“Are you that happy that you are worried that you will make someone jealous?” Aiden jokes. I roll my eyes. “No, I know what you mean.”
He gets off the bed and walks over to me. He puts his arms around my waist and kisses my neck as I try to get soap out of my eyes. It’s still hard to believe that we haven’t known each other for that long. It feels like we have been together forever. And yet, every moment also feels like it’s completely new.
“I love you,” he whispers and licks my earlobe.
“I love you too, but you have to let me wash this stuff from my face. It’s starting to sting.”
He loosens his grip a bit, but doesn’t let me go. My knees grow weak. I feel myself melting into him. He intertwines his fingers into my hair and pulls on it slightly. I moan as my whole body tingles in pleasure. He then moves my hair off my shoulders and kisses me forcefully. I bury my hands in his hair, moving his head toward mine. I feel his cock swell and I can’t help but grab it.
“No,” he says, smiling.
“What? Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions, do you know that?”
“Yes,” I smile. I don’t know if he knows, but these coy conversations drive me wild.
Without saying another word, he pulls off my clothes one by one. I try to protest, but he simply puts his finger over my mouth.
“Shh,” he whispers. I let him do as he pleases, watching the way the soft light wraps itself around us.
After running his hands over my thighs, Aiden positions me across his chest. He pulls off my bra and frees my breasts. I run my fingers up his arms, watching the veins bulge in and out with each movement. I lose myself in the moment as he cups my breasts with his big warm hands.
His hands are strong. Even after all of this time, I’m surprised by just how powerful they are. His suits are quite deceiving in this respect. A moment later, I’m standing completely naked before him. Normally, I would feel vulnerable and exposed, but in his arms, I just feel loved.
His lips make their way down to my nipples as I thread my fingers into his hair. Shivers run up my spine as he presses my nipple in between his teeth. He sits me back down on his lap, facing away from him. He walks his fingers down my body and my legs spread before him. He easily finds my clit and, when he touches it, my whole body starts to throb for him.
My thighs clench, but I open them up again and inhale deeply. Despite all of this time, I still have trouble receiving pleasure and letting a man just focus entirely on me. But when I let go, that’s when I finally feel free.
Aiden kisses me behind my ears as his fingers get deeper and deeper within me. They start to move faster and faster and I feel a rush of warmth concentrate in between my legs. Suddenly, a surge of energy starts to build within me.
“I’m getting close,” I warn.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Aiden says, and speeds up his movements.
“Come for me,” he orders, and his fingers swirl faster and faster.
This command sends me completely over the edge. My whole body starts to shake and vibrate with pleasure. A few moments later, I collapse on top of him. The release is so intense that it made my mind go completely blank.
Chapter 23 - Ellie
When a bomb drops…
The following morning, I sit down to finish the third book in my series, Auctioned Off. I’m surprised by how well the writing is going. The words are just flowing out of me and I can barely keep up. I guess that’s the thing about writing about your life. There isn’t much to make up and there’s plenty of material to rely upon. As I get to the chapter with another sex scene, I pause for a moment and stare at the cursor on my computer screen. Despite my best efforts to keep these kinds of thoughts at bay, my mind goes back to dinner last night and the hurtful things that my mom said.
The thing that she doesn’t understand is that writing about sex is very liberating. In our culture, sex is a very popular topic of conversation. It’s something we often discuss on talk shows and in magazines. But these discussions are clinical and sterile. There are always evaluations of how much sex people are having, a rating of how good it is, or practical steps to making it better. The thing that isn’t discussed very often, though, is pleasure.
When I write about sex, I want my readers to enter a world where sex isn’t something that happens behind closed doors. I want them to enter a world where sex is a beautiful thing that’s shared between two people who are in love. I want to transport them to a place where anything is possible. But it goes beyond my readers even. When I’m writing, I don’t think about the people who will eventually read my books. No, I write for myself. And in the case of this series of books, I write to put down my own experiences.
Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that Aiden is real. I find it even harder to accept that we went through everything that we went through. So, writing it down, exactly as it happened is my way of processing it. I’m recording the truth, as I have experienced it. If Aiden were to write this story, I’m sure that it would be a little different than my own, but that’s the thing about perspectives, isn’t it? We each have our own and we each live in our own reality according to our perceptions of the world around us.
Before I start writing the first sex scene in the third book, I take a moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I let it out slowly as I open my eyes. Now, when my fingers touch the keys of my laptop, I’m free to write what I want. My mother’s opinions about my chosen profession and her attitude toward the things that I choose to write about in my books no longer matter. They get buried somewhere in the back of my mind, a place that I will not access for at least the rest of the afternoon. I don’t know if this is what it’s like for others who slice open their wrists and bleed in words, but that’s what it’s like for me.
