Outsider (22 page)

“Some
starlet had a wrinkle emergency,” Trey said with a laugh.

“Breast
implant emergency,” Mom corrected in a serious tone.

“My
apologies. A
boob-job
emergency. Dare,” Trey called into the house, “we’ll
see you there.”

“Okay!”
Dare returned from somewhere inside the enormous home.

“I’ll
be there too,” Mom said, “and I’ll be careful not to let on that I know about
the three of you.” She cupped Trey’s cheek in her hand and gave him a smooch on
the lips.

“Thanks
for understanding, Mrs. Mills,” Ethan said, but Trey was pouting again.

“If
you’re not going to call me mom, at least call me Gwen,” she said.

Ethan
nodded. “Thanks for understanding, Gwen.”

When
they backed out of the driveway through the open gate, a photographer snapped
dozens of pictures of their car, no doubt trying to capture a shot of whoever
was inside. She even chased after them on foot for half a block.

“Fucking
ridiculous,” Reagan said, shaking her head at the side mirror. The woman had
stopped her chase, but was still taking pictures through a gigantic lens.

“We’re
taking my car to the visitation,” Ethan said from his scrunched position in the
back seat. “I have darker tint on my windows.”

Trey
rolled his eyes. “I say we have a public three-way on the hood of the car and
get this all out in the open.”

“That
would
do the trick,” Ethan said with a throaty chuckle.

Reagan
whirled in her seat to gape at him. “You’re not actually considering sex in
public, are you?”

“In
public, no,” Ethan said. “But if we parked in a garage somewhere . . .”

“You
can’t seriously be horny right now,” Reagan said, shaking her head at him.

His
dark eyes smoldered as they held hers. “Playing in the water—you both with your
clothes soaking wet and clinging to your bodies . . . How
could I not be horny?”

“Detour!”
Trey did a U-turn and headed back toward his parents’ house.

“Absolutely
not!” Reagan said, reaching for the steering wheel. “I will not insult your
parents by fucking their son
and
his boyfriend in their garage.”

Trey
took a right at the next corner. “Different detour.”

The
low rumble of Ethan’s voice drew Reagan’s attention to the back seat.

“Droplets
of water dripping from Trey’s hair, sliding down his neck into the T-shirt
plastered to his chest. God, how I wanted to lick those drops from his skin.”
Ethan’s eyes were closed as he shared his fantasy. “The outline of Reagan’s bra
barely covering a pair of hard nipples. I can practically feel the texture of
her wet shirt against my lips and taste the chlorine in the water as I suck her
breast through her clothes.”

“You
okay back there?” Reagan asked. She couldn’t help but notice the appreciable
bulge in the front of Ethan’s damp pants.

“Dare,
stripping off his wet shirt, the sun kissing his golden skin as I—”

“What?”
Trey slammed on the brakes, sending Reagan’s shoulder biting painfully into her
seat belt. A squirrel darted across the street in front of the car. “You were
fantasizing about my
brother
?” Trey’s harsh gaze focused on the rearview
mirror.

“Everyone
fantasizes about your brother,” Ethan said.

Trey
turned to Reagan. She couldn’t lie. Before she’d fallen for Trey, she’d had a
few Dare-ing fantasies of her own—most of them involving both brothers simultaneously.
“It’s a fact. He’s almost as fuckable as you are.”

“But
not quite, right?” Trey started forward again at a slower speed.

Reagan
squeezed his thigh, knowing he needed his ego stroked. And maybe a few body
parts as well. “Not even close. You’re infinitely more fuckable than Dare ever
thought of being.”

“Well,
I wouldn’t go that far,” Ethan said. Reagan scowled at him over her shoulder
and found him laughing silently. Ethan was joking again? What the hell? If he
wasn’t careful, he might acquire an actual sense of humor.

Grumbling
under his breath about never being the best at anything, Trey turned right
again, his destination obviously home.

“You’re
so sensitive.” Ethan leaned over the front seat and caught Trey’s earlobe in
his ear.

