by Nicole Dykes
“Touch me.”
I grab the lube and spread it over his cock that’s already leaking at the tip and jerk him in tandem with each thrust into his ass. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.” I shift my hips, hitting him deep and making him curse. “Holy shit. Yes. Right fucking there, Grady.”
His voice, the strangled cries are sending me over the edge and fast. “Come, Ry. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“I’m right fucking there. Don’t hold back.”
I pound into him over and over again, not wanting the moment to end but needing to come more than I need to breathe. “Oh, God. I’m gonna come.” When I feel a hot burst of cum over my hand, I finally let myself go, losing my mind when I hear him moan, “Yes, Grady. Come in my ass.” I fucking lose it, coming hard into the condom, hating that there’s a barrier between us.
“Holy fuck.” We’re a sweaty sticky mess, but I’m not moving off him. My lips meet his as we kiss, and my fingers slide through his hair. “Do you really want that?”
“Want what?” he asks breathlessly.
“Me to come inside of you?” His ass clenches around my softening cock, and damn if my body doesn’t want to fucking rally.
“Yeah, I fucking want that. When was the last time you were tested?”
I think about it. “It’s been a few months.”
“Me too. I always use condoms, but just in case, we should go get tested. I know a discreet place.”
I nod in agreement. “I’ve always used condoms too.” I lean down and kiss him. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you bare.”
“You did alright for your first time, rockstar.”
I roll my eyes, and then he rolls our bodies over so he’s on top of me. “Please, I blew your fucking mind.”
He laughs easily at that, leaving a peck on my mouth. “You did. You really fucking did. But how is it that you haven’t ever done anal?”
I shrug, feeling slightly insecure, but this is Ry. “Every single hookup has been a blur. Only about the easiest, fastest way to get off. I haven’t put in the work for any kind of trust and barely even remember names.”
Again, my cheeks are blazing red, but he doesn’t look disgusted. “I get that. Believe me. It’s why I haven’t bottomed for a long, long time. I haven’t wanted to put in the work to get to the trust part.”
Pride and happiness shoots through me because even though we’ve both hooked up with people before, this is the first time we’ve felt a true connection.
And I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone other than my Bailey.
“Do we really have to do this?” I laugh at Grady’s whining about The Tonight Show appearance, but I don’t blame him. Even though my ass is still sore from last night, I want nothing more than to drag him back to bed.
“Yes. It’ll help.” I grab his hips and pull him to me. “You raise my price tag, remember?”
He laughs at that, easy and calm. His grin is something I can get lost in. “Well, I suppose this goes to our retirement plan then?”
I swallow, looking into his eyes, trying to see if he’s fucking with me. But I only see honesty. “Retirement?”
“Yeah.” His lips brush over mine. “When I’m a washed-up rockstar and your body has had enough of playing . . . We’ll travel. Maybe move to an island.”
I grin. “You can’t swim.” The fucker sinks like a rock in water.
“Guess it will be an island we never leave.”
I laugh but release his hips when I hear Jenny’s voice coming from the living room. We’re still in my room after a shower we shared, but we’re both dressed and ready now.
“Fuck, Medusa is here.” I shake my head at yet another nickname Grady has for her.
“Not original.”
He flips me off, and we walk into my living room where a camera crew has a setup going for the live interview, and Jenny and Waylon are busy directing them. “Fucking finally.” Jenny is her usual self as she walks over to us in a sleek, black designer skirt and crisp white shirt.
“Sorry. Had to make ourselves pretty,” I say, and Grady is right by my side.
“They’re ready for you two. Don’t fuck this up.”
“We’d never mess with your paycheck, Jen-nay.” I turn to Grady, shaking my head at his Forrest Gump impression, but I can’t help smiling.
She flips him off and walks back over to the camera crew, obsessive over every single angle.
“She really hates you.”
