by Alexis Angel
Chapter 4
Derek
“Feeling better now?” I ask, pushing a tall glass of gin across the counter. Thick ice cubes float on top of the gin, clinking against the glass, and a handful of red berries swim alongside them. I've never cared for drinks that look like a fruit salad, but after what we just did in the office I have no problem with preparing a drink like this.
“Much better,” she laughs, reaching for the glass with one trembling hand. Her cheeks are still flushed and, even though she tried to comb it, her hair screams out I just had sex in the back-office. Not that anyone will care; the owner would never give me shit for something like this. He knows that half the women that flock to this place come because of me.
Not that I’ve ever done something like this before. Sure, I’m ogled all the time, and I’ve received all kinds of indecent propositions. That doesn’t mean I can’t focus when it comes to work and simply let my dick rule over me. I like being in control of what I’m feeling and doing ... except when it comes to Cara. There’s just something about her that shuts down my brain.
She takes the glass to her lips, and I just stand there against the counter and watch, remembering the way her sweet mouth drove me to the brink of madness just a few minutes ago. I’ve known her for quite awhile now, and she always made my blood boil whenever she walked into the bar … but she had a boyfriend, and there are a few lines that even an asshole like me won’t cross. Fucking girls in a happy relationship is one of those lines.
But now she’s no longer in a relationship, right? She’s as free as a bird, and I couldn’t be any happier about it. Does that make me sound like a callous asshole? Maybe. But I’ve wanted her for so long … and now that I’ve already had a taste, I want her even more.
“It’s a mess, this whole situation,” she sighs, taking another sip of her gin. Her eyes are downcast, and she’s staring at the counter’s polished surface as if the answer to her problems is hiding in there.
“Hey,” I whisper, placing two fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up. Her eyes meet mine and I smile at her, my cock twitching inside my pants as I remember the taste of her sweet lips. “Fuck him. You don’t need an asshole cheater like that in your life, Cara.”
“I’m not talking about Trevor,” she says, a concerned smile taking over her lips. “As far as I’m concerned, he can rot in hell. I’m better off without him,” she chuckles, placing her hand on top of mine.
I feel the warmness of her fingers seeping into my skin, and my cock twitches again; even though we’ve just fucked like two wild animals, I’m more than ready to ravage her again. Fuck, if I knew sex with Cara would be this good, I wouldn’t even have cared about that little shit she used to call 'boyfriend.'
“Then what are you concerned about? Your job? Someone like you will find a job in the blink of an eye. Hell, I have some connections in the industry, and I might —”
“No, it’s not about my job,” she cuts me short. “It’s about Naughty Angel Publishing.”
“NAP? What about it?” I look at her, confused. What the hell does the largest publishing house in the romance industry have to do with anything? Cara was working for Sienna, and Sienna had nothing to do with NAP.
“Well … there’s a reason I stepped inside her office,” she starts to say, averting my gaze and looking out the window, soft creases of worry taking over her forehead. “Sienna was on the phone. I don’t know who she was talking to, but there’s something suspicious going on…”
“Something suspicious? Like what?” I reach under the counter, grab a bottle of Jack Daniels I keep stashed in there for occasions like this, and pop the cork out. I pour myself a glass and then lean forward, my elbows propped on the counter. “Is Sienna planning something?”
“Seemed like it,” Cara nods. “But I don’t know what. I just know that she was talking about Naughty Angel Publishing, and that in three months time the company would be done for.”
“What?” I scoff, cocking one eyebrow as I throw my head back and down all of the whisky. “She’s insane. A company like Naughty Angel wouldn’t fold like that…and in three months! Yeah, right—she’s out of her fucking mind, Cara.”
“I know, I know. But the way she was talking about it … I don’t know who was on the other side of the line, but it really sounded like she was planning something, not just talking out of her ass,” she tells me in one single breath, locking her eyes on mine. I look back at her for a few seconds, taking in the serious expression that’s deepening the soft lines of her face, creasing them with worry, and I sigh.
“Okay, alright. I can see it. Sienna has a reputation in the industry, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she did something stupid. She's always envied Abby’s success, and I guess that sooner or later someone would come after Naughty Angel.”
“I know! But what should I do with all this? Shouldn’t I tell someone? But who?” She asks me, her lips turning into a thin anxious line.
“Okay,” I whisper, drumming my fingertips across the counter. I hide the bottle of Jack and my glass under the counter again, and take a deep breath as I consider my options. I’ve never worked for Naughty Angel, but I know a guy that could put Cara in touch with someone from NAP.
“I’ll help you,” I finally tell her.
“Help me? But how?”
“Have you ever heard of Mason Carter?”
Chapter 5
Mason
Just another day when you’re one of the gods of the publishing world.
I take a sip of my coffee and sigh. I know what you’re thinking. Great. Not another fucking arrogant tool who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. Doesn’t Alexis Angel ever get fucking tired of writing the same type of guy? The over the top alpha male?
Well, baby, let me tell you something. I taught Alexis Angel everything she knows. When I first met her, she was a small time author and it was my teachings and my lessons that put her where she is today – hitting Top 100 on books you love.