Reagan
suddenly wanted to find the nearest garage—be it Trey’s parents’ or the pope’s.
There was something so erotic about Ethan and Trey being intimate that it pushed
all her lust buttons.

“That’s
what I love most about you.” Ethan’s hand slid down Trey’s chest and belly,
stopping just short of his crotch. “I wouldn’t trade you for ten Dares.” Trey
gasped as Ethan’s hand stroked him through his damp jeans. “Well, maybe for
ten, but no less.”

Trey
grunted and slapped Ethan’s hand away.

“You’re
so mean,” Reagan said.

She
heard Ethan’s seat belt click. He shifted from behind Trey’s seat to behind
hers and whispered, “That’s not mean. Mean would be if I took advantage of you
while he’s driving and made him watch but not let him participate.”

Ethan
was really in a mood. A mean and horny one, Reagan decided, as both his hands
covered her breasts and his mouth sucked at her throat. Perhaps she should have
scolded him or tried to escape, but her nipples were already hard and straining
against the harsh touch of his fingertips, and her belly fluttered with
anticipation. One of Ethan’s hands slid down Reagan’s stomach and deftly
unfastened her shorts.

“Ethan!”
she gasped in surprise when his hand delved inside, but she didn’t stop him.
She didn’t want to stop him as his finger slid between her lips and over her
throbbing, swollen clit.

“Are
you thinking about how good it feels to slide your dick into this sweet, slick
pussy?” Ethan asked Trey.

“You
really are cruel,” Trey said, keeping one eye on the road and one on the wicked
things Ethan was doing to Reagan’s eager body.

Ethan’s
finger rubbed over Reagan’s clit. Pleasure and excitement danced along her
nerves. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her breaths came in excited
gasps.

“Don’t
make me come, Ethan,” she protested as her pleasure built rapidly. She
regretted that request when he eased off her clit and shifted his fingertip to
delve into her aching center.

“God,
her pussy is hot and wet, Trey,” Ethan said, his low voice drawing shudders of
delight from Reagan. “Do you think it needs a fast fuck?”

“I
know it does,” Trey said, his mouth twisting into an ornery smile.

Reagan’s
eyes opened wide when Ethan unfastened her seat belt. “What are you doing?”

“Being
cruel to Trey,” Ethan said, his voice so hypnotic and reassuring that she
actually helped him get her into the back seat. “But very generous to you.”

He
stripped her shorts off and tossed them onto Trey’s lap. “That’s as close as
your dick is getting to what it wants right now.”

Reagan
fumbled with Ethan’s fly, so excited by the thought of being filled with his
hard, thick length that her fingers wouldn’t work properly.

“Let
me help you with that,” Ethan said, freeing his cock from his pants.

“Yes,”
Reagan said, shifting onto his lap and grasping the back of the front seat with
both hands.

Ethan
scrunched down in his seat to center himself between her legs, pushed her thong
to one side, and pressed his cockhead inside her. She moaned, her face pressed
against the seat back, as she lowered her hips and took him deep.

“Mmm.
Her pussy is always better than I remember,” Ethan said, his hands stroking her
belly and breasts as she rode him. “Is it that way for you, Trey?”

Reagan
lifted her head to peek at her neglected lover in the driver’s seat. He was
massaging her discarded shorts into his crotch while navigating traffic like a
Nascar driver.

“You
didn’t answer me,” Ethan said.

“Fuck
you,” Trey muttered under his breath.

“No,
baby, fuck you,” Ethan said. “I’m going to hold your hands behind your back and
fuck that hot ass of yours until you come. You can beg me to touch you, but I
won’t.”

Just
thinking about Ethan pounding into Trey had Reagan working Ethan’s cock and trying
to soothe the ache deep within her. She never could seem to reach that ache unless
she was filled with both of them. Ethan helped her by fingering her swollen
clit until she exploded. She cried out, her fingers digging into the thick
leather of the seat, her pussy clenching around Ethan’s cock.

He
groaned. “That’s it, baby. Take what I give you.”

“Thank
you,” she whispered, still breathing hard, her body trembling with shattered
bliss.

