Exactly how are you going to escape this place?
I shove it out of my head for now. One crisis at a time.
There’s a crinkling sound of aluminum, and I sit up to take the condom out of his hands. He raises an eyebrow.
“Fuck me.”
His eyes darken with desire. “Are you sure?”
It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m already knocked up. Might as well go out with the best sex I’ve ever had.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He shakes his head, smiling at me. “I wanted to wait a little before trying for a kid.”
He actually wants kids?
My heart thumps loudly against my chest. “Who said we’re trying for a kid? I’m on birth control.” My face burns at the lie, terrified that he’ll be able to read through my panic and realize that I don’t give a shit about the condom because I’m already pregnant.
“Just fuck me.”
Suspicion glows in his eyes. “Whatever you think you’re planning, it’s not going to work.”
Then he moves down and licks my breast. His tongue hits my nipple like the flat of a blade on naked flesh. Cold. Hot. So fucking good. I look at his mouth working on my nipple, and lust slams into me like a semi.
His greedy mouth moves to the other breast, biting on the hardening nub as he flicks his tongue across. I dig my hands into his hair, pressing his face close to my body when I should be strangling him, and for a second I question why I’m going to leave someone who makes me feel so damn good.
His tongue runs between my breasts as he pushes them together and bites down on the swell, leaving a deep purple mark. A scorching path made by his mouth travels down my abdomen, underneath the crest of my ribs, my stomach, and finally, my mound. Rough hands seize my legs, his fingers burning like brands into my skin as he pushes them apart to reveal my hot, eager pussy. His lips touch the ones between my legs, and a shudder runs up my body.
“You always taste so damn good.”
A wordless cry escapes from my mouth as liquid heat spreads over my clit, moving in deliberate circles. His mouth sucks the air as he takes breaks from eating my pussy, his tongue fucking me deep. My legs tighten around his face as he digs with his mouth. My nipples feel like they’re on fire as lust spills over me like a pungent cloud. I can smell sex in the air: his cologne mingling with his sweat, and my arousal smearing across my thighs.
“Stop teasing me.”
The warmth from his mouth withdraws from my pussy as he turns his head and kisses my thigh. “I’m taking my time. Tonight is all about you.”
“And I want your cock. Now.”
Darkness threatens to take over the sweet smile on his face, but he quickly masters it. “You’ll get it. I promise.”
I expect him to use that thick cock that looks like it’s about to burst and plunge into me, but he just gives me a smile. He puckers his lips and blows over my pussy. The cold air stings my wet lips, and he soothes the burn with his mouth, fucking my cunt in earnest. His tongue rolls back, and his thumb presses against my nub, rubbing it in aggressive circles. He dips his thumb inside me, and smears my juices over my clit. I’m riding way too high, and then he pulls back his mouth and slides two fingers inside me, fucking me hard as his tongue rubs my clit. He works at me, pumping his fingers and twisting. My breath hitches as the air fills with the sound of my wetness, and his eyes are narrowed in concentration, as if his only purpose is to make me come.
“T—Thane. I’m about to—”
A savage twist of his fingers ignites a blaze that sears over my flesh. My walls contract, squeezing his fingers, and a weakened moan leaves my mouth. He keeps fucking me, driving his fingers inside as if he’s hell bent on making me come again. I’m still riding the crest of ecstasy, and the agony starts pulsing between my legs again. I want him again.
Thane’s inked body rises over mine, and I wrap my legs around him as he lowers his body over mine. I push the chestnut hair from his face as he catches my lips in a bruising kiss. At the same time, he sheathes his bare cock inside me. I break from his lips with a ragged moan as his cock pounds me. I taste myself as he tongues my lips, my body moving down the bed with every rough thrust. Thane grabs my arms and pulls me upright as I’m still catching my breath.
“Oy, did you fuck her yet?”
Mortified, I turn my head toward the muffled voice behind the door, and Thane utters a deep growl as he lifts me from the bed, cock still buried inside me.
“Thane, what are you—?”
