Polished (27 page)

Rory dragged her body over Spencer’s, her hot pussy sliding over his thigh. “I’ll bet we think of something,” she rasped playfully in his ear.

He grabbed a handful of her ass, sensing his erection had found new life.

Jack returned only ten minutes later, and stood in the door watching Spencer dive into Rory from behind. He held a tray of yogurt and fruit, a small stack of buttered toast, and some juice. Setting down the light breakfast on the dresser made the dishes clamor and caught both of their attentions, interrupting their groove.

He took a seat in a cozy reading chair just a step away and snatched an apple from the tray. “Go on. Let me watch you.” The sight of them together was something special to enjoy. He watched Spencer’s ruby lips curl into an amused smirk, taking Rory’s supple hips in his strong hands and pounding into her with a single deep stroke. She gasped and purred, then blew a kiss at Jack as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

They were sexy as all hell. No one had ever captured Jack’s interest the way they did. Crazy as it seemed, he just wanted to admire their beauty and imagine that they belonged to him, to savor the way Spencer’s chest flexed with exertion, the elegant arch of Rory’s back as she met his thrusts. She panted and cooed for him and began a chant to his rhythm: “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Jack rubbed his cock in his boxer briefs and peeled the waistband away to expose the tip of his swollen head, wet with a generous drop of precum. He circled his thumb over it, drew a long string of the clear stuff from it, and wiped it on his tongue. Rory licked her lips.

“You want some of this too, princess?”

She nodded excitedly. Spencer seemed to be rendering her speechless as he continued to slap hard and heavy into her pussy. How could he refuse her? He grinned and stood up, shunting his underwear down to his thighs and tossing the half-eaten apple in the trash. She opened wide for him without a word. Her tongue jutted forth, flat and inviting. Fisting his cock, he slid it into that pretty little mouth, and felt himself surge at the sensation. He bet she’d never had two cocks filling her at once before he’d come into her life. Some might say that he’d done an excellent job at corrupting her. Only he hoped she didn’t see it that way. The way she took him deep—eyes staring up at him, so eager to please—she didn’t look corrupted at all. He cupped her cheek and rolled his hips in time with Spencer’s strokes. To Jack, she was the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Spencer slammed into her and stilled. “Yeah…oh…here it comes.” He forced the words through his bared teeth.

Jack reached forward and palmed the back of Spencer’s head, tipping him closer with a firm tug and crushing their mouths together. Spencer moaned against his tongue, finding Jack’s hand and placing his own on top.

Rory began to hum around his cock, her small hand desperately seeking purchase on Jack’s body. She trembled beneath them as if an electric pulse ravaged her.

A spark shot straight from his balls and out the tip of Jack’s cock, bringing him to orgasm instantly. From both ends they filled Rory up, and their kiss deepened while she took everything they had.

And then she collapsed onto her belly and rolled over, legs and arms tossed about and a giant grin spread over her face.

“Now that looks like a happy girl,” Jack said, and dropped to the mattress next to her. Spencer snuggled up behind her and kissed her neck with a few lazy pecks. “You two work up an appetite?”

“Feed me,” Rory said with a breathless chuckle.

Spencer joined her. “Me too.”

And so Jack happily got up to give his two beauties exactly what they needed.

* * *

An hour later Spencer sat on the porch lacing his running shoes up tight. A nice breeze made Rory’s potted mums sway and shimmy. Jack took one look at him and winked. Then he bounded down the steps and took off. Spencer caught his foot on the leg of the teak chair when he catapulted himself off the seat. Jack turned his head only to laugh at him before digging in and speeding off. There was no way to know where the chase would take them, but Spencer knew he would chase Jack, wherever he was running to.

Spencer pulled a deep breath of crisp November air into his lungs and pumped his arms in time with his legs. There was no way in hell Jack was going to leave him in the dust. Hanging a right at the corner brought them barreling toward the main road. By then Spencer was licking at his heels. He wanted to reach out and smack his ass, but thought better of it. Not on the main road, where someone could see. He barely had a handle on what was happening between them himself; he couldn’t even imagine explaining it to someone else.

