Summer Stock

by Vanessa North

  Ryan turned around in a circle, taking in the beauty of Trey’s craftsmanship. “It’s amazing. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “Thank you for— Oh hell. I don’t know. Everything?” Trey grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him close. “What you did for me, with my garage—I can’t even explain what it means to me. You blanket-forted me.”

  Ryan swallowed. There was a hard lump in his throat. “I was— You’re welcome.”

  “Come here.”

  It wasn’t as simple as an order given, an order followed. It wasn’t complicated either. Trey called, and Ryan answered, with all the turmoil in his brain, the lust in his body, and the seemingly boundless affection Trey could pull from his heart.

  Their lips met in the softest kiss they’d ever shared. Trey’s fingertips skimmed Ryan’s cheekbones, then down the sides of his face before one strong hand gripped his chin and tilted him just so.

  Ryan’s knees went weak, and he gripped Trey’s shirt with both hands, needing to ground himself to this moment with this man. He groaned into Trey’s mouth, fists opening and closing convulsively in Trey’s shirt. “Need you.”

  “I’m here,” Trey whispered.

  “Need you to be rough and toppy and teasing like this morning.” Ryan practically whined out the words, but when Trey smiled and bit behind his ear, he knew it was on.

  “Take your clothes off and lie faceup on the bed.”

  Ryan shuddered and started tugging off his T-shirt.

  “Slower.”

  Trey’s voice hit him like a freight train, and he stood, heart pounding, in the middle of the yurt with his arms over his head, trapped in the shirt, blinded by it.

  Then he felt Trey’s hands on his chest.

  At first the caresses were gentle, more of a languorous rub than anything else, but the pressure built and then fingers twisted his nipples, and his dick leaped in his pants.

  “Fuck, Trey, Fuck.”

  Trey’s hands disappeared from his chest, pulled the shirt back over Ryan’s face, exposing him, but he didn’t care. He liked how Trey saw him. Instead of stripping the shirt from Ryan’s arms, Trey tugged and wrapped and twisted it until Ryan’s hands were held together.

  Holy shit.

  Ryan had had plenty of nonmainstream sex—okay, so he’d had some threesomes-ish with Ali and West—but he didn’t consider himself a bondage kind of guy. And yet, with Trey pinning his arms, his cock was as hard as it had ever been.

  “Get on the bed,” Trey growled.

  Ryan got.

  He stretched out on his back, leaving his arms above his head and grasping the headboard for dear life. Trey grabbed his pants and pulled them down his legs, briefs too. Tossing them aside, he abruptly spread Ryan’s legs, putting his cock, balls, and ass on display.

  Ryan groaned. He’d started to love topping Trey, but this . . . God, he craved this. Being manhandled, pushed around, teased, and tormented.

  “I’m going to give you two choices.”

  Oh shit.

  “I can blindfold you, and you’ll never know what’s going to happen next. Or I can show you everything I’m going to do to you before I do it.”

  Both ideas were hot. But . . .“Do I need a safeword?”

  Trey stretched out on the bed next to him and ran a comforting hand along his chest. “‘No’ and ‘stop’ work for me. How about you?”

  Relieved, Ryan nodded. “They work for me too. Only, I didn’t know if we were getting into some kinky shit . . .”

  A low laugh rumbled from Trey’s chest, and he tugged one of Ryan’s nipples. “More just bedroom games. I’m not about to break out the whips and chains on you.”

  “You have whips and chains?” Ryan’s eyes widened.

  “No. I don’t. I have you in my bed, and I want to drive you crazy. So. What will it be? Blindfold? Or full knowledge?”

  Jesus, that was a hard decision. On the one hand, if he was blindfolded, it would be easier to sink into sensation. But on the other? He could always fucking close his eyes.

  “I want to know.”

  Trey’s evilest laugh filled the tent, and Ryan wondered what he’d just signed himself up for.

  “Leave your hands above your head. You can keep holding the headboard if you want.”

  Trey sat up on the bed, reached under it, and produced a big—really fucking big, damn, how much were they going to use tonight?—bottle of lube.