I stumble as he sets me down, and then the richly decorated room swims as he turns me around to face the door.
“Put your hands on the door. I’m going to fuck you until it breaks down.”
He throws me forward, and I barely catch myself on the doors, which shake violently. I turn around as Thane positions himself behind me. I watch him snake an arm around my waist as his legs touch mine. Then he grabs my pussy, pinching my clit. The pebbled head of his cock touches my pussy. It slides down near his fingers, and then back up again. My elbows buckle even though he’s barely nudging me with his weight.
“They’ll hear us!”
“I want them to hear us. I want them to listen to you scream the way I know you scream when you come on my cock. The assholes outside this door are going to listen to every sound you make.”
And I don’t know what to think about that, because his finger keeps playing with my pussy and I want him. I want his cock, his balls slapping my pussy, his hands greedily yanking back on my hips, and I even want this crazy exhibitionism. Then he pushes. I feel the void refilled with his thick cock. My pussy swallows his length, the walls stretching around his girth. I feel him slickly gliding in, his deep sigh when he anchors in, and the tug when he pulls out. He fucks me. No, he fucking rams into me. My elbows slam into the door and I feel the door shake back in response as a few male voices scream encouragement.
Thane laughs, increasing the tempo of his thrusts so that the door bangs repeatedly. My arms shake with the pounding of his hips, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming from the ecstasy riding my pussy and the insistent hand grinding my clit.
“Come on, baby. Don’t do that with your lip. Let them hear how much you enjoy it.”
He thrusts hard, and a cry rips from my mouth when he jerks his hips, his fingers pinching my clit. Everything’s tighter with his hands clenched around my pussy. Then he leans over my back, grabbing my tits as the door bangs in rhythm with his thrusts.
Bang. Bang. BANG.
The men on the other side hit the door with their fists, pummeling it, and Thane responds by smacking his balls against my pussy as hard as he can. Moans tear from my throat unbidden as I lose myself in the insanity. It’s over the top, yes, but is it hot? Absolutely.
He pinches my nipples one by one as his hand works hard to bring me close to the edge. His breaths deepen and I feel the change in his rhythm. The strokes are swifter, more purposeful. My own wave is cresting, I feel it growing between my legs like a white ball of heat, and the ball keeps inching closer to my core. Everything burns, my lips, where I want him to kiss me, and my clit that keeps humming and my pussy burns where he keeps assaulting me. My arms collapse as he fucks me hard enough to throw me against the door, my breasts flat against the cool wood. Then with his cock still thick inside me, he comes. I feel the first jet of liquid when he bites my neck, crying out a startling sound, almost as if in pain, and then another quick jerk and the wave crashes over me at last. Pleasure flows from every pore in my body, until I’m laughing with the overwhelming sensation of my nerves firing in every direction. His hand moves from my pussy, which clenches hard around him.
Thane’s arm wraps around my waist as though I’m about to fall, and I guess I am. Every ounce of energy I had was spent withstanding his thrusts, and now it’s over. I just want to crawl into that big bed and sleep for a million years. He turns me around, slipping out of my pussy. Thane looks deliriously happy. He has that sleepy, deeply amused look on his fac
e that makes him look years younger. The heat hits my lips before the wetness of his mouth, and then he pushes me backward. I fall on the high mattress and he rolls next to me, balancing his head on his elbow.
I always like this part with him. There’s something to be said about male beauty, with the way he looks right now. Chest dotted with sweat, hair falling into his eyes, cheeks flushed, eyes only for me. He’s not one of those guys who fucks off the moment he gets off. His hands roll over my curves the way they have a thousand times before.
“I can’t believe we’re married.”
“Me either.”
He bends over me, kissing my frozen face. “You’ll understand why I did this when you get to know this place.”
It’s plain to me that I’ll never understand all this, nor would I want our baby growing up in this shit.
God, the baby. A stab of anxiety hits my heart as that ugly reminder hits me right in the chest. It’s not going anywhere, and neither is he. I can’t seem to work up the nerve for an abortion, so it seems like I’m having this baby.
