by Roz Lee
“You take good care of yourself,” he said, admiring the firm skin and muscle beneath his hand.
“For an old guy?” Sean teased.
“You’re just a couple of years older than me.”
“In years, yeah, but I’m not the man I used to be.”
He trailed his hand lower to Sean’s left hip, his arm hovering above his engorged cock. “The hip injury?”
“Yeah. It’s better. I can play on most days.”
“I’m sorry.” He traced the scar that hadn’t been there five years ago. “I heard about it when it happened. You’re lucky you came back from it at all.”
“You’re killing me, Bentley. I said I wouldn’t push, but if you’re going to help me, could you get on with it? I promise to let you touch all you want…after.”
He stared at the massive appendage twitching with need, inches from his face. He’d never been close to a cock before. The reality of what he was going to do hit him square in the gut.
“Okay,” he breathed. “Cut me some slack, will you? I’ve never done this before.”
“Just open your goddamn mouth and put it in, for Christ sakes.”
Bent smiled at the tension in Sean’s voice, so different from the kitten pleas Ashley made when she needed to come. Knowing Sean’s powerful body was enslaved to him for even the next few minutes filled him with masculine satisfaction and pride. He closed his hand around the base then raised the head to his lips.
How does Ashley do it?
He flicked his tongue over the head. Sean bucked his hips.
“Fuckin’ asshole. Suck it. Now!”
Bent opened wide, taking in as much as he could.
Sean arched his back, forcing his cock farther toward the back of his throat. “Ahh, Christ almighty that feels so fuckin’ good.”
God, he tasted good, salty and like nothing he’d ever tasted before. Forced to breathe through his nose, he reveled in Sean’s clean scent, enhanced by the heat emanating off his body. It didn’t take long to figure out how to drive Sean crazy, he just remembered the things Ashley did to him that sucked his brains out through his dick then tried them himself.
With his fiancée, he was careful not to move too much, afraid being so much stronger than she was he might hurt her, but Sean had no such sensibilities. He bucked, arched, and gyrated to an almost non-stop litany of curses. At some point, he placed a hand on the back of Bent’s head and it remained there holding him in place, as if he had any intention of stopping now. No, controlling Sean by his dick was too much fun.
Bent shifted in order to use both hands. Sean raised his left knee allowing him better access to the goodies. Taking advantage of the new position, he cupped Sean’s balls in the palm of his hand then tugged hard.
“Shit!” Sean’s hips came off the bed.
Bent tugged his scrotum again, adding a not too gentle twist. He smiled inside as Sean tried to rip a chunk of his hair out. Sucking dick was more fun than he could have imagined. Like sex with Sean, it was rough, almost primal, yet there was an element of sweetness about the act that warmed him to the core. He knew how much trust it took to let a woman suck his dick, but to let another man? Yeah, that took some big balls.
Remembering another move Ashley was especially fond of, he dipped his middle finger lower to stroke the soft skin between Sean’s scrotum and his anus. A hissed insult to his parentage told him he’d found the right spot. He pressed hard.
Sean jerked Bent’s mouth free then rolled to a kneeling position.
“Fuck that, asshole,” Sean said. “On your knees.”
Power drained from his body, replaced by the surprising contentment of submission as he positioned himself in front of Sean, his shoulders to the mattress, his ass in the air.
“Show me your ass,” Sean commanded.
Bent spread his cheeks, exposing himself literally and figuratively to his lover. This was what he craved with Sean. No flowery words, just raw, elemental fucking.
Sean drove deep in one powerful thrust, then wrapping his arms around Bent’s waist, he lifted him so he sat on his thighs, his back to Sean’s chest.
“Jack yourself,” Sean said. “I want to see you come.” He pried Bent’s right hand from between them, bringing it to his mouth. Sean’s tongue swiped over Bent’s palm in a gesture so tender it made his heart ache. After moistening Bent’s palm, Sean placed a kiss in the center then guided it to his cock.
“I won’t last long, so you better work fast.”
Ashley never demanded. She was never crude. He loved her lady-like ways, but he loved Sean’s no bullshit language, too. He loved the way Sean ordered him around, the way he took charge, the way he didn’t hold anything back.
“It won’t break off,” he said when Bent slowed his pace. “Harder. Faster.”
Bent jacked himself, his hand sliding along his length while the other held his ass open for Sean. He was still a little sore from the last time, but after the pain of the initial penetration, he was able to enjoy the fullness, the push and pull of the cock reaming him.
“Harder,” he pleaded. “Fuck me harder.”
“Ah, shit, Bent.”
Sean tightened his arms around Bent’s waist, half lifted him. Bent let go of his ass cheek and thrust his hand forward to brace himself off the mattress. Sean rocked him to the core, his balls slapping Bent’s with each savage thrust. His own cock swelled in his grasp. It was a matter of minutes before he came with a gut-wrenching orgasm that weakened him, leaving him completely at the mercy of the man at his back.
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” Sean said. With one more powerful thrust, he filled Bent’s ass with hot cum.
