12 Inches: A Secret Baby Dark Romance

by Alexis Angel

  “And then?” I asked.

  She looked at me for a long moment.

  “And then, I realized I would rather work harder and earn less doing what I loved than being miserable doing something that maybe paid more,” she said to me. I remember thinking that I could absolutely understand where she was coming from. And it wasn’t like she was a complete failure. This was a top author I was sitting across from. On the Rainforest Hot 100 Author List. USA Today and New York Times Bestseller at one time.

  Sure, she went a bit off course.

  But I'm in her life now. We're going to come back.

  That’s literally all that I’m thinking about right now as Abby slowly writhes her firm backside against mine. Even as I grab her and pull her close to me I think back to that day on the couch as I watched her eat Chinese food.

  Fuck, I think I’m falling in love with this woman.

  I know what you’re thinking. Get the fuck out, right? Aidan Stone doesn’t fall in love. I mean, remember how this whole process even started? I was caught fucking Alyssa’s sister. Backstage. At an awards dinner she was presenting at.

  But still, I need to tell her something. Sure, my cock is nestled in between her ass cheeks right now. I can tell we’re going to fuck in a few moments. But she needs to know how I feel about her.

  “Abby…” I start. But she interrupts me.

  “Oh my God, Aidan,” she says out loud.

  Fuck. Is Cheryl still on the line? This close to her fucking gorgeous body and I can’t really think much now.

  “Babe,” I say to Abby, pulling her close. “I need to tell you someth—” I try again and once more, Abby has a different idea.

  “Aidan!” she yells. “Look!”

  And that’s when I turn away for a brief moment to look at Abby’s phone. She’s got the Rainforest bookstore open on her phone and she’s showing me the landing page for Big Dick. I’m looking at the ranking.

  #98.

  Holy fucking shit.

  We did it.

  We broke into the Rainforest Top 100.

  “Congratulations, you two!” Cheryl’s voice comes out of the speakerphone, startling me. “I just saw this right now and I had to send it to Abby. Your book is a hit. The readers love it!”

  Well, how about that.

  “Aidan, I’ll reach out to CJ but I’m sure that with a Top 100 book, you’re royalty check from her will be extra large this month,” Cheryl says into the phone. “And I’m sure a lot more doors will open for you, love.”

  “He’s always extra-large, Cheryl,” Abby says out loud toward the phone and I think to myself that it’s a good thing that Cheryl is just on speaker and not on a video call or something. “I can promise you that.”

  “Okay, I think I’m going to be leaving you two alone now,” Cheryl says into the phone. “I don’t want to know what Aidan is doing there so early in the morning and no, please don’t tell me,” she says.

  I stretch out on my back, one hand still holding onto Abby, as I think about the doors that we’ve just opened together.

  Rainforest Top 100. That shit is the real deal. You don’t get there by being mediocre. From here on out, it’s all about publicity.

  Sure, when you've got a big publishing house behind you, once you hit Rainforest Top 100 they start throwing the ad dollars in to keep you relevant.

  But Abby doesn’t have a big publishing house behind her anymore. She’s got just herself. And me.

  So we’re gonna have to do the best we can on our own to stay up in the Top 100 Books being sold on the Rainforest store.

  “Hey, Mister,” Abby says, turning over and getting on her elbows to put her head on my chest. “You were doing something while I was talking to Cheryl and now you’ve stopped!”

  I look at her face. It’s fucking cute as a button. She’s looking at me with wide eyes.

  “What was that now?” I ask her, my mouth curling in a smile.

  She scrunches her face and lifts her body. I watch her perfect fucking tits as they dangle in front of my face as she gets on top of me.

  “Looks like I’ll have to show you what you were getting ready to do there,” she says with fake annoyance. “Figures. Just like the book, you’re going to make me do all the work and be first in line when the rewards come.”

  I bring my hands over to grab her ass as she straddles me. God, she’s fucking gorgeous.

