by Alexis Angel
It was always about the stories.
7
Lana
“Alright, people, keep in line!” I shout to the crowd gathering around Abby’s table, but they don’t even register my words. They’re like zombies, except instead of wanting brains they want Abby’s autograph.
Even though security is cordoning off the area and trying to keep the crowd in check, I feel that we’re going to get mobbed sometime soon. More than a writer, Abby is like a rock star. And no wonder, she single handedly changed the industry with her books.
“Okay, you go now,” I wave at an elderly lady and she moves toward Abby, clutching a hardback copy of 12 Inches to her chest. She has kind eyes and long white hair, and the wrinkles in her face tell me that she had her 70th birthday a long time ago. You’d think that 12 Inches would play better with the younger crowd, but Abby’s book drew the interest of pretty much everyone. Even men are crazy about 12 Inches… but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about that, with the steamy sex and all.
“Calm down, everyone!” I cry out again, watching as a few women try to cut the line, causing the people ahead of them to start muttering. Thinking it best to get from behind the desk and coordinate everything closer to the line, I start walking around the desk.
I’m about to reach the place where the line ends, when I feel emptiness under my right foot—you see, I completely forgot that we set up Abby’s desk on top of a small dais, and now I’m going to pay for that gap in my memory with a humiliating fall. “Fu--” I start to say as the floor seems to reach toward me, but then I feel one arm around my waist and, next thing I know, I’m back on both of my feet.
“Watch out,” I hear a man say, and I turn on my heels to watch my savior. The moment my eyes land on him, I go into a momentary coma. I mean, where do I even start to describe the delicious human being standing in front of me? If I told you he looks better than Michelangelo's David, I’d be just grazing the surface.
You know who I’m talking about don’t you? That guy from the last convention, Anders Carter.
More than a head taller than me, he looks like he has just stepped out of a movie set. His smart gentle eyes, combined with the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, give him a rugged appearance; but, at the same time, his full lips balance all that ruggedness. And, Jesus, he looks stylish as hell, even though he’s just wearing jeans and a button up shirt under a dark sweater, he looks roguish and effortlessly cool.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks me, snapping his fingers right in front of my eyes.
“Oh, yeah. I’m okay, sure,” I start to say, or should I say mumble? I can’t even think straight with how hot this guy looks!
“You looked like you were spacing out,” he chuckles, and then smiles. My eyes drink up the way his mouth moves, and I feel my heart skip a beat. “So, this is crazy, huh? Working with Abby Cleveland must be insane.”
“It is,” I nod, running one hand through my hair and praying to the Gods that I don’t look too stunned. “Did you come to talk to her?”
“No, I came because of you, Lana,” he tells me, and it’s as if my heart has just exploded inside my chest. Oh. My. God. Did I hear it right? Am I having the kind of dream where a hot man shows up out of nowhere, ready to relive 12 Inches' hottest moments?
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” I ask him, my heart beating so fast it’s about to rip its way out of my chest.
“Lana Hartley,” he repeats, this time pronouncing my name slower. Yup, this is really happening. “That’s you, right?” he continues with one amused smile.
“Yup, that’s… that’s me. I’m Lana,” I stammer, not really knowing how to handle this situation and feeling completely stupid. We’ve met before, and here I am introducing myself again. But I just can’t help but be this stunned: why is a man like him looking for me? God, I hope he’s not an undercover IRS agent or something like that. Although, with the luck I have, that’s probably what this is about.
“Nice meeting you again, Lana,” he chuckles, his smart eyes never looking at mine. “I came here looking for you and you fell straight into my arms. How’s that for a coincidence?”
“You came here looking for me…” I repeat after him, still feeling shell-shocked.
“Yeah. Your manuscript, The Virgin Market, I just finished it and… I was blown away, Lana. I really was. I'm guessing you didn't get my email?”
