12 Inches: A Secret Baby Dark Romance

by Alexis Angel

  And especially telling me that fact.

  “Lisa!”

  Becca’s voice finally cuts through my thoughts and I realize, in a distant part of my brain, that she’d been saying my name for quite some time now. Whoops.

  Way to pretend that you’re really listening, Lisa.

  I look up and give Becca a weak smile. “Sorry, lost in my own thoughts. What were you saying?”

  “What gives? I've never seen you like this before. Ev. Er. I’ve seen those dogs with the flappy ears that drag on the ground—”

  “Hound dogs?”

  “Yeah, hound dogs that look happier than you do right now.”

  Ouch.

  But, probably true.

  Dammit, I really am in sorry shape.

  “Diesel,” I sigh. “I mean, Carlton. No one names their child Diesel, except for Kindle authors, apparently.”

  She’s just staring at me, so I plunge on.

  “Anyway, the problem is, I’m in love with a liar. A man who literally cannot tell the difference between a lie and the truth. It was funny when he called himself an outlaw when we first met. I mean, that’s just a pick-up line, right? And then, after that, he pretends to be one because he knows I’m attracted to that and he wants to please me.

  “But what I really want is to date someone who isn’t insane.”

  “You’re in love with him?” Becca breathes excitedly.

  My hand fina-fuckingly stops twirling my glass in my hand and I set it down with a thump.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “I am,” I say, staring back at her, happiness welling in my chest. “Becca, I really, really am. I love him!” My excitement pops like a soap bubble and I wail, “I’m in love with a compulsive liar!”

  Becca scoots her chair around the table so she can put her arm around me and pat me on the back comfortingly as I cry into my gin and tonic.

  I never was a pretty drunk.

  “Well, if the Kindle authors are to be believed,” she says authoritatively, “these kinds of shenanigans are usually wrapped up in about three weeks or so. So, you only have to make it through the next three weeks as a single woman, and then Diesel—Carlton—will pull his head out of his ass, start telling the truth, and declare his love for you.”

  “You think so?” I sniff.

  Indelicately.

  Have I mentioned that I’m a sorry-ass drunk?

  “When have Kindle authors ever let us down?” Becca asks brightly.

  “Well, they say that people regularly name their children Diesel,” I remind her.

  “Maybe they do and we just haven’t met them yet.”

  Huh. Good point. It’s not like I’ve met all of humanity or something.

  I toss back the rest of my gin and tonic because if I make a sorry drunk, well, I might as well be really good at being a sorry drunk. Goals and all that.

  “The next three weeks better pass by real quick.” I signal the waiter for another drink.

  I’m going to get really, really good at being a sorry drunk.

  82

  Diesel

  The past three weeks have been … fucking awful.

  Mostly because I haven’t been fucking Lisa.

  I stare into my now-warm beer on the bar top in front of me, like it’s going to give me useful answers or something. Instead, the head on the beer just slowly dissipates until there’s nothing but golden brown staring back up at me.

  Crankshaft, the Black Fist president, comes up and smacks me on the shoulder. “Damn, Diesel, I ain’t seen you like this before. What gives? Did some chick get all up in your head or something?”

  Yeah. Or something. My head, my heart, my dick…all the important parts of the body, anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised to find Lisa wrapped up in my appendix.

  “Just a lot on my mind,” I say, because what kind of an outlaw tells another outlaw that he’s mooning over a girl? They’d probably take my patch away for that. I may not be an active member of the Black Fist anymore, but they still let me come to the clubhouse, and in times of trouble, they still have my back. I can’t start acting like a pussy in front of them now.

  “Well, if it is a girl, you gotta be willing to go after her.”

  I look at him, shocked to hear him say that. Crankshaft just shrugs a little.

  “If she’s worth it, she’s worth it. Don’t let nothin' stand in your way.”

  He walks away, leaving the words reverberating in my brain.

  If she’s worth it…

  Is she worth it?

  I think back over the past three weeks and how goddamn miserable I’ve been.