And I can’t let it grow up in this place. This place is—awful.
So what now?
I tense as Thane’s arms curl around me, but he doesn’t say anything more, and seconds later he’s dozing against my chest.
Now you run.
It seems like it takes ages for me to extricate myself from Thane’s grip and slide off the bed without waking him up. He lays curled up on his side, still the picture of female desire with his hands outstretched toward a lover who isn’t there. I turn my back on him and walk on the carpeted floor toward the mahogany armoire. I open the latch, and it screeches slightly. Tentatively, I open the doors to reveal a set of robes. One for both of us. I grab the white robe and wrap it around my naked body. Then I head back toward the heavyset door.
This will all be useless if they’re still back there.
I unlock the deadbolt, wincing at the sound as I look at his sleeping body. Then it groans open. I peek inside, but see nothing but black walls and flickering candles. A green EXIT sign glows up ahead, but I don’t know if there will be guards and I can’t go out there dressed like this. I step outside, heading toward the chapel, which is empty. My dress is still there, pooled in the center of the room. Maybe with the dress and the ring on my finger, I’ll be able to convince the guard that I’m only stepping out for some kind of errand. I run back to the room and dress quickly, leaving the robe behind. Thane murmurs something in his sleep, and I look back at him, fighting the guilty feeling wrestling in my chest.
I’ll never get to know him, and he’ll never get to know the baby.
4
Christine
It’s a long way uphill, and there’s nothing in my apartment save for a piece of toast and a jar of mustard. My stomach gnaws with hunger pangs as I begin the climb back to my studio at the top. My thighs scream as I trudge up the steep climb, but I keep a brisk pace. It wasn’t smart to go shopping so close to sundown, even if all the bags swinging at my side are filled with baby supplies.
I turn around, pausing for a moment to admire the view of the Bay, the orange glow of the sun glittering over the water and illuminating the clouds of fog hanging around the tiny metropolis of San Francisco. The normally white Bay Bridge shines bright orange, cheerfully allowing passage into the Promised Land. That’s what it was back then, but know I see it for what it is: a bridge of broken promises and shattered American dreams.
There was no surviving in that city. Not with two stable jobs and a baby. It chewed me up and spat me out into this ghetto.
I feel that distinctly hollow sense of loss as my eyes rove over the dilapidated sprawl of San Leandro. It’s getting dark. I should really get home, so I keep walking, relishing the pain in my thighs. Every drop of sweat feels like a gift toward my son. It’s hard work, but he’s my life.
I open the garage door of my landlord’s house to climb the stairs to the small in-law unit he has. Technically, he’s not allowed to rent to me because it’s not a legal in-law, so he bumps off a few hundred off the price. It’s a tiny place, really. Only four hundred square feet with a kitchenette, but he allows me to use his kitchen. I open the door to my shoebox and see Jamie sitting in my computer chair, playing with Daniel in her lap.
Daniel notices me at once. “Mama!”
“Hey, baby.”
Daniel grins, his toddler face round with happiness. He makes every ache and pain worth it. I wrap my arms around my baby and lift as he babbles and plays with the strands of my hair.
“Everything go okay?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s such a good baby.”
I dig in the pockets of my jeans for the sixty dollars I owe her. “Any plans for tonight?”
Jamie shrugs her shoulders in a shy, teenagery sort of way. “Yeah. My friends and I might see the new Star Wars movie.”
She’s a good kid. Sixteen years old, and her idea of a great time on a Friday night is watching a movie with friends. My Friday nights were spent on the football field with a bottle of tequila at her age.
“Sounds fun.”
Jamie’s ponytail swings violently as she turns away from me to head toward the door.
“Be careful out there. It’s getting dark out.”
Her eyeliner seems to crease into her skin as she smiles at me. “Don’t worry, they’re coming to pick me up. See you.”
“Thanks again for looking after Daniel.”
“No problem!”