“No, I never got it—and get out of here. You’re joking. Is this a prank?” I ask him as I take one step back, looking around as if I expected TV cameras to pop out of nowhere to record my dumb face.
“No, not at all. I loved it and --” There’s a ringing sound coming from his pocket, and that stops him mid-sentence. He takes his phone out, looks at the screen and then turns his gaze toward me. “Look, your manuscript got me thinking, and I have ideas floating around in my head… But you’re busy right now,” he waves with one hand at the out-of-control crowd behind me, “so what do you say we meet for dinner? Back in New York, I mean. I really want to discuss The Virgin Market with you.”
“Sure,” I reply, having no idea what else to say. There’s a knot in my throat, and even my mind is in complete disarray.
“Does Friday sound good? At Per Se?”
“Yeah, Per Se sounds good,” I continue, still not believing that this is really happening. Like, one of the hottest models in the industry comes out of the woodwork to tell me he loves my writing? And now he wants to meet me for dinner to talk about my book? Please, tell me, did I win the lottery or something? Because this sure as hell is my lucky day.
“Great, we’ll talk then,” he says and then reaches for my hand and shakes it, his long fingers brushing against the palm of my hand. I feel a shiver going up my spine at his touch, and I can’t help but bite down on my lower lip. “Until then, Lana. Can’t wait.”
“Until then… I can’t wait either,” I repeat his words and, the moment they leave my lips, I feel warm blood rushing to my cheeks. Oh God, why am I blushing like a teenage girl?
“See ya,” he says, flashing me his delicious smile and turning around to leave.
“Anders Carter,” I mutter under my breath as I watch him leave, my eyes stuck to the back of his head.
Somehow, I have the feeling that my life’s about to change for good.
8
Naughty Angel Newsletter
OMG! You gotta hear this gossip!!!!
Sooo….I just heard the most awesome and delicious piece of gossip EVER!
It turns out that Lana Hartley – our own newbie author here at Naughty Angel Publishing – is totally gonna go out on a date with none other than handsome cover model Anders Carter!
OMG I wanna be a fly on that wall. What is gonna happen? Is he gonna take her out to dinner? Will he pick her up in a limo? Will he pull out her chair for her? She’s prolly gonna hate me for posting her personal life on the NL that goes out to like 30,000 readers, but I’ve always been straight with you and shared everything so this is par for the course for me.
OMG! I wonder if they’re gonna fuck? Is he gonna totally do her and make her cum? God, so I’ll be honest, I’ve peeked at Anders in the past and homeboy is definitely packing some major lust muscle down there. I mean we’ve all seen him with his shirt off in books like Mr. President and Scandalous, but you know Rainforest.com doesn't let us show their cocks LOL.
So is Lana gonna see it? Is she gonna touch it and squeeze it? Is she gonna smear the pre-cum that comes out of it on the tip and then jerk his shaft? God, what a lucky girl huh? I wonder if she’s gonna suck his cock or go all the way? Wow I’m pretty filthy today; I wonder if Aidan is reading this NL. Like he’s my husband and I love him, but this is his fault. He’s made me into a sex fiend with all the constant sex that he makes me have with him.
Okay, he doesn’t make me have sex. We just have it and it’s good. But when I don’t have his cock inside me I keep imagining cocks now being inside me. So this is good because now I’m thinking of cocks inside
of her.
Uhmm, that sounded a bit weird but you get what I mean! I hope! Oh boy. I bet a bunch of people just unsubscribed right now.
Oh, congratulations to Melissa Lee who just won our vibrator contest last week in Dirty Lil’ Angels. The next one has gone up with the release of Client 5 so make your way over to the private Facebook page and get your freak on. Dirty Lil’ Angels has probably contributed to the orgasms of a few thousand women by now.
Okay, so enough about Lana. Let’s talk about me. Actually, I can’t stop thinking about Lana on this date. I mean she’s really cute looking and awesome so I’m so happy for her. I hope her and Anders have lots of freaky sex and make lots of book babies!