Grady shrugs his large shoulders, tossing me a wicked grin. “But you don’t.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
His smile only widens. “In fact, you kind of fucking love me.”
I can’t argue with it, but I’m not sure what sense he means when he uses the word “love.” Like a friend? Or so much fucking more? Because my mind and heart are starting to lean toward the latter. Or maybe they were already there, and it’s too much for right now.
“Okay, you two are going to have to get this under control.” I startle at the sound of Waylon’s voice behind us. He’s quiet, but when he stands between us and eyes us both, a cold, worried shiver slides through me.
“Get what under control?” Grady asks, looking behind us at Jenny, who thankfully is preoccupied.
“This . . .” He keeps his voice low as he waves between Grady and me. “The obvious flirting.”
“We aren’t flirting,” I object quickly. Maybe too quickly because Waylon pins me with a knowing look.
“You are. You’re both standing here like you want to devour the fuck out of each other. Like you’ve definitely seen the other one’s face when they come.”
Grady nudges him. “Hey, shut it.”
Waylon isn’t bothered by the nervous edge in Grady’s tone and shrugs. “It’s hot. I’m not going to lie, and some people may think it’s just this bromance bullshit Jenny is trying to sell. But I’m telling you . . . some people will definitely pick up on it.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I look at Grady. “Did you tell him?”
Grady looks slightly guilty. “Not exactly.”
“Look, trust me.” Waylon steals my attention. “Your secret is totally safe with me, but you guys have to tone down the bedroom eyes.”
“They aren’t bedroom eyes,” Grady tries to argue.
“Bullshit.” He turns to Grady. “Having said all that, though, I so want details later.” He winks at me as he walks away, and I stare at Grady wide-eyed and freaked the fuck out.
“I didn’t tell him about last night.” His eyes plead with me to listen, but he doesn’t touch me or move closer. “I promise. And I’m not going to.”
“It’s fine. You guys are friends.” I feel numb and I fucking hate it. I was on a high earlier today, but maybe Waylon is right. How the hell are we going to hide the fact that we’re fucking?
“Ry, listen to me.” I look into his eyes. “It’s going to be fine. I promise. Everyone is just going to see what we want them to.”
“This was a stupid idea.”
“An idea pushed by your agent.” He has to point it out, but Jenny doesn’t have the facts, unlike Waylon apparently.
“And your manager was fine with it.”
“Because he knows we’re professionals.” He punches me in the shoulder, and I glare at him.
“What the fuck?”
“Just being bros.” He laughs, and I flip him off because his bony ass knuckles probably left a bruise. “Come on.”
I roll my eyes but follow him to the couch. My nerves hit me hard, but I try my best to get it all under control. When it’s all set up and we go live, it’s Grady who instantly goes into performance mode.
He smiles pretty for the camera and answers most of the questions which consist of easy ones like when we met and what we were like growing up. He easily sells the whole idea that we’re childhood friends who played sports together and went out on double dates, which is pretty much true.
He left out the part where I watched him like a fucking creeper on those d
ates, wishing like hell he was holding my hand and not whatever chick he was on the date with.
It’s apparent that I’ve been too quiet by the death glare Jenny is giving me, and I straighten when the host directs his question right at me. “So, are you happy to have your buddy back, Ryan? I mean, this has to be the greatest time in your life. Best friend back in town and winning the World Series?”
Is that really a question? My hands feel clammy, but I manage a nod. “Yeah. It’s umm . . .” I look at Grady, who’s trying like hell not to laugh at me and then back at the camera. “It really is the best time of my life. I’m just living on the high.” I know they need a soundbite for their articles later.
The host lights up and nods, and I know he’s thanking me for finally not being such a lame interviewee. “And what about you, Grady? What’s next? Are you staying in KC for a bit?”
My stomach drops. Three weeks. Less than that now. That’s all we really have. “For a couple of weeks, but then I start my US tour.”
The audience cheers. “That’s right. How long is that tour? And is it all of the US or are you just going to the cool parts?”
