Outsider (57 page)

Trey
whimpered when Ethan gave the tip of his cock one final lick and then straightened
his back. He gripped Trey by the hips and thrust into him hard several times, the
harshness of his strokes giving Trey just enough control to hold back his
impending orgasm.

Reagan
turned to face Ethan, holding on to his broad shoulders and straddling Trey’s
hips. Ethan grabbed Trey’s cock and rubbed him against her wet pussy until Trey
couldn’t take anymore.

“Please,”
he groaned. “Oh God. I need her. I need you both.”

His
cock entered her hot, wet center, sending pleasure down his length, into his
balls, into his ass, until his entire body was consumed. Reagan began to rise
and fall over him, matching Ethan’s strokes with a rhythm they’d perfected.
Trey clung to the sheets, so possessed by his pleasure that he could do nothing
but moan in rapture. Through cracked eyelids he watched his lovers embrace each
other as they made love to him. Ethan’s hands stroked Reagan’s back, her
breasts, and her glorious ass as she rode him. She slid her hands up the back
of Ethan’s neck and drew his mouth to hers, kissing him deeply. She moaned against
his lips, and Ethan’s answering growl made gooseflesh rise on Trey’s skin.
Reagan took Trey faster, taking him higher. Trey tried to hold back, but the
pleasure was too intense.

“Reagan.”
He gasped a warning. “Reagan, hurry!”

Ethan
reached between their joined bodies to stroke her clit. Her moans became
frantic as she rode Trey faster and faster. Ethan drove into Trey’s ass with
the same relentless pace, matching her speed. Fucking Trey harder. Harder.
Sweat pooled on his belly, trickled down the side of his face. His toes curled
under.

Oh
God. Don’t come yet. Not yet.

He
bit his lip and held on.

Wait
for her. Wait.

Her
moans of increasing intensity were making it impossible to ignore the feel of
her soft flesh sliding up and down his length.

Finally
Reagan cried out, and her pussy clenched hard around Trey’s cock as she let go.
He shattered into a million pieces of bliss as he immediately followed her over
the edge. Trey’s ass clenched in hard spasms around Ethan’s driving cock as he
erupted inside Reagan with a loud cry, his cum jetting into her body in
vigorous spurts. Ethan soon followed him, his fingers digging into Trey’s ass
as he buried himself to the hilt and cried out against Reagan’s shoulder. She
wrapped her arms around Ethan as his cock pulsed violently in Trey’s ass and he
filled him with his fluids.

Trey
went limp, so completely spent that his muscles forgot how to contract. Reagan
climbed from his lap to lie beside him. She traced lazy circles on his
sweat-soaked belly, drawing quivers of overstimulation from his exhausted
flesh. Ethan carefully tugged the pillow from beneath Trey’s back and slowly
pulled out. Trey sucked a ragged breath through trembling lips as Ethan gently
wiped his tender ass clean with a towel.

Reagan’s
hand slid across Trey’s stomach, and she turned on her side to cuddle against
him.

“I
love you,” she whispered.

He
tried to move his arm to embrace her, but he was still incapable of motion.

She
lifted her head. “And you, Ethan. I love you.”

“We
love you too,” Ethan said. “I’m sure Trey would echo my sentiment if we hadn’t
just fucked him into a coma.”

That
was exactly how Trey felt. Like he’d been fucked into a coma of unparalleled
bliss.

Trey
tried to form words, but they came out as a murmured chain of nonsensical syllables.

Reagan
chuckled and snuggled closer.

Ethan
made a trip to the bathroom but was soon back in bed with them, pressed against
Trey’s opposite side. His two lovers held hands with each other on his belly, making
him smile. The sex they shared was unmatched in its intensity and pleasure, but
what really made Trey feel complete was the love and respect they had for each
other. Trey’s impending and perfectly legal marriage to Reagan was just an
illusion to hide the far more beautiful relationship going on behind closed
doors. He had no doubt that the love he felt for these two people was stronger
than any negativity others might throw their way. Fuck the haters. If they had
an issue with his feelings for these two very different people, that was their
problem, not his. He’d always been a lover. Loving had always been one of the
biggest parts of who he was, and now he was twice the lover. He finally felt
whole and refused to change for anyone. Nobody could ever take who he was away
from him.

Trey
relaxed with contentment as he drifted off.

