12 Inches (A Secret Baby Dark Romance)(30)

“Yeah, the theme has to be scorching hot,” Aidan cuts in, walking over to us with a gait to his step. “There’s going to be a lot of fire in the novel, and we want the cover to reflect that.”

“I see…” Mistress Strokes trails off, looking up at the ceiling deep in thought, a lock of blue hair tumbling down her forehead. She brushes it to the side and tucks it over her ear, narrowing her eyes and looking at the cameras she has set up there.

Still with an expression of deep focus, she saunters over to one of the tripods and yanks the camera off, grabbing it with both hands. “I figure we need to go the intimate route, then,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to us or to herself. She’s looking down at the camera, fumbling with the lens and pressing button after button in quick succession.

I just stare at her completely dumbfounded, having no idea about how a photo session is supposed to go. My publisher always handled this side of the business; all I had to do was put the words down on the page. Lucky for me, Aidan took the reigns here; he knew exactly what he had to say to the photographer, and I agreed with every single word of his. Although, I admit, I have no idea how that’ll translate into a better photo. I figure that scorching hot means Aidan will be revealing a lot more of his crotch.

“Your jacket, take it off,” Mistress Strokes suddenly says, the lens of her camera trained on me.

“Me?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

“You,” she smiles, lowering her camera. Even though her expression is a serious one most of the time, I can’t help but notice how much prettier she becomes when she smiles. “Your PA’s told me you’re going in a new direction with your books and, judging from what Aidan's told me, it really seems like it… So why is he the only one on the cover?”

I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t find the right words. She’s right but… me? As a model? No way.

“I… I don’t have the clothes to --”

“Forget it,” she tells me, still smiling, and waving at me with one hand. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s about who you are. Embrace it.”

I stare at Mistress Strokes.

“The sex advances the romance in your books, yes?” the Mistress asks me, stepping closer.

I nod.
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“And what, do you know about the sex, child?” the elegant blue-haired woman asks me, her eyes piercing into my soul.

“She’s right,” Aidan says, coming up to me and gently laying his hands on my shoulders. He pulls my jacket off and I just let him do it, standing there in my tight blouse. God, I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

Grabbing me by the hand, Aidan leads me to the shooting area and, looking into my eyes, he smiles. “We’re ready,” he says, never taking his eyes off of me. Unblinking, I just look back at him as the noise of the camera shutter fills the whole studio.

“See, it’s easy,” he whispers, sliding his hands down the side of my body. My skin prickles as his fingertips find the naked skin between my blouse and skirt. Before I even know what I’m doing, I grab my blouse by its hemline and pull it over my head, Aidan’s smile turning into a wild grin.

“That’s good. Really good,” I hear Mistress Strokes’ voice as she comes closer to us, the camera’s shutter working more quickly now. Breathing hard, I place my hands on Aidan’s waist and pull him into me, a shiver of excitement going up my spine as I feel his hard-on.

I look at Mistress Strokes, embarrassed, but she just keeps on snapping picture after picture, a big smile on her face. Closing in on us, she goes down on her knees, pointing up with her camera, and that’s when Aidan tangles his fingers in my hair and leans in to kiss me. His free hand goes down to my ass and he grabs a handful, squeezing it.

Instinct taking over me, I let one hand go around his waist and then I flatten the palm of my hand against his crotch, curling my fingers around his cock and feeling it pulse against me.

Moving at the same time, Aidan places one hand just above my right knee and, slowly, runs it up to the hemline of my skirt. He doesn’t stop there, though: he slides his finger over my naked skin and under the fabric of my skirt, going straight for my wet thong. I gasp as I feel his touch on my pussy, and only then do I realize there’s a deafening silence in the studio, the noise of the camera shutter now absent.

I look toward Mistress Strokes just in time to see her lowering her camera, her lips slightly apart as she goes up to her feet. “Now this is some chemistry…” she whispers, propping the camera on its tripod and turning to face us.