My One and Only: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Second Chance Romance

by Weston Parker

  “I love you, Jay Canton,” Kasey whispered, before leaning in to kiss him.

  “I love you, too.”

  Epilogue

  Kasey

  It was a struggle to get ready in her townhouse. After spending much of her time at Jay’s place, her personal belongings had become spread between the two homes and Kasey had trouble remembering where things were at any given time. Jay wanted to take her out to celebrate all the recent success they’d experienced together, and would be there any minute to pick her up.

  “Baby!” She heard him call from downstairs.

  Although he’d barely used it, Jay had a key to her home for emergencies and times like this. He made his way up the steps and then stared at her in the way that made her heart stop.

  She’d chosen a black Chanel dress he bought for her a few months back. She still couldn’t get used to spending so much on clothing and jewelry, but his personal shopper had started including things for her months ago.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, hoping he would say he just wanted to stay in, which was his usual routine.

  “Yeah. Come on,” he said, and she felt a little disappointed. Kasey liked going out with Jay, but really preferred their normal peaceful nights in.

  The ride was quieter than usual. Jay seemed to be deep in thought about something, and she figured it had to do with Mitchell’s recent suggestion to convert all of Passions into new ventures like the one she’d initiated. Things were going so well they wanted to model the entire company after the new division.

  “I’ll wait out front, Mr. Canton,” Danny announced, as the car slowed to a stop.

  “Perfect,” Jay replied before exiting the car and offering his hand to Kasey.

  “It’s so nice out,” she remarked, feeling the warm breeze on her shoulder.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Jay suggested, taking her hand in his.

  They were right by the lake, and Jay walked alongside her down the narrow trail. Kasey thought to herself that it was a scene ripped out of one of the many romance novels she read on a daily basis.

  It was still impressive to her how they could enjoy each other’s company without the pressure to always speak. Their comfortable silence allowed nature to entertain—the wind cutting through the leaves on the trees sounded melodic.

  “I’ve been wanting some time alone with you,” Jay finally broke the quiet.

  “You’re always with me,” Kasey countered.

  “Yeah, but there’s always an audience. At work, there’s the staff. At home, there’s Laura, and then you take advantage of me,” he smiled, mischievously.

  “Shut up! I do not take advantage of you!” They laughed together until arriving at a small restaurant right at the water.

  “Canton, table for two.” Jay announced to the host, who quickly grabbed two menus and led them to a table with an exceptional view. It was in a private area, so far away Kasey couldn’t see any other diners, but she didn’t think much of it.

  “Tonight is a Chef’s menu. Will that be okay?” The waiter asked when he arrived.

  “Is that okay, baby?” Jay asked across the table.

  “Uh, sure,” Kasey responded.

  “And please bring your best white wine,” Jay nodded, and the waiter excused himself.

  “This place is so nice,” Kasey looked around, noticing the details of fresh rose petals scattered beneath the table.

  “God, I love you,” Jay sighed, as if he’d been holding that in all night.

  “I love you, too,” she reached across the table to place her hand on his.

  “I wanted to wait until later, but I need to talk to you about the business,” he began, and her heart sunk.

  She thought that their going out was to celebrate, but from his behavior she now thought it could be about something else entirely. Had he decided to go in another direction without her? Could she even continue a personal relationship with him if they didn’t work together? Her mind raced with questions until Jay’s words disrupted her mental tangent.

  “I’m always trying to tell you how important you are to the company, and I mean that. We wouldn’t have the success we do without you. With that said, it’s never sat right with me having you as an employee and it’s not something I want to continue. You should be a full partner, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he squinted, trying to read her face.

  Kasey was trying to force herself to breath after mentally freaking out when she heard what she first thought was him firing her, right before he offered her a partnership. She’d thought he would not want to work with her at all, and now he was promoting her?

  “A partnership,” she breathed the words, still trying to wrap her mind around what was going on.

  “Yes. You deserve it. I was thinking we could change the name. Maybe something Canton, and it could just be you and me. I want it to be a family company, with Mitchell of course, and we can all run it together,” he continued.

  “You what?” Kasey could hear the blood pumping loudly through her ears as she looked across the table at Jay. Could he really mean what she thought he did?

  “Kasey, you’ve come into my world and changed everything for the better. You make me a better man and I don’t want to spend another day without letting you know how much you mean to me. I want to grow old with you, build with you, everything. My idea for the new company would be as husband and wife. That is, if you’ll marry me.” Jay reached into his suit jacket, producing a red velvet jewelry box before kneeling down on one knee.

  “Are you serious?” she yelled, bringing her hands to her mouth.

  “Of course I’m serious. Will you please be my wife?”

  “Yes! Baby! Yes!” she screamed and he smiled the widest grin she’d ever seen.

  Standing up he grabbed her in his arms, squeezing her as he pressed his soft lips to hers. She was grateful for his strong arms holding her, because without them she might have fainted.

