A Kind of in Between, Part 2 (A Kind of Stories Short) NSFW!

images-6OMG! It’s been such an exciting day! It Was Always You, anthology was released today and we are now officially 2 days away from A Kind of Honesty. Thank you for your patience. It’s been a busy one!  I won’t say much more than this is part 2 of the short story tying A Kind of Romance to AKH. All three parts are told from Carter’s POV. And yes, this next one is NSFW. 😉  Look for part 3 here on Thursday evening.

Happy Reading! Lane xoimages-35A Kind of in Between– Carter’s POV

Lance Gandle was an extraordinarily good-looking, six foot two African American man with chiseled features who was built like a professional athlete. Or a god. He was a lawyer whose firm occasionally did business with my company. We dated for about a year before I put an end to it a couple months ago. I liked Lance. He was a decent enough guy and he was great in bed, but… something was missing. If relationships consisted of marathon sex with little communication, he would have been a keeper, but on some level we didn’t click.

However, on a random Saturday night when my senses were skewed by too much alcohol, bright lights and the niggling feeling of an unreasonable jealousy I couldn’t seem to shake, Lance and I clicked just fine. I’d worry about my questionable moral code and why I tended to gravitate to men I knew were bad for me in the morning. Tonight I was horny as hell and the sultry look my date flashed over the rim of his vodka tonic told me he felt the same way.

We’d met at a sushi restaurant I loved in Greenwich. He claimed to remember it was my favorite when he made our last minute reservations. What he probably also remembered was that a good friend of mine owned it and always comped my meals. And since it was within walking to my house, which was located on an exclusive side street in the Village, he probably figured distance wouldn’t hamper the time it took to be naked and writhing. I concentrated on his plump bottom lip and the low timbre of his voice and made myself overlook the small irritants that were a big reason I broke up with him in the first place.

If I stayed in the moment, I’d forget we didn’t like the same movies or music. I’d forget he didn’t like sharing the food off his plate or that he had a habit of being five minutes earlier to every social function he attended. Or worse yet, that he was a know-it-all who never rooted for one team consistently. Maybe I was picky, but come on! How could any self-respecting baseball fan vacillate between the Mets or the Yankees? It didn’t work like that and everyone fucking knew it! You chose one team and you cheered them on through thick and thin, for Christ’s sake. Wishy-washy allegiance in sports was a flashing red light signaling a possible breakdown in ethics.

Zeke laughed outright when I voiced my concerns. He’d suggested my wariness of my former boyfriend turned booty call had less to do with his weak devotion to the Yankees than it did with how I actually felt about Lance. Friendship took a backseat to physical attraction with us. Maybe he answered my calls for the same reason I answered his.

Sex.

I clandestinely adjusted myself as I held Lance’s gaze. The loud restaurant, the flash of lights and the rumble of traffic outside heightened my awareness of him. Fuck the Yankees. I’d defend them tomorrow morning. Tonight I didn’t care. The city was coming alive and I wanted to be part of it. With Lance. We could dance, we could bar hop or we could just go back to my place and fuck. All night long.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. His low lusty tone sounded like an invitation. Or a proposition.

“Yes.” I stood quickly and walked toward the entrance.

Lance set my coat over my shoulders, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Where to next, Carter?”

He didn’t move. His nose brushed my ear, a featherlight touch that made my spine tingle. When he licked my lobe, I shivered and turned to face him. “My place.”

His rakish, knowing grin sealed the deal. Fine. Who was I kidding? I was a hopeless. It was time to get off my so-called moral high horse and admit that I was not in control here. My dick was.

 

Twenty minutes later, I wasn’t pretty sure it didn’t matter who was in control as long as he kept moving. Because questionable taste aside, this man knew his way around my body. He knew what I liked without being told to go harder or faster. And the man had a thing for dirty talk that made my eyes roll back in my head.

“On your knees, baby. That’s it,” he purred. “Hang on to the headboard. Tighter. I want those knuckles white. I want you to beg me to fuck your sweet hole.”

Holy shit.

I obeyed him with a loud groan and tried not to tremble at the sight of him pumping his thick cock as he added lube. The second I was in position, he was on me and inside me. His hips flew double time, fucking me with a crude abandon I loved in the moment but would worry about after the fact. If I loved this man, all bets would be off. The dirtier, the better. But I didn’t love him. And sometimes the things that turned me on the most, made me feel dirty in a place inside me Lance would never know.

He smacked my ass hard, effectively demanding my attention. Then he held my hips and drove into me relentlessly. I braced all my weight on my left hand and reached for my dick. He must have been close already because this was usually when he’d hold my hands captive as he pummeled my ass with hard strokes and made up a story so dirty I could sometimes cum without him touching me. The sound of his voice and the steady slap of his balls against mine did it for me every time. Tonight, it was over too soon.

Lance roared as his orgasm hit him. To his credit, he didn’t stop jacking me. I exploded a moment later, shaking like a leaf as he rested his head between my shoulders. Then I collapsed on my pillow and immediately grimaced as I landed face first in the wet spot.

Great.

To be continued…

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