Page 3 of Bet On It

“Okay, okay, fine.” Spencer sat there thinking. “How about this? Loser has to be the winner’s servant for three weeks.”

“With no limits,” Ty added before he could stop his diarrhea of the mouth. What the hell did he just say? What did that even mean? Oh, no. Oh, no…stop looking at me like I grew a fucking third eye.

“No limits? Like…none?” Spencer raised his eyebrows.

Ty could feel his face turning the color of a very ripe strawberry. Just about to backpedal, he opened his mouth… “I—”

“Deal,” Spencer cut him off, looking him dead in the eyes.

Ty’s heart was pounding so loudly he thought maybe he’d heard wrong. What the hell did they just agree to? And what the hell did Ty really think he’d make Spencer do if he won? What if he lost? He knew exactly what he was thinking about when he’d said no limits. Pictures of being tied to his bed naked while Spencer whipped him flashed across his mind. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jesus, Ty felt sick to his stomach because he knew he couldn’t take it back. He was sweating profusely as he ran a hand over his short brown hair.

“Ty?” Spencer waved his hand in front of Ty’s face.

Snap the fuck out of it, Ty, he silently scolded himself. Get a fucking grip. He’s not thinking the same thing you are.

“Deal.” He held out his hand to shake on it.

Spencer shook it, and something flashed across his face. Ty wasn’t sure what it was, but uneasiness coursed through his veins at the possibilities.

A few hours later, Ty stared at Eric’s TV screen, his knee bouncing uncontrollably as he sat on the couch. Never in his life had he been so unsure of how he wanted a damn Super Bowl game to end. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he glanced at Spencer out of the corner of his eye, but when Spencer met his gaze and gave him a strange look, Ty quickly shifted his eyes back to the screen.

Of course, Denver and New England went into overtime—because they couldn’t put Ty out of his fucking misery already. Now, the only thing between him and—and what?

“Yeah, bitch!” Spencer shoved Ty’s arm as Ty stared wide-eyed at the score.

He lost. He fucking lost the bet.

Starting tomorrow, he was Spencer’s servant for three whole weeks…no limits. What would Spencer make him do? The possibilities sent a thrill through Ty. He knew he was fucked. At least, I hope I’ll be… As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Ty whipped his head in the direction of Spencer, and a sly grin lit Spencer’s face. Yeah, either way, I’m screwed.

“Wakey, wakey, Ty! Time to do as I say and not as I do.” Spencer poked Ty in the forehead twice before Ty pried his eyelids open. Recollection of the night before and the bet came rushing back, and he shot upright. Dangling in front of his face, Spencer held a big, plastic bag.

“First stop, Starbucks. Get me a grande, black, before I have to leave for work. Second stop, dry cleaners.” He shoved the bag at Ty until he took it. “I’ll need that suit back by tomorrow for my sales meeting. Tonight, I want filet mignon with a baked potato and asparagus. Do you need to write this down?” Spencer smirked.

Ty sat there staring at Spencer. Of course, he had nothing to worry about. Spencer wasn’t thinking the same thing Ty was when they’d said no limits. No, those thoughts were only in his screwed-up mind and there they would stay. So, why did he suddenly feel disappointed?

“Ty! You’re spacing out again, man.” Spencer snapped his fingers in front of Ty’s face, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Starbucks, dry cleaners, expensive filet…got it.” Ty rolled his eyes.

“I’m not so sure I’m okay with you rolling your eyes at me. Seems to me I need to come up with some kind of punishment.”

The word punishment shot straight to Ty’s cock, and he threw his hands in his lap to hide the obvious hard-on he was sporting. He had no idea who he was turning into. He needed to get out, find a chick, and remind himself of his love of the female anatomy, but he didn’t see how that would be possible for the next three weeks.

“…punishment tonight.” Spencer’s words broke through Ty’s train of thought, and he looked at him in confusion.

“Wh—what?” Ty stuttered at the only two words he’d caught in that entire sentence.

“I said…I’m making you watch Billy Madison as your punishment tonight. Okay, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you lately, but you need to snap out of it.” Spencer started walking toward the door. “Cheesecake.”

Ty furrowed his brows and looked over at him.

“I want cheesecake for dessert.” Shaking his head in frustration, Spencer left the room.

Since there was absolutely no way Ty was cooking it himself, he stopped at the steakhouse and picked up the filet mignon dinner, a piece of cheesecake, and a burger for himself. Walking into the house, he called out, “Hey, Spence! Your dinner’s here!” as he made his way to the kitchen. Standing in front of the counter, he took the food containers out of the brown bag and set them down. Bag in hand, Ty turned around and started to fold it up when his eyes did a double take.

“What’d you say?” Spencer stood in front of the bathroom, a gray towel wrapped around his waist, his black hair still wet from the shower he’d obviously just taken.

Images of a naked Spencer flashed through Ty’s mind, heat radiating from inside out. Ty’s gaze dropped to Spencer’s chest as a drop of water slowly made its way down the valley of Spencer’s abs until it reached his belly button. A dark trail of hair started just below that, leading Ty’s mind to picture what was hidden beneath the gray terrycloth. Memories of Spencer’s generous length thrusting in and out of that guy’s mouth left Ty’s completely dry.

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