Out of Bounds (Reedsville Roosters #5)

by Holley Trent

  Gary knocked the pillow off his face and sat up. “Do you want me to go somewhere else? Maybe I can lock myself in the bathroom until you’re done. You can come knock and let me know the coast is clear.”

  “Not necessary.” She laced her fingers through Dean’s hair and leaned in to take his mouth in a kiss.

  If Dean felt any particular way about having an audience, he didn’t show it.

  But then Gary remembered he hadn’t been all that bothered by their fellatio spectacle, either.

  “You guys make a habit of getting your rocks off in front of other people?” Gary asked, leaning on his elbow.

  Lo pulled away from the kiss and pressed her palms against Dean’s chest, changing her angle on top of him. She pinched her bottom lip between her perfect white teeth and shook her head. “I…I wouldn’t call twice a habit.”

  “I don’t buy for a minute I’m the only person you’ve ever fucked in front of. You’re too damned comfortable, and trust me, I know the look. In my former line of work, I fucked in front of people all the time.”

  “Shame on you.”

  “I’ve got worse things to be ashamed of.”

  “Not like you can see anything.” She rolled her hips and dug her fingers into Dean’s shirt.

  “Fuckin’ right there,” he said. “Take every inch of me. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

  Gary glowered at the bastard, not that Dean was looking back. “Did I die in my sleep? Is this hell?”

  “Hell would be if I threw the covers off,” Lo said.

  “Usually when I watch porn, I get to touch myself.”

  “No one’s stopping you.”

  True.

  If they were going to be rude, he figured could be rude, too, and he wasn’t going to be shy about it.

  He shoved his covers down and pulled his aching cock free of his shorts. “Shit.” He hurt so bad, he was afraid to look over at the bumping, grinding newlyweds again. With much more visual stimulation, he’d come without even touching himself.

  He’d prefer to come harder, though. He wanted them to see the mess and know they’d caused him to make it.

  He looked, and regret followed instantly.

  Lo, in a feat of coordination unlike anything Gary had ever seen in his life, was somehow managing to remove her shirt and bra without breaking her rhythm on top of Dean.

  “Hot in here,” she said.

  Gary closed his eyes and took his hand off his cock. “Kill me now.”

  “Maybe you should try to go back to sleep, after all,” she said. “You’ve gotta be ready to perform tomorrow morning. Isn’t there some rule about not having an orgasm before doing sporty stuff?”

  “No fucking rule that I’m aware of. Only that we can’t have lovers in our rooms because if we do, we probably won’t make our way to the bus on time in the morning.”

  “Dean’ll get you there on time. He’s good at getting me to places on time.”

  She giggled, and then moaned when the asshole leaned up and took one of her perky brown nipples into his mouth.

  “Ugh.” Gary spit on his hand and closed his fist tight around his cock. “If you’re not trained in torture, I’ll eat my cleats.”

  “Better start chewing then.”

  When Dean broke his lock on her breast, she leaned down and kissed him again.

  The bastard may not have talked very much, but he responded to Lo’s every move, perfectly in rhythm, instinctually touching, kissing, moving. If Gary had been fucked like that every morning, he probably would have married the man, too. Dick in the morning made a hell of a wake-up call.

  “Why don’t you come closer?” Lo asked. “View must not be so great from there.”

  “You do hate me, don’t you?” He squeezed his shaft tight from base to head and clamped his teeth together. Have mercy.

  “You mentioned porn. Porn usually has much more invasive camera work. You might as well get closer so you can see, unless you prefer to use your imagination.”

  Gary didn’t hesitate. He was out of his bed and standing beside theirs in a flash.

  Lo grabbed his arm and put him into place near the head of the bed where he had a perfectly lurid view of Dean pistoning his fat shaft in and out of her.

  “Pure torture,” Gary whispered, and started working his hand up and down his cock.

  “As if you don’t get plenty of sex,” she said. Then her lips were on Dean’s neck, her tongue tracing sensual circles around the marks her teeth had made.

