Immoral

by Nicole Dykes

The kiss turns hungry. All I want to do is get lost in him and ignore the rest of the world, but I know we need to talk. “Grady . . .”

  He shakes his head, but he pulls back to look at me. “We have to talk, don’t we?”

  “I think so.”

  His hand moves between our bodies, roaming over my bare chest and then down over my boxer briefs—the only thing I’m wearing. “Or we could talk later.” His lips move to my neck, nipping and sucking softly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your ass all day.”

  I groan, my cock, already on its way to hard, is now like granite, pressing against his thigh. “Not fair.”

  He chuckles and then falls onto his back next to me. “Fine.”

  “How is this going to work? I mean, I like the Grady Bell method. But truly, how the fuck can it work? I’m not out. I doubt I’ll be able to be out for a while. You’re going on a six-month tour.”

  “And baseball is fucking insane with how much you travel.”

  “Exactly.” I roll to my side. “So how?”

  Instead of doing something impulsive like I’d expect, he seems to really think it over. I’m not sure if that makes me more or less uneasy. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But what I do know,” his hand brushes over my arm, sending a thrill through me that I need to ignore for now, “is that I want this to work. However we have to make it work.”

  “I don’t know if I can come out.” I swallow the sickening truth. I’m sick of fucking hiding, but I don’t know if I’m ready for the backlash or if I ever will be. “Even if I get a solid contract, I’m not naïve enough to believe it would all be just fine.”

  He looks angry but not at me. “I know. We don’t have to do anything publicly.”

  “But won’t that hurt? I mean, really think about it. It was hard for me not to touch you today during a live video. But never touching when we’re out? Never? Just let the world think we’re friends? How long before people grow suspicious?”

  I sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed and leaning into my hands, hunched over.

  “Maybe we should just take these three weeks together.” I drop my hands and look over my shoulder at Grady, who’s moved behind me, sitting up. “I’d rather have three weeks with you than nothing.”

  “You can have more than that. You deserve more than that. We both deserve more.”

  “But it’s impossible, and you know it. You’re leaving for six months.”

  “I’ll cancel it.”

  I snort and turn to face him fully. “Because that’s not suspicious as fuck.”

  “I don’t care.” He doesn’t crack a smile. He’s dead serious, and I realize this has gone way too far.

  I grab his face in my hands and lean my forehead against his. “I. Do. You love what you do. You can’t give it up for me.”

  “I would.”

  “I know,” I breathe and know I’ve had enough of the talking. This will probably end badly. There’s really no good long-term fix for this, but I don’t care. Right now, I have Grady in my bed, where I’ve always dreamed he’d be, and I’m not wasting a second.

  I bring my lips to his and kiss him deeply, pulling a long groan from him as I push him back on the bed and cover his body with mine. My hands grasp his hair, intensifying the kiss, and we both move our bodies together in perfect unison.

  His cock grinds against mine, the material too damn much and clearly frustrating the hell out of both of us. “Are you still sore?” He breathes the question, and I smile, shaking my head, not really knowing whether it’s a lie but not giving a damn.

  I grab a condom and lube, just needing him again and again. When we’re both fully naked and his gorgeous dick is covered in latex, his mouth trails over my body, leaving light kisses everywhere.

  I’m eager for him, and, not wanting to take it slow, I turn over, thrusting my ass up in the air. “Fuck me, Bell.”

  “Jesus, fuck.” I feel his hands on my cheeks, pulling them apart and then hear another needy groan. “Fuck, I could come just from looking at you.”

  “Don’t do that. I want you inside me.” I feel the pad of his finger at my hole, and at this point, I’m desperate.

  “I’m ready. Fuck. Me.” I’m not really. I know that, but I don’t fucking care.

  I’m needy and wanting, my ass in the air, thrusting backward and seeking so much more. But when I feel his tongue circle my puckered hole, I fucking melt forward into the mattress onto my elbows. “Holy. Fuck.”

