Polished (13 page)

Spencer started kicking sand onto the flames. “Thanks for taking her in. I’ll make sure the fire is out and be right up.”

She was warm in Jack’s arms, where her body pressed tightly against his chest. Jack could feel the boner regenerating in his pants from her little show on the blanket. They weren’t making this easy. He had a simple task: show them a good time and find out if the check for a hundred grand was enough to make sure he didn’t sue. Exactly how was he supposed to make it through the weekend without finding himself between them? Resistance was futile. The thought made him chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” Rory slurred. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“Shhh. Don’t be sorry. I made the drinks, remember?”

Rory pulled away from his neck, and Jack was sorry that he no longer felt her warm breath there, but the smile on her face made up for it. “Oh, yeah. It’s all your fault then.” Jack bit his lip. Oh fuck, he wanted to kiss her right then. How completely screwed up was that? “I’m going to put you down on the bed in your room. Spencer will be up soon.”

Rory nodded and tucked her head against his neck again. His cock hollered for attention. What a tease the two of them had been. He turned on the light and dimmed it to a soft wash, so it wouldn’t be too harsh on her dilated pupils. So this was what it was like to take care of someone. Somewhere, in the back of Jack’s mind, he knew it wasn’t normal to be over thirty without ever having known what it was like to be concerned and show tenderness. He knew it was a sad reality, but he had never let it bother him before.

He shook away his thoughts and set Rory down on the bed. She curled into a ball on top of the comforter. He would have gotten her out of her wet bra and panties if he could have convinced himself that it was only for her own good. He was damn sure Spencer wouldn’t be convinced of that.

A few moments later, Spencer came into the room. He shrugged at Jack. “She never was much of a drinker.” Sitting down on the bed, he continued. “I’ll get her tucked in.”

Jack had managed to tuck himself behind the door enough to conceal the erection he was battling. “Hey, you feel like shooting some pool?” Jack found himself frozen in place, waiting on an answer.

Spencer paused while he seemed to consider the offer. “Think I’ll make sure Rory’s OK.”

Jack nodded and tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. “All right. See you in the morning.” He turned and left the two of them in the spacious guest room with its private bath and deck access facing the ocean. His own bedroom shared the same deck from the other end of the home. Jack wasn’t headed there. Jogging down to the basement rec room, he was determined to forget the image of Rory stretching out on the bed in her see-through underwear and the irresistible sight of Spencer’s heavy cock hanging free of his shorts. Three solitary rounds of eight ball and he was starting to believe it was a lost cause.

“Still up for a friendly game?” Spencer had showered and changed into a sleeveless undershirt and his pajama pants—the same ones Jack had borrowed. They fit more snugly around Spencer’s bulky frame, and Jack noticed that he seemed to be free-balling it underneath.

Jack grinned, sincerely happy that Spencer had decided to join him. “Not sure how friendly it will be when I kick your ass.”

Spencer grinned back, and grabbed a cue from the wall rack. “Hmm. What’s at stake, then?”

Jack considered the possibilities, starting with clothing and ending up with swapping saliva over each other’s body. Neither option was within the realm of reality. He shook off the idea with a shudder. “Bragging rights.”

Spencer chalked up and laughed at Jack’s suggestion. “That doesn’t sound like you’re too confident.”

“Oh, I’m plenty confident.” He could show him just how confident he was by yanking down those sleeping pants and gobbling back his cock. Jack was pretty confident he’d have Spencer begging for more after two minutes inside his mouth. But no, it wasn’t that kind of weekend. Not yet at least. He grinned to himself. How the hell he thought he could have these two over and not try to find his way inside both of them, he’d never understand.

“Dude, you ready?” Spencer had racked the balls and was waiting with his hands folded over his chest.

“Huh? Oh.” He bent over the table, balancing the cue with splayed fingers, lining up the break like he’d done a million times before. One strong pump of his arm and the balls scattered with a loud crack in the sea-thickened air. Three balls sank into their chosen pockets and the white cue ball followed with a curse from Jack.

Spencer retrieved it from the pocket while Jack reracked. “Your shoulder looks pretty good there,” Spencer said with a teasing smirk. “Good thing I don’t need my ankle to wipe the floor with you.”

Jack laughed. “You’re cute.” The words had come without much thought, but they seemed to surprise Spencer, causing him to jerk out of the position he had taken in front of the cue ball.