  Dean’s eyes where closed and lips parted in ecstasy. Occasionally, he muttered some words Gary couldn’t quite make out, but Gary suspected they weren’t of the PG-13 variety.

  He took a step to the right for a different view—of Lo’s ass, with Dean’s strong fingers notched into it, lifting her and letting her fall onto his cock. Of his heavy balls that tightened and jiggled with each thrust upward.

  Because Gary was a tactile learner—and because he often touched things without thinking first—he reached down with his free hand and cupped Dean’s sac. He had to see if the skin was as silken as it looked, and it was, and since his hand was already there, he squeezed them gently.

  “Fuck,” Dean spat. He stopped moving his hips, and Lo looked over her shoulder, brow furrowed.

  Gary started to pull his hand away, but Dean grabbed his wrist, and said in a strangled voice, “No. Don’t stop.” He eased Gary’s hand back between his legs and Lo gave Gary a look he couldn’t quite read.

  Gary didn’t know if the look was a good one or a bad one, but either way, she started riding her husband’s cock again, and Gary started rolling nuts in his hand again.

  He couldn’t find a good rhythm—tugging himself while touching Dean—but that didn’t matter. He was going to come, anyway. Every time Dean’s cock slipped almost all the way out of Lo, Gary thought he was going to come. Somehow, he was able to hold back the urge. Somehow, he was able to keep watching, keep touching, until Lo cried out and rose off of Dean.

  Gary hadn’t felt him come. He would have felt the tightening of his sac in his hand.

  But Lo always seemed to know what she was doing. A second later, Dean’s sac convulsed hard and his cum spewed onto his belly, between Lo’s parted knees.

  Fuck.

  Still holding Dean in his hand, Gary stroked himself harder, not caring that his hand was dry and his cock chafed. Even that felt good. Being watched felt good, and Dean was watching intently around Lo’s leg.

  Gary watched him watch as he tugged more brutally, hoping Dean understood that he and Lo had done that to him. They’d made him hard, the two of them together. They couldn’t expect that he wouldn’t try to get some relief for himself. They wouldn’t be so cruel.

  “Shit,” he whispered, as his core tightened and hips bucked spasmodically. His spend pulsed into his fist, and he kept squeezing, eking out every last drop of cum, every morsel of delicious pain until his body stopped shaking.

  He put his head back and, staring at the dingy ceiling, took several deep breaths. His skin prickled with awareness of their gazes on him, but he couldn’t let himself care just yet. He needed to wait for the adrenaline to taper off, and then he’d move. He’d go into the bathroom, clean himself up, and try to pretend that nothing had happened.

  After all, he’d become a master at pretending. In Miami, whenever he’d encountered his clients in the streets, he’d nod and smile at them as he passed, polite and impersonal, even as their cheeks blazed red and they tripped over their own stiletto-clad feet.

  At the light touch to his belly, he started upright.

  Lo whispered a calming, “Shh,” and shifted off of Dean. “Was just going to tell you that you’re gonna drip on the comforter. Have pity on the maid.”

  “Shit.” Gary crawled off the bed and hurried into the bathroom, where he snatched a wad of toilet paper off the roll and cleaned himself up.

  Lo slipped in behind him, sliding her hand around his leg and rooting a washcloth out of the pile under
the counter.

  “Don’t make this weird,” she said.

  “Seriously?” he said with a scoff.

  “It’s not weird for us, so don’t let it be weird for you.”

  “You’re just telling me what you think I want to hear.”

  “Actually, I’m not. Don’t make assumptions about what some people find comfortable. You’d be surprised.”

  “You’ve done this before, then? Torturing down-on-their-luck, sexually frustrated men?”

  She shrugged. “Probably, but not intentionally. I bet scads of sexually frustrated men contributed a pretty penny toward us paying off our mortgage twenty-five years early.”

  “What are you telling me?”

