THE BABY OATH: Anarchy’s Reign MC

by Sophia Gray

  “Yes, baby, yes, baby, fuck, I love this, I love this so much, I love you,” Cal rambled next to her ear.

  “I love you, too,” Antonia said back, the words falling out of her so easily that at first she didn’t even notice what had happened. But Cal did. He came to a stop inside of her, panting hard as he stared down at her, sweat dripping down from his hair, his eyes blinking furiously as they peered into Antonia’s, looking like they were trying to find out if she was joking or not.

  Antonia cleared her throat. A thousand different fears whirled around inside her mind at once. Fuck it, she thought, summoning up all the courage that ever existed inside her body for this one beautiful, perfect moment. “I love you,” she said again, as solidly and firmly as she could. “I love you, Cal.”

  Cal fell out of her then, backing up until his back was pressed up against the headboard of the bed, gesturing for her to follow him. “Come on, baby,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to crawl up into his lap. “Ride me.”

  “With pleasure,” Antonia said with a grin, feeling weirdly free, like a great burden had been taken off her heart after she’d spoken the truth out loud. She straddled Cal’s torso, shoving her feet hard into the mattress to brace herself as she lifted her hips up, aligning her hole back up with Cal’s cock before slamming herself down all at once, taking Cal’s cock fully inside of her tight cunt. She called out as the head of his cock brushed up against that special spot inside of her again, rubbing up against it again and again as she moved her hips up and down.

  The music played from Cal’s phone, setting the mood with a slower, softer love song that wrapped around them like a soft, gentle cloud, making Antonia feel like nothing could go wrong, ever. She was safe here, wrapped up in Cal’s arms, consumed by his body, boxed in by his love. She could never even imagine being hurt again, not with Cal wrapped around her like this, taking care of her so well. He loves me, Antonia thought as she stared down into Cal’s eyes, riding him a little harder but slowing down to enjoy the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her tight hole. He fucking loves me. And I love him.

  Antonia couldn’t hold back the words anymore. “I fucking love you!” she cried out. The words spilled out of her like water bursting over a dam, falling down as naturally as her hips grinded down onto Cal’s.

  “I love you!” Cal shouted back, reaching up to grab her hands, their fingers twining together, their sweat pooling together as one as their hips moved faster, thrusting onto each other in perfect harmony.

  Antonia’s cunt felt like the entire universe, like whole galaxies were colliding and falling apart and falling back together again inside of her pussy, a thousand colors mixing together as his cock slid in and out of her, creating beautiful, wonderful friction. This is how universes are made, Antonia thought, panting so hard that her lungs burned with the exertion, her muscles aching as she thrust back and forth above her lover. This is how God made the world. With love. Just like this.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Cal grunted out. He leaned up to bite at her neck again, sucking on her so hard that he was sure to leave a mark. Good, Antonia thought. I want him to mark me. To possess me. To fucking own me. Just like I own him.

  She leaned down to press her head into his neck, biting and sucking at him to leave her marks on his skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she mumbled again and again into his flesh, licking at him like she could swallow him whole. “Baby, please.”

  “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you, darling,” Cal whispered back. He clutched at the back of her head and kept her in place as he pushed his hips up more forcefully, sending his cock impossibly deep inside of her. “Oh, fuck, I’ve got you.”

  Antonia moved her hips around in tight circles, rotating on the head of Cal’s cock, slamming down before sliding back up, teasing him with her natural juices even though her whole body was screaming to take all of him in. After a few more moments of this routine, Antonia couldn’t hold herself back any longer. She finally rode him so hard that the bed resumed squeaking beneath them, nearly wailing like a siren as she went faster and faster, feeling herself heat up in between her legs. She felt like a nuclear explosion was ready to go off inside her cunt at any moment, all of the wonderful sensations from Cal’s cock combining together to form something beautiful and new.

  “Baby, it’s happening, it’s fucking happening,” she mumbled into Cal’s neck, moving her lips over to collide with his mouth, licking her way inside until she was sucking on his tongue, desperately trying to get as much of him inside her body as possible.

  “Yes, darling, yes,” Cal breathed back. His voice came out weaker than she’d ever heard it before. She had ridden him to the edge of oblivion, to the boundary separating humans and the fucking stars. And she was going to take them both over that final edge, tumbling into beautiful accepting darkness, warm and wet and welcoming.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Antonia cried out, her pussy starting to heat up almost painfully as she ground even harder onto his cock, bearing down so that the head of his dick pressed up against the most sensitive spot on her pussy’s inner wall.

  “Yeah, baby. Yeah, baby, give it up to me. Give in. I got you. I’ve always got you,” Cal said, rubbing his hands up the sides of her body, massaging the last little bit of tension out of her muscles.

