Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist

by Gabi Moore

  She took my hand and led me to the bed, where we both lay ourselves down. I lay behind her, my body tracing the contours of hers – knees to knees, spine along spine. My hands fit naturally over her full, heavy breasts and I nestled my nose in the curtain of her hair. Her toes reached out for mine and I wiggled back in response. It was a quiet, peaceful conversation. Everything was soft. Except my cock, which nuzzled secretly at the base of her spine, aching like it could tell she was near.

  “I used to think that this was weakness,” she said.

  I traced a hand down over her rounded belly, grazed my fingertips against the soft fuzz between her legs and then traced back up again, landing again at her breasts, which hung down towards the bed beneath us.

  “I never thought I’d be a mother, Jack. It actually felt easier to me to take life than to make it, isn’t that crazy? The day I found out that I was pregnant I…” she trailed off.

  I knew everything that she was going to say before she said it. I could feel it somehow, in her body. In the smooth shapes it made under my hands as I caressed slow, careful lines over every part of her.

  “I had always told myself it was temporary. That I wasn’t meant for that life. So how did I wake up, ten years later, one of Angelo Valenti’s right hand woman?”

  As she spoke, her hips started moving independently, grinding gently back into my hips, against my stiff cock.

  “I must have been mad. We all thought Little Joey was mad, but was he really so different from me? From us?”

  I stroked and listened in silence.

  “He said something to me, Jack, that day in the cabin. He said, you think I’m the bad guy, don’t you? And Jack, you know, he meant it. He really couldn’t see himself that way. Jack I’ve …I’ve done so much damage,” she said and this time a choked back sob cut her short. I kept stroking.

  “I was willing to do anything. And I mean it; I don’t know when I lost my way or when I became so …hard. I was even willing to hurt you! But the day I found out I was pregnant I knew I had to change. I knew I had already changed…”

  Her hips kept moving against me. After a moment I dragged my fingertips down the length of her spine, then gently pulled apart her ass cheeks and pressed the head of my cock into that fiery hot crevice. She was silent, and responded only by leaning forward a little and tilting her hips up to receive me.

  I gently probed forward a little to hunt out that tight hole of hers, and pushed, and all at once her whole body opened to mine and I sunk inside her, one delicious inch at a time. I loved how every fold of her hot, drenched pussy enveloped me so perfectly, how her perfect, slippery cunt embraced me right to the hilt. I couldn’t help but groan as I found my way into her, guiding her hips back towards me to press in even deeper still. Other than a faint flutter of her breath picking up pace, she made no sound. Her pregnant body was a thing of wonder. The round orbs of her already-perfect ass felt so full. And between them her pussy was so wet and soft and juicy. Everything about her was so extravagantly ripe.

  I drew back my hips and, very, very slowly, crammed the length of my cock all the way back into her, drawing out the delicious stretch of fitting every last inch of me deep inside her. I didn’t have to move much to find precisely the rhythm that made her breath skip and grow jagged. We fucked this way in silence, my body folded tightly against her, linked in every way. Hands over her navel, and knowing that she had my child in her suddenly seemed unbelievably erotic. We had done this, she and I, together. We had fucked and created new life. I had cum inside her and now she was full and fertile, and the thought alone woke some lusty animal part in me that wanted to do it again and again…

  Her top leg bent at the knee and folded towards her waist, giving me deeper access. I planted rows of kisses all along her bare neck, kissing aside the tumble of hair there, wishing this moment never had to end. We were sober. We were fucking, sweet gentle pregnant fucking, and we were sober, and it was perfect. And why not? It never had anything to do with that stupid drug. It was her. Nothing but her. Even laying here in a shifty motel room having noiseless, slow sex at two in the afternoon was perfect. It wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t some magic illegal fairy dust.

  I just loved her. Plain and simple.