She steps outside, closing the door behind her, iPhone already in one hand. Her bubbly voice follows her all the way out, and I’m left in the silence only broken by Daniel’s babbling. I rub his back and hold him close to my chest, trying to fill the void of loneliness. Another weekend alone.
My eyes burn as I stare around the empty apartment. I put Daniel down in his bassinet. He looks up at me with jewel-blue eyes, and I touch the soft, dark down of his hair that is the same color as Thane’s. It was hell these past two years. Moving from place to place, knowing he was looking for me, and then hearing about the massacre at the syndicate. I still don’t know whether he escaped the violence. The media went apeshit over the attempted hit on a journalist, and then everything suddenly quieted down. There must have been a power struggle. It seemed more important than ever to keep my son away from the syndicate. Away from Thane. Keeping him in the dark was the right decision, as was getting away from that mental place.
I flip open the lid to my laptop and browse the Internet, waiting for my infinitely slow connection to load the local news. I don’t have cable, because fuck that. Fifty dollars for basic cable isn’t worth it. Google finally loads and I search for Black Dragon news, finding nothing but the usual propaganda. It was only until a few years ago that I discovered how much of a big deal he was in the organization—the son of one of the Council members. I google him from time to time to keep tabs, even though it causes a little wrench to my heart to see his handsome face light up my screen. I pull up one of the images I saved from the web and pull Daniel from his bassinet, balancing him on my lap.
“Look, that’s daddy! Daddy.”
Daniel reaches out with a chubby hand toward the giant picture of his father’s face. “Da!”
“Yes, Daddy!”
His little fingers smear toddler saliva over Thane’s broad smile. I pull him back against my chest and type in his name, searching for any news about him.
Gang shootout leaves one dead.
Thane Blackthorn, son of the deceased criminal mastermind Eric Blackthorn, was stabbed early Thursday morning on Market Street. Ambulances were called to the scene and he was pronounced dead on arrival.
Dead. He’s dead.
The air feels thin, hard to breathe. I clutch Daniel, feeling the resolute thud of his heart.
I don’t know why I care. It’s not like we were dating very long.
It’s not like you spent the last two years dreaming of that last night you fucked.
He’s the only man who ever
made me feel. I still stay up late, thinking of conversations we had, and in my darker moments, wondering what it had been like if I had just accepted it. The syndicate’s ruthlessness. Him. Everything. Deep down there was always this regret clawing at me whenever I looked at Daniel and saw Thane’s likeness in him. I should have told him. He forced me to be his wife, but he never forced me, if that makes sense.
I read the obituary, heart hammering when it mentions my name, “Thane is survived by his wife, Christine and his mother Jade…” The text bleeds together as glassy tears ruin my vision. I wipe them across my face, refusing to whimper in front of my son.
God, he was stabbed to death.
There’s a service tomorrow in Oakland. I could go. It might be my last chance to see his face before…and the horrible image of the casket closing over his frozen, handsome face steals the breath from my lungs.
It’d be such a stupid risk, like walking into a den of snakes barefoot, but I have to pay my respects. He’s my son’s father.
Jesus Christ, Thane, I think as I stare at the profile photo of him smiling. What the hell happened to you?
* * *
It’s raining in sheets, and I’m hanging out on the sidewalk, near the edge of the cemetery where he’s supposed to be buried. Black umbrellas float by in a procession as a group of mourners leave the cemetery through the front gate into cars pulled up at the curb.
Is that his family?
I watch as they pile into their cars and drive away, and only until the last person is gone do I approach the gate.
Daniel is happily asleep in the strap against my chest. I hold my clear plastic umbrella, which looks out of place in the cemetery, and walk through the kissing gate. It’s rusty hinges squeak slightly, galvanized by the rain. Puddles grow around the tombstones as water rolls down the small hill. I walk on the gravel path, looking for the tombstone. I head straight for the stone where I saw the rest of them huddled. My heart hammers against Daniel’s still body, and then I finally reach the impressive headstone where his name is etched:
His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) Page 6