  Jay was everything she ever dreamed of, and somehow, he continued to find ways to make her fall more love with him. He was perfect in her eyes, and he wanted to be with her forever. She was over the moon with excitement.

  “I love you, Kasey Wright” Jay spoke on her lips.

  “I love you, Jay Canton.”

  With that, he gripped the nape of her neck, tilting her head to best accommodate him, and kissed her with all the passion and longing she could handle. She returned the feelings with her tongue, hopeful that he could possibly understand how much he meant to her.

  Jay had changed her life in every way possible, making all of her dreams come true. Now, he’d done even more, by giving her a new dream–to be his wife and run a business together.

  She didn’t know life could get better than it was yesterday, but that was what life with Jay was like. Each day was a new opportunity to raise the stakes. Kasey moaned into Jay’s mouth as she prayed that they could keep pushing the envelope together for the rest of their lives.

  The End

  Author Note: Wow!!! That one was a blast. Up next is a rock star novel that will have you re-living those glorious ROCK days of the 80’s. Enjoy!

  One More Night

  By

  Ali Parker

  CHAPTER 1

  JARED

  The Pacific Ocean winked at me in the distance, its deep blue waters calm under the orange glow of sunset. The view from up here was one I never thought I’d ever get to see. Now, I owned it. Free and clear.

  Fuck yeah.

  “Here’s to living the dream, babe.” I toasted whatsername. It might be Marilyn. Or Madison. Possibly Madeline? It was something with an “M,” definitely.

  She raised her flute, filled with champagne that cost over a thousand bucks a bottle, to my tumbler of scotch, giggling as the crystal clinked.

  “You sure are,” she said, casting her light blue eyes across my bar and entertainment area. Both were huge. Modern and open, white, sharp-angled, and built for debauchery with bottles lining eve
ry shelf behind the bar. Complete with couches, loungers, and a fire pit. And that view.

  Unlike so many of my peers, I hadn’t opted for a house with sky-high walls and impenetrable boundaries. I had enough to keep me safe, and that was it.

  Barely.

  I didn’t care about candid shots of naked chicks in my infinity pool, or paparazzi outside when I headed to the studio in the mornings.

  I’d busted my ass to get recognized. Why try to hide now?

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew the day would come when I got the fuck over seeing my picture online, or some headline or other screaming about my antics the night before.

  But that day wasn’t today. I was living the high life, and I intended on enjoying every fucking minute of it.

  “What is it you do?” I asked, feigning interest in the professional groupie sitting at the other end of my built-in, imported-marble bar.

  “This and that,” she answered, sipping on her champagne as she fixed me with a flirtatious smile. “I’d love to be a singer, just like you.”

  “Yeah?” I flashed her my trademark smirk, the one that had been labeled by magazines and blogs alike as having the power to make your panties walk away by themselves. I couldn’t even make that shit up.

  “Yes, I’m putting money away to fund some studio time soon,” she crooned.

  Oh, honey. That wasn’t going to work. Not if she wasn’t getting out there at the same time. No one was going to buy a single dropped by a self-funded nobody, and while she could send it out, if there was nowhere to hear her live, they weren’t going to bite on a record deal.

  “That’s great.” I told her, because I wasn’t an agent, manager, or PR person. “We’re actually in the studio right now.”

  “I heard,” she said, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Third album in two years.”

  Officially, yes. The third since Destitute had finally broken out of the local Los Angeles scene to global stardom two years ago. But those years before, the ones we’d spent on couches and carpets before that happened, nobody seemed to remember those.

  Instead of saying all that shit, though, I smiled and refilled her champagne flute and my scotch. “It’s been a busy couple of years.”

  That wasn’t a lie. What nobody told me about finally taking off was that I’d better be fucking ready for a crazy ass schedule and learn to love packing, flying, and hotel beds.

  “I can imagine,” she said.

  No, she really couldn’t.

  Between the press junkets, shows, parties, rehearsals, sound checks, recording, writing, and juggling all of the above and so much fucking more, our schedules were insane.

  And none of us would have it any other way. I knew that I wouldn’t, anyway. Too many years of missing the bus by just one song, one take, had prepared me as much as humanly possible. I was the lead singer of Destitute, and a lot of people assumed that meant nothing more than learning lyrics and moaning them out loud, but I lived, breathed, and slept music.

  “How’s the album going?” she asked, twirling a strand of long, dark hair, that would soon be wrapped around my fist as I gave it to her from behind, between her fingers.

  Her blue eyes were fixed on mine, but they weren’t innocent or lively. If anything, they were the exact opposite. I knew that look, but I wasn’t succumbing to it. She wanted more than my cock. She wanted my life, my mic, my connections. My help.

  “It’s great, actually,” I told her. I knew that I was bragging, but I didn’t give two shits. “We’re laying down new tracks almost every day.”

  “I heard you had a tour coming up?” Those eyes didn’t release mine, but I was up for the challenge. Always.