Spencer pressed his lips together, like he was trying to decide what to say next. In the end he regained his stance and threaded the cue between his fingers, then pulled it back with the same tension that hung in the air. “Jack, are you gay?” He released the stick on the cue ball as the question left his lips. Still he didn’t look up, seemingly more interested in the menagerie of balls littering the table.

Jack took a breath. “Sometimes I’m a lot of things.” He walked around the table, surveying his next move. “Does the label mean anything to you?”

Spencer shrugged. “Rory said she thought you were.”

“Your girlfriend is good at reading people.”

“She likes you.”

This made Jack smile. “I like her too. You really are a lucky guy.” He took his shot and the four taxied into the far pocket.

“She’s an amazing woman.” Finally he looked straight at Jack with serious eyes. “That thing tonight. She might be embarrassed about it tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. It’s forgotten.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have been…you know.”

“Turned on by her? By what she was doing to you?” Jack shook his head, bemused with Spencer’s cluelessness. Underneath that amusement was a hunger for his naïveté. He knew he should change the subject, take his next shot, open a window—anything but say the words begging to tear free. “Spencer, I like women almost as much as I like guys.” He was pushing his luck, but he pressed on. “Watching you with her was fucking hot.”

Spencer’s ears were flaming red, but Jack couldn’t read his expression. He had refocused on the table, waiting for Jack to take his follow-up shot. The ball hit the side of the table and fell short of the corner pocket.

“Ah, you’re fucked now, my friend,” Spencer said, eagerly lining up in front of the easy opportunity Jack’s miss had left him.

Jack had half expected Spencer to deck him. Instead, Spencer seemed to ignore the comment altogether. It made Jack curious. “What about you? Did you like the idea of me watching?” Spencer responded by shifting his weight and fixing his jaw. Almost immediately, Jack regretted saying it. “Never mind, man. That was over the line.”

Spencer sank the ball. “I liked it.” His voice was just a whisper, and Jack almost missed it. Almost.

Jack licked his lips and chose his tone very carefully, as if a butterfly had just landed on his hand and he was trying hard not to scare it away. “A rain check, then?”

“It’s up to Rory.”

“Of course.”

“It’s all up to her.”

“I get it.” Jack took a step closer to him. “It’s only right that she calls the shots.”

Spencer lined up again. “She’s into it. The exhibitionist part gets her going.”

“Yeah, I could tell. Rory’s a treat to watch.” He checked the angle Spencer was choosing. Lining up behind him, he nudged Spencer’s outstretched arm, copping a nice long drag of his scent. All man. “Hey, you might want to shift this way a tick.”

Spencer adjusted and sank the ball. “That was generous of you. What happened to that competitive streak?”

“I know how to return a favor.” Jack quirked his lip at Spencer and took a sip of his beer.

“Hey, you got another one of those?”

“Sure.” Handing Spencer a cold Heineken from the bar fridge, he couldn’t keep his smile to himself. “Have you ever known someone who was bisexual before?”

Spencer took a nice long sip before answering. He paused, and took another. Then he gestured at the table and called his next shot. Lining up, he squinted and concentrated on the cue ball like it was the only thing on the planet. He cracked the cue against his target and the intended ball fell just short of its hole. “Fuck.”

“My turn,” Jack said with a taunting shrug. He glanced at Spencer on his way around the table, wondering if their conversation was over.

“I never told this to anyone before…” Spencer started.

Jack stopped cold in his tracks. “What?”

“My dad. My dad was a bisexual. Or maybe he was just gay. I don’t know.”

Jack picked up the chalk and went about preparing his stick. It didn’t need any, but he did it anyway, waiting for Spencer to continue.

“He used to go off…for these walks in the park.” Spencer took another deep sip of beer. “I knew. I never said anything to him, but I knew.”

Jack thought about putting the cue down and falling into the overstuffed couch with an invitation for Spencer to join him. But his instincts said Spencer would prefer some distance between them. His movements were stiff and his expression was a bit twisted beneath the nonchalant smile he wore. Jack knew enough about straight guys to know when to let them breathe. Spencer looked as if he would bail any second, and something told Jack he’d been running from this conversation for a long time.

He pressed, just a little. Just enough. “What did your mother think?”

“My mom?” He sucked his teeth. “Let’s just say that when she couldn’t ignore it anymore, she got a little help from her friends the Gallo brothers.”