  He doesn’t stop, rimming me and turning me into an even needier, fucking frenzied mess as his tongue breaches my hole, getting it nice and wet.

  His finger joins his tongue, and I can’t take it anymore. “Grady. Fuck me now, or I’m going to come.”

  Finally, I feel lube drizzle between my crack and his finger prodding my hole. First one, then two and three, stretching me. My voice is a pleading, incoherent mess. And then, fucking finally, his cock moves into me with short shallow thrusts until he’s fully seated inside me, his front draped over my back. “Holy fuck.”

  “Move.”

  “I can’t. I’ll fucking come.”

  I smile, relishing in the full feeling, being totally invaded and stretched by his cock, but needing him to move. “I thought you weren’t a chump.”

  His teeth nip my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, but I only grin, knowing I hit his competitive nerve. “You know I’m not. Give me a second, fucker. You feel so goddamn good.”

  “So do you.” I reach behind me, grabbing his hip. “Now show me how good you can really feel.”

  He pulls back, and I brace myself before he thrusts back into me, deep inside my ass, hitting my prostate and making lightning shoot up my spine.

  “Yes. That’s fucking it. Use that big cock.”

  “Jesus, you’re bossy.” But he does it again, at the exact same, perfect angle that hits my gland and makes my dick leak from the tip as I thrust into the mattress.

  “You love it.”

  “I do.” My hand moves from his hip to my cock, using the precum as lube to slide along my shaft, chasing my release. His hands grasp my hips, pulling my body into his as he thrusts deep inside me. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chants, and I know he’s as close as I am.

  “Yes.” My hand slides over my cock furiously. “I’m close.”

  “Please come, Ry. I can’t take much more.”

  That’s apparently all I needed because cum shoots from my dick onto the sheets below, and I feel his cock throb in my ass before he lets out a guttural moan I feel throughout my entire body.

  His body collapses onto mine, and I don’t even care that I’m smashed between him and a sticky mattress. He feels too fucking good.

  Everything feels way too fucking good.

  For right now.

  Okay, so we haven’t solved a goddamn thing, but I don’t care. Right now, I just can’t bring myself to care that we haven’t defined shit.

  I know I want him. I know he wants me. And for the past week, we’ve just been enjoying that fact. Because right now, that’s all we need.

  We’ve kept it low-key, mostly just hanging out at Ryan’s house. We did manage to sneak out and get tested. I’m happy as fuck the results are back. His came in yesterday, and he’s totally clean. I just got the email that I’m good to go, and now, I’m waiting for Ry, who decided he needed to go pick up our food instead of having it delivered today.

  The anticipation is killing me, but I’m ready for this. I’m ready to have all of him. When Ry gets back with the food, I’m on him at the door in an instant. My hand steals the food away from him and drops the paper bag to the floor as my lips trail over his neck. “Guess what?”

  At that point, I realize he’s stiff and not kissing me back. When I pull back enough to look at his face, I see how pale he is.

  “Ry? What’s wrong?”

  “Umm . . .” His voice is strained as he places his keys on the table and picks up the bag of food from the ground, aimlessly walkin
g toward the kitchen.

  “Ry, you’re fucking scaring me. What happened?”

  “I heard something on the radio.” He places the bag on the counter, and I reach for his hand, stopping him from going any further without telling me what the fuck is going on.

  “What?”

  His eyes finally lift, and I see sympathy in them. “Your dad . . .”

  “What the fuck did he do now?” My hands are shaking. That motherfucker always brings out the worst reactions from me. Did he somehow find out about Ryan and me?

  He reaches for his phone and then holds it up, showing me a picture of my father’s congregation members posed outside a mansion I know to be Vicky’s.

  “That motherfucker.”

  “Apparently, they didn’t like the news of his son’s girlfriend now dating a woman.”

