Page 6 of Our Little Cliche
I think for a moment, dwelling on my dastardly thoughts.Okay, maybe I am slightly curious about what it would feel like in reality rather than in writing.Adjusting my suit pants, my length bursts free, relieving the tension. “No, damnit, I need to keep reading. I’ve wasted enough time,” I scold myself, clearing my throat. “I can’t wait to see how she tastes once I get to her. My palm reaches for her window and?—”
My cell chimes, interrupting my read.It’s one in the morning,why the hell is my agent calling me at this hour?I’m just getting to the good part. I slide off my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration, then swipe the green tab to the right. “This had better be good,” I grunt down the phone, trying to hide the fact that my dick is pulsating and my breath is more than slightly needy.
“I thought I’d check on you, make sure you weren’t slacking off. This is going to be another bestseller, bigger, even. I can feel it. The big one!” Quinn, my publishing agent, cheers.
“I am very well aware,” I snicker. “There’s many reasons why books like mine sell so well. This one especially.”
“Oh…?” he questions down the line. The silly old goat has no idea. He’s just here for the money.
“Mmm, women go bananas over these books.”Dark romance.“They don’t want straight up boring, cliché love stories with gentle, romantic sex. They want books where they getfucked. Raw and hard, Quinn,” I say, almost a little too eagerly. The thought of being with a woman in a way that wasn’t justmaking lovedid something to me.Making loveis all I’ve ever known. I’m a big guy standing over six feet tall and weighing in at 242 pounds, I tend to scare off a lot of… potential dates. Not that I have time to date these days, not with my career. And when women do find the courage to talk to me they seem to only want one thing—either to brag to the internet that they slept with a bestselling author or for my money. But that’s not who I am. Call me old fashioned, but I want the emotional connection. Not just a wham, bam, thank you ma’am.
I want love.
I want tofuckthe woman Ilove, and then spend the rest of my days worshiping the ground she walks on for simply letting me. I want the kind of love where she trusts she can surrender to her deepest darkest desires with me, so that I can fulfill them while spending eternity shining the light for her path.
I want to be the reason she prays for salvation, but the God she needs to conquer her demons.
Is that so hard to ask for?
Yes.
Women like that simply don’t exist.
What I say next, I have to do with a straight face so that I don’t breathe too heavily down the line. “They want smut that is straight up insanity. They want possession. Obsession. Somnophilia, breathe play, primal play, biting, and all things bondage. All with dangerous psychopaths who have a degree in criminal history, tattoos, masks and degradation kinks. Theywantto be wanted and in danger all at the same time. They want to be desired.Needed.”
Just like the book I’m writing in between doing edits for this one.
It’ll be bigger and better thanIn The Shadows.
I shrug out of the chair, choosing to pace the floor to distract myself before my agent hears how much I’m aching to fist my cock. I shouldn’t have answered the phone while I’m like this.
This is too much.
“You say it as if they want all…thatin real life,” his tone is both concerned and curious all in one.
“No. It’s just a fantasy, old man.”Well it’s certainly one of mine.“Just a silly fantasy, that’s why it’s called fiction. It’s a pleasure to write what I write, because I know one way or another I’m making a woman smile and kick her legs with glee. Making them blush, one shade of pink at a time.”
“With all that un-romantic romance that they all love, how are you single, then?”
“I…” I freeze for a beat, chewing on the question.Because I’m a big career focused goofball who doesn’t have time to hold a conversation with a woman much less ask her for her number.“I guess you could say I’m ‘in a relationship with my career’.”
“Good. More time for writing me bestsellers, and making me rich.”
Ahh, typical Quinn.“Mhhm, you got it.”
“Anyway, have that tick of approval in my inbox by seven, and don’t forget we have the launch in Canmore at 6 P.M. this Friday.”
“Will do.” I hang up and take a resounding breath in and back out like I had been holding it the entire phone call, then fix myself a martini with a cold glass from the bar fridge in my office, finishing it off with three succulent olives on the probe, and tossing an extra onto my tongue.
My mouth salivates instantly at its saltiness.Delicious,I groan, then throw back the contents of my drink to wash down the fruit.
Still heated from the last page I was reading, I waltz downstairs with my book, wasting no time tearing off my clothes that were too restricting, tossing them somewhere on the floor across the living room. I dim the lights and take a seat on my sofa, right by the crackling fireplace. My still firm length thuds against my abdomen, and when I grasp it in my fist the glisten of pre-cum helps me glide over it effortlessly.
I stroke slowly down my length, pulling back up effortlessly. My body reacts to the immediate pleasure, feeling the goosebumps dancing on my skin. I roll my head backwards over the chair with a tight lip.
“Fuck.” I push down again slowly, pulling back up with the same rhythm but my grip is firmer than the last. This is too good.
With my free hand, I flick through the pages back to the scene that I got cut off from: where the main male character in the book breaks into his twin’s girlfriend’s house and sneaks into her room while she sleeps.Just like she wanted.Sure, what he’s about to do to her is a crime, but she asked for it. Okay, maybe to his brother, but still…
