Bestselling Bastard : A Hero Club Novel

by Nicole Rodrigues

  I reach for my phone noticing the DM bubble and I press it, ignoring the hesitation now that I’m a beer and a shot deep.

  AuthorJWatson: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

  AuthorJWatson: Pic for pic?

  AuthorJWatson: Any of your scenes phone sex? I’m down to help you get that word count in.

  AuthorJWatson: Ignore everything that has been said the last fifteen minutes. My roommate thinks she’s hilarious. I was showering.

  I laugh, typing out my reply.

  EnzoMorganWrites: Sure. The “I was in the shower” excuse. If you wanted our conversation to steer in this direction all you had to do was ask, Watson.

  AuthorJWatson: Don’t make me block you. I deal with enough creeps on a daily basis, please don’t be one of them.

  Suddenly, something burns in my stomach at her message. Something unfamiliar as I feel my teeth grind together.

  EnzoMorganWrites: What are their handles?

  AuthorJWatson: Easy “Italian Stallion”, I can handle myself. I don’t need you to go all Balboa on me. Yes, I creeped on your bio. Who seriously calls themselves the “Italian Stallion”?

  The tension between my eyes eases a little as I smirk at her dig.

  “Dude, who’s blowing up your phone?”

  I shake my head, putting my phone in my back pocket and take a sip out of the new beer in front of me.

  “Nobody. Another round?” I ask, motioning for Joy.

  Danny nods as Joy comes back, giving us each another shot and I try and put the woman that’s invaded my thoughts to the back of my head, at least for a little while.

  A few hours later, I’m beyond buzzed, walking back to my apartment with Cannoli in tow. I open my Instagram account, scrolling through to the message I never answered and press the camera instead.

  “So listen, Watson, if that is your real name. If you are the girl from the Dear Raya column, I wanna know. I think the fact that I admit I read the column alone should be proof enough that I am not some perverted, asshole, looking to prey on romance authors. Here I am, Lorenzo Morgan, from the streets of Brooklyn, New York with my trusty sidekick, Cannoli.”

  I turn the camera around to face Cannoli and make a kissy noise.

  “Reroooo, Watson. My name is Cannoli. Woof!”

  I laugh, turning the camera back around and lower my voice.

  “Have I mentioned I love your teasers, because I do. I really, really do. Okay, that’s all.”

  I send the video’s, knowing full well my sober brain tomorrow will want to kick my drunk brain’s ass, but I push it down and laugh, walking the rest of the way to my apartment.

  When I’m inside, I get Cannoli settled, hop back in the shower to rid myself of the stale beer smell and walk to my bedroom. My phone on the nightstand sits there, calling out to me and as if I conjured it up, it buzzes. With a towel around my waist, I walk to it, clicking the messages and almost come in my pants.

  She's fucking gorgeous. Bright green eyes, black as night hair and those fucking lips. Shit, those damn lips. Blowjob lips.

  “Drunk ‘Italian Stallion’ in the flesh...cute. The dog, not you. We’re not on a drunk video basis yet, but I appreciate the effort. It’s Jenna by the way, and you’re welcome for lightin' the fire under your ass. Bein' from Brooklyn, I’m sure you need it, hipster boy.” Her bottom lip juts out in a puppy dog face and I laugh at her sarcasm. “Anyway, some of us have to adult in the mornin'. Signin' off for now. Enjoy the hangover. Don’t worry, I totally rewatched and recorded your videos and I plan to use them as blackmail in the future. Ciao!”

  Her southern accent is adorable yet sexy and I shake my head, dropping down to sit on my bed. There's no way I'm forgetting this girl now.

  EnzoMorganWrites: You won't need blackmail. Whatever you want from me, you can have. Any. Damn. Thing, Watson.

  She doesn't answer and I don't expect her to. I plug my phone in to charge, and try and get some sleep and escape Jenna Watson. I should have known she'd haunt my dreams.

  AuthorJWatson: Morning, drunk boy.

  EnzoMorganWrites: Morning, rude girl. How's adulting?

  AuthorJWatson: Adulting. When's your book come out?

  EnzoMorganWrites: Just finished the first draft. Sitting on it and want to read it one more time before I send to my editor.

  AuthorJWatson: Want a beta reader?

  EnzoMorganWrites: Volunteering?