  Ryan closed his eyes.

  “Look at me.” Trey’s voice called him back, and of course his traitorous fucking eyes did as they were told. He watched, mesmerized, as Trey dumped some of the lube on his fingers, rolled it around, and pulled it apart in long, slick strings. It was weird, and a little gross, and devastatingly sexy all at once because he knew where that was going and . . . damn.

  “Lift your legs.”

  This part was harder. Ryan lifted his knees to his chest. One of Trey’s fingertips dipped at his hole, probing the outside. Ryan let out a shaky breath as two fingers slid inside him.

  “Oh god.”

  Trey took his time, gently teasing and massaging while Ryan’s cock grew impossibly harder. He rode Trey’s fingers, loving the stretch and the pressure. When Trey brought his other hand up to tease Ryan’s nipples, Ryan groaned and let his eyes slip closed again.

  Trey’s hands disappeared, and Ryan let out another low groan. But then Trey’s mouth was on him, and his shoulders arched off the bed. Trey bit one side of Ryan’s chest, then the other, then he moved down his body to mouth his cock, teasing with his lips first, then giving him a long, slow lick.

  “I brought toys,” Trey said, matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing a book he’d like Ryan to read.

  “Oh?”

  “Mmm. You said you love ass play, I figured why not?” A finger rubbed along Ryan’s rim as Trey began to suck the tip of his cock.

  Ryan’s hips wouldn’t lie still, instead pulsing up in short motions. Trey let go of Ryan’s cock with a pop.

  “What I’m wondering is, should I grab a big dildo and stretch you out? Or maybe a little glass number with a curve for teasing your prostate? So many possibilities for both.”

  Surely he didn’t expect Ryan to choose? “Whatever . . . whatever you like.”

  Trey’s grin was positively wicked. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Ryan lay back, his chest heaving, listening to Trey move about the yurt. He couldn’t identify half the sounds, and he didn’t care. Trey had promised to show him whatever he had in store.

  When Trey came back, he kept his promise, holding up a slim, curved glass dildo.

  “Frosted glass, nice,” Ryan managed.

  Trey smiled. “It’s not frosted. It’s been in the cooler.”

  Oh shit. That was all the warning Ryan got before Trey circled one nipple with icy-cold glass. His back arched, his skin seemed to tighten, and he shuddered all over. Was this pain? Pleasure? His dick throbbed, and his mouth dropped open on a wordless shout.

  “Interesting,” Trey murmured, then he did the same to the other nipple. This time, Ryan was somewhat prepared, and he managed to refrain from jumping out of bed, though he shivered at the cold touch.

  But when Trey told him to lift his hips and slid a pillow under them, reality came crashing in. Ryan shook his head. “Not cold. I can’t, sorry.”

  “Okay.” Trey leaned over him and kissed him, long and slow, and he set the dildo aside. “Just kiss me awhile.”

  And, oh yeah, that was good. Trey’s hands—still a little cold, but not icy like the dildo—sliding over his body, tugging his hair, they brought him back to that lush, wanton headspace where he was full of desire, sensation, and need. When Ryan’s hips started rocking, Trey groaned and pulled out of the kiss. He picked up the dildo, tested it against his hand.

  “It’s not as cold now.” He touched it to the side of Ryan’s face. “Okay?”

  Ryan nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Trey’s light tap around his hole, and he dropped his legs w
ide. Trey teased him with his fingers, then the cold caress of glass pressed against him—and he pressed back. The hard, unyielding glass slid easily into his body, then Trey turned it, so the curve brought the tip right against his gland, and Ryan’s whole world narrowed down to that gentle pressure. His head hit the pillow, his lips fell open, and hips rolled and thrust with Trey’s movements as he twisted and teased the glass in and out of Ryan’s body.

  On one particularly decadent grind against his gland, Ryan let out a low shout, and then, “Please. God, Trey, fuck me. I want you.”

  The glass dildo disappeared with a rough tug, and then Trey was over him, sliding inside, lips and hands everywhere.