“Red or white?”

“Whatever. If it was purple, she was drinking it, you get me?” Spencer chuckled.

Jack laughed with him, knowing that it covered a whole heap of pain. “It doesn’t have to be like that, you know.” He took a breath, holding it just a minute before letting it out slowly. Spencer was only a few footsteps away. The vulnerability on his face called to him like a beacon. Jack wanted to erase the hurt that pinned Spencer’s lips together in a thin line. Those lips needed his lips right then, no mistake. Those lips needed someone who understood.

It was in the air—the possibility. Jack’s nostrils flared slightly.

Spencer shrugged and stretched. “Yeah, I guess.” He walked his cue to the wall and hung it up. “I’m beat. Think I’ll hit the sack.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jack nodded. Just like that, the butterfly flew off. “Spence, I’ll be taking my little skiff out on the water tomorrow morning and I’d love for you two to join me.”

“I don’t know. Me and water just don’t mix.”

“She’s perfectly safe. I think you’ll like being out there.” He smiled sheepishly. “I mean sailing isn’t exactly like dangling off a fifty-foot cliff, but once you get that wind in your hair, I’m pretty sure you’ll get why I love it so much.”

Spencer pressed his lips together and folded his arms. Jack felt undone under his inscrutable stare. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Spencer grinned. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

There was another moment of pause, of hesitation maybe, before Spencer headed toward the door. For Jack, it was hard to watch him leave. He wanted to hear more, to discover where the undercurrent in their discussion led. It had to lead somewhere, right? Jack never got flippity-flop tickles in his stomach from just talking to a guy. That kind of shit was for someone with a heart. If he felt something, it must be pretty damn strong. And that meant Spencer probably felt it too.

Chapter Ten

“Poor baby,” Spencer said to Rory, brushing her bangs from her forehead as she lay on her back, squinting against the sun. “Bet you have a hell of a headache.” He already had two Advil in his hand and a glass of water on the night table.

Sweet Rory. He’d cuddled up behind her the night before, his hard-on pressing firm into her ass until she turned toward him. She could have taken credit for it, the way her body splayed across the bed with curves that begged for attention. But the truth itched in the back of his mind. His cock had been hard long before he’d slipped into their darkened bedroom. After standing at the bottom of the stairs for ten minutes trying to find an excuse to turn around, Spencer realized his legs were carrying him back to the game room.

“Hey, uh…” Spencer had stepped into the room, but Jack was on the couch, earphones tucked into his ears, eyes closed and his cock slipping heavy in his hand, silky smooth and oh so fucking hard. Spencer turned sharply, like he’d seen a damn ghost. But it wasn’t a ghost. It was Jack’s real live cock being stroked to action in front of his face. Jack was far away behind his closed eyelids, his head swaying slightly to the slow rhythm of his strokes.

Spencer was hard in an instant, his own cock begging for attention, his only thought how much he wanted to straddle Jack’s chest and slip inside his slightly parted lips. It made it impossible to keep his hand from circling his throbbing bulb inside his pants. He was matching Jack’s strokes before he knew it, leaning against the wall when his knees threatened to give out.

And suddenly Jack’s eyes were open and both of their hands froze.

“Night,” Spencer managed, and tore himself from the scene. He had to. Staying would have put him in dangerous territory. It was late, he was drunk, and he was confronted with a need he had no idea what to do with. Upstairs, Rory was waiting for him, safe and sweet. He needed to hold on to her and know that she was his to hold on to.

She’d been sound asleep when he lay down next to her, but as soon as his lips brushed over her neck, she’d turned and tossed her leg over him, capturing him at the hip. It was a silent dance, the moves of lovers so familiar with each other’s cues that there wasn’t a need to speak.

Rory’s pointed toe skimmed his leg up and down as her eyes opened to meet his in the moonlight. His lips parted, sucking in a sigh once his cock lodged against her clit. The precum he’d brought with him to bed was just enough to make for a smooth swipe of her sensitive nerve endings. He licked at her mouth, summoning her tongue while his cock slid between her legs and turned her on like a faucet. Hungrily he reached for her ass, that sweet, heart-shaped piece of cake he was so fond of burying his face in. He grabbed a nice handful and pulled her closer. She let out a hard breath through a rounded mouth and he darted his tongue deeper inside.