When the cashier at the drug store waved at him from the window, he acknowledged her with a stiff nod and a smile. Every morning she chatted him up while he paid for the
Daily News
. What would she think if she knew the truth about him? Or the guy who pumped his gas next door. What would they say if they knew about his irrefutable addiction to the man jogging next to him? About their habit of sharing his girlfriend? Something cracked in Spencer’s chest as the thought passed through his head, and he hated himself for it. Christ, what did it matter? Why did he care what they thought? Why was he thinking about any of this at all?

The truth was, guys smacked each other on the ass all the time when lots of sports-induced adrenaline was involved. It reinforced friendships, connoted respect. But this was different. They weren’t just friends. Just friends didn’t fuck you in the ass and suck you dry. Just friends didn’t make your stomach flip-flop when they walked into the room. If he smacked his ass, everyone would be able to see it for exactly what it was: an excuse to touch him.

There was only one other person who had ever brought him to the point of that kind of compulsion, who made him yearn for their touch, their presence. But with Rory, he didn’t need to hold back. He could love her openly, gratuitously. Again, something twisted in Spencer’s heart. He’d been able to fall in love with Rory without guilt or shame, but he couldn’t seem to shake those feelings with Jack.

Two things became clear at that moment. Spencer knew he was falling in love, and he also knew he was the biggest coward of all.

“Good to see you didn’t blow your load on that sprint down the block,” Jack said with a mischievous smirk as they rounded the next corner.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a cheater, Jack,” Spencer retorted. “Bet you didn’t think I would catch up to you?”

“Nah, I knew you had it in you.” Jack smiled at him and it looked like he would lean in for a kiss.

Spencer took off. “We’ll see who still has some gas left,” he yelled over his shoulder, dipping into the park at the next corner and doubling back toward the house after rounding the pond. The whole route wouldn’t add up to more than two miles, not exactly a heavy workout, but Spencer was itching to get off the street and back to their private world. Sure, he’d goaded Jack into joining him for a jog. What he hadn’t considered was what running with Jack would be like. Watching Jack’s lips slip apart and tug at the air, the way his ass looked in his pants, the way his chest muscles flexed with every step under the thin, performance zip-up he wore—the whole package had Spencer’s cock twitching, and running with a hard-on was not an option for a whole slew of reasons.

Halfway back to his street, Spencer heard the grind of small pebbles on pavement behind him and the shuffle-swish of performance wear gaining from the rear.

“Home stretch,” Jack said, through heavy puffs of breath into Spencer’s ear. Then Jack delivered a wallop across his ass, cracking loudly and leaving a stinging heat searing where the cold November air had set in. As Spencer watched Jack dart out in front of him, he couldn’t contain his amusement. Talk about irony.

A car rolled by at a lazy speed while a chill wind blew newly fallen leaves against the chain-link fence. A chunky black Lab rambled down from his front stoop, barking and complaining that they’d disturbed his nap. They had half a mile left, tops, to the house. Spencer could only think about leashes.

Chapter Nineteen

“Dad?” Rory peered out over his shoulder to see his new car parked at the curb. “What are you doing here?”

“Morning, honey. This came to the house for you yesterday in the mail. No return address, though.” He handed her a parchment envelope, sealed with fancy wax.

“Mmm. Wonder what it is?” She opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to drive all the way over here, you know. I’d have picked it up next time I stopped by.”

He shrugged. “No big deal. Gave me a reason to get my new wheels out on the highway.” He looked around, as though he didn’t really know where to put his eyes.

Rory put the envelope on the coffee table and sat down. “Everything OK, Dad?”

He shifted his weight, scuffing his heel on the wooden floor. His brow furrowed and then one eyebrow lifted in her direction. “Saw Spencer taking a run outside, round the corner over on Oak.” There was a pause. “He has a new friend there, I see.”

Rory stiffened. “Ah, yeah. Jack. He’s a friend of ours.”

Malcolm frowned again. “Close friend?”

Rory nodded; her vocal cords had seized up in her throat.

“Uh-huh.” Malcolm Campbell raised another critical eyebrow at her. “You be careful, honey. Something just doesn’t sit right with me about what I saw out there with those two.”

Little red bumps prickled on Rory’s arm and she scratched them. “Listen, Dad, I made some muffins. Can I pack you some?”

