He smirks. “Wait till you get to the heroine.”
I continue. “Heroine is gorgeous but she doesn’t know it. Perfect body even though she complains about having such a small waist and big boobs. Has a cunt that tastes like honey.” I do a double take on that one.
“To be fair,” Blake says. “I’ve had some tasty cunts in my day but none of them have tasted like honey. Still delicious though.”
I stare at him incredulously for dropping that but he just shrugs. “What? You better get used to this talk darling because you’re going to be writing it. There’s nothing but honey cunts and pre-cum and rim jobs from here on out.”
I take a moment to digest that all before I read on. I clear my throat. “Must be a doormat and void of personality or any interesting characteristics so that the reader can interject their own selves. A virgin is preferred but she must be able to get off on command. Condoms aren’t necessary but ropes and whips are. She must refer to her vagina as “her sex” and be clenching constantly.” I nod at that. “I noticed the clenching too.”
“Also,” he says, taking back his phone, “the hero should be in a position of power over her and take charge from the start.”
“So degrading.”
“But it’s fantasy, so who fucking cares. You of all people should know what you can get away with in a fantasy.”
“Yeah but I make up worlds with orcs and bird-people, not football coaches getting blowjobs from cheerleaders.”
“Different strokes for different folks. And when I say strokes, I mean of the cock-handling variety.”
“Yeah I get that, thank you.” I sigh and take a sip of my beer, watching a seaplane taking off in the distance. “You know, if we could actually make a career of this, this wouldn’t be half bad.”
He grins at me. “Now you’re talking. So we have those tropes. We just keep the books the same every single time. Change the character names around, and by the way I have a list of those names as well. The books will all follow the same formula: sex within in the first couple of chapters. Then more sex. Then they fall in love. Then they break up. Then they get back together. Happily ever after epilogue with a massive sex scene.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I muse.
“It will be. Now we just need the title and the plot and we’re good to go.”
We put our heads together and as the sun slowly dips down over the Pacific Ocean, we narrow our list down to a few with the most potential.
Falling for the Secret Male Stripper – Ford Titan is a nerdy high school teacher by day, a male stripper at night. When his 18-year-old barely legal student Shasta Black discovers this and threatens to tell the school, the two of them make a deal…a sexual one.
Riding Hard: a bad boy crime boss MC ménage forbidden second chance romance standalone – Outlaw Jones is one bad-ass biker dude, covered everywhere from his neck to his cock in tattoos. There’s only one place on his body that’s bare – his heart – and he’s saving that space for Angel LaRue, his best friend and the girl next door he last saw when he was a damaged teenager. But first, he has to rescue her from Dick Pounder, the equally sexy boss of the rival gang. Things get…sexual.
Spread Open – A Gynecological Love Story – Nelson Dunsmuir was one of the world’s best Navy Seals. But when a mission goes wrong and he loses his best mate, he quits the Seals and decides to go back to his first career – gynecology. The moment Pender Galiano walks into his office, needing a pap smear, Nelson knew he had to have the gorgeous virgin. But when old enemies rise up, Nelson has to protect Pender at all costs – even though loving her may cost him his life.
“Well here we are,” Blake says as we stare at our potential future on the notepad in front of us. “Really don’t think we can go wrong.” The night has settled around us, bringing in the chill of late spring. It would almost be romantic if we hadn’t been laughing this entire time.
Not that I’m complaining. I need the laughs. Things between us have gotten so easy and I don’t want that to change. If we’re not laughing and goofing off then…well…I notice things a little more. The way he stares at my lips. How he keeps touching me; a lingering hand on my shoulder, his fingers at my elbow to guide me somewhere. But mostly it’s something I can’t even define. It’s a feeling charged between us, like the way the air pressure changes just before a storm. The hairs on my body stand up and my skin prickles in some sort of unseen anticipation.
“Are you cold?” he asks me. We’re sitting next to each, facing the harbor lights. It was just easier to work this way.
“Not really,” I tell him and before I can say anything he’s getting up and sliding the glass door open and heading inside. When he returns he’s got a blanket and two bottles of beer.
“Here,” he says, gently placing the plush blanket on my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice barely registering. I pull the blanket around me, close my eyes and breathe in deep, his fresh, earthy scent filling my nose.
I feel him stiffen beside me.
Oh shit.
“Did you just smell the blanket?” he asks.
I open one eye to look at him. “I like to smell…blankets,” is my flimsy response.
“You say the oddest things,” he says after a moment. “Did I tell you I like that?”
I bite my lip and nod. He tells me a lot of things he likes about me and the more I think about it, the more my skin burns, like it’s begging for his touch.