Instalove in New York

  Instalove in New York

  An Instalove Alpha Romance Short Story

  OTT Alpha Male Romance Book 2

  Katy Winters

  Copyright © 2019 Katy Winters. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Katy Winters

  For a limited time, join my mailing list at www.KatyWinters.com and get a FREE book on me.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Free Book Invitation

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Free Book Invitation

  Exclusive for Katy’s newsletter subscribers. Not released anywhere else.

  For a limited time, join Katy’s newsletter and get a FREE copy of Instalove in the Canyon!

  Go to: www.KatyWinters.com

  Chapter One

  Bree

  I wonder when he’s going to come in—the man in the leather jacket. He comes in every Tuesday and Thursday for a hamburger and fries. I always put his order in before he is out of his simple black sedan. He has finely cut short blonde hair, and he always looks at me with these deep blue eyes. When he comes in, I watch his muscles ripple beneath rough flannel shirts. As a curvy girl, most men make me feel bigger—but he makes me feel dainty and small every time he speaks to me.

  Yeah, I’ll admit he’s pretty hot. I sigh, running my fingers through my own light brown hair that cascades in waves to my shoulder blades. It’s already been a long afternoon, and I know it’ll be a long evening, too. New York City waits for no one.

  I tie the apron around my thick waist and begin my hustle. I’m so far into my routine that I barely notice when he comes in—late. I holler out his order as I duck under the cook’s arm and dodge Lory as she trips over her own damned shoelaces again. I think, I swear she’s going to kill me one day—and run straight into his chest. It’s like hitting a wall. I stop immediately, and he catches me before I go down. “Good evening,” he says mildly, in his low, husky voice.

  Ah, hell. I refrain from shivering as he gently sets me upright, taking a moment before he lets go of me. “Do you make a habit of running into girls?” I manage to say without stuttering.

  “Only the pretty ones,” he says smoothly. Our back-and-forth flirting has become routine—only lately, it’s become something more to me. I don’t know what it is about him, but Tuesdays and Thursdays have become my favorite days of the week.

  “How is your week going?” he asks.

  I blush lightly and step aside for another customer to pass. I offer him a seat, and he looks disgruntled, as if it were his job, and not mine. “Your order’s already in, sir. But let me know—”

  He takes my wrist lightly. “My name is Stephan. I think it’s about time to be on a first-name basis, don’t you?”

  My skin tingles where he’s touching me, and I exhale softly. “Bree,” I say. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stephan.” I’ll see you in my dreams, Stephan.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he murmurs, and his hand closes a little more firmly around my wrist. His thumb rubs the inside gently. He lets go suddenly, and I rock off-balance. My face is bright red, I just know it.

  “I’ll...I’ll be right back,” I stammer, and vaguely wander into the breakroom, stunned. Lory stops me as I sit down on an old plaid couch in the break room.

  “Bree, what’s wrong?” She looks concerned, even touches my forehead softly.

  “I have a crush,” I say miserably. “And he’s at table five.”

  She peers out of the blue, lacy curtain and frowns. “Okay, he’s hot, but not new. What’s the problem?”

  “He asked me my name. And he touched my wrist. And now I need new panties,” I murmur, putting my face in my hands. “Everything is a disaster, and I can’t go back there, it’s written all over my face!”

  She pauses, looking back through the curtain for a moment. Her hand twitches against the fabric. “Well,” she replies carefully. “I say put your panties on his tray and go with it?”

  I almost drop dead right then and there. “Lory!”

  “Well, you’ve got to do something! He’s hot as hell!”

  “I do not! What the hell! I’m going out there, with his food, with no panties in it, and we’re going to continue on as we have forever, and ever, Amen!”

  To prove my point, I fix my apron, straighten up, grab his plate and plaster a smile on my face.

  I walk back to my other tables, refilling coffees, bringing checks, and offering ice cream. I can feel Stephan watching my thighs rub together softly through my jeans…and I’ve determined that this shift is going to stain my cheeks permanently red. There’s something different about him today; an urgency to his glance. Hmm.

  I stop at his table, and hold out my coffee pot like a shield. “Are you okay?” I ask finally.

  He blinks, gazes up at me from over his hamburger. “Why do you ask?” he says warily.

  Sighing, I look around the cafe. My section is mostly clear; it’s the lull in between the dinner rush, the tourists, and the stoners. I’m the most senior person on the floor, so why not? I plunk myself down across from him at his table. “So what’s the problem?”

  He sets down his hamburger gently and folds his hands on the table. “I’m not sure I understand,” he says slowly. “Am I causing a problem?” He looks amused.

  “Oh, God no! I mean you look sad, like something’s wrong. And I have time, and...” And I’m running off at the mouth. I need to shut the hell up before I say something else that I’ll regret immediately.

  He hesitates, drumming his fingers against the table. “I like it here,” he says finally. “It’s quiet, away from the Square, and it’s going to stay that way. But I don’t come here for the hamburgers, Bree.”

