Secret Baby at the Beach

by Nixie Taylor

  Secret Baby at the Beach

  Nixie Taylor

  Secret Baby at the Beach

  Nixie Taylor

  Copyright © 2020 Nixie Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the copyright holder. This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature adults.

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  Contents

  1. Flint

  2. April

  3. Flint

  4. April

  5. Flint

  6. April

  7. Flint

  8. April

  Epilogue - Flint

  UP NEXT: Buck Moon Party on the Beach

  INSTA LOVE ISLAND

  If you enjoyed this book…

  1

  Flint

  Fucking lines.

  I can only shift from leg to leg, glance at my watch, and scratch my ass so many times. The idiots in front of me don’t seem like they have anywhere better to be. Smartphones are going to be the end of our species. We’ll all be a bunch of passive, mindless, drooling drones in the next few years.

  Finally, the old lady writing a check at the front of the line finishes her transaction and leaves. Rather than moving on to the next customer, the cashier grabs a sign from beneath the counter saying he’ll be back in five minutes, slaps it down next to the register, and disappears through a door leading to the back of the convenience store.

  I’m so flabbergasted I forget to even yell at him to get back to work. The other customers refuse to make eye contact so I can complain about this atrocity. I bet if I tweeted about it, they’d all share it so fast the internet would crash.

  People are basically sheep in real life, but put them online and they all become the badasses they dream they really are.

  I don’t really do the internet. Maybe that’s why I’m wired a little differently. For example, I don’t do lines. I’ve got more important things to do. Right now, I’m supposed to be on my way to a party, ready to meet the next woman in line for a night in my bed. There’s no way of knowing who the lucky lady will be tonight, but it’d be rude to keep her waiting.

  I pull a fifty dollar bill from my wallet, slap it on the counter, salute the suckers still standing in line, and walk out the door with my bottle of whiskey.

  I’m thirsty as a motherfucker, but another rule of mine is no drinking and driving. My dumbass dad taught me that one the hard way. When I was six he wrapped his car around a telephone pole and flew through the windshield because he thought seatbelts were part of the Deep State.

  The coroner had no idea whether the windshield killed him or the rocky desert ground. Either way, the coroner was wrong. It was getting behind the wheel drunk as a skunk that had done my dad in.

  After these dark thoughts, I could really use a swig. I rev up my Harley and fly through the suburban streets, taking red lights and stop signs as suggestions to be ignored, as if the roar of my motorcycle can drown out my past. After parking two blocks from the party so no drunk assholes fuck with my bike, I finally take a few swallows of the golden elixir while walking past the well-manicured yuppie lawns.

  The front yard of the party house is packed. Mostly meatheads who need to be seen to feel like a man. By the time I push my way through the pack and slip into the house, I’ve finished half of the bottle.

  I’ve never been much into religion, fate, or karma.

  But that’s before I see the glorious angel leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. She’s got a tight red dress that clings to each and every mind-blowing curve. Her auburn hair falls just below her shoulders, and she’s got the plumpest, dick-suckingest lips I’ve ever seen.

  I need to fuck this woman.

  That’s no surprise.

  What’s shocking is even more than that, I want to wake up in the morning next to her. And then do it all over again. Forever.

  If I were a smart man, I’d head straight to a hospital and have a doctor make sure I’m not catching something. I’m not a smart man; I barely made it past high school. I’m not leaving until this woman is mine.

  She has a look of utter boredom on her face while some preppy dude in a blue polo shirt and khaki pants flaps his lips at her. Somehow he doesn’t seem to notice she’s not even listening to him.

  She literally yawns into the back of her hand.

  If that’s not destiny, I don’t know what is.

  And me getting tired of waiting in line and bolting has to be karma. I’m being rewarded by the universe for not wasting my time when a gorgeous woman with more curves than a road through the mountains is standing around needing rescuing.

  I run my hands through my hair as I cross the room. The tiny, boring man looks up at me and swallows hard when I get into his personal space and say, “Get lost, Best Buy.”

  His eyes dart back and forth between me and the brunette who is nursing a bottle of beer. “What?”

  She snorts.

  It’s the most perfect sound ever heard on this sweet earth. That is until she opens her mouth.

  “The blue shirt and khakis. Best Buy’s uniform. You look like you work there.”

  She’s silly but nowhere near drunk. Good. I don’t sleep with drunk women.

  We all look back and forth at each other.

  I hand my bottle to the woman. She wraps her lips around it while staring me right into my goddamn eyes and tips it up for a drink.

  My cock is throbbing like a jackhammer in these way-too-tight jeans.

  She holds the bottle up to my mouth. My lips press against where hers have left a ring of red lipstick as she serves me directly from the bottle, and spills the drink down the front of my shirt.