An hour later, I finish the scene and crack my knuckles. My hands are cramped from typing so fast and I’m turned on from reliving one of the hottest nights that I’ve shared with Aiden. I’m pretty sure that everyone who will read this book will assume that it’s all fiction, but it gives me great pleasure to know that it’s actually 100% true. I could easily change the front matter and call it non-fiction, but I’m not sure I’d sell as many copies. Or perhaps, I would sell even more. Who knows?
Before I get up from behind the desk and take a proper break, I check my KDP dashboard. Wow, twenty books sold already today. My whole body rejoices. I don’t know how many copies the top authors sell a day or how much money they make, all I know is that every sale makes my heart soar. I’m eternally grateful and thankful for the fact that there are people out there who are not only enjoying my work but also paying to read these books. Growing up, I always wanted to be a writer. I love the process of writing, it’s one of the most cathartic things I’ve ever experienced. But the thing that surprised me most when I started publishing was how much I enjoyed the feedback that I get from my readers. Suddenly, writing no longer seems like such a solitary exercise. Instead, I gained an audience that really engages with me and my work.
* * *
***
After spending so much concentrated time hunched over the computer keyboard, it feels good to stretch my limbs. I raise my hands above my head and do a couple of sun salutations. Just as I’m about to close the computer, I get a Google alert.
Hmm, what could this be?
When I first started working at BuzzPost, Caroline set up a Google alert for me to my name. It never would’ve occurred to me to do that but Caroline said that since I was now going to be a proper writer with a byline and everything, I need to be alerted whenever my name appears anywhere else on the web. I’m not sure if this really needs to be said, but I’ve never been alerted before for anything except for my own articles.
The first thought I have when I see my name is that BuzzPost must’ve re-published one of my old quizzes and that’s why the alert came up all of the sudden. The alert is set up only with my real name - I have no idea why I thought that I should publish
inane online quizzes using Ellie Rhodes instead of a pseudonym - so this definitely doesn’t have anything to do with my romance books.
Oh my God.
My mouth drops open reading when the page loads. I can’t believe it. No, this can’t be happening.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
The article that appears on the screen is not just some online gossip rag that no one reads. Oh no. It’s the fucking New York Post.
I’m on Page Six of the fucking New York Post.
I look at the pictures first. There’s a picture of me from my Facebook profile. Then there’s the picture of Aiden and I together from the Daily Dish. And then there’s the cover of my book, Auctioned Off.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
I skim the article. Then I read it more thoroughly. Then I re-read the parts that are particularly damaging to make sure that I didn’t misunderstand anything. No, it’s pretty much as bad as I had thought. Unfortunately.
My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and I stare at the window for a while, losing myself in a trance. What can I really do about this?
Chapter 24 - Ellie
When I try to figure out what to do…
I lose track of time. When I finally come to, I notice that more than forty minutes have passed with me just sitting here staring into the abyss. The screen has gone dark, but when I press the power button, it all comes back. The first thing that I see is that stupid Page Six article. This story has exposed me not just as a romance writer, printing both my real name and my pseudonym, but also as the girlfriend of the recently fired CEO of Owl, Aiden Black. If these were the only things that the article mentioned, that would’ve been bad enough. But it’s worse. Much worse.
In addition to all of that, the article also discusses the auction. According to some anonymous source, the writer mentions that Aiden and I first met when I allowed myself to be auctioned off for a large sum of money. Whoever talked to this writer was there. He or she didn’t get the full amount exactly right, but they were only off by ten thousand dollars. Of course, we could deny all of this. I mean, it’s so outrageous, who would believe it, right? Except that my fucking novel confirms pretty much every aspect of it.
I feel sick to my stomach. I don’t even make it all the way to the bathroom before vomiting. When I do finally reach the toilet, it seems like everything I ate during the last two days comes up.
After I feel a tiny bit better, I wash my face and look at myself in the mirror. It’s not a pretty sight to say the least. My eyes are puffy, my mascara is runny and my lips are swollen. *** And the worst part of this whole thing? As horrible as I look, I feel ten times worse.
My phone goes off. It’s my mom. I press ignore. I’m not interested in anything that she has to say. She leaves a message and then texts me as well. When I don’t reply, she continues to write as if I did.
* * *
Call me.
Where are you?
Have you seen Page Six today? There’s an article about you and Aiden. And the auction. Is that where you met??
Call me as soon as you get this.
* * *
I shake my head and toss my phone on the bed. I don’t know how to deal with any of this. A few moments later, Caroline bursts into my room.
“Have you see Page Six??” she yells.
This is the most animated I’ve seen her since Maine. Well, except for when we told her about our engagement. Nothing like a little gossip and drama to get her out of her funk.
I nod and hang my head.
“Oh my God, what are you going to do?” she asks.
“I have no idea,” I say, shrugging. “Everything just turned to shit."