  “God, you’re so beautiful, so good, Ryan. That was so hot.”

  “I’m not gonna last,” Ryan groaned, shoving himself down on Trey’s cock. “Jerk me, please.”

  Trey spit on his hand, wrapped it around Ryan’s cock, and started jerking him, rough and fast, and Ryan couldn’t take it anymore. After the whole day of anticipation, after Trey’s power games and teasing, his body had reached the limit of how much pleasure it could endure.

  The orgasm seemed to eclipse his entire body, starting in his groin and washing outward in hot bursts as he spurted everywhere. He managed to yank his eyes open to see Trey come, his lip between his teeth and his eyes scrunched shut as if he couldn’t bear to feel that good.

  For a long moment, Trey braced himself on shaking arms, breathing heavily until Ryan reached his still T-shirt-bound hands up, bending his elbows so he could put them around Trey’s head and pull him down for a long, lush kiss.

  “That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Ryan mumbled.

  “Think you’ll remember that?” Trey joked, nipping at his ear.

  “Always.”

  Afterward, they roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire—nothing fancy, but it provided plenty of opportunity for sausage jokes. They had the whole weekend together for fancy food—this night was perfect just as it was.

  Trey knew what Ali Parker looked like—anyone who had walked through a grocery store line with a tabloid display had seen more of her than she probably intended. Despite Ryan’s descriptions of her as sweet and kindhearted, Trey was still nervous when he got out of his truck at the airport, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. At least, not until he realized that he wanted to make a good first impression on the one person Ryan loved most in all the world. But how did one make a good first impression on a movie star?

  Inside the small FBO building, he gave the airport employee the tail number for Ali’s plane and explained he was there to pick up a passenger. He’d never picked someone up at the tiny local airport before, more often driving all the way to Norfolk. He didn’t know many people who could afford to charter a plane.

  The man entered something into his computer and then nodded. “Drive to the gate, I’ll open it for you. Once inside, follow the directions of the operator on the field.”

  He watched from inside his truck as the small charter plane landed on the runway, and the statuesque brunette descended the stairs. Something about how she moved was familiar—the stiff awkwardness to her gait. It wasn’t until she reached the ground, wheeling her suitcase behind her, that he made the connection—she moved like Kim, well into her second trimester of pregnancy.

  Holy shit.

  He jumped out of the truck and headed toward her. When he got close enough, he extended a hand. “Ali? I’m Trey.”

  She smiled widely, pulling off her sunglasses and letting the full wattage of her stunning beauty hit him, then she bypassed his waiting hand to give him a hug. “Hi, Trey. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” He disentangled from her, trying to avoid looking at the now-obvious baby bump. Not that she was making any attempt to hide it. “Here, let me take your suitcase.”

  “Thanks.” She handed over the wheeling suitcase. “Ryan said it’s about an hour to the island. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your coming to meet me here.”

  “I’d do just about anything for Ryan,” he confessed, then gestured toward his truck. “You’re probably used to more glamorous transportation, but I did take a lint roller to the seats to get the dog hair out.”

  She laughed, a throaty chuckle that reminded him of Ryan. “I’m sure it’s fine. Ryan texted me a photo of that beast you call a dog. I can’t wait to meet him. I love animals.”

  Trey opened the door for her and offered a hand to help her climb in. When she was safely settled, he closed the door, then hoisted her suitcase into the bed of the truck and secured it with a strap.

  The first twenty minutes of the drive, she was occupied with her phone—which seemed to ding constantly with incoming texts—checking voice mail, and he guessed, social media too. Weren’t all the famous people on Instagram these days?

  He took the opportunity of her distraction to study her in sideways glances. She was radiantly pretty, with huge brown eyes and skin glowing warm and tan. Even though he wasn’t attracted to women, her beauty was captivating. As she swiped at her phone with one manicured thumb, she twisted a strand of hair around her finger and nibbled at the end. The effect was girlish and vulnerable, and Trey understood immediately what Ryan had meant when he said Ali didn’t know how to be hard.