  The angel pats at my chest. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your shirt. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  I don’t give a damn about the shirt, but girls like her never apologize to guys like me. It’s gotta be a sign this is more than a one-night fling that’s about to happen.

  Best Buy is still hovering. He laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard,” I say. “If you aren’t gone in five seconds, I will carry you out the front door and toss you out into the front yard.”

  My new date waves her tiny little fingers at him.

  He’s too stupid to move. “Actually, I don’t have to do a damn say you say. I own this house, buddy.”

  I smile at my angel. “One second. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  She smiles back. “I’ll be ready.”

  Her words go straight down to my cock and make it do a happy dance in my pants.

  I slap my hands against his arms, pinning them to his sides, and lift him into the air. While walking across the room, I say, “I think you’ll be much happier if you hang out on this side of your lovely house. If you interrupt me and the lady again, I will make sure you really regret that life choice.”

  I set him down and shove him against the wall. “In case it wasn’t clear, that means I’m going to kick your ass if you come near us again. Now, enjoy the party.”

  He swallows hard and nods.

  The angel is waiting for me. I hurry back to her side.

  “Did you make him pee his pants?”

  I look back. He’s got his hands crossed over his crotch, but the stain is still visible. “Damn, how about that? I didn’t even get rough with him. Anyway, h
ow long do I need to chat you up before you’ll let me take you upstairs?”

  “Why do you guys always think us women want to talk? Sometimes we just want to nod at a guy and have him toss us over his shoulder like a caveman and have his way with us.”

  She doesn’t slur a single word. She’s sober as Sunday morning church. “You haven’t nodded at me yet.”

  She sets both bottles on the mantle and pushes me just out of arms’ reach. She pulls the hem of her dress down while shimmying her magical hips, smoothing out any wrinkles.

  Then those warm brown eyes meet mine again. With no trace of self-doubt, she nods once before retrieving for the bottle of whiskey.

  I reach for her hips to toss her up onto my shoulder.

  She slaps my hands away. “I was kidding around that part.” The woman brazenly takes my hand and starts leading me up the stairs while at the same time shyly saying, “I’ll have you know, I’m not normally this type of girl.”

  “Good,” I say. “I’d hate to imagine another man’s hands on your body. I want you all to myself from now on.”

  She stops in the middle of the stairs. Even one step higher than me, she barely comes up to my shoulders. “Listen…you.”

  “Flint.”

  “Listen, Flint. I’m fine calling it what it is. The only reason I came to this damn party was to get laid. If you hadn’t shown up, Best Buy might have gotten the chance.”

  I open my mouth to say something about how I would have never allowed that puny punk to get the chance.

  She silences me with a finger to my lips. “That being said, I’m really glad you showed up. When I fantasize about a man taking my virginity, my imagination can’t even conjure up someone as incredible as you. But I’m starting a business. I don’t have time for romance and relationships. I just want a good fuck, okay?”

  I take a big swig of my whiskey, steadying myself with a hand pressed against the wall. “Absolutely.”

  It’s a lie. There’s no way I’m going to sleep with my soulmate and then let her out of my life. By the end of this evening, I’m going to make sure she wants me so badly that our lives never part again.

  Which means I need to get to know everything I can about her while also blowing her mind in the bed. “What kind of business?”

  “Marketing.”

  She hikes up her dress, revealing the black lacy panties beneath it.

  As if having a mind of their own, my hands grab her ass and give it a squeeze.

  “Good boy,” she says.

  She distracting me on purpose to create a barrier between our emotions.

  I shove my hands in my back pockets. “That sounds exciting, but I bet it’s a lot of work.”

  What the hell is wrong with me? This lady wants dick, not dialogue.

  “More than you could ever imagine. It’s hard enough starting a business in this economy, but people are skeptical about trusting their brand to a woman.”

  “I’d trust you with mine.” I cringe. I sound more pathetic than Best Buy.

  What is this woman doing to me?

  “Would you?” When I nod, she adds, “You don’t even know my name. How are you going to look me up if you have any complaints?”

  She pulls my hand onto her breast.

  “There is no possible way I’m going to have any complaints with you,” I say. “Have you seen yourself?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You men will say anything when you have a hard-on or right before a bar is about to close.”

  I wrap my hands around her waist so she doesn’t get any ideas of getting away. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?”

  She shrugs.

  “Damn it…you,” I laugh. I’d meant to say her name but still haven’t learned it. “The world has done you wrong, but I’m going to make sure not another day goes by where you don’t believe you are the most beautiful, amazing, creative, kind woman on this planet. As soon as you tell me your name, at least.”

