Betting on Grace (18 page)

“My mother didn’t seem too worried in the beginning,
but then, as the months passed, I started to notice we didn’t have much food in
the house. Not that my mother was ever a gourmet cook, but she did cook.
Eventually, it came down to TV dinners nuked in the microwave or soup. And yes,
things started goin’ downhill from there. My parents started fightin’ more.”

“More?” Grace asked, trying to picture what it had
been like for Grant growing up.

“They always fought. For as long as I can remember,
things were physical around the house. My mother hit my father as much as he
hit her.”

“Did they hit you?” Lane asked.

Grace could see the tension radiating from Lane. His
broad shoulders were rigid, and she could see the corded muscles standing out
in his neck.

“Yeah,” Grant admitted softly.

Grace couldn’t describe the fury etched on Lane’s face
after hearing that response. She’d never seen him so upset, but he clearly
didn’t like the fact that Grant had been hit as a kid. She couldn’t imagine
what it had been like growing up in Grant’s house. Her family, although she
fought with her sisters regularly, wasn’t into any sort of corporal punishment.
If they had done something wrong, they got more chores to do. And they’d
learned early on not to bitch about it, either, or her father would double them
just to teach them a lesson.

“What about your sister?” Lane asked.

“Morgan fought back,” Grant said, his eyes darting
back and forth between Grace and Lane. “But she moved out when I was fifteen.
At that point, my father had gone to rehab, and things were better. Not great,
but they were gettin’ better. When my grandmother died, my mom’s mom, my dad
started actin’ funny again. I learned later that my mother had received some
money in the will and my father wanted it. The smartest thing my mother ever did
was use that money to pay off the trailer.”

“What does your mom think about it now?” Grace asked.

“I don’t know where my mother is,” Grant admitted, his
eyes sliding down to the beer bottle in his hand. He had been absently picking
at the label, and now he was studying it intently.

“She’s still not answering her phone?” Lane asked.

“Nope.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Grace replayed
the conversation over and over in her head. Remembering the confrontation
they’d had with Grant’s father, the evil she had felt exuding from that man…
Maybe she was sheltered, she wasn’t sure, but no matter how hard she tried, she
couldn’t fathom what it had been like for Grant as a kid. And although she’d
lost her mother when she was young, Grace knew that things could’ve been
significantly worse. At least her father hadn’t fallen apart. He wasn’t a
gambler, he wasn’t an alcoholic… No, for as long as she could remember, Jerry
Lambert had been the strongest, most admirable man she’d ever met.

But now, as she sat in front of Grant, feeling his
pain, she knew that this incredible man sitting just a few feet away from her
was one of the strongest men she’d ever met, as well.

Lane was doing his best to keep his composure, but he
really just wanted to throttle someone. Darrell Kingsley was the first person
that came to mind.

As he sat there in Gracie’s living room, trying to
keep his rage locked down deep, he thought about what it must’ve been like
growing up in Grant’s house.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” Grant growled from
his spot just a few feet away from Lane. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Trust me, I’m not pitying you, but I’d like to teach
your father a lesson,” Lane barked.

“I think he’s learned a lesson. He’s battlin’ a
gamblin’ addiction,” Grant argued. “No, I don’t feel sorry for him, either, but
I can’t imagine what he goes through.”

Lane nodded. He could sort of relate. Not that his
father had a gambling addiction, but the man was intent on controlling everyone
and everything in his life. “My father’s not a saint, either,” Lane offered.
“He’s the most controlling man I’ve ever met. He’s got my mother under his
thumb. Half the time, I have to wonder if she can even think for herself. My
relationship with them is rocky, too.”

“How so?” Gracie asked, drawing her legs up into the
chair beneath her as she watched him intently.

“Where I grew up, parents had money. I mean real
money. I didn’t want for nothin’, and I think my dad thought that would make me
moldable,” Lane explained. “We lived in a big house in a gated community, I
went to a private school, my mom wore designer clothes, and she dressed up
every day although she didn’t work. My dad threw his money around, and he was
proud of it. He measured his worth by material possessions. I just happened to
be one of those possessions.”

He could still remember the conversations he’d have
with his father. Always what he could do better, what he should’ve done
differently. Didn’t matter if Lane hit the winning run of the game, there was something
Lane could’ve done better.

“He wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer. And I’m not
talking, ‘doctors and lawyers make good money, son, you’re smart enough, that’s
what you should do,’ either. No, my father insisted that I be one or the other
because those were prestigious careers and he’d be able to show me off even
more.

“Imagine his surprise when I decided to defy him and
do odd jobs here and there. I hadn’t held a long-term job before coming to
DHR.” Lane wasn’t looking at Gracie or Grant as he spoke, fearful of what he’d
see in their eyes. Sure, maybe it sounded pathetic for him to bitch and moan
about his father wanting him to actually do something with his life, but it
wasn’t the path he had wanted to take.