“That would be great, sweet pea. Are they your mom’s banana nut recipe?”

Rory smiled blankly. “Yeah. Not as good as hers but close.”

“What can you expect? She’s been making them for years.” He patted her on the head. “Long as you did your best.”

“Right,” Rory mumbled, scratching the fresh rash that had suddenly appeared on the soft flesh of her inner forearm.

“Ror, get out here and help me—” A grinning, out-of-breath Jack bounded into the living room, stopping short when he spotted her dad. “Oh, sorry. I’m Jack, a—”

“A friend. Yes I know, Mr. Campbell. Rory’s father.”

Jack’s extended hand might as well have been marked return to sender. He shrugged and put it down, skittering his eyes toward Rory. She scratched again.

Spencer appeared in the doorway. “Hey, whose car? Oh, hi, Malcolm.”

“I’ll get those muffins for you, Dad.” She rounded the island into the kitchen, wishing for once that their modest ranch house wasn’t an open floor plan. Right then she’d have given her left leg for a door and four walls. Instead she hurried as fast as she could, putting three muffins into a Tupperware container while the awkwardness only got worse.

“So, how do you two know each other?” her father asked, waving his finger from Spencer to Jack.

“We worked together on that tunnel project,” Spencer answered.

“Right. Now there’s a story to tell the grandkids one day.” He raised his eyebrow at Jack. “You married?”

“OK, Dad. You’re all set. Tell Mom I said hello, and thanks for bringing over the letter.” Rory let all of those words tumble out on one breath. She was already at the door with the Tupperware in hand.

“Thank you, sweetie. I’ll have your mother call you. Make sure you’re all squared away.” He kissed her on the forehead on the way out. A quick turn of his head and he waved at Spencer and Jack. “You take care, fellows.”

“See you, Malcolm,” Spencer called after him.

When the door had closed, Jack took a chivalrous bow. “And it was so very nice to meet you too, Mr. Campbell.” He laughed and shook his head. “Now I know I’m not the only one with daddy issues.” Rory was still at the door. “Sorry, but wow.”

“I know,” she said, and crossed the room to straighten some magazines piled on the radiator cover. The place was suddenly a wreck in her eyes. “Now you know why I went away to college and never moved back in with my folks after graduation.”

“Oh, so you were just trying to find a way out of the Stepford house when you agreed to move in with me?” Spencer teased with half a smile.

Rory made her way over to him and slipped her hands around his waist. “What can I say? You saved me.”

He pressed his finger under her chin. “Really, though. Are you all right? You seem shaken up.”

“He saw you with Jack outside.” She shrugged and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Stupid really.”

Spencer bristled, his facing twisting sharply when she mentioned the fact that Malcolm had been watching them. “What was he doing here anyway? Your parents never come over.”

“He had a letter for me that came to the house.” She’d actually forgotten about it. Retrieving it from the coffee table, she sat down Indian-style on the big slipcovered couch. In formal, chocolate-brown script was her name and old address. The paper was heavyweight parchment in a soft shade of gray with a postage stamp that said “Love.”

She opened it to find exactly what she’d expected to be contained in such an elegant envelope: a wedding invitation. But it was the
who
and not the
what
that was the real surprise. “Oh my God!” She slapped her hand over her open mouth as tears gathered in the corner of her eye. “It’s from Brice. He’s getting married!”

Spencer plopped down next to her on the sofa. “Your brother? Really?” She showed him the invitation. Spencer read it aloud. “Mr. Brice Campbell and Mr. Devin Simms request the honor of your presence as they join together in the union of matrimony, Sunday December 24th at two o’clock in the afternoon at the United Interfaith Chapel, 220 Tower Street, Spokane, Washington.” He looked up at her. “Whoa. I mean how long has it been since you two spoke last?”

“Five years.”

“Your brother is gay,” Jack said matter-of-factly, stating the obvious as he seemed to digest the news. “Are you going?”

“I’d love to. I mean, I haven’t been able to speak to him in forever. I haven’t seen him in longer. But Washington? The
state
for Christ’s sake? We can’t afford the airfare for one ticket, let alone two.”