  All because I've missed her. I wanted to wake up next to her in the morning. I wanted to fuck her all night. I wanted to spar with her verbally and see if I could come out on top. I wanted to bathe her in bubbles and champagne.

  I wanted to be with her.

  I want to be with her.

  What the fuck am I doing, just sitting around, feeling sorry for myself? God, I’m a pansy. I should turn in my patch right now, just because I’ve been a pansy.

  But, I’m not going to. I have more money than God. It’s about time I start using it to get what I want.

  83

  Lisa

  I smile politely as I chat with Kim and Cody at their garden party in the Hamptons. My heels are sinking into the ground (whoever thought that wearing stilettos to a garden party was a good idea should be shot on sight) and my face is so tired from smiling politely, I feel like I should take a week-long nap just to recover from it.

  Like a marathon, but for cheek muscles.

  Kim and Cody are all over each other, cooing and kissing and my upchuck reflex is on high alert. I mean, if I were the one doing all of the cooing and kissing, that’d be one thing, but…well, I’m not.

  And despite Becca’s assurances to the contrary, Diesel hasn’t come to declare his love to me. She had seemed so sure that Diesel was going to come waltzing in at any moment and say, “Psych! Just kidding. I really do love you and I’m really not in an MC and I’m really not a serial liar!”

  Except…he hasn’t shown up at all and its been three weeks as of yesterday.

  Can I just say—Kindle authors are really starting to get on my nerves, what with their happily ever afters and dangerous bad boys and none of them are pathological liars.

  Why is my bad boy turning out to be one?

  Oh yeah, my face muscles are going to freeze in this position; I can feel the paralysis creeping over me.

  “Hey baby, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  My momma always told me that if I rolled my eyes too often, they’d get stuck in that position, which means at this very moment, I am in imminent danger of having my cheek muscles and my eyes stuck in unflattering positions.

  I turn on my heel, digging myself deeper into the lawn, and come face to face with Fabio. Okay, maybe not the Fabio ‘cause he’s an old dude, but this guy has it going on—long, flowing hair, a chiseled jaw that looks like it could potentially jackhammer its way through concrete, and muscles everywhere. Hell, this guy’s dick could probably out bench press me.

  But instead of suitably drooling and cooing and laughing at his (awful) pick-up line, I’m just left cold. Like someone put me into an ice chest. Or, Wisconsin in January.

  “Hi,” I say automatically, putting my hand out to shake his. He grabs it and yanks me toward him, throwing me off-balance and crashing into his rock-hard chest.

  And rock-hard dick.

  My eyes immediately shoot up to his and he just grins at me, obviously expecting me to take his hard-on as a compliment.

  “Does a pretty lady like you want to—”

  “Nope!” I say loudly, yanking back from his arms and righting myself on my heels again.

  Who thought that stilettos were a good idea at a garden party again?

  “But I haven’t even asked—”

  “And I’m already saying no,” I cut
him off. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  His face went from leering to angry in a flash. “Goddamn bitches, wearing skirts like that and then acting like they’re too good to throw back a drink with—”

  Which statement is also cut off, but this time by the rumbling of motorcycles. A lot of motorcycles.

  Now, as previously mentioned, I’m at Kim and Cody’s house. In the Hamptons. To say that there aren’t a lot of motorcycles that roam the streets here is…well, like saying that Coach handbags are worth dying for. You don’t get much more “duh” than that.

  Kim and I just stare at each other for the longest moment of my life and then I’m ripping my heels off my feet so I can run, goddamn run across the backyard and up the side yard and into the front yard—OMG, Kim, buy a smaller house next time for God’s sakes—and there, oh god, there is Diesel.

  Except, for the first time since I’ve met him, he actually looks like a fucking outlaw. Blue bandana and black leather vest and leather chaps; holy fucking god above, is he hot, and he’s swinging off his Harley and coming straight for me, swinging me up into his arms and kissing me, endlessly kissing me and I can’t breathe and I don’t care because Diesel is there, he’s fucking there.