“Maybe if he hadn’t pushed so hard, you would’ve
wanted to be one,” Gracie said. “I know the feelin’. When I was little, I
wanted to race like my mom. She taught me everything she knew, starting when I
was five.”

“You’re really good, you know,” Grant offered.

Now Lane was looking at Gracie, trying his best to
hide the startled look on his face. He hadn’t expected either of them to open
up so easily, and sitting there watching Gracie talk about her mother made his
heart ache for her.

“That’s why I don’t want anyone to know about it,” she
admitted. “I don’t want anyone pushing me to do something I don’t want to do.”

“If you don’t want to do it, why do you? It takes
practice to be as good as you are, Gracie,” Grant stated.

“I don’t want to go pro,” Gracie explained. “I love
riding Astro Boy. It’s the only time I feel completely free, but I…” Gracie
paused for a moment, and Lane saw her throat working. She appeared to be
swallowing her emotions, and he was tempted to reach out and grab her, pull her
into his lap so he could hold her close.

“If my mother can’t be here to see me, I don’t want to
do it.”

Wow. That was a startling revelation. From the moment
Lane had seen Gracie riding Astro Boy, showing that little girl just what she
was capable of, he hadn’t been able to get the image out of his head.

“So you gave up?” Grant asked. The question, had it
not been laced with sympathy, would’ve sounded harsh.

“I didn’t give up,” Gracie countered heatedly. “I’m
not a quitter.”

“No, you’re not,” Grant and Lane agreed simultaneously.

Once again, the silence descended on them, and Lane
fought the urge to fidget. As it was, Grant was shredding the beer bottle label,
and Gracie was now fingering the tassels on one of her throw pillows.

Lane finally cleared his throat, drawing their attention
to him. “So what can we do to help you?” he asked Grant directly. “You know,
with your crazy father?”

Lane tried to keep the question light because the
emotion that was charging the air in the room had caused a black cloud to
settle over them. He didn’t want things to be so serious for them. Sure, he
wanted them to be able to talk to each other, but he didn’t want it to be
something they dreaded doing, either.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Grant began. “I
went to their house hopin’ one of them would come home. I’m more worried about
my mother, honestly. I don’t know where she is.”

“Have you called your sister?” Gracie asked.

Grant’s eyes widened as though the thought hadn’t
occurred to him. He shook his head, confirming Lane’s suspicion.

“Then let’s start there,” Lane said, leaning forward.
“Call her. See if she’s heard from her. Once we get an answer, we’ll go from
there.”

“Who wants another beer?” Gracie asked, springing up
from her seat.

Just when she was starting to walk past him, Lane
reached out and grabbed her, pulling her over the arm of the couch and into his
lap. He stared into her eyes, refusing to let her go when she began to squirm.
“As for you, I’d love to watch you race again. And no, I’m not talkin’
professionally, Gracie.” Lane swallowed, watching her watch him. “Truth be
told, watchin’ you ride that horse is one of the hottest things I’ve ever
seen.”

That earned him a small smile from her. Lane wasn’t
willing to settle for small, so he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers,
sliding his tongue into her mouth as he cradled the back of her head in his
palm.

The next thing he knew, the beer bottle he’d been
holding disappeared from his hand at the same time Gracie’s arms wrapped around
his neck, pulling him to her until he was practically on top of her.

Kissing her was so intense, every single time. The way
she always put her whole heart into it made Lane want to go on kissing her
forever. And he might have, too, if Grant hadn’t moved closer.

Now, Lane was a big man, he didn’t deny that, and
Grant was no lightweight, so, needless to say, they didn’t quite fit on the
couch comfortably. Which was why Lane maneuvered so that he was easing Gracie
down to the floor, repositioning himself so that he was kneeling between her
legs and Grant was lying on his side next to her. From there, Lane alternated
kissing them both, trying not to hurry, wanting to cherish every single minute,
every single slide of their tongues into his mouth.

When Gracie’s hands slipped beneath his T-shirt, Lane
sucked in a breath. Her soft, cool fingers sent chills up and down his skin.
The warm, callused hand that caressed his back had to belong to Grant, and the
combination of both of their hands on him was enough to make his head spin.

“We should move this to the bedroom,” Gracie murmured
against Lane’s lips several moments later.

“What the lady wants, the lady gets,” Lane whispered,
shifting so that he could reach beneath her and lift her into his arms.

Gracie giggled, but then she crushed her lips back to
his, and he had to go slow so that he didn’t run into the wall while she stole
his breath with her delicious tongue. When she sucked his tongue into her
mouth, he hit the wall, his back resting against the unyielding wood as he fought
the incredible surge of desire that shot through him like a lightning bolt.