Reagan
plucked at the white fabric of her wedding gown’s satin skirt.
White
?
Ha!
Wedding?
Gulp!

“Are
you really going to wear combat boots with your wedding dress?” Toni asked her
as she fastened a set of pearls around Reagan’s neck.

Reagan
checked her reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself. Her hair was
arranged in short, silky curls around the glittering tiara of a veil. Her
makeup was heavy but tasteful and made her look far more elegant than she felt.
And she was wearing pearls, for fuck’s sake.
Pearls!
The only thing on
her body that felt remotely normal was the combat boots hidden beneath the
yards and yards off satin.

“Yep,”
Reagan said, surprised such an ordinary word could come out of the mouth of the
regal-looking woman in the mirror.

“Are
you nervous?” Toni said, tugging at a bit of fabric here, a length of tulle
there.

Reagan
blew out her cheeks. “I’m not sure. I feel like I’m going to throw up—does that
mean I’m nervous?” Or did it mean she was scared? Or maybe that her breakfast
sausage had been spoiled. It wasn’t like she’d actually tasted it as she’d
forced herself to eat it.

A
quiet knock sounded on the door, and Reagan jumped. Her father poked his head
inside, his eyes misting over at his first glimpse of the bride.

“It’s
time,” he said, a breathless hitch in his voice.

Time?
Already? Reagan took a deep breath and then another and reminded herself that
the ceremony was primarily for show. She wasn’t giving up Ethan just because
she was marrying Trey. In her heart, she was already married to them both. This
wedding was just for legalities and public perception and . . . She
swallowed the tight, queasy feeling rising up her throat.

“They’ve
started. Are you ready?” Dad asked, holding out a hand in her direction.

She
took it, crinkled her nose when she realized how damp her palm was, released
his hold to wipe her hand on her pristine gown, and then took his hand again.

“You
look beautiful, tiger,” Dad said as he led her to the hall.

“Thanks.”
She patted the lapel of his gray tuxedo. “Looking pretty dapper there yourself,
Daddy-O.”

Reagan
caught a flash of a red skirt belonging to one of her wedding attendants before
the double doors leading to the chapel closed. She tried to breathe through her
anxiety as they waited for the wedding march to begin and the chapel doors to
open.

The
muffled wedding processional music ended inside the chapel, and the familiar
strains of the wedding march swelled on a pipe organ. Or at least the recording
of one did. Reagan closed her eyes—this was it—gave herself a mental shake—this
was it—and took the first step at her father’s side. Oh God, this was it.

The
chapel was packed—with reporters. Reagan forced her attention off the cameras and
to the men she loved. Trey smiled at her in encouragement. Her heart fluttered
at how handsome he looked. How familiar and loving. She could do this. Her gaze
shifted to Ethan, standing beside Trey as his best man, except it wasn’t Ethan.
It was Brian. She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping to rid herself
of the hallucination, but the image didn’t waver. The man standing beside Trey
wasn’t Ethan. Brian and Dare were there with Trey, as expected, but no Ethan.

No
Ethan.

Her
gaze shifted to her side of the pulpit. Her friends who’d come all the way from
California—Jamie and Summer—as well as Brian’s wife, Myrna, stood on her side
as they’d been told. Still no Ethan. She scanned the front rows, checking
familiar faces, but none belonged to the one she most needed to see.

She
was suddenly standing before Trey and her father was giving her away and all
she could think was
Where is he
? He promised he’d be there.

“It’s
okay,” Trey said, offering her a supportive smile. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Where’s
Ethan?” she whispered.

“He
went to get the rings.”

“The
rings?” They’d been in such a rush to get to the chapel after spending the
morning recovering from their lovemaking that they must have forgotten the
rings.

Trey
nodded, blinking rapidly. “He never came back.”

They
stared at each other for a long moment. The clergyman was prattling on in the
background, but Reagan didn’t hear any of it. Not really.

Ethan
wasn’t there.

That
could only mean one thing.

He
wasn’t okay with this. He’d never been okay with this. She was marrying one man
she loved at the expense of the other.

“I
can’t do this,” she said, not sure she’d actually spoken aloud until a single
tear slipped down Trey’s cheek and he closed his eyes.

His
hands tightened on hers, but she managed to pull them free.

