All Other Things: More Than Menage

By Charlotte Stein

Bea’s husband Tommy is the sweetest, most gorgeous guy she’s ever met. There’s just one problem—he doesn’t seem to want to have sex with her. Or at least, he shows no interest in the kind of sex she’s craving. Kinky, torrid, passion-filled sex, of the sort a too-handsome and too-fascinating colleague at her workplace is offering. 

Kieran is everything that Tommy’s not—dark to his light, triple caramel swirl to Tommy’s vanilla. But Bea will not be tempted. Or at least, she thinks she won’t. Until she discovers Tommy and Kieran have been IMing each other for some time—and they haven’t been talking about innocent things. 

They’ve been talking about her, and more importantly, they’ve been talking about what they’d like to do to her. Together. And once Tommy’s buttons have been pushed and Kieran’s been let off his leash, anything seems possible… 

NOTE: This book has been previously published.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlotte Stein
• Release date: Dec 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540141545

Charlotte Stein

Charlotte Stein has written over thirty short stories, novellas and novels. Her collection of short stories was named one of the best erotic romances of 2009 by Michelle Buonfiglio, and her first novel, Control, was recently called “…a non-stop crazy hot sex book”. When not writing non-stop crazy hot sex books, she can be found eating jelly turtles, watching terrible sitcoms and occasionally lusting after hunks. She lives in West Yorkshire with her husband and their imaginary dog.

Book preview

All Other Things

A More Than Menage Tale

Charlotte Stein

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All Other Things

Copyright © 2016, Charlotte Stein

Cover Art by Sweet and Spicy Designs

Published by Charlotte Stein

Released December 2016

NOTE: This book has been previously published.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Charlotte Stein.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Other Books by Charlotte

Dedication

To AH again. That’s far more life than I needed, actually.

Chapter One

She didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out, in the middle of meaningless talk about customers and IT problems and what had been on TV the night before. Some program with a ton of sex in it, Kieran had said, before giving her that look he sometimes did.

The flat, assessing one. The one that made his eyes look like glaciers, shivering with color and completely devoid of shame.

He was shameless, Kieran, and he proved it now, in answer to the words she hadn’t meant to say.

And what exactly makes you think he’s having an affair?

He sounded almost like he wanted to laugh—but that was the other trouble with Kieran. She found it almost impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling at any given moment. He could have been imagining flying on a marshmallow to Mars for all she knew.

Nothing. I don’t know. Forget it.

She winced as soon as the words were out. How fluttering and indecisive they sounded. How spineless. Kieran would have never said I don’t know or forget it. He would have said, My wife is fucking someone else and I hate the cunt.

Even though he didn’t have a wife, as far as she knew. His rough-knuckled hands were free of rings and the most he ever said to her in terms of his personal relationships was, The woman I slept with last night had a tattoo of a snake on her back. As big as a house, it was!

And now he just stood there, eyeing her side-on. As though he didn’t even have to say anything to get her to confess all. He just knew she’d start up again in a second, when she felt comfortable enough to do it.

She wondered why Kieran always made her comfortable enough to do it.

He won’t... she started, but couldn’t finish. Finishing meant she’d have to admit it, and admitting it to someone like Kieran was an almighty and crushing defeat. He made her comfortable enough to talk about things she never spoke about with anyone else, true. But he was also a dirty bastard, a filthy lecher—lust incarnate.

Everyone knew it. The whole office talked about it. Kelly Tyler swore she’d found a sex toy in the neat little laptop bag he carried with him everywhere. And Martin from marketing had passed the rumor around that Kieran had fucked the boss on her desk, on that long, hot Friday when everyone had left at twelve to go to the pub.

He won’t fuck you? he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. People who happened to be lust incarnate didn’t need questions. That’s a real shame.

They also didn’t need restraint, it seemed.

God, he was looking at her weird now. The way he sometimes did when she felt at her most awkward and exposed. Hungrily, she thought, but that didn’t seem right somehow. He might well be hungry for the boss and the new receptionist and that girl he’d picked up with the snake tattoo, but he couldn’t possibly be hungry for her.

