck, Grady.” His eyes lift to meet mine. “Is this really happening?”

  I nod, not really sure what happens next but knowing I fucking want it. “Yes.” I cup the back of his head and kiss his lips. “Yes.” Kissing him deeper, I reach for his cock again, marveling in the difference.

  I’ve only held my own cock before, but the feeling of his in my hand as I give him pleasure . . . That’s fucking indescribable.

  And I’m lost in his touch as he jerks me slowly while we kiss. I groan loudly and jut my hips forward angrily when he unexpectedly releases me. “No.”

  He merely smiles, bringing his hand up to his mouth and dragging his tongue over his hand, soaking it in spit before moving back to my dick. The slick feeling only adds to the euphoria as he whispers, “Nothing worse than a dry hand job.”

  I chuckle and then do the same, but before I know it, he’s pushed my hand away, moving us so my back is against the wall and wrapping his hand around both of our solid lengths. “Holy. Fuck.”

  He grins as he kisses me, and we both thrust into his large hand. “I know. It would be better with lube.”

  “Next time.” I look down between us, marveling at our cocks moving together. I’m slightly longer, but he has more girth. Holy. Fuck.

  “Oh God, Ry.” My balls draw up tight, and I know I’m close to blowing my load. A tingling feeling runs down my spine, and all I feel is pleasure.

  “Come with me, Grady.”

  That’s all I need to hear before ropes of cum spurt between us, his hand and our cocks are covered, and it seems to be all he needs before he throws his head back with a hoarse cry, his release joining mine.

  “Holy fucking shit.” I look at him. “It’s never felt like that. Never.”

  He grins. It’s weary, but it’s real. “Just wait.”

  I pull him in for another mind-bending kiss. “I can’t fucking wait.”

  And I can’t. Whatever this is, I’m all in.

  Oh. Fuck.

  So much for being strong.

  I know, without a doubt, I’m going to regret this, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care. For so goddamn long, I’ve followed all the rules. The only times I’ve given in, I made damn sure to do it quietly, use NDAs, and never see them again.

  But with Grady . . . that’s not going to happen.

  The stubborn fucker isn’t going anywhere, and I’m glad.

  “We’re sticky,” I say dumbly as my fingers trace the lines of his abs. They’re hard and defined but not obsessively so. I love the feeling of his skin under my fingers.

  His flesh against mine.

  But I’m terrified to love it, to love this feeling and get lost in it.

  I’m afraid to move. I don’t want this to end. I’m worried he’s going to look at me and say “That was fun and all, but I’m definitely into chicks.”

  Thankfully, Grady, being Grady, doesn’t let me get too lost in my own toxic thoughts, and instead, his hands grip the sides of my face, and he forces me to look him in the eyes. “Then, we should shower.”

  I nod numbly as he kicks off his swim trunks, and I do the same with my shorts before he takes my hand and leads me to the master bath. He whistles when he sees the large bathroom with marble tile, a jacuzzi tub, and a shower big enough for five. Not that I’ve ever had anyone in here.

  Showering with someone always seems too intimate to me, for some reason.

  “Together?” I look at him, and he just shakes his head at me before walking to the shower, climbing in, and turning the water on.

  “Get your ass in here, Bailey.” he shouts, and I follow with a stupid fucking grin on my face. “He smiles,” Grady says as I walk into the shower and close the glass door.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  He chuckles at that, letting the water run over his toned body. “Yeah, if I did that, I wouldn’t be me, now, would I?”

  “No. You wouldn’t.” I walk under the other showerhead and let the water spray over my face, not caring that my naked ass is on display. I think we’re past that point.

  I gasp, actually let a fucking gasp escape my mouth, when his strong arms wrap around me from behind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I close my eyes, letting the water run over my face as I try to chase away every insecurity threatening to come in and destroy this feeling. “Grady . . .” My voice sounds strangled and vulnerable, but I can’t change it.

  Not with him.

  He turns me around, letting his hands rest on my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “How is this so easy for you?”

  “Easy?”

