Meet Anthony Calhoun. If you like a little rough play and some spanking with your cocktails, you'll like NOT HARDLY SOFT --
Touched softly,
unbreakable will shatter!
Anthony Calhoun designed and tailored men’s
clothing but in no way is his prim and proper white ass a pushover. Ant
transplanted to Los Angeles from Philadelphia and damn if he didn’t bring some
South Philly with him! He wants a lover not a partner so unless the gorgeous
black, and very debonair, Gunner Bonds can handle business, he better step off.
“Don’t get pissy with me because you didn’t
have nerve to say something to Gun.”
Gun. The name rolled
around in Anthony's head, made concentrating on Jim’s garment difficult. “You have no
idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t forget how well I know you.”
Placing the last pin, he smacked Jim on the
butt. “Done, go take them off.” He waited for him to disappear into a dressing
stall before he remarked to Lodge, “I thought about him.” All night long that first night, and then some. At least six feet
tall with cognac colored eyes and beautiful brown skin that had glistened under
lights behind the bar. The way his ass tightened, thighs quivered with each
step when he moved to serve someone else, it was as if a bronzed God had been
erected in Club Evolve. Anthony retrieved spare material from the floor and
tossed it on his work table where a matching jacket lay ready to be completed.
Both pieces fit Jim perfectly and only required finishing touches. “So what?”
“It’s okay to do something for yourself, Ant.
Might loosen your tight ass up.”
“If you’re lobbying for the job, you missed
your chance.”
“I’m just saying.”
“I’m too finicky.” He owned a spacious house
on two and a half acres in Topanga Canyon he had worked hard to acquire.
Anthony loved being surrounded by beautiful things and he’d amassed quite an
array of antiques and art work which he made sure remained in tip top condition.
More importantly, every item stayed in its place. His view of mountains, a
large swimming pool, and meticulously kept landscaping was all he needed to
complete his very disciplined life style. “I like being able to pick and choose
who I want when I want them.” No need
to mention how badly he craved the handsome black man.
“You don’t have to marry the bastard, Ant,
let him screw your brains out.” Lodge’s grin widened, “Or vice versa.”
He stared out the window of his shop and
watched cars speed by heading to various destinations to connect with family,
friends, or lovers. “He’s barely approaching the backside of twenty.” When had forty-two become old?
“Hard to keep today’s greedy young men in
their place.”
“I do it.” Turning to look at Lodge, Anthony declared,
“By keeping them out of mine.” He never took them home.
“Why don’t you have dinner with us at Evolve
tomorrow night. We’re dining with friends and I’d like you to meet Zedidiah
Mandrake who owns Evolve.”
“I’d like that.”
Hustling Lodge and Jim out, Anthony left a
few notes for his staff since he expected to be late tomorrow morning. He
needed to release a lot of pent up stress. Anthony could think of a few ways to
do that with one other participant who had taken up residence in the forefront
of his mind.
Gunner Bonds.
He
likes to play rough.
* * * * *
Gunner watched as the man, wearing another of
the finest suits he’d ever seen, left Zed’s table and meandered toward the bar.
Last time he visited Evolve, he spoke no more
than four words. First two—Screaming Orgasm. Who the hell drank Vodka,
chocolate and coffee flavored liquor mixed with amaretto and Irish cream
liquor! Jesusfuckingchrist, did Gunner want to give him something to scream
about but it in no way correlated to a drink. He’d watched the lean, stunningly
gorgeous, white man, whose height matched his, twirl dark curls back and forth
around a slender finger nursing the godawful sweet concoction for damn near an
hour while he remained standing. All Gunner could imagine was how his sensuous
lips would feel wrapped around his thick, black dick. Emotionless brown eyes
peered around Evolve seemingly uninterested though Gunner did catch him eyeing
his crotch once or twice.
His last two words—thank you. Then he
vanished as quickly as he had arrived.
Gunner had not expected to see him again and
damn it, his shift was ending.
Reaching for necessary ingredients, he
quickly mixed the same drink he requested on his last visit. Another bartender
sidled up and said, “I’ll get it if you want to run.”
“I got it.”
“You sure?”
“All yours after this one.”
“Okay.”
When the man reached a stool in front of
Gunner, he slid the drink toward him. “Screaming Orgasm, right?” Again, he
remained standing.
“You remembered what I like.” He sipped his
mixture and when he slowly licked his lips, Gunner’s body barreled into
overdrive. “Gunner, my name is Anthony, I’d like you to call me Ant.” Head
tilted questioningly, “Do you do everything this perfectly?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Splendid.” Saluting Gunner with his glass,
he proceeded to swallow what remained.
Anthony, Ant,
knew Gunner’s name which meant he asked around about him. “You know my name?”
He peered over Ant’s shoulder to catch Jim heading in their direction. Fucking
Christ, he held a key card. Was it possible…
“Gun, Zed requested I bring this over.” He
proffered the key.
So, they had talked about him over dinner. He
leaned to see Zed nod in his direction. How important was Anthony? Gunner
seized the card and audibly sighed when he noted not only was it gold, it
carried room number eleven. BDSM. After Jim left, he stared at Ant. “Did you
have anything to do with this?”
“I had everything
to do with it.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“If I say no?”
“I reply have a nice evening and leave you
wondering what you may have missed.”
“Maybe it’s you who would lose out.”
“I won’t.” Lips curved mockingly. “Perhaps
you will discover a different side of yourself in my care.”
“Your
care?” Did he actually believe he’d be in control? “Goddamn if you aren’t
fucking sure of yourself.” Ant winced. Was it Gunner’s use of foul language?
Please don’t let him be that prim and proper.
“I’m sure of one thing.” Ant leaned and
whispered, “Tonight, I want you.” Warm breath tickled Gunner’s ear, sent a
shiver of pure delight straight to his crotch. “I’d bet one of my best suits
your penis is swelling.”
Penis! Gun stepped back to
give him an eyeful. “Keep the suit. I own an array of costly outfits.”
“I’d attire you much better.”
“Doubtful. Anyway, I prefer buying my own apparel.”
As impeccable as his suit was, wouldn’t surprise Gunner if the wise ass did
tailor-make his clothes. He hoped to set the prudish bastard back on his heels
a little. “But I will fill your tight ass with every inch of my black dick.”
“We shall see.”
He pivoted toward his group leaving Gunner to
stare after him. “What the fuck?”
Stopping dead in his tracks, Ant spun and
narrowed lifeless eyes. “We’ll do something about that nasty mouth of yours
when I join you. Restraint is exceedingly important to success.”
“Restraint?”
Anthony kept walking. Oh, having this motherfucker would be the highlight of
his year. Gunner had never been enraptured with a man who appeared, for lack of
a better word, fey! Decorous and seemingly unbreakable, Gunner swore to himself
he’d have Anthony cursing like a sailor by daylight and begging for more. He
pondered allowing the prick to believe he controlled their encounter and,
accordingly, Gunner would get exactly what he wanted. He whispered to himself,
“You’ll bend for me.”
Growl and
roar—it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele
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