  I hold my breath. This sounds like a bad romance novel…and I love it. “Okay,” I say slowly. “So… is it the ambiance, then?”

  He smirks. “Of course not,” he says casually. “You’re smarter than that.” He gestures to the fries. “Are you hungry?”

  “No,” I say softly. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Could he possibly mean…? “I don’t know anything about you. How could I possibly guess what you’re coming here for?”

  His eyes slowly pass up and down my body, from the roots of my hair to my lap and back again. His gaze is slow, penetrating, and intentional.

  “I’m a lawyer. I’m 36 years old, and I’ve lived here my entire life.” He pauses, glancing away. “My firm is considering transferring me to Detroit. But I didn’t want to go without seeing you again...talking to you.”

  My heart falls to my knees. He’s going to be transferred? I’ll never see him again? “But...why?” I ask.

  He sighs slowly, and runs his tongue along his bottom lip. I stare for longer than I should, swallow hard, and I know he knows. He knows he’s got me right where he wants me. Wherever that is.

  “Just because they think that
’s where I need to be,” he replies vaguely. “But… I can’t leave without knowing something.”

  “What?” I whisper softly.

  He leans in close, his eyes meet mine. “I need to know what you taste like, Bree,” he says softly, and he raises his hand slowly, dragging a calloused fingertip against my lips. “Everywhere.”

  Oh, sweet Lord, I’m done for.

  Stephan

  Maybe it’s bold of me, but I can’t help myself. There’s just something about her that makes me want to throw everything away and chase after her, to make her come to me every night, to claim her as mine. I’ve felt like this from the moment I saw her, and it hasn’t gotten better the more I’ve come to know, to watch her.

  I watch her now, slowly lowering my hand to the table. “But I leave on Sunday,” I explain quietly. I toy with one of my French fries, drawing little circles around my plate, not leaving her gaze. “So I have a proposal for you.”

  She stares up at me; she’s so much smaller than I am, but she’s so curvy. I love staring at her beautiful body as she walks around the cafe. She’s become an addiction to me; there’s just something about her that’s undeniable. I can’t believe that I have the guts to say what I’m about to say, but make no mistake: if she says yes, there’s no turning back. Even if it’s just for a night, she’s going to be mine.

  Clearing her throat, she glances away shyly, then looks back at me. I can see that she’s trembling...but she doesn’t look afraid. No, she looks intrigued, and I exhale shortly.

  “What’s your proposal?” she says.

  “I want you. Just you. All of you, for one night,” I say, and I can hear how rough, how husky my voice has become. I’m hard just thinking about her below me, above me, anywhere she can possibly be. I try to be discreet as I reach down, adjusting my jeans. “It’s all I can offer, Bree. But I’m offering...everything.”

  I see the little shuddering inhale that she makes, the tremble of her lower lip. I want to capture it in my mouth, suckle on it and see if I can make her moan. I’ve been listening to her flirt with me for months—but this is the only chance I have.

  She squirms in her chair a little as I watch, smiling. I know those movements...know that she’s thinking about us, together, that she’s fantasizing about what could be, and it’s making her oh, so hot. She sighs softly, a satisfied little sigh, and her eyes sweep from my chest upward, to me looking back at her. “Okay,” she says finally, and her voice is firm, uncompromising. “But I pick when and where.”

  I’m surprised. I didn’t think she’d actually say yes! I almost groan quietly, thinking of taking her curvy ass in my hands…I blink, coming back from the thought. “When and where?” I say quickly, as if I’m afraid she’ll change her mind.

  I’m not afraid, though. Somehow I know she won’t. The confidence in her voice, the way she’s leaning over the table, showing me her ample breasts…she won’t give up this chance. We’re both dying of curiosity.

  She pauses, twisting a ringlet of hair around her finger. “Saturday night,” she says finally. “Nine o’clock. Gives me time to get home and...change.” She doesn’t look nervous at all, and it makes me harder, pressing into the zipper of my jeans.

  I can’t express how relieved I am that she said yes; I feel like I would die if I didn’t have this chance. My need for her is unlike anything I’ve ever felt; like I’m addicted to her touch, the little slips of her fingers trailing over my booth and touching my shoulder, her skirt brushing against my arm…I almost shudder, thinking about the little hints we’ve given each other.

  “My place or yours?” I whisper.

  She eyes me, looking at the strength of my biceps. “What kind of lawyer are you?” she says instead, her eyes roaming my firm chest, my stomach beneath my white shirt.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No,” she murmurs. “But if my lawyer looked like you, I’d probably commit a lot of crimes.”

  I chuckle, stretching casually, letting a tiny peek of skin show as my shirt raises with my arms. “My place, then?”

  “Sounds good,” she says, finally meeting my gaze. “Nine o’clock. Saturday.”