That alone should tell you who I am. But just in case this is your first book or you’ve never seen pictures of me, let me educate you just a bit.
My name is Mason Carter. If you’re going, ‘Wait, is he saying he’s that Mason Carter?’ right now then yes, I am that Mason Carter. The bad boy Romance author who fucks women left and right and the ones that I remember I write about.
I fucking made the indie self-publishing world what it is today.
I used to be a banker on Wall Street. But when I wasn’t partying it up at the nightclubs as women ogled my fucking ripped as hell body with my fucking tats, I was writing.
Because I got a sensitive fucking soul. And I wanted out of Wall Street.
I published my first stories when Rainforest.com first went live and started selling Cradle e-readers. And the ladies fucking loved me. Because I wrote from the fucking heart. I was raw. I put it all out on the page.
Hell, when I first quit my Wall Street job I didn’t have the fucking budget to hire models or editors. So I fucking wrote and read through my own shit. Self edited. Couldn’t find a hot guy to pose for my cover so I fucking took off my own shirt and got behind the camera.
And the books fucking sold like nothing else.
Everyone has come to me for advice when they first start. Abby Angel. Lana Angel. Meredith Moore. Sienna Sinner. Juliana Conners.
All the fucking PAs try to get their authors to be mentioned on my newsletter, or for me to read and review their books on my Facebook page. I mean, I’m not surprised. I have 100,000 subscribers to my daily newsletter and 250,000 likes on my Facebook page.
People beg me to show pictures of me shirtless. Pants-less. They want to see the 8-pack abs. They want to imagine my foot long cock that they know I got. But you want to know something?
I just don’t have enough time to satisfy them. I’m too busy taking care of the girls that are throwing themselves at me on a regular basis.
If that’s not enough, then here’s the number on
e reason how I became a fucking kingmaker in the self-published world.
I created a site. It’s called Bookfinder.com. It allows authors to put their books up for cross-promotional opportunities with other authors. If another author likes your book and they read it and they think it’s a good fit for their audience, then they send it out.
It’s launched careers. And it’s become the single most important tool for authors in the known fucking universe.
And if the authors are shady?
I fucking ban them from the service. I hold the power. With my hot body. People who get banned at first are upset. But then I sit them down and talk to them and by the end of me explaining how shady they are, they can’t get enough of me. They want to change their ways if they’re legit. They also want to run their tongues over my abs.
I’m actually at a café in SoHo right now dictating to my assistant who is typing my words. I’m writing my latest book and I already know it’s going to be a fucking bestseller the day that it drops.
That’s when the door opens.
Now, normally I don’t look at the door to any establishment every time it opens, but this time is different. I was already staring in that direction.
And I’m fucking glad I did.
Because the hottest fucking girl picked this moment to walk into this café.
God damn, she’s fucking gorgeous. Those tits are straining against her shirt. They’re fucking just the perfect size to get your hands on and squeeze. To run your tongue around. To squeeze together and stick your cock between.
She’s got blonde hair and she’s slender with a drop-dead body, sure, but I keep thinking I know her from somewhere.
That ass. Those legs. That face.
There’s a man who walks in after her and I fucking scowl.
I have no problem knowing who that man is. That’s Derek Kane. He’s a cover model for Sienna Sinner. Shows up on her book covers. Or at least he used to. You see, I don’t give a fuck about what Sienna’s doing these days.
I banned her from Bookfinder two years ago. Found out she was buying reviews for her books. You’re not supposed to buy a review. It’s like putting fucking wrapping paper over a piece of shit. If your book is shit, let the fucking customers leave their reviews. She wasn’t doing that. She was scamming other authors into carrying her products based on her reviews that she was buying and readers were getting fucking pissed.
I stepped in.
And then it strikes me.
That’s Cara White. She’s the Head PA for Sienna.
Well, this is going to be fucking awkward, I think to myself. I wonder if they’re even going to acknowledge me.
A part of me is fucking disappointed because Cara is a fucking smoking hot piece of ass. I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen a woman this beautiful.
But my disappointment quickly turns to surprise when instead of ignoring me, Cara and Derek turn and walk right toward my table.
If I wasn’t so fucking cool and smooth, I’d fucking have my mouth open in shock.
I mean, only a few authors are able to survive being banned from Bookfinder. And Sienna did it. But she did a lot of fucking shady ass things to stay alive. She cut a lot of corners. She didn’t pay her PA for a long time. She cheated. But she never admitted to it. No one was ever able to prove it.
“Mason Carter?” Cara asks. I know that’s Cara, but she doesn’t know that. So she introduces herself. “I’m Cara White.”
“I know who you are,” I say evenly, my dick twitching in my pants. Even a hello is enough to get it fucking started. “I also know who he is,” I say looking at Derek.
Derek stays silent as Cara looks at me. Her eyes are wide and I know the fucking look. I know exactly what she’s thinking as her eyes take in the tattoos up and down my arm. As she sees my defined chest and my rippling abs through my tight shirt. Her thoughts are now revolving around my fucking body. She’s wondering what it’s like if I bent her over this table and ripped off her thong and fucked the shit out of her.