  “We do. Worldwide this time.” So far, our tours had been to mainly in North and South America and Europe. We’d played isolated shows in Asia, Africa, and Australia, but our upcoming tour was going to be a beast.

  “Wow,” she purred. “I admire that.”

  “It’s hard work, but it pays off big time.” This talking thing was getting old real fast. Madison was what I liked to call a “sure thing.” An arrogant and perhaps chauvinistic term, yes. But it didn’t make it any less true.

  Neither of us had left the raging party at Nick’s house earlier for a chat and a wedding ceremony. She was creaming for a rock star, and I happened to be the Emperor of Rock.

  Without much talk, I’d asked her if she wanted to come home with me, and she’d said yes. End of story.

  I had a designated guestroom at Nick’s, as I should, considering that he was my rhythm guitarist, basically a brother, and we all spent an inordinate amount of time together, but I wasn’t in the mood to navigate the pool of bodies that was bound to be on his floor in the morning.

  Inviting Madison, or whatever her name was, back to my place seemed preferable to that scenario. I could control things here. I was horny as fuck and didn’t want to deal with intrusions, bandmates climbing into bed with us, or humoring other people.

  I just wanted to fuck. Madison seemed up for it, until I’d brought her back to my four-thousand square foot Indonesian style home that was.

  Outdoor living and a home that gave me as much of that as possible was my dream come true, and as soon I saw this place, I bought it. My actual brother, a.k.a Caleb, our lead guitarist, thought I was mad for having bought it so quickly, but he knew as little about money as I did at the time, and I’d been told that it was a solid investment. Not that that meant shit to me. We were rolling in it.

  Literally, some nights.

  One of the biggest benefits of this lifestyle was the pussy that came with it. Expensive houses, cars, planes, and fully-stocked limos were great, but I couldn’t fuck those things.

  Madison, on the other hand, was here to fuck. It was time to get serious, even if it meant talking up her dead-end career in music for a little while.

  “You’re recording an album?” I asked, redirecting the conversation to her. “Congratulations!”

  It was fake as balls, but I knew that women liked to have some sort of fucking interest showed in them before they put out.

  She beamed at me. “Thank you. Your support means everything to me.”

  Jesus, it sounded like she was accepting a Grammy Award. I would know. I had a few lining my mantle, along with a couple of other statues and plaques.

  “Of course,” I lied. “Artists have to support each other, right?”

  I could practically see her falling hook, line, and motherfucking sinker for the line.

  “You know, a little birdy whispered in my ear that you were as charming as you were handsome, Jared Larson. It wasn’t wrong. You have quite the reputation in this town.”

  “It’s well deserved, I promise you. Would you like to see?”

  Her eyes flashed, and her nostrils flared, her thighs pinching together on the steel-framed barstool she was sitting on.

  And we have a go.

  I held my hand out to her when I rounded the bar, and she took it. Rising to her full height as she rose, I was struck again by how tall she was for a woman, almost my height, even. I led her inside through the glass sliding door and up the wooden staircase that led to my bedrooms. She was quiet, taking in her surroundings, no doubt.

  The house was designed to make you feel like you were outside, or maybe in a gigantic, expensive treehouse. The windows were all floor-to-ceiling, and the walls were painted natural green, with posters of my rock idols, candid black and white shots of the band, and lined with some art the interior decorator had chosen for me.

  Minutes later, I had her in my guestroom because my bedroom was for me. It was where I slept, not where I fucked. Her mouth was wrapped around my cock, and my fists were in that shiny auburn hair.

  She was as good with her mouth as I’d known she would be, her tongue smooth on my tip, expertly working me up and down. The pressure on my cock was like a suction cup, and her hands stroked my dick and balls purposefully.

  Worked up as I was, I could easily have blown my loa
d right then and there, but I had a reputation to protect, apparently, and a few rules to abide by.

  The first of which was ladies first. I was an asshole, but a generous one. Besides, getting women off got me off. The sounds they made, the way their bodies tensed and writhed, it was intoxicating.

  It was a rule that I stuck by, mostly, but fuck if that didn’t feel good.

  The Jared Larson Experience, which I hadn’t named myself, was a blog run by two women, neither of whom I could remember actually sleeping with, who claimed that I literally came with a three-orgasm guarantee.

  Some people might’ve been offended, but I wasn’t. I was damn proud of it.

  In an industry known for its rebels and bad boys, I wasn’t the King or the Prince—both of those titles had been claimed long before I came along—but I was the Emperor of Rock now, and I was more than happy to be the kind of guy that I was expected to be. I thrived on it, even.

  But I wouldn’t be able to do that if I let her continue feasting on my dick. I was seconds away from exploding, and it was time to tap out. I lifted Madison under her arms, tossed her on the bed, lifted her little white dress, and licked her with the same enthusiasm as she had me.

  Sliding my fingers through her lips, I found her wet and ready. Just the way I fucking liked it.