  I write my address down on a napkin, and I’m surprised to find that my hand is shaking. My heart is pounding a mile a minute as I realize what I’ve done. I’ve fantasized about her for months every time I masturbate, moaning into the thundering sound of the shower; but now…now, I’ll know for real.

  I can’t wait.

  Chapter Two

  Bree

  I can’t believe I just did that. I cannot believe I just did that. I walk back into the break room with perfect posture, head held high, the picture of confidence, and then I slam the bathroom door to hyperventilate a little.

  I’ll admit to flirting with him. I’ll admit to fantasizing about him. Hell, I’ll admit to masturbating to him. But for the love of all things holy, what did I do to deserve this? Because I’ll do it again! I lean back against the wall, close my eyes, and try like hell not to think about what’s going to happen in two days. It’s only one night, Bree. That’s all it is. You can survive one night in heaven, right?

  I definitely need new panties now. I take a deep breath and unlock the bathroom door with a prepared smile, hoping no one will be on the other side—but of course, it’s Lory.

  “Well?” she says expectantly.

  I clear my throat. “Well. So. We have...a date, Saturday night.”

  She squeals, throwing her arms around me. “I told you! Panties on the plate! What are you going to do?”

  “No panties on the plate,” I almost growl, throwing myself on the plaid couch. “Actually, it’s a planned one-night-stand,” I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my arm over my forehead. “He wants me. All of me, he said. And he can only have me for one night...and he can’t help himself.”

  “Fuck,” she whispers, and I crack open my eyes to see her blushing. “Why the hell can’t that kind of thing happen to me?”

  “I don’t know! But what am I going to wear?” I moan. “What am I going to do? What position does he like? What kind of outfit does he like? Underwear? No underwear? I—”

  “Breathe,” Lory says softly. “Alright, it looks like I’m going to be making these decisions for you. You’re going to wear the red dress with the slit down the hip. High heels, men love high heels. And he doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who’s going to let you pick the position...,” she sighs dreamily. “Maybe he’ll just throw you down and give it to you. Who knows? No underwear. You’ll be nervous enough without trying to take off all that shit. And that dress is strapless, so no bra. Does that cover everything?”

  I stare up at her, and I know I’m flushed, breathing a little heavy. I am so incredibly turned on that I can’t handle it. She’s right—he knows what he’s doing, and I think he’s going to take control of this situation whether or not I want him to. And oh, I do want him to.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “That sounds good. That sounds right. I’m not, though. Nervous. Just...really, really excited.”

  She’s grinning, bouncing up and down on the couch next to me. “I’m excited for you,” she exclaims. “Oh, man, you’re going to have to text me the second you leave. Wait. His house, right? Are you leaving right after? What are the details of this situation, anyway?”

  “I don’t know! Yes, at his house. I don’t know if I’m staying or leaving. He sort of implied it was just a one-night stand, right? Do you stay the night? I’ve never done this before,” I fret, running my hands through my hair. God, the electricity running through me is insane. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin waiting for Saturday night.

  “It’ll be fine,” she predicts. “More than fine. You’ll have the night of your life. God, I’m so jealous!”

  I close my eyes again, and smile. The night of my life, indeed.

  Stephan

  As much as I thought that it was going to take forever for Saturday to get here, it goes by surprisingly quick as
I prepare to move to Detroit. Packing up all of my stuff at work, packing everything I think I want while still keeping out enough stuff for it to look like home. Because I want everything to look perfect for her.

  As soon as the clock nears five, time slows to a crawl.

  I don’t make dinner—I can’t focus on eating—and I try to read, or exercise, or do anything except think about what I’ve set myself up for. Nothing works. I remember the little commercial about calling a doctor if you have an erection for more than a certain number of hours. My doctor’s name is Bree.

  Finally, after so long I was beginning to seriously consider a doctor, I hear the doorbell ring, and I can feel my heart pound against my ribcage. As I open the door, everything slows down. She’s wearing this red dress, slit almost up to her hip, and it shimmers in the low light of my apartment. It’s cut deep, almost deep enough for me to see her nipples. Her hair is up, in a messy bun, with tendrils framing her face and falling against her chest.

  I groan, take her hand gently and pull her into the room, then shut the door behind her. I press her into the door with my knee between her legs, holding her hand above her head. “Are you trying to kill me?” I ask huskily.

  She gasps, looking up at me with wide, dark eyes. I feel her tremble against me...but the quickening of her breath, the way her lashes dip against the tops of her cheeks, and more importantly, the hardness of her nipples against my chest tell me she’s not scared. No, not at all. She presses against my leg with a soft sigh, falling back against the door, trusting me to hold her up.

  “Hi,” she manages raggedly.

  “Hi,” I whisper, and lean in, kissing her hungrily. I sweep her mouth with my tongue and she moans, submitting to my touch. Trailing my lips down her neck I shudder at the taste of her skin, salty and sweet, and bite her lightly. She falls into my knee, and grinds against my jeans. And I know it isn’t intentional.