  AuthorJWatson: You help me, I help you. Want to beta mine?

  EnzoMorganWrites: I'm down. Send it my way.

  I lay in bed, feeling my body protesting getting up. I'm hungover as fuck, but I have no where to be, so I grab my Kindle when Jenna sends me her book and dive in.

  I plow through chapter after chapter, scene after scene until I realize I haven't moved from bed for the past three hours and I'm done. I have no fucking notes on anything because my dick guided the entire process.

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  I reach for my phone, seeing tons of missed calls, texts and messages and ignore them all except one.

  AuthorJWatson: If you hate it, just subtly block me and when you don't answer for the day, I'll get the hint.

  AuthorJWatson: I was actually kidding about that part. An update would be nice.

  AuthorJWatson: I'm being serious, Balboa. Don't make me embarrass the shit out of myself and publish it if it's crap.

  AuthorJWatson: Okay, I'm just gonna assume you loved it and you died from pure contentment. It was nice knowing you while it lasted. May you rest in peace.

  I laugh, reading through her messages before I turn the camera to selfie mode and start recording.

  "First, you're a goof. I wasn't answering because I just binge read the entire fucking thing and haven't moved out of bed since I passed out here last night. You can write. Don't make me blow smoke up your ass. Although if you want something up there, I'm sure we can work on it. Later, Watson."

  I give her a wink and send over the video, knowing full well I'm completely naked; she doesn't know that though.

  AuthorJWatson: New rule if this daily conversation thing is gonna happen—no naked videos.

  EnzoMorganWrites: Well you got a freebie. Do I get one before we implement that rule?

  AuthorJWatson: I like to give the gift wrapped. Opening it is half the fun, Balboa.

  EnzoMorganWrites: I'm serious about your book, it's fucking amazing. Once all the alcohol seeps out of my pores, I'll read it again as a real beta this time.

  AuthorJWatson: Seriously? Nothing to add? I'm not sure if there's too much sex.

  EnzoMorganWrites: Well you need a different beta for that question. I have a dick. There's never enough sex.

  AuthorJWatson: Pig. Send me yours. I feel so exposed having shown you mine when I haven't seen yours yet.

  EnzoMorganWrites: Did I miss the part where you showed me yours? I know for sure I wouldn't have forgotten.

  AuthorJWatson: Your perviness is charming. Send it!

  EnzoMorganWrites: Sending now. Heading out to civilization again today. If I don't hear from you, I'll assume you loved it so much there were no words in the English language that would do it justice. A picture's worth a thousand of them though, especially a tit pic. Laters, Watson.

  AuthorJWatson: Pig. Don't "laters" me Christian Grey wannabe.

  I laugh, slowly getting to a sitting position as I scroll through the rest of my notifications. Ma. Dad. Chloe. Danny. Shit.

  I call my mother, assuring her that, yes, I am alive and I'll be at Sunday dinner tonight. I get dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, putting my headphones over my ears and leash up Cannoli, hoping to run all the alcohol out of my system. Maybe fresh air and a run will knock Jenna Watson out of my system too, or maybe I'll be struggling to run with a fucking hard-on.

  The past few weeks have been unlike any I've ever had. I can't concentrate on anything except writing and Jenna. Everytime my phone chimes, I jump up, hoping it's her. When it is, I catch myself smiling like a fucking kid and
when it's not, I sulk like someone kicked my puppy.

  I open up my Instagram as I pace around my living room, hitting the message with Jenna and start typing, finishing my second tumbler of whiskey.

  EnzoMorganwrites: Let's video. I have a proposition for you.

  I take a seat, leaning back on my couch, waiting for her response.

  AuthorJWatson: I'm a little buzzed right now. Not in the right mind frame to be propositioned.

  EnzoMorganwrites: Not a sexual proposition, don't worry. How would you feel about writing a book together?

  AuthorJWatson: Yeah, too drunk to plot, buddy.

  EnzoMorganwrites: Are you kidding? Drunk and in the shower are where I get my best ideas. Not necessarily at the same time.

  AuthorJWatson: Fine. Send me the invite. I've never done a video with someone through here before. I'm not sure how.

  EnzoMorganwrites: For someone who's buzzed, your typing is fine.

  AuthorJWatson: Talk to text. I'm not slurring yet so we're good.