“This
isn’t fair,” Trey said, stopping at an intersection and turning his head to
look at the pair of them scrunched low in the back of his brand new car. “When
do I get relief?”

“It
won’t happen easy. Reagan will want to help you by sucking or stroking or
fucking that gorgeous dick of yours—and I can’t blame her—but I’m not going to
let her touch you. I’ll be the one to make you come. By penetration only.”

Trey
huffed out a breath, pressing Reagan’s shorts so firmly into his crotch that it
had to hurt. Poor guy.

“You
really are cruel to him,” Reagan murmured.

“That’s
what he wants. Isn’t it, Trey?”

Trey
swallowed hard, but he nodded.

“He
wants to relive that first time with Brian over and over again.”

Reagan
straightened—Ethan’s stiff cock still buried inside her—and focused on Trey.
His face had gone pink and the knuckles of one hand white as he gripped the
steering wheel.

“I
didn’t tell you about that so you could use it against me,” Trey said, his
voice taking on a breathless quality.

“Tell
him about what?” Reagan asked, angling her head to stare at Ethan.

Ethan’s
tan complexion was unusually pasty. “Shit, I’m sorry, Trey,” Ethan said, the
sexy timber of his voice replaced with its usual pitch. “I didn’t mean it that
way. I just . . . I just want you to have what you need. I
thought you liked that.”

“What
are you talking about?” Reagan asked. She’d apparently missed an important
piece of information.

“Forget
it,” Trey said.

“Did
you tell Ethan the details of your affair with Brian?” she asked, her chest
aching at the idea of him confiding something to Ethan that she hadn’t managed
to pry out of him with both hands and a crowbar.

“I
said forget it,” Trey said. He threw her shorts into the back seat. “Put those
on.”

Ethan
had gone soft anyway, so she slid off his lap and wriggled into her shorts.
“Did he tell you about Brian?” she asked Ethan, wincing at the accusatory tone
of her voice.

“It’s
not a big deal,” Ethan said.

He
couldn’t possibly believe that.

“If
it’s not a big deal, why wouldn’t he ever share it with me?” Reagan said,
flopping into the seat behind Trey, fastening her seat belt, and crossing her
arms over her chest. Yeah, she was pouting. So what.

“I
thought Ethan would be more understanding because he’s a guy,” Trey said,
pulling to a halt in front of their apartment building. They’d decided to find
a new place for the three of them after they finished their summer tour, but
for now they were still stuck in their crummy neighborhood. Trey’s BMW
practically had a Steal Me sign affixed to the bumper.

“So
because I’m a woman, I can’t possibly understand how it feels to love someone
you shouldn’t?”

“It’s
more the first ass-fucking thing that you wouldn’t understand,” Trey snapped as
he hurried out of the car. They’d all been too upset to notice the photographer
hiding in the low palms around their front walk. He was taking pictures of Trey
before he’d even slammed the car door.

Reagan
left Ethan rearranging his fly while she jumped out of the car to confront the
frizzy-haired man. “Will you just go away and leave us alone!”

Trey
dashed up the stairs and was already shoving his key into the door when Ethan
emerged from the back of the car. The photographer’s eyes widened—most likely
because Reagan had been in the back seat with him, not in the passenger seat
with her supposed boyfriend—and then he started snapping pictures. A wide grin
spread across his oily face.

“Give
me that camera,” Ethan said, placing his hand over the lens and tugging.

The
slightly built guy refused to release his hold on the camera and started moving
backward. “I’m in a public area, within my rights to photograph anything or
anyone for editorial—”

“As
Reagan Elliot’s bodyguard, I feel you are threatening her well-being, and I’m
within my rights to punch you in the fucking mouth.”

Reagan
cringed, knowing Ethan was prone to get violent when he was protecting someone.
“I’m okay,” she said, wrapping a hand around Ethan’s arm and tugging. They
really didn’t need more attention drawn to them, and if Ethan started punching
paparazzi in the mouth, they’d end up with a heap more of the kind of attention
they didn’t want. “Let’s just get ready. We don’t want to be late for the
visitation.”