Jessa James - The Baby Mission

The Baby Mission: Copyright © 2020 by Jessa James

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

Published by Jessa James

James, Jessa

The Baby Mission

Cover design copyright 2020 by Jessa James, Author

Images/Photo Credit: Deposit Photos: gstockstudio

Publisher’s Note:

This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

This book has been previously published.

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1. Jett

2. Cady

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4. Cady

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Epilogue

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“I’m telling you, women are all the same,” I say. “They just want you to believe that some of them are different…”

Mason and Alex, my two best friends, don’t even look at me as we climb the stairs leading to the roof. They’ve heard it all before, but they are listening anyway. They’re good friends.

I huff a little as we hit the sixth flight of stairs. A small gaggle of women comes down the stairwell, their high heels making a sharp clomp-clomp-clomp sound on the concrete. I’m distracted for a second by the women, with their bright smiles and miles of long legs.

I like the look of the one in the front, leading the pack. She’s a blonde in a pink minidress. She makes eye contact with me for a second, then blushes and bites her lip.

She’s looking at me too, at me and Mason and Alex. Three tall, handsome men in plaid button downs and jeans. She’s probably trying to figure out which of us is the hottest.

Alex is easily the tallest. At 6’6, he’s got a few inches on me and Mason. It made the college football scouts come knocking when he was seventeen, too.

Mason has the whole dark and brooding thing going on, especially with that nose of his that’s been broken a half dozen times. He draws women who are attracted to his angsty don’t-fuck-with-me persona.

And me? I’m pretty fucking tall, I’ve got a good body, and I’ve got a great face. I unleash one of my dangerous smiles on the woman making eye contact with me. She stumbles a little, reaching out to grab the wall to balance herself.

Bingo , I think. It feels pretty damn gratifying.

And then they’re out of sight. We come up to a plain metal door, and even though it’s closed, I can hear the party happening on the other side. The wub-dub-dub of the bass can be heard through the door.

I push the door open, and step outside into the cool late spring night air. The party is on a rooftop, with lights strung overhead and a hundred plus people chatting and dancing below. Immediately, I’m engulfed in loud, poppy music and the big, bright colored lights that flash across the whole event.

“Jett, come on,” Mason says, touching my arm and jerking his head towards a bar set up across the way from us.

I follow Mason, threading my way through the crowd. Here and there I get glances from women, which makes me feel perversely hopeful. I don’t necessarily want their attention right now, but I might want it later. Once I get a few beers inside me, I may be able to forget about Emily and focus on what my body needs.

At the thought of Emily, I frown. Emily is exactly my type: blonde hair, honey-brown eyes, and she has a dancer’s lithe frame. Emily is also the fucking bitch that ripped out my heart and stomped on it.

So there’s that.

Mason spots an ice bucket filled to the brim with beer, and all three of us grab one. It’s a Miller High Life, nothing fancy. I twist off the top and take a sip, feel the cool slide of the beer in my throat.

Alex leads the way to an unoccupied spot along the wall, and we stand and look out at the party.

“What’s this party for, again?” Mason asks.

“It’s thrown by my manager,” Alex says with a shrug. “Something about the rites of spring.”

“You guys are still hunting for another NFL team?” I ask Alex.

“Yep. I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel.”

“You should be, after that nasty hit you took last year,” Mason says. “I was watching the game when those three guys took you down.”

Alex shifts, and it’s clear from his body language that he doesn’t want to talk about it. I used to be someone in baseball, so I get where he’s coming from.

“Hey, did I tell you that the guys from my office have made up these fake draft card things? Here, let me get one out…” I say, pulling a card from my wallet. “They’re supposed to look like baseball cards, but they’re for the sports agents at Sampson .”

“That’s not a bad picture of you,” Mason says. Plucking the card from my fingers, he holds it up beside my head and squints. “You could really get some good pussy with this, you know.”

“Not bad,” Alex says, sipping his beer.

“Emily says it’s a bad picture of me,” I say, grabbing the card from him and putting it back in my wallet.

“Oh my god. Well if Emily says it, then it must be true!” Mason says, rolling his eyes. “I am so sick of hearing her name. She dumped you for some stupid reasons, so let’s just move on.”

“It’s not that easy,” I protest, but even to me it sounds weak.

“It’s been a month, man,” Alex says, clapping me on the back. “She’s probably fucking someone new. You should take your cue from her.”

“Whatever,” I say.

“Seriously, stop whining and get some action. Just look around this party. There are sexy women everywhere you look,” Mason says.

I take minute to assess, and find that Mason isn’t wrong. There are tons of girls at this party, dancing together or standing close to talk to one another.

“I think I see who I’m going to hit on,” Alex says. “If you’ll excuse me…”

He heads to the other side of the party, his sheer size forcing people to move out of his way as he shoulders his way through the crowd.

“See? It’s that easy,” Mason says.

“I can pick up any girl I want,” I say, raising a brow. “I’m Jett James.”

“I don’t know about any girl.”

“Seriously?” I ask, cocking a brow. “How about this? You pick the girl. And I’m willing to bet you Hawks floor seats.”

Mason side-eyes me. “Alright, but you can’t just go home with whomever I pick. You have to go on a date.”