  I take a seat on the barstool conveniently placed at the counter island. “Of course, he wouldn’t.” I look at the headline, which states very clearly that the church’s leader is my father. “Fuck. They know.”

  “How the hell did you keep this shit under wraps for so long?”

  I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But I thought maybe, just maybe, my father would care so little about me, he’d just let me go.”

  I feel Ry’s strong arms embrace me from behind. “I’m sorry.”

  “I need to call Vicky. Apologize. No one knows about this part of my life.”

  “Not even Waylon?” Ry’s pointing at something, and I realize it’s the security cam. Sure enough, right on time, Waylon is at the gate.

  “Fuck. No. Not even him.”

  Ry buzzes him in, and we wait out front for him as his car flies up toward the house and parks before Waylon climbs out and is coming in hot. “Seriously. That fucking psycho is your dad?”

  “Yes.” Hot shame spreads through me. “That’s my father.”

  “How could you not tell me that?”

  I shrug, except I’m anything but nonchalant. I feel like shit just for having been born that man’s son. “It’s not something I’m proud of. It’s something I wanted buried.”

  “We should probably go inside.” Ry opens the front door. “Who knows who’s watching.”

  Waylon and I don’t argue, all of us heading into Ryan’s living room to sit down, but it’s Ry who speaks to Waylon before I can. “His father is a piece of shit, but as you can see, he’s gained a lot of followers, all spreading hate under the pretense of love.”

  Waylon looks sick, and I can’t blame him. He’s spent his life fighting against people like my father and not just in his own life. He’s been an ally to so many and frequently volunteers with gay youths, trying to strengthen them. People like my father only threaten to undo all the good he’s done.

  “How can you be related to him?”

  Ry wraps his big arm around my shoulder. “I ask myself that all the time. But you know him, he’s nothing like his father.”

  Although I appreciate it, it still makes me cringe. People have told me my entire life I’m the spitting image of my father.

  “I know that.” Waylon’s eyes seem sympathetic. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was ashamed. I just wanted him to go the fuck away.”

  He nods as if he understands. “You have the same last name? How am I only finding out about this?”

  “I wanted to change my name. But the record label loved Bell, so they made me keep it. Said they could handle it.”

  “They know?” Ryan seems surprised. Why, I’m not sure. He knows the game. They dug every single thing up about me before signing me.

  Before I can answer, Waylon is turning on the television and immediately finding news coverage of the church gathering outside Vicky’s home. Thank God for the iron gate around her property, but it’s still unnerving.

  These people are seriously psychotic. Last year, one of my father’s minions went to prison for bombing an abortion clinic. The year before that, the fuckers attacked a veteran who just got back from serving our country they claim to love.

  “Clearly they can’t handle it.”

  I don’t see Vicky, so she must be inside, probably scared out of her mind. “I need to call Vicky.” I stand up to reach into my pocket for my cell, but Waylon stops me.

  “She’s fine.”

  “How do you know?” I gesture toward the TV, my stomach dropping at the signs these people are holding up with sickening, hateful words.

  “She’s on her way to an undisclosed location with her girlfriend for a few weeks. These assholes will get bored and move on soon enough.”

  I sit back down and look up at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  He waves me off, plopping down in one of Ry’s oversized chairs. “Please. I was way ahead of this shit. I just didn’t know he was your fucking father.”

  Of course, he was ahead of it. Waylon is beyond amazing at his job. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  “I get not wanting to be associated with him, Grady . . . But what the hell?”

  “I didn’t want you to see me as part of him.” I feel Ry’s big hand on the back of my neck giving me a reassuring massage that I welcome. “I hate him.”

  Waylon offers a sympathetic smile yet again. “Me too. But I know that’s not you. You aren’t your father.”

  “I’ve let him take a lot of shit from me.” I look over at Ry’s solemn face, and I know he knows I mean him. If it weren’t for that asshole, maybe I would have tried harder to track down Ry a long time ago. I would have faced shit I’d buried.