Grady easily chuckles at that, playing the game. “It’s all over the US, and I think it’s six months.”
Six. Months. Motherfucker.
I’m sure I look sick, and I can feel the daggers Jenny’s eyes are shooting at me, but I don’t give a fuck. Six months? By then, I’ll be back on the rigorous baseball schedule.
“Yeah, but then after that, who knows? Maybe I’ll take a break for a bit.”
He looks over at me briefly as the audience boos at the thought of him not being on tour where they can get a chance of seeing him. He raises his hands in mock surrender with a laugh only I know is forced.
“Well, hell. Maybe not.”
The host does his job and laughs along. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re going to let you off that easy.” The late night host looks to his audience. “But that’s just because you love Immoral, right, guys?”
They hoot and holler, but I’m close to a breakdown. The host wraps it up, letting us go, and the camera crew cleans up, leaving my house the way they found it. But I can’t shake the sick feeling, and I know Grady is feeling it too.
Unfortunately, a talk about it is going to have to wait because Waylon and Jenny—who have somehow become fast friends—have decided to order a late lunch/early dinner for us all.
Fuck, can’t a man just be alone to wallow in self-pity for a bit?
“Okay, that was fun and all, but I have a plane to catch.” Jenny pushes her plate away from her and leans back in the chair where we’re all sitting out on Ry’s patio.
The fucked-up thing is, it was actually a fun meal. Jenny’s not so bad when she slightly relaxes. And Waylon really seems to have taken a liking to her.
“I’ll walk you out,” Ry says as he stands up, tossing his napkin on the table. He, however, has been stiff and distant ever since the interview. I know what’s bugging him. It’s not hard to understand his freak-out because I’m freaking out about the same damn thing.
Six month tour.
Six months without Ry. Without being in his bed. Without kissing him. Without . . .
I try to stop my train of thought, considering Waylon is already eyeing me as he chugs his wine and pours some more. Guess he’s taking an Uber back to his hotel tonight. “Out with it.”
“Out with what?” I play coy, taking another drink.
“You two went for it, huh? You gonna give me all the dirty details?”
He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I toss my napkin at him. “Fuck off.”
He laughs. “Clearly, you did it wrong, though, because your boy is awfully tense.”
“Yeah. Well, you didn’t help with your bullshit before the interview. What the fuck, Waylon?”
“Hey.” He holds up his hands defensively. “I’m your manager first and foremost, and it was obvious to me that you’ve fucked. Just looking out for you.”
I know he was, but it still sucked. “Well, you freaked him the hell out.”
He studies me for a moment, and I hate when he does this. Waylon knows me pretty well. “You’re really totally fine with all this, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
“Pretty sure it would be for most ‘straight’ people.”
I shrug my shoulders and lean back into my chair. “Maybe I was never totally straight. Or maybe I truly don’t give a fuck.” My eyes move toward the glass door that leads into Ryan’s house, and I see no sign of Ry. I turn back to Waylon. “Maybe it’s just him. And always has been.”
He clutches his heart, being an asshole. “That is the cutest thing.”
“Fuck. Off.” But I’m smiling.
He laughs. “Is he on board with this thought?”
He seemed pretty on board last night when my cock was in his ass, but I don’t say that out loud. “I’m pretty sure.”
A crease forms on his otherwise wrinkle-free forehead. “Pretty sure is not okay. You need to both be sure sure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? He’s gay.”
“He may be gay, but he’s not out. And he’s an athlete.” This is nothing new to me, but Waylon continues, “Trust me on this, nothing hurts more than thinking someone loves you and you’re on the same page, only to find out you weren’t. Not at all.”
That’s cryptic as fuck. Especially for Waylon. “What the hell does that mean?”
He sighs heavily and looks out at the pool. “It means, you need to talk. Find out what you both want from this. Your world . . . if you guys are outed somehow, we could probably work around it. But his?” He shakes his head. “Trust me. His world is different.”