  Antonia called out. She gripped Cal’s hands as hard as she could as her pussy began to pulse around his cock, the heat reaching a breaking point, like a huge bubble finally collapsing in on itself, creating a thousand tiny bubbles flying off into the atmosphere, drifting up throughout Antonia’s whole body, explosion after explosion going off inside her cells. “Yes! Fuck, yes! Fuck!”

  “Yes, baby, yes!” Cal cried out from beneath her, gripping her hips hard, pushing her ass up and down to bring his cock to the edge, too. “Oh, fuck, it’s happening. It’s fucking….it’s fucking happening. Yes! Yes! God, yes!”

  Antonia braced herself, expecting to feel a violent explosion from Cal’s cock, but instead it was almost gentle, his dick releasing inside of her, pulse by pulse by pulse, his very heartbeat reverberating inside of her again and again and again. “Oh, shit,” Antonia mumbled as she collapsed on top of Cal’s chest. His dick slid out of her wetly as she settled her weight on top of his body. “Oh, my God.”

  “Yeah,” Cal agreed. He rubbed his way down from her shoulder-blades to her lower back, pressing down on her vertebrae until she finally let herself go limp in his arms, totally loose and free from any stress that her body might have retained as a result of the awful week she’d just had.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Antonia huffed out. She pressed her lips lazily against the side of Cal’s face. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, same,” he said with a light laugh. He rubbed his other hand along the top of Antonia’s head, brushing some of the random strands of sweaty hair out of her eyes. “You’re a special one, you know that?”

  “Thank you,” Antonia said softly, clearing her throat before adding, “No one’s ever said that to me before, you know.”

  “Really?” Cal asked. His hands stilled on her head and back. “That’s a fucking shame.”

  “It’s okay,” Antonia said bashfully, hiding her face in Cal’s neck, but a second later she was forced to face him when Cal pulled at her chin, his eyes bearing down intensely onto hers.

  “I’ll tell you every day,” Cal said. “I promise.”

  Antonia’s heart felt like it was about to burst, it was so full of unbearably real emotion. She wanted to say that to Cal, to tell him that he made her realize how strong she was, just because she never knew how much emotion she could handle until she met him. She wanted to say that he pushed her to her limit, proving to her how powerful she really was. She wanted to say that for the first time in her life, she knew she could relax, really and truly, because he wasn’t going to run away and leave her to take care of everything by herself.

  She wanted to say all of that, but for some reason she c
ouldn’t force the words out at the moment. But it didn’t seem to matter. Cal’s knowing glance told her that he already knew all that, that he knew exactly what was hiding within her heart. For the first time, that notion didn’t scare her. If anything, it made her feel safer, allowing her to cuddle up to Cal’s side without a single worry pressing down on her mind. She was free. She was complete. She was safe.

  Together, they slipped off into sleep, hands linked. They would never be separated, ever. They were a family now, hearts bound together as one. They would walk into their future, fearing nothing, ready for everything. Together.

  THE END

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  THE BABY PACT: The Twisted Saints MC

  By Sophia Gray

  We made a deal with one small catch: I had to bear his baby.

  I wanted an escape.

  He wanted a baby.

  What other choice did I have?

  I live in a wicked, vicious world.

  Full of liars and killers.

  I’m a prisoner here – and I want out.

  But how?

  My father would kill me if I ever disobeyed him.

  I need a man who could stand up to him.

  An ally.

  A partner.

  A hero.

  I thought Hammer would be that man.

  But I was so, so wrong.

  All along, I was just a pawn in his plan.

  He didn’t want to help me.

  He wanted to own me.

  Not just for one kiss, or one night.

  He wanted my body for nine months.

  I should’ve never signed this deal with the devil.

  Prologue

  Hammer

  In a dusty garage at the edge of New Orleans, right where the seedy motels and strip malls start to give way to the muddy trails of the bayou, the tops of a dozen beer cans popped off like a string of fireworks. Twelve men stood around a hulking eighteen-wheeler, wearing leather vests with patches that said “Twisted Saints” and holding up their drinks triumphantly.

  Marcus “Hammer” Lithgow stood on the hood of the truck and looked down at the members of his MC. The flickering bulbs that hung from the ceiling lit their dirty, hairy, grinning faces. His vest matched theirs perfectly except for the nametag on his chest, and the narrow patch beneath it which read “President.”

  Standing on top of a stolen treasure and surrounded by his loyal band of brothers, Hammer felt like a pirate captain on the high seas. His chest swelled with pride as he lifted his beer can. “Saints,” he bellowed happily, “here's to the biggest score we've ever pulled off! And best of all, once we unload it, every penny of this motherfucker is ours. There's no one to cut in or kick up to—just a quarter mil in electronics, split twelve ways.”

  The bikers cheered loudly, clunking their cans together and gulping them down.

  “Over twenty grand for ten minutes' work,” cackled Lash, the club's VP. Beer foam clung to his tangled brown beard. “Who else ever earned that much, huh?”