  “Well, there’s one thing you know for sure,” I tell her and she looks at me curiously.

  “You’re gonna fucking cum, for sure.”

  Abby smiles at me and I smile back. That’s the last thing I remember before she brings her body down and her mouth mashes against mine for a wet and sloppy kiss. After that moment, I’m in paradise.

  With this girl, it seems like the only place to be.

  16

  Aidan

  "I don't think so," I say, running on the treadmill. I up the speed of the machine, trying hard to beat my personal best pace.

  I can't help it. I'm a competitive person.

  I can feel sweat trickling down the ridges of my chest, as I focus on the rhythmic falling of my feet. Why does CJ always want to have these talks during my workout sessions? Can't I ever fucking workout in peace anymore?

  All I want is one uninterrupted session.

  "C'mon, you and Abby work so well together!" she pleads. "There's an undeniable chemistry. You should really consider collaborating on more projects. Just think about it … you two can create a whole series of books! You can create an empire!"

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I say, increasing my pace on the treadmill a little bit more.

  "Think about it; you two can take over the market," CJ replies. I can tell she's excited about something when her hands become animated, and right now, as she's speaking, her hands are flying around her face faster than little hummingbirds. Strange. Why have I never noticed how small her hands were before?

  "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" I say.

  "Not if it's the truth, Aidan."

  "You and I both know that I agreed to one book, and one book only. That's it. I kept my word, and now it's time for me move on to other things."

  "Why do you feel as if you need to chase something new? Why not stay where things are working? And don't you agree that one book paid off?" CJ replies.

  "Sure, the book did well," I shrug.

  "Did well? It did more than well—it did excellent! I'd say you have a natural talent. And besides, I thought things were going well with you and Abby."

  I keep running; I don't know where exactly I want to go from here, and I really don't know what to say to CJ for a moment, but I turn toward her and say the first thing that pops into my head.

  "Things are going well, but Abby's the author, not me."

  "Co-author. Don't kid yourself," she replies. "You were an integral part of that book."

  The sun's streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and it's casting its light on across auburn hair like an illuminated net. I'm always amazed how much the sunlight brings out the red in her hair, making her look especially fiery. I grin when I think about how it matches her personality. That's why I hired her in the first place.

  She doesn't fucking give up easily. I'll give her credit for that.

  If I decide to move on to other things … and I'm really fucking leaning that way … I have no doubt that CJ will make sure I stay booked with projects. And honestly, I have so many fucking offers pouring in; I don't even know where to start. Pivoting won't be hard. I think back to all of the offers I've received. I could pose as a rugged cowboy on a western romance book cover, or as a chiseled king for a historical romance cover ... the possibilities are endless.

  After another pause, CJ turns to me. "Wait a minute … I know you just said things were well, but please tell me you didn't go and mess things up with Abby. You did, didn't you? I knew it! I told you not to mix business and pleasure!"

  "Wait a minute! Stop jumping to concl
usions. That's not it at all. You've got it all wrong. Like I said, things are fine between Abby and I," I reply."I promise."

  She looks me up and down, wondering whether or not she should believe me, but ultimately she does.

  "So, what now? If you're so anti book writing, what would you like to do next?"

  I pause for a moment. "I want to go back to doing what made me money in the first place … modeling," I say. It's the fucking truth.

  "Seems to me that authoring brings in—" she begins to say, but I cut her off.

  "Alright, alright—I'll think about it," I reply. "Does that make you happy?"

  But she doesn't have to answer that question. The smile on her face speaks volumes.

  "That's a smart call," she says. "I'm just looking out for you."

  I stop the treadmill and walk off, grabbing a towel and dragging it across my forehead to wipe away some of the sweat. Then I grab my bottle of water and take a big swig. The chill of it refreshes me.