“Pretty sure my label would freak the fuck out.”
He chuckles at that and finishes off another drink. “No doubt. Please be careful, but still, I could spin it.”
“We aren’t planning anything. We’re just . . .”
“Winging it? Playing it the Grady Bell way?”
Well fuck, that’s creepy. “Were you watching us last night?”
He stands up from his seat, a little wobbly. “I wouldn’t object to watching. But no. I just know you. Act first, think later. You can’t do that.”
I know he’s right, but today has really fucked with my head enough already. “I know I want Ry. And I’ll take him however I can get him.”
That brings a surprised smile to his face. “Good. Be happy. Do your thing, and I’ll run interference. But if you two decide to come out, please run it by me first.”
“Promise.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Time for me to go.”
He starts to leave, but I have to ask. “Hey, Waylon?”
He turns toward me. “Yeah?”
“Did someone hurt you?”
He laughs, but it’s sad and distant. “It was a long time ago. You know me.” He forces a smile. “I always bounce back.”
With that, he turns toward the door and heads inside to call his Uber. I want to know more because he’s really the best friend I’ve had lately, but I don’t want to pry. I saw the pain in his eyes. Clearly, he’s been hurt by someone. Maybe someone he thought would come out for him and didn’t. Nothing stings worse than betrayal.
I drag my hand over my jaw, feeling shaken and unsettled by the day.
Ryan and I definitely need to talk.
“So, it’s officially over with Vicky.” I look up at the sound of Grady’s voice. He’s freshly showered and wearing only a pair of gray sweats that makes my fucking mouth water.
I’m drained after today. Jenny wasn’t thrilled with my interview performance, but she doesn’t seem to suspect that Grady and I are anything other than good friends. Thank fuck because I don’t think I can take much more right now.
All I want to do is turn my mind off and get lost in Grady for the next three weeks. But I can’t stop thinking about what happens after that. He’s leaving fo
r six months. Then, if I’m lucky enough to get a contract, I’ll be on a crazy-ass traveling schedule myself after that.
I break through my thoughts to ask. “Oh, yeah?”
He sits next to me on my bed. “Yeah.” He hands me his phone, and I see the headline immediately which states that Vicky is now dating a redhead who works at her local gym.
A female redhead. I look at him in surprise. “She’s a lesbian?”
He nods. “Officially, she didn’t know until she met this woman. But unofficially, she’s always known, and her show wasn’t cool with it.”
Motherfucker. This world just keeps getting better and better.
“That’s why you dated her?”
He nods, putting his phone down and leaning back against my headboard. “They needed to clean up my image a bit, and Vicky . . . Well, the show thought she needed a boyfriend because people were getting suspicious.”
“Suspicious that she was a lesbian?”
“I guess. I don’t fucking know. I knew who she was even if I wasn’t a fan of her show. Waylon approached me about a date with her. And before I knew it, we were in a fake relationship.”
“So, how are you being portrayed in this whole thing?” Everything is fucking fake. I know that now. Without a doubt, his role in this is being spun by someone behind the scenes.
Puppets are all we are.
“The understanding ex who loved her but wants her to be happy. Happy she found her truth.” His tone sounds as unhuman and dead as I’ve ever heard it.
I roll my eyes. “People will, no doubt, eat that shit up.”
“Yeah, I can already hear the ‘he really has changed’ and ‘aw, he’s such a good man’ commentary. His tone is bitter, and I can see how much he hates all this.
My hand smooths over his cheek as I turn to face him, my body angling toward his. “It’s okay, Grady. At least she’s free.”
“I’m a fucking fraud.”
I search his eyes and see how he, too, is drained from today. He’s feeling it, and I kiss him softly, wanting to remind him we’re in this together, even if I’m not sure for how long. He kisses me back, pushing my body back and moving his over me.