  When she came, it was sweet and soft and slow, and I held her body close as she convulsed through it, tightening and clenching over me as I jammed deeper inside and kissed her neck till she calmed down. Then in a moment, smooth as water, she carried on gyrating against me again, her hips more insistent this time, milking me expertly. The pleasured pooled at my groin, a white-hot pulse that seemed to terminate at the tip of my cock, right where I reached the deepest part inside her. I couldn’t resist any longer. I growled softly, unleashing a thick string of cum into her, one spurt after another, and then held even closer still, still buried inside, kissing her neck.

  We lay like this for a while, in that blissful, half dream state that only comes after a good, deep fuck, and held one another. I softened out of her and pulled a slick, white trail of cum over the curve of her ass cheek. It wasn’t quite the most beautiful thing in the world, but it was close.

  “I never liked drug deals,” she said, absentmindedly. “None of it ever sat right with me. I always knew, deep down, that that wasn’t who I really was… I’m so sorry, Jack, for everything, I’m so sorry that I--”

  “Shhhhh…” I said and kissed her nape again. “You don’t have to explain anything. You don’t have to apologize. Not to me, anyway.”

  “I framed you, Jack. They could have killed you,” she whispered.

  I waited a moment before responding.

  “But they didn’t.”

  “How can you just forgive me like that? How can you just let it all go?”

  It was a good question. In our industry, revenge was the grisly engine at the heart of everything. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. I don’t know why it felt so easy to “let it go”, honestly. But it did.

  “Well, do you forgive me? I was prepared to kill you too, you know.”

  “I guess …I guess I do,” she said as though she was only thinking about it for the first time. “I do forgive you.”

  “Yeah? Well why? Why don’t we have knives at each other’s throats right now…?” It was something I’d wondered myself. She grabbed my arms and wrapped them more tightly around her shoulders, like a shawl, and kissed my forearms.

  “Because …because this feels so much better.”

  She couldn’t see it, but I smiled. That was the reason why. Because a professional killer and a hardened criminal mastermind were right for each other precisely because they had had enough. Enough of the killing. Enough of the lying and vengeance and petty politics. There was nothing special in that night in the container, only that it opened the tiniest window through which we could see something else. Another life. And in one way or another, we’d been chasing that glimpse ever since.

  “We’d better get cleaned up, Melissa will be here any second now” I said and nuzzled into her hair. She moaned and wriggled in my arms.

  “Ok, ok …but just one more time,” she said and started up again with those hips of hers.

  “Again? Woman, are you trying to kill me?” I laughed.

  “Well, I am a badass mafia woman, you know, you’d better do as I say…” she purred.

  I smiled. The warm rasp of her voice was enough to rouse me again, and my dick ached and thickened all over again, still wet from her, but ready for more.

  “I love you, Jack,” she whispered as I popped the head of my cock into the snug hole again. I paused. I waited. This was a moment I had never prepared for.

  “I love you too, Evie” I said, and it all felt right.

  I made her come again, and this time she yelped and bit hard down into the pillow, her hair flopping everywhere. It was 100% true. I did love her.

  Fuck, did I love her.

  Chapter 19 - Evelyn

  I was busy examining myself in the mirror when I heard Mel
issa’s car tires crunching on the gravel outside.

  I didn’t look like a woman who had spent all morning fucking, but it didn’t hurt to check, I suppose. My belly was small but prominent, like I was smuggling a small watermelon. It wasn’t a bad look, but it certainly didn’t go with my leopard-print jacket and glossy black leggings. Nobody expected a woman like me to be waltzing around glowing and fawning about the wonder of new life she was carrying and all that crap – least of all me. But soon I’d have to get something with a little more give. Roomier pants. Elasticated waists. The future looked dark and strange indeed…

  Jack easily hoisted up our bags and lined them up at the front door. We had only stayed here a few nights, but I guess my so-called nesting instinct was getting out of hand and I almost felt a little tearful to leave it behind. I was Evelyn Van Horn, expert bad bitch, pro marksman and MMA champ. I was fearless, conniving and tough as nails, and there was nothing that I couldn’t handle. Except maybe pregnancy. And the fact that last night I had told a man that I loved him for the first time in my life. And except for the fact that that scared me half to death, and I was just waiting now to see if my whole world would come clattering down now that I had opened up to him.