She didn’t have anything that men got hungry about. Her husband was proof—he was practically legally obliged to fuck her, and he still didn’t want to.

Have you tried talking to him?

And there was the other thing about Kieran. He might well have been a dirty bastard, but he could also be pretty...girlfriend-y. He asked the right things—the ones she’d always imagined a nice gal pal would.

Of course, it made it even harder to figure him out.

What am I going to say? Oh hey, we haven’t done it in a while. Maybe you’re having an affair?

He never made a sound when he laughed, but she could tell he was doing it anyway. Creases appeared around his eyes. His grin was filled with teeth as wicked as the rest of him—big teeth. Wolf’s teeth.

And then after, he put the cigarette he was smoking to his lips.

Surely you can come up with a little more tact than that, he said finally. She watched him blow a streamer of smoke toward the dull, gray sky before he continued. I mean, you’re usually pretty careful about your words.

Of course, he was setting a trap. She could see it a mile away and yet somehow ended up in it, even so.

In what way?

He flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. Gave her the old side-eye again.

"Saying done it instead of fucked. You couldn’t even use a coy euphemism the first time. You just trailed away into nothing and I had to guess."

She tried to roll her eyes and missed.

"I can say fucked."

Sure?

I just did.

Can you say it to him?

Say what?

Fucked. Fucking, fucker, fuck me.

She turned away from him then. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but certainly enough to give her some comforting distance. He sounded too...something when he said things like that. She could almost imagine his tongue curling around every syllable—and the faint Irish accent didn’t help.

It just made her think of words coated in smoke and whiskey and other nonsense things that had nothing to do with Ireland at all. He did most of his growing up in Bromley, for God’s sake. He was about as Irish as she was, when you really got down to it.

But that accent...

"This isn’t some I’m a prude problem," she said, and hated him for raising an eyebrow. Of course he put the eyebrow right back down again the moment she turned back to him, but he did so far too late. She caught it.

He thought she was a prude.

"I’m not, Kieran, all right? He’s the—"

She cut herself off before the accusation could come out. Mainly because it felt as though she’d been manipulated into saying something again—but also because she couldn’t be sure. She just didn’t know if her husband was the very thing Kieran had just implied of her.

How did you judge levels of prudery? He didn’t flinch when she swore or act disgusted on the rare occasions they did have sex. He just didn’t seem to want it enough—or at least, not enough for her.

God, it was nowhere near enough for her. She could feel her sex aching right now, right this minute, and for no more than Kieran saying fuck, fucker, fuck me in a voice that curled up at the edges, like burning paper.

So he just won’t do the things you want him to? he asked, and this time it was a question. It brushed against her, gently, nothing about it too forward—as though he knew he’d gone too far with the fucks.

Sort of.

She thought about Tommy’s face between her legs, licking slow and steady until she felt sure she might pass out. Tommy with his big hands on her hips, that look on his face like someone concentrating too hard on a problem they couldn’t solve.

"He’ll do some things... It’s more like he just doesn’t want it enough."

Yes. Yes. That was the crux of the issue. He’d go down on her, fuck her in different positions...most of the usual stuff. He just wouldn’t do it often.

Doesn’t mean he’s having an affair.

She glanced at him then. Of course, she couldn’t for the life of her tell if he was just trying to placate her or not. He sounded sincere, but with Kieran, sounding and being were two wholly separate things.

And there was this look on his face too...the low look again. The one that always reminded her of headlights dipping on a car—maybe as it sped toward a deer trapped and hypnotized in the middle of a road.

You ever see him jerking off? he asked, and she just couldn’t help it. Her body reacted to him talking like that—in a way Tommy never would. Yeah, that was one thing Tommy would never, ever do.

Talk dirty. He never talked dirty—hell, he rarely even moaned or gasped or did anything to show how good her mouth or cunt felt on him.

No.

Not ever? Middle of the night, in the shower, while you’re watching—nothing?

She stopped then, and considered. Really considered.

I’ve never seen him jerk off.

It seemed amazing to her, this realization. But it remained true, nonetheless. She had never seen her husband touch himself in any way, shape or form. Not