  Lo wet the cloth and wrung out the extra water. “After Dean and I got married, I saw this ad online somewhere. I don’t remember where. Doesn’t matter, anyway. Said we could earn extra money if we uploaded our…” She paused to giggle. “Uh, home movies, to a particular website. As you might guess, we’re not exactly independently wealthy with our jobs being what they are, so I joked that we should do it and try to pay off a couple of bills. I didn’t think Dean would agree.”

  “He did, though.”

  “Yup. Had to get him good and drunk the first time. You can’t see our faces in the videos. Just particular parts of our bodies.”

  Gary’s jaw might have dropped if he hadn’t been completely paralyzed. He wanted to own those videos—every last one of them—solely for archival purposes, of course.

  She flicked the washcloth at him. “Say something.”

  “Fuuuuck.”

  “Well, that’s relevant, at least.” She sashayed out of the bathroom, grinning as she went.

  He washed his hands, and then followed her out. “Wait, do you still do it?”

  “No,” Dean said. He was flat on his back and wriggling his boxer briefs up his legs.

  “Come on, guy.” Gary sat on the edge of his bed. “Give me a few more words than that. Give me details. How many videos are there?”

  “Like, seven or eight,” Lorena said.

  Apparently, she wasn’t bothering to dress. She picked up her toiletry bag and padded back to the bathroom. Pausing at the door, she turned to Gary and said, “We watched the clicks add up on the first one, saw the estimated revenue share, and decided to strike while the iron was hot, I guess. We uploaded a bunch in a few weeks, and then backed away from the scheme before we did anything too risky. Paid off some bills, you know? Still get a check every month, though much, much smaller since we haven’t uploaded anything recently.”

  Gary looked at Dean, who was staring at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you, man.”

  “It’s just skin.”

  “Well, that’s one way of thinking about it,” Gary muttered.

  Perhaps to Dean and Lorena, they were only showing skin, but in Gary’s opinion, theirs was premium skin—exceedingly attractive skin that held some very nice accessories in place.

  Lo closed the bathroom door, and a moment later, water beat down on the tub floor.

  Gary’s gaze was still on Dean, and since Dean wasn’t looking back, Gary figured he should study the man a little more closely since half the Internet already had.

  He was one of those men who was well-built without having excessively defined muscles. He brought to mind one of those “husky” kids who’d eventually grown into his frame at around seventeen.

  No manscaping to speak of, which Gary respected. When he’d been working manservant gigs, he tended to shave everything below his nose because his particular segment of clients tended to like him smooth. He’d forgotten how being hairy could make him feel so virile. Dean had just the right amount of hair. Not so much to choke a guy if he decided to put his mouth on him, but enough to add some textural stimulation.

  Gary liked texture. He liked touching.

  He leaned back onto his elbows and cleared his throat.

  Dean finally looked over.

  “I hope you’re not mad at me for butting in. I’m usually better about asking before I touch.”

  “Not mad.”

  “No?”

  Dean shrugged.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  “Rarely have anything worth saying.”

  “Is that what you think or is that what you know?”

  “Both.”

  Gary waved him on, hoping to eke a few more syllables out of him.

  Dean let out a ragged breath and closed his eyes. “I…I guess I take after my father. He didn’t talk. I think with him, though, he didn’t talk because he didn’t want to hear anyone else talk, either.”

  “You don’t want to hear Lo talk?”

  “No, I do. Really. I just never know what to say, and when I don’t immediately respond, she stops talking. I don’t want her to do that. You seem better at keeping her going.”

  “That’s because my verbal filter isn’t worth shit. Better than when I was a kid, but still mostly dysfunctional.”

  “I’d prefer to have your problem. I think if it weren’t for the sex, she would have left me already. Fuck.” Dean draped his forearm across his eyes and scoffed. “No idea why I told you that.”

  Gary didn’t know either. A day earlier, he would have been thrilled to hear such a confession that all wasn’t well in the Yeats marriage, but—shockingly to him—he didn’t particularly want the couple to break up, either. Both parties had been as nice to him as anyone could be. The least he could do was return the favor.