  I nod, looking into those fucking evergreen eyes that haunt me day and night. “Yeah. You decide to start fucking around with a guy, and that’s just it? You flip a switch, and you’re fucking hard for a guy?”

  I’m being an asshole. I know that’s not how this shit works, but he makes everything seem effortless. After my first time with a guy, I was paranoid as fuck for a year that he would tell his cousin about what happened. Or anyone. Hell, sometimes that fear creeps up out of nowhere even still.

  Today at the coffee shop when he was shouting loudly, I was sweating, just knowing someone would pick up on the fact that we’d kissed the night before.

  Rational?

  Hell no.

  Real?

  Yeah.

  I’m afraid all the fucking time. I say I don’t care if I’m outed, that if it happens, it happens. But could I really handle it? Would I be okay? Seeing that disappointed look on my dad’s face. Seeing my fans’ disappointment that the man they worship just so happens to fuck men.

  It shouldn’t matter. I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, but bile sneaks up my throat thinking about facing it all.

  It’s crippling.

  “Talk to me.” Grady leans his forehead against mine in his signature move as water slides down my back.

  I shake my head, but he doesn’t relent. His hand moves over my heart that’s thundering in my chest.

  “I’m hard for one fucking guy. One.”

  “Grady.” I look into his eyes, lifting my head. “I . . .”

  “I know. You’re scared.”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  He smiles, his lips brushing over mine. “Because of this.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “And this.” He moves down my neck. “Definitely this.” Then, his mouth presses a kiss over my heart where his hand was.

  “How is this so easy for you? Really, Grady?”

  “It’s not easy. It’s going to be a real pain in the ass. I know that. I’m not delusional.” He lifts back up and looks at me with so much candor. “But I go after what I want.”

  He wants me.

  I can see it.

  But for how long?

  I can’t bring myself to ask the question. I’m not ready for the answer. Not yet. I kiss his lips, grabbing the back of his neck and holding him there.

  Right now—for once—I’m just going to live in the moment.


  “Be honest with me.” I turn my head and look at Ry. He’s laying flat on his back on his bed, and I’m right next to him.

  After our shower, we dried off but didn’t bother putting on any clothes before lying down.

  “I’m always honest with you.” I brush my thumb over his cheek, taking him in. His jaw is as carved as the rest of him, but he has several days growth covering it now. His eyes are bright blue at the moment, although they definitely change with his mood, and his lips are puffy and pink. They might be my favorite thing.

  “Grady. I’m serious. Are you really not freaking out right now?”

  I sigh and drop my hand to my side, rolling to look up at the ceiling. “Fine. You know all the shit my father used to preach and how we would always laugh at him?”

  He cringes, and rolls to his side when my head lolls to the side to look at him. “All that ‘God hates gays’ shit?”

  I nod, my jaw clenching tight. “I never believed it. Not for a second. But . . .”

  He eyes me cautiously, tucking his hand under his head and propping up on his elbow. I’m fascinated by the muscles of his bicep pulling tight and drag my finger over his skin absently. “But what?”

  “I tried my best to piss him off. Always. Smoking. Drinking. Staying out late. Skipping church.”

  “I remember.” His lips pull up in a sexy smile.

  “Yeah.” I notice a tattoo on his right pec and let my fingers trail over the colorful art. “But I think in the back of my mind, I always knew . . .” I swallow tightly, not really proud of myself. “Kissing a guy would be the final straw with him.”

  He winces, and I flatten my hand over his heart. “So, when we kissed . . .?” He waits for me to fill in the blank.

  “I wanted it. One hundred percent, Ry. But . . .” I sigh and roll to my side to face him., “Maybe the next day . . .” I shake my head. “Maybe I would have freaked out too. Knowing it would really set my father off.”

  He doesn’t look as pissed-off at my admission as I thought he’d be. Instead, his large hand moves to my face, and a look of understanding crosses his. “I was afraid of that. I remember the shit he’d say in church and when his congregation wasn’t around. I know what was pounded into your head day after day. Hell, my own parents thought the same shit.”