  Eventually, as Diesel is working his way down my chest and I’ve got my head tilted back and he’s about to pull my tit out of my bra so he can suckle on it, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Wha–what?” I ask blearily, too horny to think straight, and then I feel someone pulling me away from Diesel’s embrace and through crossed eyes, I realize that it’s Kim.

  “Do you two want a room?” she asks sarcastically.

  “Yes,” Diesel says, scooping me up into his arms and heading for the front door.

  “Up the stairs, down the hallway, second door on the right,” Kim calls after us, and I’m finally realizing that I’d been about to fuck in public. In front of 200 houseguests, on my best friend’s front lawn. Mortified, I bury my face into Diesel’s shoulder and breathe in deep.

  God, he smells good.

  “I was in the Black Fist before I went to work for the family business,” Diesel says, someone opening and closing the front door for us. I don’t lift my head to see who because I’m too damn embarrassed. I may never show my face in public again.

  “I really was the president, and then I decided to step back from it when my father asked to have me take over the Caldwell Corporation. He needed me and I couldn’t tell my father no.” Diesel is taking the stairs now, still carrying me in his arms, and I love it. I love the feeling of being loved, of being protected, of having someone take care of me. “I had to erase everything about my presence online. That’s why you get nothing when you google or Facebook me.”

  I pause, listening to his words, my heart stopping with every word.

  “I’ve never lied to you, Lisa, not once, not about anything. The only person I’ve lied to is myself.”

  We’re in the guest bedroom now and Diesel kicks the door closed behind us, laying me down on the bed, staring down at me as he begins to strip. “I thought I could live without you, but I can’t. That day on the train station platform, I jumped in without thinking, and it was the best move of my life. Better than any business deal I’ve ever made. Better than any house or company that I’ve bought or sold. That day, I found you, and so I found me. Lisa, I love you. Please don’t ever make me live without you.”

  Tears are filling my eyes now and I feel stupid all over again because I’m not normally someone who cries easily—sarcastic responses are more my style—but right here? Right now? All I can say is the truth.

  “Diesel, I love you, too.”

  84

  Lisa

  God bless you, Kim, I think as we stumble inside her guest room like horny teenagers, completely unable to take our hands off of each other. After what just happened, I think that’s pretty understandable. Shame on me for not believing Carlton, the outlaw MC.

  One foot inside the room and he’s on me, closing the door with his foot in a hurry. He runs his fingers over my face, grabs my neck firmly with his other hand and kisses me. Not a simple kiss, but a hard one full of desire… One that makes my whole body scream, yearning to feel him inside of me.

  I pull him into me, grabbing him by his tie. He smiles and takes his mouth to my neck, going up until his mouth touches mine again. Just one kiss and I’m already as wet as a raging river. This is absolutely perfect, being here with him. It’s all that I could wish for, really. Can this moment last forever? Forget about everything else—this, his love, is all that matters.

  With my lips pressed on his, a storm of static electricity rages inside of me. My body buzzes with pleasure, a fire threatening to rip my muscles apart. My heart drumming wildly, I start unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his sculptural body inch by inch. I run my fingers through his chest and abs, stopping where a trace of untanned skin starts to show. By now my body is already humming with pleasure from the inside out. God, I’m so damn wet, all of me aching to feel him.

  The moment the last button on Diesel’s shirt pops out, I pull it down his arms; now half naked, my eyes wander over his perfectly carved muscles. Burning with desire, his fingers start to draw a line up and down my legs; each time his fingers come up, he goes closer to my inner thighs, making my insides clench in delight. My heart is racing like a galloping horse, one hell bent on finishing the race in first place.

  He presses his body against mine, the huge bulging on his crotch tenting his pants. He pushes me against the wall and, his hands on my waist, he turns me around. My hands go to the wall, and I gasp as he starts unzipping my dress, kissing my neck all the while. I can hear his heavy breathing against my skin, all of him hungry for my body. He pushes the straps down my arms and my dress starts to droop, bunching up at my waist.