“I
love you, Trey,” she said, touching his warm cheek. She half expected him to
flinch away from her, but he leaned into her palm instead. “Do you believe me?”

He
nodded slightly. And one of them was trembling.

“I’m
sorry. I can’t marry you. Not like this.” She turned, searching for an escape
route. The double doors at the back of the chapel beckoned. She scarcely
noticed the camera flashes as she gathered her obnoxious skirt in both hands
and fled.

Of
all the worst possible fucking days to witness an accident, Ethan thought as he
pressed down on the motorcyclist’s heavily bleeding thigh with both hands.

“Did
someone call an ambulance?” he yelled at the crowd of onlookers who’d gathered
but didn’t seem too keen on getting involved.

“It’s
on the way,” someone called.

“Am
I going to lose my leg?” asked the man bleeding all over Ethan. “I can’t lose
my leg.” He tried to sit up, but Ethan leaned an elbow against his hip,
cringing when blood spurted from between his fingers. “I can’t lose my leg!
I
can’t lose my leg!
” Each time he said it he became more frantic. More
panicked. Louder.

“You’re
not going to lose your leg,” Ethan said evenly. He was more worried that the
man would lose his life if they didn’t get the bleeding stopped. “Stay calm.
Help is on the way.” Ethan needed to get a tourniquet around the top of the
man’s thigh; the pressure of his hands wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding.

Ethan
looked around the wreckage for something he could use. The SUV barely had a
scratch on it. The motorcycle beneath its front wheels was unrecognizable.
“Does anyone have a rope or something I can use as a tourniquet?”

The
people around him murmured among themselves as if he was speaking a foreign
language.

“A
belt? Or a tie?” Wait, he had a tie. For once. Trying to keep as much pressure
on the femoral artery as possible with one hand, he loosened the knot at his
neck with the other. “Can someone give me a hand?” Jesus. You’d think these
people hadn’t ever been at an accident scene before. A wail of sirens sounded
in the distance. Never a cop around when you needed one, he thought wryly. Just
an ex-cop.

Ethan
worked the length of black satin beneath the leg he was pushing into the
asphalt. There was no way he could do this all on his own. It was a man in blue—and
gray—that finally lent him the hand he needed. He and the state patrolman
worked to tighten the tie around the victim’s thigh even though the man was
screaming in pain. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and the paramedics
took over. Ethan climbed to his feet and looked down at the blood-stained
condition of his suit.

“Off-duty
cop?” asked the officer who’d helped him tie the tourniquet.

It
pained him to admit it, but he said, “I’m no longer on the force.”

“That’s
a shame. You probably saved that guy’s life today.”

Ethan
sure hoped so.

“Are
you late for your own wedding?” The officer nodded toward his now macabre
formal attire.

Ethan
groaned. “Not my wedding, no.” He couldn’t very well show up at Trey and
Reagan’s wedding covered in blood. He had to hurry if he was going to get
cleaned up in time to make it to the ceremony.

He
gave the officer his identification and contact information—in case they needed
a witness later—rinsed his sticky hands with a bottle of water and climbed into
his car. The officers on the scene stopped traffic so he could get turned
around and avoid the motorcycle wreckage and be on his way. He could still hear
the sickening crunch of the wreck. The SUV had changed lanes right in front of
him. Unfortunately, the motorcyclist had already been in that lane.

Ethan
cringed when he noted the time. The ceremony would be starting in less than ten
minutes. He wouldn’t have time to wash up, change clothes, and get to the
chapel. He didn’t want to miss the ceremony, but more importantly, the rings were
in his pocket. He tried calling Reagan, calling Trey, calling anyone who might
have a phone at the chapel, but no one answered. He had several anxious messages
from Trey asking where he was, if he was okay, telling him he understood if he
was upset, but would he please call him anyway.

Ethan
bit his lip. They probably thought he was absent because he didn’t want them to
be united as man and wife, but he wasn’t worried about that. They could be
legally married. He believed in his heart that the three of them would always
be together. None of them was truly whole without the other two—they’d proved
that. A piece of paper didn’t matter to him,
Reagan
mattered to him.
Trey
mattered to him. And he no longer cared who knew it.