Chapter Nine
They lay side by side, their arms making contact from shoulder to wrist. Bent hadn’t made any effort to leave, yet. He would have to. No way could he be seen leaving Sean’s room in the morning.
Watching the play of city lights from the street and adjacent buildings cross the ceiling, Sean hated to bring the subject up. But someone needed to.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked.
“I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.”
“Are we going to do this again?”
Bent was silent for so long he began to think the worst.
“Yeah.”
Sean breathed a sigh of relief.
“You were right, you know. I’m messed up. I can’t stop thinking of ways to fuck you, but at the same time, I want to tell Ashley all about it. How’s this for fucked up? I want you to watch me fuck her. Maybe play with my ass while I do her.”
“That’s fucked up all right.” Sean mulled the possible scene over in his mind. “Do you think she’d do it?”
“No.”
“Then you’re screwed.”
“Yeah, I figured that out on my own.”
“I think I’d like to watch you fuck her. You ride her while I ride you. It could be fun.”
“She’d never go for it.”
“How do you know?”
Silence stretched while he supposed Bent contemplated asking his fiancée to do a threesome with his male lover.
“If she won’t, and I keep you, I’m going to lose her. If I keep her, am I going to lose you?”
“You mean if you don’t tell her?”
“Yeah. If I don’t tell her about us. Would you walk?”
Sean took his time answering. One thing he was sure of, Bentley was in love with his fiancée. He wasn’t going to let her go if he had any choice in the matter.
“I guess it depends on how you feel about me. I love you, Bentley. I always have, and I always will. I believe you when you say you love Ashley, so the question is, do you love me, too? Or am I just a novelty you’ll tire of one day?”
“I don’t think I’m going to get tired of you. Maybe we could just let things play out for a while, see where it goes between us?”
“You aren’t going to tell Ashley about us?”
“No. Not right away. I feel like I’m cheati
ng on her, but I need some time to figure this out before I tell her.”
Sean remained silent letting him collect his thoughts. Whatever Bent decided, he had no choice but to go along, no matter how much it hurt. Bent was the one with everything to lose, a successful career, a fiancée, as well as a family in the future. He, on the other hand, had nothing but Bent.
“I’ll tell her, Sean. I promise. Give me some time, okay?”
“So, while you’re figuring out what to tell your fiancée and when, how does our relationship work? I get you on road trips, she gets you during home stands?”
Bentley groaned. “I’m doing the best I can here, asshole. I don’t hear any constructive ideas coming from you, so just shut the fuck up.”
“Point taken.” Sighing, Sean rolled to his side so he could see his lover’s face. “I don’t know what to tell you to do. All I know is I’ve waited a long time to be with you, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I could share you with another man, but I might be able to come to terms with you and Ashley being together.”
“That’s all I’m asking, a little patience and understanding. I had no intention of cheating on Ashley. I never would have if you hadn’t showed up. When you were thousands of miles away, it was easy to forget you. But having you here…I tried to fight my feelings for you. I gave it everything I had. But seeing you every fucking day drove me out of my mind.”
“I know the feeling. I’m sorry, Bentley. I didn’t want to be traded to the Mustangs. I did everything I could to keep the trade from happening. You can’t imagine how much I hated you for leaving the Pioneers.”
“I left because—”
“Because of me. I know. Hating you was easier than loving you.”
“I hate you, too.” Bent smiled.
Sean kissed him, putting five years of longing and a lifetime of hope into it.
Chapter Ten
Guilt ate at Bentley, but every time he thought he’d found the words to tell Ashley, they dried in his throat, almost choking him. Fear could be a great motivator, but in his case, it held him captive, robbing him of the ability to speak.
The team returned to town for a ten game home stand. Thanks to their crazy schedules, he managed to avoid Ashley for three days.
“I’ve been busy,” was his answer to her tearful questioning of his absence. She had every right to be upset. What kind of man didn’t put his fiancée first when he’d been out of town?
“You could have answered your phone,” she argued. “I’ve been busy, too, but I found time to leave you messages.”
Excuses died on his lips. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m an ass.” Truer words were never spoken. “But I’m here now.”
She melted into his embrace. When she turned her tear-streaked face up to him, all he wanted to do was make the hurt go away—for both of them.
He kissed her, angling his mouth across hers in a flash of heat guaranteed to fan the flames of desire. God, he wanted her, couldn’t imagine not being with her. He moved his hands over her back, to her ass, hauling her up against his hardening cock. Tearing one hand away from her firm backside, he palmed her breast. Moaning, she squirmed against him. In his lust-fueled mind, he took her actions to mean she wanted more. He closed his fingers over her and squeezed.
“Ouch!” Ashley broke the kiss, pushing away from him.
Stunned by the pain on her face and the way she’d brought her arms up to cover herself, he reached for her. “What? Did I hurt you? Oh, God. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
Holy shit. Had his being with Sean caused him to forget what it was like to hold a woman? He mentally kicked himself for not tempering his strength. “I’m sorry.” He held his hand out in supplication. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She looked at him with clear eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the pain had eased.
“I know, Bentley.” She took a deep breath then let it out, straightening her shoulders as she did so. “I’m glad I caught up to you today.”