  I turn on my heels then, my mouth looking for his. We kiss and I close my eyes, allowing myself the privilege of going completely crazy; I hook my fingers on his belt and pull him into me as well, his lips going straight to my neck and chest and his fingers dangerously close to my completely drenched thong.

  Sliding his finger up my inner thigh, Diesel moves fast and pulls my thong to the side. He then presses one finger right above my clit, rubbing it in fast circles and forcing me to pull out from his kiss so that I can moan. His finger then goes down to my folds and, after stroking the whole length of my pussy, he gently slides his finger inside me. He does it once. And then twice. By the time he slides his finger in for the third time, my body is already alight with pleasure. Pressing his thumb over my clit, he brings it home; I grit my teeth as my pussy tightens around his finger, a wave of endorphins hitting me at once. I moan loudly as I climax, Diesel playing me as if I were an instrument.

  My body still reeling from the first orgasm of the night, I place my hands on his chest and push him back. I gasp as I feel his fingers letting go of my pussy, but I don’t stop. I walk past him, moving my hips teasingly as I cross the room toward the bed. Once there, I turn on my heels and, facing him, I reach for the clasp in my bra and unfasten it. I let the straps hang down my arms, the cups drooping over my breasts, but I keep the bra in place; he can peel it off of me. Then, an inviting smile on my lips, I throw myself back on top of the mattress.

  Diesel doesn’t wait for further instructions; he simply walks toward the bed and climbs on top of the mattress. Before I can even blink, he’s already kissing me hard, his hand crawling up my stomach to my still hidden breasts. Slowly, he starts to pull my left breast out of the bra, an erect nipple jumping into sight. He pulls on it lightly, pinching it between his index finger and thumb, and then starts to rub it softly. My body is going to explode with so much pleasure, I’m sure of it.

  He then lowers his head toward my stomach and lays his lips there, letting them sail down to my waist and then to my inner thighs. He starts to kiss them eagerly, pressing two fingers over my thong at the same time.

  I close my eyes as I start to imagine him between
my thighs, his full lips reaching for my pussy… Oh, I want him to lick me hard, I want his tongue tracing the whole contour of my wet pussy. Somehow, he seems to hear my thoughts; he pushes my thong to the side and, immediately after, he presses his lips against my pussy. He moves his warm tongue up and down my inner lips, always circling my clit whenever his tongue touches it. With each second that passes he starts to lick me more quickly, his breathing intensifying as his tongues jabs at me in a frenzied lust.

  Licking my pussy, he abruptly grabs my bra and pulls it down my arms. He throws it off to the floor, his hands immediately reaching for both my breasts.

  Still in absolute control over my pussy, he wraps his lips tightly around my clit and starts to suck on it, sparks of electric pleasure making the climb up to my brain. Then, he parts my folds with his fingers and, before I have the time to prepare for it, he slides his index finger in. He does it slowly, but goes all the way in, only stopping when his fingertip is firmly nestled against my g-spot; he presses it there, drawing a purred moan out of me. I’m still moaning when he slides one more finger inside, my back arching as I succumb to pleasure. By the time he slides the third finger in, I’m ready to come again, and that’s exactly what happens: arching my back over the mattress, I let the fires of climax envelop me and all of me burns. With my fingers curled on the sheets, I bunch up the fabric in my hands as my body convulses.

  But he doesn’t stop, oh no.

  He grabs me by the waist and turns me around, my stomach flat against the mattress. Then, his fingers on my waist, he makes me raise my ass up. The moment I do it, I immediately feel his tongue brushing against my pussy again; I can’t help but look over my shoulder just to see him between my legs. My heart skips a beat as he pulls back and, going to his knees, offers me a wild grin.

  He places his hands on my ass cheeks and pulls them apart. Oh, I know what he’s going to do next and I’m already loving it. He goes for it, his wet tongue running across my ass crack and then focusing on my hole, circling it eagerly. He presses his tongue against my ass and jabs it in, my skin prickling as I feel him exploring my insides. To make it even more maddening, he slides two fingers deep inside of me and presses hard against my G-spot, that electric feeling of pleasure biting at my muscles.