“Lord have mercy, woman,” Lane said on a harsh breath
when she released him.

When Lane reached the bed, Grant was already there,
sitting on the edge, watching them with hooded eyes. Instead of tossing her
onto the mattress as he had before, Lane eased her down, his hand sliding up
over Grant’s thigh as he positioned himself over her, urging Grant to join
them.

And then the three of them were on the bed, kissing
and touching, the temperature in the room rising, rivaling the humid August
heat outside.

How they managed to remove their clothes while never
getting off the bed, Lane would never know, but several minutes later, Lane was
hovering over Gracie, his rock-hard cock sheathed, and his breath was stolen
from his lungs as he slid into her. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her
ankles pressing into his ass as she tried to pull him deeper.

While the silky hot walls of her pussy gripped him,
Lane tried to remember where they were and what he was supposed to be doing.
The pleasure was beyond incredible, making his brain fuzzy. He tried to remain
still, to let her body acclimate to his size, but Gracie had other plans. She
used her strong legs to pull him deeper, grinding her hips beneath him, fucking
him although he was the one on top.

Figuring she wanted to lead, Lane managed to flip them
so that she was riding him, his cock deep inside her as she sat up. Lane’s
attention was drawn to Grant, who was stroking his dick while watching them
closely. Snaking one hand out behind Grant’s thigh, he urged the man closer
until his thick erection was hovering just above his mouth. He met Grant’s gaze
just as he began to suck the swollen head between his lips.

“Fuck,” Grant groaned, his fingers spearing into
Lane’s hair.

And while Lane sucked Grant’s dick, allowing the man
to fuck his face, Gracie proceeded to ride Lane’s cock for all she was worth.
Overcome with pleasure, Lane had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to
miss a moment as he watched Gracie’s gorgeous tits bounce freely while she
impaled herself on his cock.

Any other time, this would’ve seemed like run-of-the-mill,
incredible sex. But there was something deeper, something vastly more emotional
than before. He contributed that underlying intensity to the fact that they
were finally opening up to one another. On every level.

“Lane, that’s too good,” Grant moaned, but then Gracie
stilled as she leaned forward, her mouth meeting Lane’s around Grant’s thick
shaft. When Gracie took over, sucking Grant’s cock into the furnace of her
mouth, Lane twisted his head and laved Grant’s balls with a long, slow slide of
his tongue while bucking his hips upward, driving himself into Gracie.

And for the first time in a very long time, Lane
wasn’t hovering on the brink. No, he wanted to savor this moment for as long as
possible.

■□■□■□■□

The glorious friction of Gracie’s tongue along the
underside of Grant’s shaft had stars dancing behind his eyelids. The only thing
keeping him from racing to the finish line was the smoldering heat of Lane’s
mouth wrapped around his balls. He couldn’t focus on just one because both
sensations were battling for supremacy, and for the life of him, Grant didn’t
know which one was better.

He would’ve taken several more minutes to compare the
two, but Lane was using his big hand to force Grant to move, and before he knew
it, Grant was straddling Lane’s head, facing Gracie as she sat up, still
impaled on Lane’s cock. Taking the opportunity presented to him, Grant leaned
in and planted his lips on Gracie’s, gripping the back of her head as he pulled
her to him. Their tongues dueled, and Grant was caught up in the moment,
content just to kiss her when the heat of Lane’s tongue slid between his ass
cheeks.

“Fuck,” Grant cried into Gracie’s mouth, pulling away
from her, doing his best not to fall over while Lane tongue-fucked his ass,
gripping his thighs firmly.

The smile on Gracie’s face was one of pure and
profound pleasure. She continued to rock gently on Lane’s cock while reaching
for Grant’s, stroking him firmly. And now there were new sensations warring
against one another: the soft, smooth stroke of Gracie’s hand on his dick,
while the insistent press of Lane’s tongue against his asshole had him aching
for something more.

And then there was more.

“Oh, damn,” Grant groaned as Lane slid two fingers
into him.

He had no idea how Lane could handle the sheer ecstasy
of Gracie grinding herself on his cock, but somehow the man managed, and Grant
was reaping the benefits.

But he needed more.

Grant shifted onto one knee, planting his other foot
on the bed so that he was wide open to Lane beneath him, his hand joining
Gracie’s as he stroked his own cock.

“Fuck me harder,” Grant begged Lane.

Noticing that Gracie’s attention was focused between
his legs and the man who was penetrating him with two fingers, Grant covered
her hand with his and began stroking himself firmly. He didn’t slow down,
encouraged by the way Gracie was watching the scene before her. Lane added another
finger, and Grant knew he was getting close.