  In those nature documentaries, the pregnant females are always vulnerable. They’re slower moving, too heavy, too fragile. Easy prey. I had just assumed I would never have to endure the humiliation of being a pregnant woman, and a pregnant woman in love, no less. But here I was, and my big secret was that I was kind of getting into it. Maybe there were different ways to be strong. What if all the shit I rolled my eyes at in the past had some merit after all? Maybe mothers were gritty and tough, and maybe sincerely trusting a man wasn’t the end of the world, or a personality flaw.

  “Hola hola! Look’s like your Uber’s arrived!”

  I turned to see Melissa walk in with a big, goofy grin and outstretched hands. I ran over to her, threw my arms around her and gave her a big, over the top hug. Hell, I’d only met the woman a few times in my life, but if I was going to try on this sappy new personality of mine, I might as well go all the way, right? She accepted my hug in earnest and returned it, then gently lay her hand on my belly.

  “Remind me how long, mama?”

  “I’m due in three and a half months,” I said.

  Her eyebrows went up high.

  “Really? And so small! God, I hate you, I went out like, this big when I had my Mateo,” she said and mimed a giant belly out in front of her. She saw Jack and gave him a big hug, too. The room just suddenly seemed so much fuller with her in it. She was a short woman, but her loud voice, strong perfume and energy were just too much for that tiny motel room.

  “Ready to go?” I said, turning to Jack. He smiled at me. This was it. In 24 hours, we’d be in a new country, in a new life, hundreds of miles away from Little Joey’s crumbling empire, from the endless motels, from the drug deals that I always hated so much…

  We piled into Melissa’s car. It was a little pitiful, how small and shoddy our luggage looked, but we had traveled light on purpose. We had enough money, and a safe place to go, and that was what mattered. She started the engine and we pulled off in silence. It was crazy, but I wanted him again. If I wasn’t already pregnant, the morning we had just spent with one another would surely have done the trick. I glanced over at him in the passenger seat, and he quickly turned to look at me. He knew what I was thinking. And I knew what he was thinking. And fuck if it didn’t turn me on so much it hurt.

  We drove on in silence for a while, me in the back seat playing out various fantasies in my fevered pregnancy brain. Anything was possible now. We’d find new jobs. Why not have another baby? I wanted to just fuck him for a month solid. Or what about buying a farm? A Bed and Breakfast? I’d go back to MMA after the birth. I hadn’t even picked out a name yet. It would be a girl, obviously. I just knew it would. I wanted his cock. His big, thick, juicy cock. I loved the fact that even though it was as big as it was, it seemed to fit so neatly inside me, like it was designed for nothing but that. I loved how gentle he always was …except when he wasn’t.

  “Melissa, have you heard any news lately? Any word on the street?” Jack said.

  Melissa gave a long, low whistle under her breath and stared straight ahead at the road, a faraway look on her face.

  “To be honest, I try not to think about any of that,” she said. “but it’s not good, from what I hear, no.”

  “You left,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question. There was just something in her demeanor that made it obvious that she was no longer bound to the organization in any way.

  “Man, everybody left,” she said and laughed cynically. Most of the capos have fucked off, you know, they were loyal to Angelo but I think they were just waiting for an excuse, they had their own things lined up, maybe something will come from a new line up north they tried to get Joey to go for. But it’s all messed up now. I don’t think anybody knows what will happen next.”

  We were getting closer to the airport now. The clinking of Melissa’s bangles on her wrist sounded like music to me. The story she was telling seemed like a fairy tale, something that happened to other people, imaginary people, in a world far away that didn’t really exist anymore.

  “We saw some stuff on the news. The Feds went in for Roger Blunt and his crew. Do you know anything about that?” Jack asked.

  “Man, the Feds weren’t just after him,” she said. “We don’t know who snitched. Honestly, it’s a question of who didn’t snitch, you know? Joey had nothing to offer anyone. He tore down everything his father built and still expected everyone to kiss his ass. Thing is, he walked right into the traps the Feds laid for him. That’s how it looks to me, anyway. His own people ratted him out, but they didn’t exactly have to paint a bullseye on his head. Sad. But whatever, he got what he deserved.”