He
parked behind the chapel, stripped off his ruined suit jacket and the red shirt
beneath. He opened the trunk of his car—glad his overnight bag was still
inside—and tried to find something appropriate to wear. He settled on a black
T-shirt. There were spots of blood on his pants as well, but as the loud
strains of the wedding march echoed from the chapel, he decided he didn’t have
time to change those too. He hurried around to the door they’d told him to
enter at the quick rehearsal the night before and let himself inside. Someone
he didn’t recognize stopped him before he burst through the side door into the
chapel.

“You
have blood all over your face.”

“I’m
late. Let me in. I’m the best man. I have the rings.”

The
wedding march ended, and he could hear a loud muffled voice, but he couldn’t
make out the words.

“There’s
a bathroom right there.” The usher, or whoever the guy was, pointed at a
slightly open door. “Go wash up. You can’t go in there looking like that.”

Hey,
he’d changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, what more did they want from him?
With a resigned sigh, Ethan hurried into the small bathroom and gasped when he
caught his reflection in the mirror. Yeah, showing up to a wedding with streaks
of blood and sweat and dirt down his face probably wasn’t the best idea. He
hurriedly scrubbed his hands and face with liquid soap and dried off as best he
could with brown paper towels. He at least wanted to watch them say their vows
to each other—he couldn’t miss that. And they’d need the rings for that, wouldn’t
they? He had to get out there now.

The
usher let him through this time, and Ethan eased the door open, not wanting to
disturb the ceremony. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Trey was standing
at the altar alone, staring up the aisle, ashen-faced and trembling. At first
Ethan thought he was waiting for Reagan to make her way down the aisle to him,
but the bridal party was rushing up the aisle, as were several of the guests
and Reagan’s father.

Ethan
dashed to Trey’s side and collected his quaking body in his arms.

“Ethan,”
Trey murmured, clinging to his shirt as his legs went out on him.

Ethan
pulled Trey against him, cradling the back of his head as Trey buried his face
in his neck.

“What’s
going on?” Ethan asked, staring at the chaos at the end of the chapel where
everyone was trying to filter outside at once.

“She’s
gone. She left. She doesn’t want to marry me.”

“What
do you mean, she left?”

“She
left.” Trey sniffed and swallowed.

Ethan
felt a hot wetness against his throat, and it took him a second to realize Trey
was crying. Ethan’s joy, the light in his soul, his every happiness, was bawling
his eyes out.

“She’ll
come back,” Ethan said, forcing Trey backward so he could see the truth in
Ethan’s eyes. “She’ll come back.”

She
had to come back.

“She’ll
come back.” Ethan cupped Trey’s face between his palms and kissed him, pouring
every tender emotion he’d tried to repress for this man into the meeting of
their lips. He didn’t care that the press had noticed them. Didn’t care that
the nosy motherfuckers were twittering about his shocking behavior or taking
picture after picture. All Ethan cared about was that Trey knew his love was
true and everlasting.

When
they drew apart, Trey blinked up at him, his tears no longer flowing—thank
God—but his lashes spiky and wet. “You kissed me,” he whispered, the hint of a
smile on his lips. “In public.”

“You’d
better get used to it,” Ethan said. “I love you, Trey. Do you believe me?”

He
expected Trey to brighten at his words, but instead he grimaced. “That’s what
she said right before she left me.”

“Well,
I’m not going anywhere without you,” he said, taking Trey’s hand and tugging
him up the aisle. “Let’s go get our woman.”

Trey
came to a sudden stop after only a few steps. “Is that blood, Ethan?”

“It’s
not mine,” he said, heart galloping at all the attention they were getting.
“I’ll explain later.” While he didn’t care who knew that he was unapologetically
in love with a man—
this
man—Ethan enjoyed being the focus of the press’s
attention even less than Reagan did.

Someone
shoved a microphone in Trey’s face. “Was your engagement to Reagan just a
cover-up for your
homosexual relationship with Ethan Conner?”

Trey
cringed. “No. I want to marry Reagan because I love her.”

Ethan
didn’t want to deal with the bullshit right now. “Get out of our way!” he
bellowed. And to his surprise, the crush of reporters moved aside to let them
through.

By
the time he got Trey outside, the entire wedding party and all the guests had
dispersed. Not that he blamed them. They probably didn’t want to answer awkward
questions either. There was no sign of Reagan, only more reporters, who
descended on them like vultures scenting the death of a forbidden love.