“They mentioned the auction on the yacht.”
“I know. That’s the worst thing. And my book pretty much confirms their story.”
Caroline sighs. “It’s going to be okay. Maybe it will just blow over?”
“I sort of doubt it.”
“What I mean is that maybe Aiden isn’t that famous. And we both know you aren’t.”
“Thanks?” I say, not knowing exactly where she is headed with this whole thing.
“No, what I mean is that Aiden is important and all, but it’s not like he’s a celebrity. And neither are you. So maybe this story won’t really matter to anyone.”
“That would be true except for the auction bit. Wealthy men buying women on a yacht? Trust me, this story is going to stick around because it’s going to sell papers.”
“Papers?”
“You know what I mean. Generate clicks, whatever.”
“Well, let’s hope you didn’t make it into the print edition,” Caroline says.
I nod and exhale deeply.
The buzzer goes off. Caroline goes to see who it is.
“Who is it?” I ask when she comes back to my room.
“Aiden.”
“You let him up?”
“Of course, I let him up. He’s your fiancé.”
She’s right. Of course, she’s right. Still, he’s the last person I want to see right now. None of this is my fault and yet it is. At least, it feels like it is.
When Aiden appears in the doorway, Caroline says hello and then leaves us alone. I can tell by the look on his face that he already knows.
“I thought you were busy today,” I say.
“I was.”
I nod and wait for him to continue. I have no idea where to start so all I can do is let him take the lead.
“Have you seen Page Six?” he asks. I nod and look away.
He sits down on the bed next to me. “It’s a fucking mess, Ellie.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he says, hanging his head. “My attorneys want me to deny the whole auction bit ever happened. It’s a PR nightmare.”
“I know.”
“It’s not really something that I can really explain without sounding like a total asshole,” he says.
“So, what if you deny it? Can’t you file a defamation or slander lawsuit?”
“I could if it weren’t true,” Aiden says. “The thing is that whoever is the source of this story, he or she knows a lot about what happened on that yacht. I mean, it happened pretty much the way they described it in the article.”
I know all of this.
“I’m really sorry.”
“This is such a cluster-fuck, Ellie. Maybe we could deny the whole thing but your novel pretty much confirms the whole thing.”
“It’s fiction,” I whisper.
“Except that it’s not. I mean, you say that it is, but we both know that it’s not. And them outing you as a romance author and the writer of Auctioned Off, well that’s as much corroboration as they need to make everyone believe that what they’re saying is true.”
I nod and stare at the floor.
“You know what?” I say. “So what?”
“So what?”
“Yeah, so what? We’re all consenting adults. It’s not like anyone was auctioning off women who weren’t into it. It was just a game.”
“Yes, but that’s not really how it looks in the paper.”
“You didn’t do anything illegal, Aiden.”
“Are you serious, Ellie? I paid you to have sex with me.”
“It was a tip.”
“I facilitated other people paying for, and getting paid for sex,” Aiden says. “And even if this whole thing blows over in terms of the police getting involved, I’m never getting my job back at Owl now.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Not a chance. CEO’s have to be held to a certain standard. No investors, let alone anyone on the board of directors, will want to have me anywhere near that company anymore. It makes them look bad and that’s not something they can tolerate.”
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry?” I say.
“Is that a question?”
I feel like he’s picking a fight. Like he�
��s egging me on. And I can’t do anything to stop it.
“I don’t know why you’re getting mad at me over this,” I say.
“Because you were the one who wrote the book!” he says.
“You supported it when I first started writing. You said, you believed in my writing.”
“I did and I do. I mean, if you want to write, then write. But I had no idea that your self-published book under a pseudonym would make my whole life go up in flames.”
I shake my head.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t. Your life was already in flames, way before this. You already got fired. Your investors already pulled out. This story…it’s nothing. It’s going to blow over. No one’s going to care.”
“Fuck you, Ellie. Those investors pulled out because of Blake. I worked my whole life to make Owl what it is today and now just as it’s about to become huge, I’m forced to sit on the sidelines and watch someone else take the credit for it. Do you know how that feels?”
“No, I don’t. And I’m sorry that this is all happening. I know that it’s all because of Blake. And I also told you that there was no reason to keep what he did quiet.”
“Are you saying that I prevented you from going to the cops?” he asks, incensed.
Frankly, I have no idea. That whole night is a blur, a bad dream. I definitely didn’t want to go the police. I mainly just wanted to forget that any of that ever happened. But now, I’m no longer so certain that this was the right decision. Maybe if I had filed charges, none of this would’ve happened. I thought that by covering up his assault, he would just go away. I had no idea that he would have the gall to go after Aiden. I had no idea that he would get his investors to pull out of Owl and eventually get Aiden fired. He was the one who was wrong and now I doubt that anyone would believe me about what happened that night.
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