  “Well, if anything, people are only going to sympathize with you. I mean, with a father like that? You turned out pretty damn well.”

  “Thanks, Waylon.”

  “No more fucking secrets. I swear to God, if you have a love child somewhere you aren’t telling me about, I will kill you.”

  “Me too,” Ry adds, and it actually makes me relax into him and laugh.

  “Are you sure Vicky is okay?”

  Waylon nods. “She’s okay. Really. She was worried about you.”

  Of course, she was. I’m not sure how I got so goddamn lucky to have such good people in my life when honestly, I was doomed from the start. I could be like the rest of my family, blindly following my father and believing his bullshit lies.

  I lean on Ry and smile to myself.

  Growing up, I had him to commiserate with and question the shit my father was spewing.

  If I didn’t have that, maybe I would have been lost in that world.

  It’s been a couple of days since the shit show with Grady’s father. He’s been in his head over it, which is a strange switch of roles. But I get it. God, do I get it. I’ll never forget being forced to sit in the front pew with my parents and listen to the hateful shit coming out of his father’s mouth.

  And his parishioners shouting a resounding “amen.”

  Grady and I would sit there solemnly, silently mocking all the ignorant bastards, but it still gets to you. It still gets deep inside your subconscious, and I know he worries there’s an ugly side to him.

  If only he knew—he’s beautiful, inside and out. Always has been.

  “Vicky is somewhere tropical.” He smiles, showing me a pic on his phone of Vicky in a bikini with her beautiful girlfriend leaning on her shoulder.

  “She looks happy.”

  He nods, putting his phone on the side table next to the sofa, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Thank fuck.”

  “It’s not your fault, Grady.”

  “What if they’d been attacked, Ry? For being gay. What the fuck is wrong with this world?”

  “A lot.” I move closer to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But there’s good too.”

  “How can you say that? With all you’ve had to deal with?”

  I don’t like this side of Grady—not because it’s not as fun or because I want light and carefree—but because that truly is Grady’s personality. It’s not a fro
nt. He lives life to the fullest. He has a good time and can usually spin everything into good.

  I’m the grumpy bastard.

  I brush a kiss against his lips and smile as I remain there. “You make it good. You show me the good. Always have.”

  He finally grins, and now, things feel right again. “You’ve always been good for me too. I hated my father, but you made it okay to be happy.”

  “I think I can make you really, really happy right now.” I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he snorts, shoving me back but not far. He lifts his shirt off, tossing it behind him, and I do the same, not wanting to waste any more time.

  I practically growl when he pulls his sweatpants down, his cock hard and slapping against his abs. “Fuck.” I’m starving for him.

  The last two nights he’s slept in my bed, but other than a few kisses here and there, there hasn’t been much physical activity.

  Which I’m cool with, but this is more like it.

  I let my fingers slide over his abs, my mouth following as I leave a trail with my tongue. “What do you want, Grady?”

  “You.” His hand slides through my hair, and I smile like an idiot.

  “You have me. What do you want me to do?”

  “Stop talking and use that mouth to suck my cock.” His fingers grasp my hair tighter as he gets bossier, and I groan, leaning down to lick the tip, teasing and making his hips buck upward impatiently. “I said suck, not lick.”

  “You don’t like my tongue?” I run it along the vein on the underside of his dick, and he moans.

  “Fuck. I do. I really do.” I smile, putting him out of his misery and engulfing his shaft, cupping his balls, and loving his moans of ecstasy, knowing he’s right on the edge.

  Of course, that’s when my nosey-as-fuck agent with zero boundaries decides to burst into my home.

  Because why the hell not ten minutes ago? Or an hour from now? No, it had to be with Grady nearly naked on my couch and his cock deep in my throat.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I pull away from Grady, not wanting to, but he tugs his sweats up over his ass and stands, glaring over the couch at Jenny. “You have the worst fucking timing. Anyone ever tell you that?”