She reached out to him. He grasped her fingers, relieved to see she still trusted him—though God knew he hadn’t earned it. Guilt over his betrayal loosened his tongue.
“Ashley—”
“No talking.” She tugged him forward. “I’ve missed you. Make love to me, please?”
Like the low-down, lying, cheating ass he was, he followed her up the stairs to the bedroom.
* * *
Bentley needed to get his head in the game.
You are such a fucked up coward. You don’t deserve her. God knows she doesn’t deserve a fucked up mess like you, but she’s stuck with you now.
Jogging out to left field, he pulled his sunglasses off the bill of his cap, settling them into place where they belonged. His focus was shit today.
He’d taken the coward’s way out last night, making love to Ashley instead of telling her about Sean, and now he was glad he hadn’t said anything. Their conversation this morning made it clear he’d waited too long.
She’d looked so damn sweet, standing there in the kitchen wearing nothing but the rumpled T-shirt with his number on it she liked to sleep in and a bad case of bed head. He’d been tempted to scoop her up to the counter then fuck her senseless. It still amazed him how much he wanted her, considering.
“Good morning,” he’d said from his perch at the bar. The Mustangs were playing the Marauders at one o’clock, which meant he needed to be at the stadium in a few hours. He was capable of making his own breakfast, so he’d let her sleep. She’d seemed particularly tired last night after their lovemaking. Coward that he was, he’d been damn grateful for the reprieve when she’d curled up beside him and gone to sleep.
“Morning.” She shuffled around, getting a glass from the cabinet then pouring herself orange juice from the jar in the refrigerator before sitting on the stool next to him.
“You okay? You conked out early last night. Are you coming down with something?”
He picked up the slice of toast he’d been eating while checking the news on his iPad then slid the plate containing the extra slice toward her. She helped herself.
“I’m fine. Just tired. We’ve been working on some new programming ideas. The whole process is making me crazy. I’ve been at the office late every night you’ve been gone.”
“You should take a day off, get some rest.”
“I can’t. At least not right now.” She bit into the slice of toast, chewed and swallowed. “On top of everything going on at work, my mother is bugging me about setting a date for the wedding. She’s thinking about fall or winter—in the off-season. I think a winter wedding sounds fun. We’d have to hustle to get it all done, but the right planner could make it happen. What do you think?”
I think I’m screwed. He smiled. “Whatever you want, babe.”
You are a lying, sniveling coward, Bentley Randolph.
The crack of the bat hitting the ball jerked his attention back to the game. Instinct took over. He tracked the ball, a grounder to the right side of the field. No play for him, but he moved toward third base anyway, just in case he’d be needed for backup. The lead runner held at second, and Sean took the easy throw from right field for the out at first. Forcing his gaze off the first baseman’s fluid motions, he returned to his position.
Stay calm. No need to panic.
The idea of telling Sean they’d set a date for the wedding made him sick to his stomach. For the last month, they’d had nothing but stolen moments on the road. Thanks to his hip injury, Sean continued to get a single room on a lower floor. Surprisingly, the stair climbing seemed to do some good. Or maybe it was all the sex. Sean was moving easier on the field, favoring his left leg less than when he’d first joined the team. He only complained about it when they were in bed together, and then because he knew Bent wouldn’t say anything to anyone on the Mustangs.
Always careful not to be seen together, they’d worked out a system to avoid detection, bu
t the few hours they managed to be alone never seemed to be enough.
Now this. He had a wedding date.
He had no idea what Sean would think when he told him.
Hell, yes you know what he would think. He’s going to think you’re a coward.
He’s always known you weren’t going to leave her.
Stretching to loosen his tight shoulders, he blindly scanned the crowd.
A Christmas wedding. Jesus, what a mess.
I have to tell her about Sean.
She’ll leave you.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the man in question. He was poetry in motion. Every play he made, Bent imagined the muscles he’d come to know so well, bunching and stretching beneath bronze skin. If there was some way he could have them both…but he couldn’t. He knew that now.
The knowledge almost crushed him.
* * *
Sean knew something was wrong. Bentley played the final games of their home stand like a zombie. He went through the motions, but the enthusiasm the Mustangs left fielder usually exhibited for the game wasn’t there. He didn’t think many people noticed—that’s how good Bentley Randolph was at the game. He played better than most, even when he wasn’t trying.
But Sean knew. And he had a sinking feeling in his stomach he knew what was coming.
They were always careful around each other, keeping a distance explained by the earlier violent encounters in front of their teammates. Officially, they hated each other. For the sake of the team, they’d called a truce of sorts, but off the record, they kept their distance for a whole different reason. When they were within reach, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—but the world they lived in wasn’t ready for their kind of relationship.
Watching Bent step into the hotel elevator at the far end of the alcove, he cursed under his breath. By the time he reached the fourth floor where his room was, it would be a matter of minutes before Bent came to him.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he tried to focus on planting his feet just right so as not to tweak the very muscles the exercise was supposed to strengthen. Because, if his gut was telling him the truth, his shaky career was all he would have left in a few minutes.