  “Not Cobra's mom, that's for sure,” Splinter crowed, pointing to the Saint next to him. “She only charges two bucks, and that's when she ain't getting paid in food stamps!” The others laughed, including Cobra as he cuffed Splinter upside the head good-naturedly.

  Hammer finished his beer and climbed down from the hood of the truck, grabbing another can. “Okay, so I've lined up a fence for us up in Baton Rouge. He says he can exchange the merch for the money first thing tomorrow, so I'm taking Splinter and Cobra with me as backup and leaving Lash in charge. Once we get the cash in hand, it's important that we don't flash too much of it around for the first couple weeks, understand? We don't want to attract any—”

  There was a knock on the garage door. All of the Saints turned to look.

  “—attention,” Hammer finished, narrowing his eyes.

  He looked around, doing a quick head count to make sure all of the Saints were already there. They were.

  “All right, what the fuck is this?” Hammer asked, staring down the others. “No one was supposed to know we were here. Did one of you assholes invite your girlfriend or something?”

  The confused bikers looked around at each other, shaking their heads. Some of them were already uneasily reaching for guns, knives, and wrenches.

  Another knock. Politely gentle, but insistent.

  “With a knock like that, it ain't the fucking cops, that's for sure,” Lash pointed out.

  “Then who is it?” Cobra asked, his beady eyes bulging in his fat, ruddy face.

  “Someone worse,” Hammer sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Splinter's jaw dropped. “Him? But you said—”

  A third knock. Louder this time. Less patient.

  “Forget what I fucking said,” Hammer snapped. “Just keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking, okay? This could get bloody in a hurry if we don't play it right. And for Christ's sake, put those weapons away before you get us all killed.”

  Hammer took a deep breath as he walked to the door. His pulse had stayed steady when the Saints had hijacked the truck less than an hour ago, but now his heart was hammering in his ears and it took every ounce of control he had to keep his hands from shaking. He'd never considered this possibility while planning the robbery, but holy fuck, if the person at the door was who he thought it was, it might turn out that he'd made the single biggest mistake of his entire goddamn life.

  He only hoped he hadn't taken the rest of the Saints down with him.

  Hammer opened the door, revealing a short, sleek-looking man in his early sixties. He had olive skin and heavy eyelids, and his slicked-back hair was snow white. He wore an Armani suit with a silk shirt and tie, and a gold pinky ring with a large ruby in it.

  Even though Hammer had only met the man once before, he had no trouble remembering him. He was Don Arturo “Turo” Ricci, the most powerful gangster in Louisiana. And whenever he felt the need to show up in person, things generally didn't end well.

  “Mr. Lithgow,” Turo greeted him pleasantly. Although he'd moved to America as a young man, his voice still retained the faint lilt of his Italian accent. “It has been far too long since we have had occasion to converse. May I enter?”

  “Certainly, Don Ricci,” Hammer replied, forcing a smile. “Please, come in. You, uh, honor us with your presence.” Hammer felt like an awkward douchebag trying to frame his words so formally, but he knew Turo took pride in being old-school when it came to showing respect, down to the smallest detail. The tiniest slip-up could be fatal for the whole MC.

  But why? Hammer thought, frustrated. There's no reason for him to even be here, is there? I thought of everything when I planned this job, I'm sure of it. I made sure he wasn't connected to this in any way. What could I have missed?

  Turo stepped into the garage, the raised heels of his polished black loafers clicking on the grimy concrete floor. Even with the lifts in his shoes, he still only came up to Hammer's shoulders.

  But, then, Turo Ricci was living proof that a person didn't need to be tall to be scary as hell.

  Turo looked up at the truck with mild curiosity, as though he was thinking of buying one. “Ah, here it is. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in computer equipment. No doubt you have plans for that kind of money, yes? But since I did not hear about this theft from you, I am left to assume those plans did not include giving me what I am owed.”

  Hammer felt the other Saints bristle around him. He couldn't blame them. This wasn't supposed to happen, damn it. This whole score was supposed to be theirs, free and clear.

  “With respect, Don Ricci,” Hammer began, trying to keep his voice calm and low, “we didn't realize you were, um...I mean, we did our, uh, d
ue diligence when we planned this out. We made sure this trucking company wasn't affiliated with any of your…associates. We even asked around to make sure you had no plans to hijack this truck yourself. We'd never do anything to intentionally interfere with your business. So I think it's fair to say we're...well, confused by all this, is what I'm getting at.”

  Turo smiled, shaking his head. “I see. Then perhaps it will clarify things for you when I point out that even if the truck didn't belong to me, this city still does. When we first met and you requested permission to operate here, I told you I would graciously allow you to ride around on your bikes and pull your small-time scores. Marijuana, guns, stolen cars. These things are beneath my interest. But stealing a quarter of a million dollars in merchandise without seeking my permission—or paying my tribute—is simply unacceptable.”