  EnzoMorganwrites: You nervous to see all this sexiness on screen in real time? Your phone might combust...or your panties.

  AuthorJWatson: Just send the invite you arrogant bastard.

  I smile devilishly, going to my story and clicking Live. I'm a little buzzed too, why the hell not?

  As the video starts, I arch my eyebrow, taking in my reflection. I'm a good looking fucker.

  "Damn," I mutter. "I'm a little drunk."

  I invite Jenna in and after a few seconds, her face pops up on screen.

  Holy. Fucking. Fuck. She's gorgeous.

  I've seen her story posts, her pictures she sometimes posts on her page, when she sent me the video back when we first started talking but in real time...shit.

  Her dark hair falls down the front of her chest, her bright green eyes look unreal, the rosy pink of her cheeks and that adorable fucking smile makes it hard to formulate a sentence. I might need someone to restart my fucking heart. Probably why what comes spilling out of my mouth is stupid as shit.

  "Elementary my dear, Watson!"

  "Hilarious, asshole," she mutters, shaking her head as she fiddles with something on the table in front of her.

  She leans forward and I can see clear down her shirt, my dick jumping in my pants, wanting to fill that delicious space between her tits.

  "Hey, hey. If we're going to take over the romance world together, you have to be nice to me."

  She smiles, rolling her eyes as she sits back up, folding her legs under her ass. Okay, good save. Keep it together, idiot.

  "Alright. I got my bottle of tequila and my notebook. What do ya got?"

  I slowly run my fingers through my medium length brown hair and sigh.

  "Nothing. I got nothing so far."

  "I thought you had a proposition?"

  "I did. Let's write a book together."

  She laughs and then comes back to the screen closer, squinting her eyes.

  "You have an earring?"

  I instinctively pull on my black post earrings.

  "Two. That a problem?" I ask, arching my eyebrow.

  "Ha, no. It's...it suits you."

  "So are you gonna admire my ridiculous good looks or are we here to plot a romance novel?"

  She rolls her eyes again and my hand itches to run down her neck, forcing her to look at me and dare her to roll her eyes again.

  She must sense my thoughts because her smile fades and she clears her throat.

  "How about we take a shot? Start this off right."

  She eyes me suspiciously, nodding as she lifts a Patron bottle to the screen.

  “Giddy up, ‘Italian Stallion’.”

  Her southern accent is starting to creep into my ears and make its way down south in my shorts. I was never one for accents, but for some reason hers is...sexy.

  "Well damn. That's how we're doing this, huh? Alright, Dr. Watson, onward!" I lift the bottle of whiskey I've been drinking from and turn it toward the screen. "Salud!"

  "Cheers."

  We both take a healthy sized swig from our bottles and Jenna coughs.

  "I'm gonna feel this tomorrow," she mumbles.

  "Alright. Let's get down to business. Where do we start?"

  "Well I have thoughts about the heroine."

  "Spill."

  "I want her to be kinky as fuck. Have a…" I watch as she cradles her chin, looking up to the ceiling as she snaps her fingers and her face morphs into a smile. "Tongue ring! She's got a tongue ring for sure."

  I groan.

  "Can we not? My ma has a tongue ring."

  "Ohhhh. Well then your mama is probably—"

  "Don't finish that, Jenna. Take another shot."

  She giggles, reaching for the tequila bottle next to her as she swigs from it.

  "How about she's a romance author? Super subdued and only writes from fantasy and imagination until she meets the badass hero and he gives her...inspiration." My smile quirks up into a wicked grin and she leans forward.

  "Keep talkin'…"

  "Well, she's a closet freak. Writes about dominance and submission, BDSM, researches and talks to people in the lifestyle, attends seminars, but she has never taken part in it herself," I continue.

  "Cliché," Jenna says shaking her head. "So cliché. The shy virgin who secretly has a kinky side and happens to stumble upon the man that'll show her the ropes? That's been done a zillion times, Enzo, we need somethin' new."

  The shortened version of my name coming from her lips has my balls aching. She squints her eyes, moving closer to the screen.

  "Holy shit, there's a lot of people watchin' this. Is this live?" she laughs.

  "Whoops."

  I wink, shrugging my shoulders.

  "See! @kittyriosolwriter agrees with me! Cliché, Morgan. We can do better than that!"