  “You really are different than most cocky assholes, aren’t you? I figured you for the kind of guy who happily brags to your friends about the nameless chick you fucked the night before.”

  Her words hit way too close to home. I have been that kind of guy most of my life. But I can’t imagine anything other than waking next to her and talking about our plans for the day.

  I’ve got to learn her name.

  “You look like a June,” I say.

  She scrunches up her head. “How about this? I’ll tell you at the end of the month. Until then, you can call me October.”

  There are still fifteen days left in March. Not knowing is going to kill me, but we’re losing momentum.

  “Okay, Miss October. Let’s get you naked and fucked.”

  Her smile lights up the stairwell. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  We find an empty bedroom and lock the door behind us.

  My head is swimming with desire and cheap whiskey.

  Fucking alcohol. I can’t focus on the details, but from the tidbits I catch, we’re amazing together. Her skin is smooth. Her breasts fit my large hands perfectly. We flow from position to position like the waves crashing against the beach.

  Afterward, she lies draped over my chest as we catch our breath.

  “I could get used to that, Flint.”

  “You better. They’ll take you away from my cold, dead hands, October. I’m a changed man.”

  “Hopefully not too changed. I like you all hard and rough around the edges.”

  “You say that right up until you need to introduce me to your family. Then you’ll ask me to wear a sweater that covers up my tattoos, and you’ll want me to cut my hair short, and you’ll tell me that you’ll dump my ass if I ever say fuck around your mom again.”

  “You haven’t met my mom. She’ll out curse you any day of the week. Promise me you’ll never change.”

  “I wouldn’t even know how. I can promise I’ll spend every hour of every day thinking about how to make your day better.”

  She kisses my cheek. “For a tough guy, you sure can talk pretty.”

  “For a pretty girl, you sure fuck rough.”

  She playfully slaps my chest. “Was I good?”

  “The best.”

  I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes awake, but the whiskey has finished running through my body. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. Gotta piss like a racehorse.”

  “Standing up and outside?”

  I smile at my angel. “Something like that.”

  I toss on my boxers and make my way into the hall. There’s a line waiting for the bathroom. “Fucking lines.”

  Rather than waiting, I run down the stairs and hurry out to the back yard.

  Standing on the edge of the deck, I stretch my hands high over my head while pissing out into the yard.

  Life can’t possibly get any better than this. When I get back upstairs, I’m going to tickle her until she tells me her real name.

  A flashlight flicks on, directly into my eyes. “Keep your hands up where we can see them. Flint Masterson?”

  “Sure,” I admit, while a really bad feeling hits me in the stomach.

  “You’re under arrest. You were at the Stop And Buy on River Street a few hours ago, right? You can confess here or we can take you downtown and let your lawyer make things messy.”

  “I left a goddamn fifty dollar bill on the counter. I’m paid in full.”

  I don’t move while a second cop walks up behind me and yanks my arms down behind my back and clicks the handcuffs onto my wrists.

  The first cop says, “Fifty dollars doesn’t even come close to paying for what you did, asshole.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We have witnesses that confirm you killed Mr. Molson, the owner of the convenience store. Would you like to confess or wait for your lawyer?”

  When I don’t answer, the cops drag me to their cruiser. My only thoughts are that I’m never going to see October again. I
don’t even know her real name.

  It isn’t until several months later when I’m moved from jail to prison to start my fifteen-year sentence that I realize the seriousness of my situation.

  It’s going to take a lifetime before I can even start searching for her again.

  2

  April

  The last six years have been the craziest whirlwind, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Starting from the day I found out I was pregnant shortly after that night with the stranger from the party, my life has changed in ways I would have never dared let myself dream back then.

  The business took off like a rocket when the first Fortune 500 company gave me a chance with one of their campaigns, and it ended up winning awards and spiking their sales. Since then, I literally have to raise my prices so high it eventually pushes away enough business that what’s left only takes me sixty hours a week to finish. Okay, seventy on some weeks.

  I have more money than I know what to do with, especially with all the hours I work. Rather than buying some McMansion I’d spend all my free time cleaning, I bought a sensible two-bedroom Craftsman-style house just outside of Chicago. All the extra money goes straight into several retirement plans and investments my financial planner manages for me.

  My five-year-old daughter, Maggie, keeps me on my toes and happy. She is smart, precious, and perfect, if not a little too lost in her daydreams most of the time. She can rattle off facts about branches of science I barely know exist while forgetting to put on her shoes before going outside in the snow.

  She’s the reason I work so hard, and the reason I force myself to take two weeks off each year for vacation. Not that I walk away from my obligations entirely during my time off. Fortunately, I paid for all of my sister’s expenses so she could come on this vacation with us.