  “Hey,” Gary said. “I don’t think that’s the case. I mean, I’m just an outsider looking in, but I don’t think she’s that hard up that she’d marry a guy just for the dick…no matter how good the dick is.”

  “I keep telling myself that.”

  “You don’t believe the truth?”

  “Like I said, believing is hard. I’ve had women dump me for being boring. First one was when I was seventeen, and didn’t even have the good dick thing going for me then. I was a virgin until I was twenty.”

  “I was fourteen my first time, but I’m a reckless asshole that way. Fortunately nothing negative came of the coupling beyond my girlfriend’s certainly diminished sense of self-worth.”

  Gary rolled his eyes. She’d tried to guilt the hell out of him about that two-minute fuck for years as if she hadn’t put her hand in his pants to start the whole mess.

  “I think reckless is a step above boring, at least,” Dean said.

  “That’s debatable. I think my parents would have preferred for me to be boring.” Gary rolled onto his back and adjusted the fall of his cock. He didn’t want Dean getting any ideas about the cause of Gary’s arousal. The truth was that it didn’t take much for Gary to get aroused if he were around the right people. He could be discussing the tax code and if the voice of whomever he was talking to vibrated the right way, he’d be harder than a flagpole.

  “I feel like I have to…I don’t know. Entertain her non-stop,” Dean said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I want to, I just don’t know what she needs.”

  “Have you tried asking her?”

  “I might have a little too much ego for that.”

  “Honest to a fault, aren’t ya?”

  “If I can’t be witty, I may as well be honest.”

  Gary turned his head and let his gaze settle on the digital clock on the nightstand. “Nothing wrong with honest. Admirable trait. By the way, the team bus is supposed to be here in an hour to get everyone to the field.”

  “They don’t trust folks to get there on their own?”

  “For the most part, no. Only the guys who are super-local get to drive. The rest of us are at the mercy of the bus. At least the bus doesn’t smell anymore, I hear. They got a new one while I was away.”

  Lo turned off the shower water, and a few minutes later, stepped out wrapped in a towel and combing tangles out of her curly hair. “Shower pressure sucks and the water tastes bad. I had to use extra toothpaste just to disguise th
e flavor.”

  She made a face at Dean, who just bobbed his eyebrows.

  Come on, dude. Give her something.

  She was throwing him the line and he was letting it fall right in front of him without grabbing hold.

  But Lo didn’t seem to mind. She walked over to him, ruffled his hair, and murmured something about gritty soap.

  He looped his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder, and she smiled a smile he couldn’t even see, but Gary could.

  He put his feet on the floor, stood, and stretched his arms over his head. “Uh, we were just talking about the team bus. I guess Dean’s gonna get real acquainted with it in the next couple of weeks.

  “Good thing I don’t get motion sickness,” Dean muttered.

  Interesting.

  It seemed to Gary that Dean could pull a response out of his ass just fine when Gary said something, but if Lo tossed out some benign comment, he clammed up.

  Gary grabbed his toothbrush out of his duffel and headed to the bathroom.

  Performance anxiety?

  Even if Lo didn’t mind that Dean was a chronic conversation-dropper, Dean minded. Gary knew what being anxious all the time about misperceptions felt like. He didn’t wish that on anyone.

  Dean poked his head into the bathroom while Gary was brushing his teeth.

  Gary said around his toothbrush, “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m not showering. No point. I’m going to stink coming off the field, anyway.”

  “Um.” Dean sidled into the bathroom and turned the shower on full-blast. He leaned in close and whispered, “Can you…talk to her?”

  “About what?”

  “Just talk to her. Distract her while she’s here so she doesn’t go home this weekend and think so much about why she married me at all.”

  “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “I do.”

  “Come on, man.” Gary spit, rinsed his mouth, and then tossed his toothbrush onto the counter. Since he was doing all that moving, anyway, he took a half-step away from Dean to put a little distance between his nose and Dean’s scent. He smelled of sweat and Lo. That potent combination could have Gary on his knees and solemnly swearing that he normally wasn’t that submissive, but that he’d like to have Dean’s sac in his mouth, anyway.