  "Well @dearbooksloveskye agrees with me!" I respond, sticking my tongue out at her. "As long as it’s not dark and they get their HEA. You got it. Done. @thelustyliterarians wants a hockey player too. Done and done ladies."

  "Wait! So he's a dominant hockey player? Not some big CEO?"

  "Now that's cliche, Watson. @kalibrixton says you need a shot for that. She’s clutching her pearls at that assumption. Whatever that means. Drink up, Doctor."

  She laughs, rolling her eyes. "So original, Lorenzo. That creative mind fascinates me. Please, continue on."

  I laugh, watching as she lifts the tequila bottle, her slim neck gulping down a generous portion. The drunk, horny side of me pictures her swallowing a different type of liquid as my phone buzzes, breaking me out of my fantasy.

  I take a swig from my own bottle, looking down at the comments and almost spit the whiskey out on my phone.

  "Ohhhh @bookish_kayy said you're eye fuckin' me. Are you eye fuckin' me, Lorenzo Morgan?"

  Jenna's smile broadens, a sly little grin on her lips and a dimple forms on the left side of her cheek. I laugh, my voice hoarse as I try to disguise the truth.

  "I'm picturing our heroine getting pushed up against a bench in the locker room and getting a pounding from behind. If it doesn't turn us on, it won't turn on a reader."

  I watch as her cheeks flush, her pupils dilate as she opens her mouth to speak but shuts it.

  "@rock_n_read719 wants more. Single dad, hockey player, dominant hero. Shy, inexperienced, romance author heroine. What's the dilemma? Gotta give the people what they want."

  She shakes her head, breaking herself out of her daze and takes another drink as she winces.

  "Accidental pregnancy?"

  "Too common," I say, with a groan. "Virgin gets knocked up from the first guy she sleeps with? What else you got?"

  She leans back in her chair, tapping her chin. "Crazy ex? Baby mama drama can always go a few different ways."

  I nod, leaning forward on my knees.

  "How about the baby mama knows the heroine! Plot twist!"

  Jenna groans, throwing her head back. "I don't know if I like that. @bookboleyn has a good ide
a. Make him Scottish and he's gettin' deported! He wants to stay in the U.S because of the baby but he needs to marry someone and the ex is too crazy!"

  "Hmmm, I like that! Marriage of convenience. That could work," I agree, my wheels starting to turn.

  "And that could be the turnin' point. The crazy ex finds out and tries to fuck it all up for them!"

  "I like it. We could make it work. Baby on the cover? I feel like that's been a trend lately…"

  She leans back, putting her feet up on the table next to her phone and I can't help but follow what's in my line of sight. Her legs are bare, short pajama shorts do nothing to hide the swell of the bottom of her ass cheek. I want to squeeze that ass so badly.

  Shit, I'm drunk.

  "@Judy.ann.loves.books says she wants Andrew Biernat on the cover," Jenna says with a giggle. "I agree. He's hot. Slap a baby on that man and BOOM! Ovaries combusted."

  "Can he at least have a shirt on?" I groan, taking another swig from my whiskey bottle.

  "You chose this life, Balboa! Romanceland wants shirtless men. Shirtless men holdin' babies!"

  "Give me a baby and I'll do the cover."

  Jenna laughs, pressing the tequila bottle to her mouth.

  "Arrogant much? What makes you think people will wanna see your ass on the cover?"

  "@kalibrixton does. She says, and I quote, 'the Italian Stallion can do whatever he damn well pleases'. Hmm, I like that. Kali's orders."

  "Fine, embrace it,” Jenna says with an exhale.

  "Oh, I do. Those thirsty women helped us plot a book. How about we make it enemies to lovers? There’s nothing like an angry fuck against a locker to make things more interesting."

  "She's a virgin. She can’t get brutally taken against a locker. She needs to cry while doin' missionary."

  I laugh, pointing at the screen and take a sip of whiskey.

  "Now you're being a prissy little princess. Our heroine isn't gonna be some damsel in distress. I want her to have a filthy mouth."

  "Filthy mouth that our hero can wash out with his cock?"

  My smile fades as I sit up a little straighter, clearing my throat.

  "Jesus, you're gonna get us blocked with your filthy mouth, Jenna Watson."

  "This filthy mouth writes the best damn sex scenes around, don't forget that."

  I shake my head, looking back down at the comments.