  When she finally tucked her phone back into her purse, she flashed him a slightly-embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I didn’t have free use of my phone for six weeks. It feels like the ultimate luxury now.”

  “How far along are you?” he asked.

  “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to ask a lady that unless she tells you she’s pregnant?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, my mama did. But my sister is twenty-two weeks along, and you look pretty much the same.”

  “I’m only eighteen weeks.” She turned her gaze to the ocean speeding past the window. “And if you do the math, you’ll discover I was pregnant when I went to rehab. I didn’t find out until I was nine weeks along, so I wasn’t intentionally doing drugs while I was pregnant. That’s why I went to rehab.”

  “I’m not judging you.”

  “Well, then you’ll be the first and probably the last.” She dropped her hand to her stomach and rubbed it absently. “I felt her move the other day. It felt like—like the weirdest gas. Isn’t that funny?”

  “My sister says the same thing.” He smiled. “I’ll introduce her to you, if you like. She’s a little spitfire who owns a pub on the beach. That’s where I met Ryan.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’d like that. I’m not ready to tell any of my friends back in California that I’m pregnant. That’s part of why I’m here, to hide out with Ryan until I am ready. But it’s been lonely going through all these milestones by myself.”

  “Does Ryan know? He didn’t say anything to me.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet. He’ll be fine with it though, don’t you think?”

  That depends on whether or not it’s his.

  The thought came to Trey out of nowhere, and he flushed red. He wasn’t about to interrogate her, so he just nodded. “Yeah, I guess so? I mean, he’s Ryan. I think he’ll take anything in stride.”

  “He does. A lot of people don’t take him seriously, but he’s got really super amazing problem-solving skills. If he weren’t an actor—and if he’d paid more attention in high school science classes—he could totally be a doctor.”

  Seeing how Ali clearly adored her best friend made Trey unexpectedly happy. The Ryan he’d met was full of life and laughter, but socially driftless without Trey or his friends in the theater. He could see already how Ryan and Ali had buffered the world for each other.

  Ice broken, they talked about Ryan, the two plays, and of course Ferdinand, all along Highway 12 to Banker’s Shoals. Ali lit up with laughter as Trey told her the story of Ryan’s first morning at his house, Ferdy’s underwear theft and all.

  “Oh my god, poor Ryan!” Then she laughed so hard she snorted and s
tarted fanning herself with both hands. “Okay, no more funny stories, or I’m gonna wet myself.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re pulling into Banker’s Shoals in about ten minutes.” He pointed at the shoreline widening out in front of them. “Welcome to our little island.”

  Since he didn’t have an access card to Ryan’s gate, and Ryan was at rehearsal, Trey took Ali to his own home. She fawned over Ferdy, scratching his belly and cooing at him.

  “I have to get to work, and Ryan’s at tech rehearsal—it’s going to be a long one. I’ll probably be back here before him, but if you need anything, text me. Ryan gave you my number right?”

  “All I need is about a gallon of water and a long nap.” She laughed. “But I will definitely text you or Ryan if I need anything else.”

  “There’s a Brita pitcher in the fridge, guest room is the first door on the left. Restroom is the next door down. If the dog scratches at the back door, or if he starts acting obnoxious, you can let him out back. Help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge.”

  She stood up and hugged him again. “Thank you, Trey. I appreciate you.”

  “Um, you’re welcome.”

  Ryan was watching Annsley and a still-vaguely-green David verbally spar on stage as Beatrice and Benedick when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Trey.

  We need to talk. Urgent. About Ali.

  His heart sped up. What could possibly have happened? His brain started racing through various scenarios, each worse than the last.

  He caught Mason’s eye and gestured that he was going outside. Mason nodded, and he hurried out to the parking lot and called Trey.

  As soon as Trey picked up, words started pouring out of Ryan. “What happened? Is she okay? Did something happen with the plane?”

  “She’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not that kind of urgent.”

  “Not that kind of—” Ryan blew out a frustrated breath. “How many kinds of urgent are there? What happened?”

  “This is really super not my place, as she would say, to mention.”

  “Okay. But you’re going to anyway?”