  "Is that it for today?" I ask CJ. I'm hoping I can shower and get on with things. I promised to pick Abby up later in the day. We've made plans and I have a surprise for her this evening … a trip to one of the hottest clubs in the city: Python. I can't wait to see her reaction. I think she's gonna be pleasantly surprised.

  "There is one more thing…" CJ says slowly.

  The way she hedges makes me raise an eyebrow.

  "Oh yeah?" I reply.

  "I heard from Bad Boy Publishing," she continues, looking up at me to gauge my reaction.

  Did she just say Bad Boy? Hearing the name of that publisher nearly makes my fucking heart skip a beat, and I fumble my water bottle, almost dropping it. Abby's told me all about them. What could they want with me? CJ can see the disbelief written across my face—probably the deep fucking crease across my forehead gives it away, and she continues.

  "They're extending you a contract if you want it."

  What? A fucking contract? From Bad Boy Publishing? That seems to be coming straight out of left field. For once, I'm speechless. I mean, really fucking speechless. I never could've predicted that.

  "I know; crazy, right?" she says, reading the look on my face. "Bad Boy is the gold standard in terms of publishing books in the contemporary romance market. Everyone knows that. Seems to me like you're officially back on the map. You're catching the attention of some pretty big fish."

  I still can't find the words to respond, so instead I just nod my head and pace the room.

  CJ's right.

  I'm back on the map alright, but who's attention have I really caught?

  Is it a big fish, or a hungry shark?

  17

  Abby

  Time to celebrate, I think to myself, my arms wrapped around Aidan’s torso as he zigzags through the evening New York traffic. The engine of his bike growls under me, louder and louder with each passing second, and I grab him tightly as we pick up speed.

  Aidan’s taking me to Python, the renowned ‘pleasure club’, and I won’t lie: I’m a bit nervous. Still, after everything we’ve been through, that nervousness is barely noticeable; more than nervous, I’m excited to go there. The place where dreams come true, everyone says about Python, and I’m curious to find out how much of that is true. After what happened during the photo shoot with Mistress Strokes, I doubt anything can top that.

  I mean, since I’ve met Aidan, I think I’ve probably done more growing up than I’ve ever done in my life.

  This is like the damn sex talk that your parents have with you, only as an adult.

  Why did no one ever tell me about these things?

  Did you know? Did you know sex could feel so amazing?

  Sorry, I’m not going off on you – it’s just that my life is so different now than it was just a few short months ago. And my writing has changed too.

  It was Aidan’s idea to visit Python; it’s time we fuckin’ celebrate, he said after Big Dick climbed through the Rainforest’s rankings and earned its place amongst the Top 100. That helped us sell more and more, giving us a much needed boost, and we’re still climbing through the rankings. It’s a good thing Aidan decided to get me out of the house today, or else I’d just spend the night with my laptop propped up on my knees, refreshing the rankings every fifteen seconds.

  I mean, don’t roll your eyes at me, okay? Hitting F5 to refresh my screen is something I absolutely do.

  But there’s only so far the books going to go. I told Aidan this too.

  “Without the budget to do publicity that the big traditional publishers have, we’ll never make keep it in the Top 100 for long,” I tell Aidan. “It needs more publicity that we just don’t have the dollars for.”

  This was never a problem before. Bad Boy Publishing used to handle it. But now, its me and my limited budget.

  “Here we are,” I hear Aidan say as we grind to a halt in front of what looks like the entrance to a large building from some wicked fairy tale. I swing my legs off of the bike and, taking the helmet off, run one hand through my hair.

  “This place is huge,” I tell Aidan, looking up at the neon lights above the tall double doors. They blink in a crimson glow, spelling Python one letter at a time. Robust men in dark suits lace the entry to the building, waving people in slowly, and I feel my heart sinking as I realize the line is simply too big; there are hundreds of women waiting for a chance to get inside, all of them wearing heels and dresses probably a few inches shorter than they would wear for a family gathering.