In fact, if you see Lana on Facebook, be sure to wish her luck on her upcoming date! I don’t think she’ll need it, but she should know that all us Angels are thinking about her as she goes out with this cover model. And hopefully spreads her legs lol!
9
Lana
Red Sisley lipstick, tight fitting black dress, and a matching pair of Sergio Rossi high heels—that’s my outfit for the night. Tonight’s the night I’ll meet Anders at Per Se, and I want to bring my A-game to the table.
Apparently, he’s my first fan, and I decided to dress to impress. Of course, it also helps that he’s hot as hell itself. It’s not everyday that men like him decide to hit me up for dinner, you know? Sure, I have my fair share of suitors, but none like Anders.
Sure, yeah, I know that this isn’t exactly a date. He invited me for dinner because he wants to talk about my manuscript, I’m well aware of that. At first I was kinda surprised, but why should I be? Anders is one of the hottest cover models doing romance. And if he liked my manuscript, who knows…? So, this is more like a business meeting than anything else. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look my best, right?
I leave my apartment building in a hurry (I’m already five minutes late), and hop inside the first taxi I see. The drive to Per Se takes around ten minutes, luckily, and I get there just in time to be fashionably late.
Taking one deep breath to calm my nerves, I then step inside the dimly-lit restaurant. The place is completely packed (it’s Per Se we’re talking about after all), but I somehow spot Anders right away. He’s sitting at the end of the dining room by himself, an open bottle of red wine sitting in front of him. I take one more deep breath and make my way toward him, putting a smile on my face and trying to hide my nervousness.
“You came,” Anders tell me as he sees me. He stands up in a rush and, walking around the table, he pulls back my chair and waits for me to sit.
“Oh. Hey,” I say, surprised with him pulling my chair out for me. I mean, handsome and a gentleman? You don’t see stuff like this nowadays, that much I can tell you. Chivalry is a dying trait, after all.
“Glad you came, Lana,” he tells me as he goes back to his seat, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring some into my glass.
“Thank you. Why wouldn’t I come, though? After what you said about my book, I had to.”
“Yeah, your book,” he smiles, the lines around his eyes telling me his is a genuine smile. This isn’t a play of some sort; he really enjoyed The Virgin Market. “That was probably the best book I’ve ever read, Lana.”
“Oh. It’s just a manuscript. It’s not even polished,” I say as I feel blood rushing toward my face. Someone complimenting my book like that is akin to having a man checking my ass out, except it’s even more intimate.
“I know, but still… Pardon my French, Lana, but it was fucking amazing. I don’t even know where to start. It just moved me, you know? And the sex … fuck,” he says, breathing the words out in a rush, and then reaches for his glass and downs the wine all at once, as if just talking about the sex in The Virgin Market was enough to raise his body temperature.
“I… I don’t even know what to say,” I mutter, not really knowing how to answer something like what he just told me.
“No need to say anything. It’s the truth… and you look even more beautiful when you blush, by the way,” he continues, that confident delicious smile dancing on his lips. Is it just me, or is it getting warmer in here? Sweet Jesus.
“T-thank you…” I whisper, reaching for my own glass and taking a sip. I don’t know about him, but my body temperature is rising, and it’s rising fast. I’m struggling to think of what my next words are going to be when the waiter pops up out of nowhere, eager to take our orders. We order ‘oysters and pearls,’ one of the most popular dishes at Per Se, and then Anders takes control of the conversation.
He keeps on talking about The Virgin Market, raving about it as if my manuscript was the best thing he had ever read. With him sitting across from me, his lips moving so seductively, I can barely register whatever he’s saying… But the glint in his eyes, the sweet tone of his voice—that’s enough for me to know that The Virgin Market really moved him.
You know, to move someone because of something you wrote, it’s… magical. It’s a writer’s dream come true.