I decide to have some fun.
“What’s Sienna Sinner’s PA need me for?” I ask her.
This momentarily stuns her and she shakes herself out of her sexual reverie.
“I’m not Sienna’s PA anymore she says,” and this time my mouth really does drop open. I mean, don’t get me wrong, PAs aren't obligated to stay with an author, but if there was one PA I thought would fucking go to the grave with their author, it would be Cara.
“What happened?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Cara shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I know better. “I caught Sienna blowing my boyfriend,” she says.
I lean back. Cara was dating some asshole called Trevor. I can’t say I’m surprised. That’s another dude banned from Bookfinder. Piece of shit scumbag – just like Grady O’Sullivan, the fucking asshole that Abby used to date..
“I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Cara,” I say, not realizing what else to say to her. I really do feel bad. If I ever fuck a girl, I make damn sure to make sure she knows ahead of time that this is just for one night. I’m not letting her think she’s in a relationship. I don’t do relationships and I don’t think it’s fair to fuck women to lead them on like that.
“But I’m not here for what Sienna did to me,” Cara says, and sits down across the table from me. My assistant scoots out of the way and gets out of sight. This has the undertones of big serious shit.
I lean forward.
“I’m here to get help for what I know Sienna is about to do,” she says to me. She pauses and I keep looking at her.
“She’s trying to destroy Naughty Angel Publishing,” Cara says.
I give a loud fucking sigh.
I love the Angels. And someone trying to fuck with them is like they’re trying to fuck with me.
“I need your help, Mason,” Cara says to me. “I need to reach people at Naughty Angel somehow who will take me seriously. Then I need to stop Sienna.”
I look at Cara. She’s doing what she believes is right. I can’t say that I find any fault with her. When push came to shove she did the right thing, which was stand up to fucking evil.
But I need to be sure.
“What about you?” I say, turning my head toward Derek and hardening my voice. “You still the face of Sienna Sinner?”
Derek shakes his head, and then just looks at Cara.
“I go wherever she goes,” he says to me with conviction and confidence. “I protect her wherever she goes, even if that means leaving my job.”
I nod. I know the feeling. I can totally understand how Cara can inspire this kind of protectiveness. There’s a delicate quality underneath the outwardly strong woman. I feel like protecting her too.
“I’ll help you,” I say, getting up from the table.
I can see Cara’s eyes stay straight ahead as she stares at my crotch. My thick cock straining at a semi-hard state in my jeans. She can make out the outline and I can see Cara licking her lips.
Oh, fuck. I’m so going to fuck her. We are definitely going to get filthy together. It’s going to happen. I just need to play it fucking cool till then. And afterwards.
If anyone can make me give up the no-relationship rule, it’s this woman.
“I’ll make some calls, and get someone from Naughty Angel to meet with you in person,” I say, clearing my throat as Cara’s eyes dart to looking at me from looking at my cock.
“Be at the Mandarin Oriental at Columbus Circle tonight at 8 pm,” I say.
Cara nods.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “Thank you so much.”
I nod to Derek. I got to watch that guy. He might be with Cara just to keep an eye on her. But I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt till I find out otherwise. Derek nods back at me and my business here is done. I leave the table with my laptop.
Yeah, Cara. You’re going to thank me all right. For shooting you into fucking orbit and spraying obscene amounts of cum all over you.
; I can’t fucking wait.
Chapter 6
Cara
“You got this.”
Usually my inner monologue is never this confident, but tonight I can’t afford to let loose that deep seated insecurity. Even though I feel anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind, I take long, deep breaths and close my eyes for a second.
The taxi has already stopped in front of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, and my hand is on the handle of the door, gripping it tightly. I’ve already paid the driver and tipped him generously, so he doesn’t seem to mind that I still haven’t left the car.
“Important meeting?” he asks me, peering at me through the rearview mirror, his tired eyes suddenly coming to life as he glances at the rising curve of my breasts. A good omen, maybe.
“Yes,” I tell him with a knot in my throat, nodding as I offer him a soft smile. “A very important one.”
“Miss, I don’t want to overstep but … I wouldn’t be nervous if I were you. A woman like you should be making them nervous, not the other way around,” he tells me, taking his eyes from the rearview mirror and distractedly glancing at the street in front of him.
I stare at him for two long seconds, his words drumming on my head, and I smile. Who knew that the casual words of a man with balding hair, an Italian twang to the way he speaks, would be the one thing calming me down?
“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching for him and placing one hand on his shoulder. With that, I finally push the handle of the door and step outside, the sharp click of my heels hitting the pavement. I look up at the glass building with a sense of awe, taking in the way it towers over the whole block with its sharp edges and glittering surface, and I make my way in.
Even though the measly salary I used to receive from Sienna barely covered my rent, I couldn’t help but dip into my savings and hit the stores. Now, with the tight fabric of a black Givenchy hugging the curves of my body, and the steady click of my Manolo Blahniks against the marble floor of the lobby, I know I made the right decision. Dressed to the nines like this, I look like I belong in the Mandarin’s lobby, a place where the rich and famous stroll back and forth throughout the year.