  “We’re never going to get --” I start, but one of the security guys waves at Aidan. He laces his arm in mine and we cut the line. I can feel hundreds of jealous eyes burning on the back of my head as we move toward the entrance, but I try my best to shrug it off.

  “It’s been a while, Aidan,” one of the bald guys in a dark suits says with a smile, and Aidan just claps him on the back.

  “Yeah, feels good to be back. Is Austin in?”

  “Yeah, he just got here. He should be in the main room, just look for him.”

  “Thanks,” Aidan says, handing both of our helmets to the security guy.

  I just nod and smile through the whole conversation, and then the realization dawns on me. “You never told me you used to work here!” I whisper at Aidan as we walk up the stairs to the main room.

  “Didn’t think it mattered,” he shrugs, walking inside the building’s cavernous hall as two security guys push the double doors open. Loud music and dim lights flood us at once, and I have to blink my eyes a few times before I realize how big Python really is. The room we’re in has enough space for a few hundred people, and the elevated stage right in the middle seems like something out of rock concert.

  “Wait here, I’ll go get us a booth,” Aidan says, but I’m barely listening to him. My attention has been snagged by the two men on the stage, both of them wearing firemen uniforms. Their heavy bright jackets are open, though, and they're not wearing anything underneath. Their abs and toned muscles gleam under the spotlight, and I feel my jaw dropping a little as they throw their jackets over the crowd of shouting women, the sight of their naked (and extremely ripped) chests sending the crowd into a frenzy. No wonder Aidan used to work here; he fits right in with these guys.

  “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you used to work here,” I say, but when I turn to the side I realize Aidan’s not there. I look around and I see him leaning by the counter, talking happily with a gorgeous man in a dark tailored suit, his jacket thrown over the counter and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. They shake hands, exchange a few words, and then Aidan makes a beeline toward me.

  “Who’s that?” I ask him, following the tall man with my eyes as he steps through a Personnel Only door.

  “That’s Austin Price, the owner,” he says, and then takes my arm again. “Lets go, he hooked us up with the best seats.”

  Arm-in-arm with Aidan, I let him lead me to the upper level of the room. We walk up a set of stairs, and then he takes me to a booth that overlo
oks the stage. The walls are lined with couches, and there’s even a pole in the middle of the room. This booth probably services large groups, but we have it just to ourselves. I’m betting that this Austin guy must have liked Aidan a lot when he worked here.

  We choose the seats closer to the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, the ones with the best view toward the stage, and I notice there’s a bucket with a bottle of champagne on a small table to the side, two glasses close to it.

  “Oh, nice,” Aidan says, grabbing the bottle by the neck and popping the cork out with a quick flick of his thumb. Champagne gushes out in a torrent, and I hurry to get the glasses under the bottle.

  “To Abby, the greatest writer ever,” he says, taking one of the glasses and raising it up with a grin.

  “To Aidan, the second greatest writer ever,” I tease him with a chuckle, and we touch glasses. I down all of my champagne at once, and then search for my phone, rummaging inside my purse with one hand. Fishing it out, I head straight to the Rainforest website.

  “Jesus, give it a rest, Abby. You checked the rankings a thousand times today and --”

  “Oh, God. Oh, God,” I start, my eyes widening as I notice what’s on the screen. No way, this can’t be real.

  “What is it?” Aidan asks, peering over my shoulder. “Holy fuck!” he exclaims as he sees what’s on the screen. “We’re at the fucking top!”

  “We are,” I say, barely blinking as I try to process the fact that Big Dick is sitting at the Rainforest’s Top 10. “And we’re going up,” I continue, breathing fast as I notice the small Big Dick thumbnail overtaking the other books in the ranking, climbing steadily into the Top 5.

  “Fuck,” Aidan breaths out, grabbing the bottle of champagne and refilling our glasses. It feels like we’ve barely finished drinking them when Big Dick finally tops the ranking, an orange ribbon with a bold #1 falling over the thumbnail. “Well, fuck me. We’re the best-selling book in the US.”