In a Chord (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
In a Chord
Keaton Gates and Ashland Lance are lovers and musicians in a band called Endymion. Keaton believes there is something missing, not only from the sound of their music, but also in their lives. When he hears Momo Willows singing Endymion’s signature song, he knows she’s the muse he’s been waiting for.
At first, Ash Lance is jealous of the new girl in Keaton’s life until he meets her. Momo is unlike anyone he’s ever met, and they soon discover that they connect on many levels. But he’s reluctant to take her away from Keaton, just as Momo refuses to come between them.
Keaton is quick to assure them he wants all three of them to learn to be in a ménage relationship, but as they learn how to live and love together, another threat is moving between them, threatening to take Momo away…forever.
Genre:
Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length:
27,847 words
Beth D. Carter
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
IN A CHORD
E-book ISBN:
978-1-61926-800-5
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of
In a Chord
by Beth D. Carter from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Beth D. Carter’s livelihood.
It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Carter’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
My thanks to Amy Binda, who is the leader of the Beth D. Carter book club (current membership is two). You never bat an eye at the content, which makes you an awesome friend.
And for Lark, who always manages to read what I write despite her busy, jet-setting lifestyle. I love ya, girlfriend. Now, let’s go try on those Louboutins.
Author’s Note
Endymion’s song that is frequently mentioned is called “Space,” and it’s a poem that I wrote. This is the poem in its entirety.
The black outside my window
teases me no end.
As far as it can reach
to as far as I can bend.
It’s infinite, unnerving,
not able to behold.
To the depths of your beliefs
too sacred and too cold.
To touch the glass of ice
with the heat I have inside,
Would melt the frozen solitude
that’s here with me beside.
I back away to give you room
and turn away to hide,
The tears of all my emptiness
that’s bruised my battered pride.
So in this world I give to you
the only gift I know.
Not my heart and not my love
but the freedom to let go.
Just float on by with never mind
to the realm devoid of light,
And to the space I pledge my love
I’ll keep that out of sight.
IN A CHORD
BETH D. CARTER
Copyright © 2012
Keaton gave a moan as Ash slid into him.
The music from the band currently on stage vibrated through the walls, washing over him with an electric beat that matched the possessive thrust of Ash’s hips. In and out, the large cock pounded him, giving him what he needed, what he craved, and he pushed back as much as he could to meet the demand. His hands flattened on the wall, giving him leverage, and Ash’s answering groan gave voice to the exquisite pleasure each found in the other.
The small closet that Ash had pulled him into a few minutes before enclosed them in darkness, amplifying the precious few seconds they had left before they were called onto the stage. They hadn’t even enough time for kissing or teasing. Ash had spun him around, unzipped his pants, and started tugging on his cock. And then, before the pleasure had even registered, he had felt the blunt head of Ash’s dick probing for entrance, saliva their only lubrication.
But the franticness of their fucking did not, in any way, diminish the ecstasy Keaton felt. In fact, it was always like this. Mind-blowing erotic sex. Ash had only to look at him, say one word, and Keaton’s blood heated to near boiling. And it had always been this way, ever since they had been kids stealing the nudie magazines and ogling over the girls. Breasts had turned them both on, and when they had discovered masturbation, one thing led to another until Ash had suggested they try it on each other.
Their sex had nothing to do with being gay. Keaton liked to think they had no labels because, even though they loved each other, they still fucked women when they wanted to. Although, lately he didn’t find the thrill of bed-hopping as entertaining as it once was. He and Ash had been playing music for as long as they could both remember so there had always been groupies around, even back in high school when their music sounded like shit. He and Ash had never lacked for female companionship.
But lately Keaton felt as if something was missing, something vital. In the music, in himself…hell, even in Ash. But just what it was he didn’t know. He hoped that he found it soon.
The band on stage was reaching its crescendo, and Ash started thrusting his hips faster, knowing they had only seconds left.
“Fuck me, Ash,” Keaton ground out, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. The closet might have been small and intimate, but there was no ventilation. “You like pounding my ass? You like my puckered hole squeezing your cock so tightly?”
“Keaton…God!” Ash’s rhythm stuttered.
Keaton felt him swell and then the hot splash of Ash’s cum as he lost control. He reached down to tug his own cock, but Ash beat him, fisting him and milking him in time with his own squirts of passion. It was too much, too raw and powerful. Just as the music crashed, so did Keaton. He cried out as he let himself succumb to Ash’s warm hand and the hot breath on the back of his neck.
The two slumped over, Keaton with his forehead against the wall and Ash against his back. Their breathing was harsh and labored as their hearts raced.
“I want you to go on stage and perform with some of me inside of you,” Ash murmured into his ear. “As it runs down your legs and only you and I will know it’s there.”
And then he pushed off Keaton, and the sound of a zipper could be heard in the darkness. Ash placed a small, quick kiss on Keaton’s cheek and opened the door, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear.
He left Keaton alone to gather himself and follow after a minute, keeping up appearances that they hadn’t been together. No one realized they’d been conducting an affair in the back of every bar and venue for years. And they preferred to keep their love life private.
The crush of people as they tried to rush the stage, the beat of the drums as they tried to overpower the bass guitar, the smoky hue that lingered heavily in the air, all of it made Keaton’s heart thump with excitement. He sang into the mike, grabbing the stand as he purred his way through the melody. The set he and his band, Endymion, was performing was the last for this night, and for the two hours or so that he had command of the stage, he was a god. Heaven couldn’t be any better than right here, right now.
The song came to a crescendo, and Keaton growled the last note. Amid the noise of applause, the screaming for more, Keaton gave one last wave before heading off stage. Byron George, Endymion’s manager, clapped enthusiastically.
Byron was not the typical person normally seen at a heavy-rock-with-punk undertones concert. His brother was a cop and his mother a judge. No matter how hard Byron tried fitting in, there was this air about him that screamed “arm of the law.” Still, they figured having a little police contact in their pocket wouldn’t be bad at all.
“Awesome!” Byron said. He looked a lot like the other members of the band who were dressed all in black with black accessories highlighting their clothes.
The four members of the band each gave Byron a high-five as they passed, leaving the tiny backstage area for the changing room provided for them.
“Another great night!” Mike, the keyboardist, said as he flopped down onto a chair. He sprawled out his long legs, forcing the others to step over them. Mike certainly was different from all the rest, even Byron. He stood out like a sore thumb in his standard dress of button-up shirt, vest, and khaki pants. He wore thick glasses that caught the lights, reflecting back the odd colors like a smooth mirror.
The drummer, Taylor Thomas, twirled his sticks around his fingers. “Sure. Could use a brewski to wet my whistle. Anyone wanna come along?”
“I’ll come with you,” Mike said. “Wouldn’t mind finding the fine looking legs I was looking at earlier.”
“They’ll take one look at you and start running the other way,” Keaton said.
“Now, now, don’t mess with my boy here,” Taylor warned teasingly. “I can assure you he’s a lady-killer.”
Keaton snickered.