  There was a distinct bitterness in her voice. I knew that Melissa had lost her sister recently, but I had never pressed for the details. Knowing what I did of Little Joey, I could only guess.

  “What about… about Joey’s mother?” I asked from the back seat, saying what everyone else was thinking. The atmosphere in the car changed immediately. That wasn’t on the news. IN fact, it was the secret that I had carried around for years, a hidden weapon I hoped I’d never have to use. Melissa took her time with a long, ragged sigh.

  “You know what? I think everybody kind of knew already. Joey looks nothing like his father. We all suspected it. Even I suspected it. But Angelo never said a word so we all just went with it…”

  Jack stared out the window, his chin in his hands.

  “It’s kind of a tragedy, isn’t it? All that time he wasn’t even his son.”

  Melissa snorted. “Yeah, the tragedy is that he’s dead now and everyone can’t kill him again now that we all know he’s just some bastard kid.”

  The bitterness was back. I decided to drop the topic, but I could feel, as we all drove on in silence, that everyone’s thoughts were busy, each in a slightly different direction.

  It had been so long ago, but I still remember that night. One of those humid summer evenings that you just want to spend outside, under the stars. I was going to “babysit” Little Joey. Angelo was out of town and his mother was at a conference that evening …or so she said. After dinner he went upstairs to watch TV, and I stayed in the kitchen and tidied up. That’s when I saw it. Joey’s mom picking her way up the sidewalk in her high heels. With a man. A man that had the same oily, vicious look that Joey had. The same slick black hair, the same narrow eyes.

  He kissed her in the street. Squeezed her ass. I watched it all from the window of their house, my hands wrist deep in sudsy water and my heart beating. They whispered some parting words and I quickly dried off my hands. A few moments later when she came into the house, I made a show of walking in from the other room, acting surprised to see her, smiling. Did Angelo know? Did Joey? She gave me a strange look that evening and sent me home early. I never brea
thed a word of it to anyone else. The wife of the most violent and notorious drug lord in this hemisphere was cheating on him. And anybody with eyes could have seen whose child Joey really was.

  The next few summers, when I pushed to do small jobs for Angelo here and there, I knew it was his wife that was quietly encouraging him in the background. I had never threatened her. But the fact that she had instantly and silently begun to give me special treatment was enough to cement in my mind just how important the thing I had seen was. How dangerous. Everyone liked to think that I had climbed the ranks because I knew who to sleep with. The truth was I had her on my side, giving me whatever I needed to keep my mouth shut.

  It was sad, really, that I never got to play the most exciting card this whole game had dealt me. But Melissa was right. In the end, Joey had gotten what he deserved.

  Chapter 20 - Jack

  While I could never put it on a resume, having been a hitman is probably the best training you can have for a lot of other jobs. People think you have to be some kind of idiot, or some morally compromised thug to do the work that I did. But the truth is that you just need to remain calm. That’s it. If I was ever successful at what I did, it was because I knew how to relax when everyone else was getting riled up. When it comes down to it, knowing how to look at adversity square in the face and act calmly and rationally is all you need to be a good hitman – or a good anything, really.

  That goes for chicken farming, too. If any of my old partners had seen me in the early days, I would have been a laughing stock for sure. But chickens are not that different from people. They get scared, they get territorial. You can predict how they’ll behave. You can always spot a good one, can always tell when one is going to be a disruption to the rest of the flock. I was probably the world’s only hitmen who retired to become a chicken farmer in Spain. But, fuck it. Sometimes life doesn’t pan out the way you quite expect it will.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow, trudged up the stone path and hauled a few buckets of feed I’d prepared the night before. I was getting the real hang of staggering my yearlings and layers, so that each cycle I was getting a pretty reliable egg yield. One bucket under each arm, I walked over to the main camp, stopping for a second to turn my face up and into the warm yellow sun. It had taken us a long time to turn this place into what it was now, but it was beautiful, if I did say so myself.