“There was something primal about it, you know?” he continues, his eyes locked on mine. “Most of the stuff you read nowadays is just too plain… But this was raw. It was fucking intense. The kind of sex you had in here, you know… It’s going to be a hit, I can tell.”
“It’s… nothing special,” I try and act humble because, really, I don’t know what to say. “I just wrote these scenes because … they work for me, you know? I figured that if that worked for me, maybe it’d work for readers as well.”
“And you’re right about that,” he smiles, nodding at the waiter as he arrives with our plates. “At least it worked for me.”
I look down at my plate, feeling boiling blood once more reaching toward my face. I can’t help but imagine him reading my manuscript, his cock growing hard as he reads the sex I wrote… In a way, I should be embarrassed; instead, I just feel horny as hell.
“I’m glad it worked for you,” I finally find the courage to say. “Most people think books like these are a woman’s domain, but I think they’re wrong. Men can enjoy it as well.”
“I couldn’t agree more… After all, sex is a team effort, right?” I raise my gaze to meet his, and my heart skips a beat as I see something glint in his eyes. What’s that? Lust? No, no, it can’t be. But, whatever it is in the way he’s looking at me, it’s making my thong grow damp.
“It’s definitely a team effort,” I reply with a whisper, taking one more sip of wine as I imagine what a brilliant team effort I could make with Anders right now.
The conversation veers into more relaxed territory as we eat, and I end up telling him all about my dream of becoming a writer. I tell him all about the short stories I wrote when I was just a young girl, and I recount the way I secured my job at Naughty Angel Publishing. I don’t know, but there’s something about Anders that just makes me want to tell him all these things. Around him, I feel safe and secure … and, in a weird way, I trust him.
“You’re following your dream, that’s good,” he replies after my five-minute monologue. “Most people just settle in life, you know? My parents and friends thought I was insane when I decided I wanted to be a model, but I did it all the same, and it paid off.”
“It sure did…” I nod. After all, Anders used to be one of the most sought-after models in the industry. And I say used to because, a few months ago, he started appearing less and less. “But you’re not doing covers nowadays, are you?”
“No,” he tells me, leaning back against his seat and offering me his smile. “I did that for a long, long time, and now I’ve been trying to get into producing and publishing.”
“Oh,” I merely say, not having the courage to tell him that it’s a complete shame that I won’t be able to look at his ripped body on the covers of romance novels anymore.
“But,” he cuts in, almost as if he could read my thoughts, “your book really gave me an itch. It made me want to take my shirt off.”
Now, instead of simply skipping a beat
, my heart skips thousands of them. It stops dead in my chest, and all words I could offer him become trapped in my throat. My book made him want to take his shirt off … oh God, what does he mean by that? Does he want to model for The Virgin Market, or does he…?
“I could see that working,” I start to say, a plan taking shape inside my mind. “But I think I’d need to audition you first.” The moment the words leave my mouth, it’s as if time stands still. I just look into his eyes, waiting for his reaction; in a deep corner of my mind, I almost expect him to be shocked and reject me right off the bat. Instead, that’s not what happens.
“My limo is just around the corner. Why don’t we take care of that right now?”
10
Anders
Like I told you, I don’t normally get so worked up over a book like this, but talking with Lana and hearing her passion for the story got me all worked up in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Again.
More so than I did after I finished the shit.
Holy shit, I even offered to do the cover. I haven’t done a cover in forever. I'm just bowled over by her intensity.
Speaking of intensity, she's practically dragging me to the limo. I swear, if she's like this in the car there is no way we are going to make it all the way to the hotel room with our clothes still on. I'm trying to keep pace, but the idea of a naked Lana sucking my cock in the back of the limo, or even better that amazing ass bent over the seat as I pound away at her pussy while we watch the city pass by, makes me lose a step.
“Come on,” she urges and I redouble my efforts to not be left behind. This is one ride I wouldn’t miss for a million bucks.
