His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  “Hi, I need a visitor’s pass for Mr. Haines again.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I did, earlier today.”

  “You need an appointment.”

  “I need to clarify something with Mr. Haines.”

  “If you’re not on the list, I can’t send you up.”

  The bastard won’t budge.

  “Fine, I’ll call him.”

  Goddamn it. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’m leaving a trail of breadcrumbs so obvious that I’ll be the first suspect. This is fucking insanity.

  I walk away from the marble counter and slide my phone out of my pocket, dialing his number. He picks up on the first ring.

  Desperate. Good.

  “This is Haines.”

  “It’s me again.”

  “You piece of shit. You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me—”

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m willing to negotiate.”

  Right. It’ll look too suspicious if I’m eager to chat with him.

  “Bullshit.”

  “It doesn’t sit well with me to leave one of my clients unsatisfied. My record is impeccable. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Static burns in my ear.

  “Fine. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “I’m downstairs right now.”

  Another pause.

  “I’ll let Troy know to let you in.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I hang up the phone and clutch it in my hand, the hard pieces of plastic digging into my skin. Troy’s deep voice croaks as he answers the phone and narrowed eyes stare at me from the desk. He slides a visitor’s pass over the table and I grab it, flashing him a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  They scan me through and I check in my weapons. I’ll have to use my hands for the kill. It’s not a huge problem, but the last thing I want is a violent, loud struggle where armed guards can burst in at a moment’s notice.

  The elevator opens.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  I step inside and scan my card. The floor jolts as the elevator rises. My hands feel numb as I watch the red numbers count the floors.

  4

  Silas

  The doors open and I step into the hallway. No guards. Strange. The red lights on the cameras are still blinking, and I walk underneath them, knowing that security will have a perfect view of my face.

  Damn it.

  I knock on Ryan’s door, energy coiling inside me like a taut spring. It swings open for me, exposing the rich decor of his suite.

  Everything about this screams wrong. Not good.

  There are no guards. The door is unlocked. I almost take a step forward until I hear a quavering breath. It’s so faint that I barely catch it. Right around the corner as you step inside.

  My eyes scan the carpet and I see a long shadow, slightly trembling.

  He’s lying in wait, which means he called me up here just to kill me.

  Fucking prick.

  Problem is, he’ll use that gun the moment he sees me. Discharging a firearm in this place will set off all kinds of alarms.

  I flatten myself against the wall, wishing I had a long knife to stab through the plaster, right through his head. He’s just on the other side, and I can hear him trying to be quiet. A smile staggers across my face as I imagine him hunkering behind the wall, clutching a gun to his chest.

  Who the fuck does he think he’s dealing with?

  He’s right-handed. All I have to do is grab the gun.

  I reach into my pocket and scoop the loose change I have, careful not to make it jangle. Taking a deep breath, I lob the handful of coins at the white vase sitting on a polished table in the middle of the foyer. It clangs loudly and I hear a sharp intake of breath. The arm with the gun swings into view.

  I grab his hand, forcing my fingers behind the trigger as I ram the gun into his shocked face. The bridge of his nose cracks. The sound splits the air as I rip the gun from his fat fingers.

  “You cocksucker!”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  I whip the pistol across his face as a fountain of blood streams from his nose. He yells, and I quickly smother his voice with my hand, slipping in his blood. I twist his body around and yank him into my chest as he moans into my hand and elbows my side. Jackass.

  There’s a slick, metallic sound and then I see the reflective surface of a blade before he slashes at my arm. I dodge it and move my hand to his windpipe. My fingers sink into his fat flesh like butter and I squeeze. I squeeze so fucking hard that I feel the bony cartilage, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth. I could kill him just like this, but it’s too good for this asshole. The knife drops to the floor, point first into the rug. I step back and slam my boot into his back, he pitches forward, and I duck down to grab the knife. It’s at least six inches long. Decorative. Flashy. Ryan clutches his neck, where my fingerprints show up white. He inhales, a horrible rattling sound.

  My heart beats quickly, hammering hard behind my ribs. I always get like this right before a kill. It’s the thrill of ending someone’s life. I’m always in a hurry to finish it. Drawing the deaths out does nothing for me. I don’t do torture. I’ve been paid to do it before, and the money wasn’t nearly worth the trouble of cleaning up the mess.

  Everyone gets that hopeless look in their eyes when they know they’re about to go. I grab a fistful of Ryan’s hair and I haul him to his knees. The knife touches his throat, and I can feel his panicked breaths vibrating through the blade.

  “Please—”

  “I just want you to know that as soon as I’ve stepped over your corpse, I’m going to have my way with your daughter’s tight little pussy.”

  “God—”

  I slide the knife across his neck, slicing his throat ear to ear. After I’ve severed his carotid artery, it’ll take seconds for him to go. Blood gushes from his neck, hot and dark. He makes a choking sound and I open up the gash even more, gripping his forehead so that it stays open, vomiting blood all over his black suit. Then he goes limp and I let him drop. He’s dead before he hits the ground.

  And I’m a fucking mess.

  I think of the girl next door and my promise to her daddy, who now lies dead on the floor. I should just get the fuck out of here, but what’s the point? They’ll know exactly who killed him. Viper’s promise to make me a member doesn’t mean jack shit. I might as well give that girl the fucking she deserves before—

  Whatever.

  I grab Ryan Haines’s keycard and shove it in my slacks. Then I wash my hands and face in the sink and tear off my jacket, leaving the bloodstained fabric there. It’s reckless, but I don’t see a way out of this. They know I’m here, for fuck’s sake.

  My veins burn with adrenaline as I walk outside to the still-deserted corridor. Lust hardens in my abdomen as I imagine her skin gliding through my hands.

  I just killed her father.

  I dig the keycard out of my slacks and hold it to her door, hesitating slightly.

  You’re going to die anyway. Do you want to die a gentleman?

  Fuck no.

  I swipe the card, and the light turns green.

  5

  Fawn

  They say cold showers work the best for stripping all desire from your body, but why would anyone want to do that?

  I like it hot.

  The water scalds my face and runs in rivulets down my neck, between my breasts. I imagine they’re his fingers, running down my skin. My chest already burns bright red, but it heats up when I replay that kiss over and over. I masturbated so many times that my fingers are numb, but I can’t stop feeling that thrill when I imagine him touching me. Please, never stop.

  I soap myself, eyes closed as I run my palms over my tits. Steam obscures the glass, but I imagine him standing there in a dark blur, right in front of the sink. A tingle runs through my pussy and I cup myself, already slick with desire. It’s not going to fucking do it. No matter how many times I fuck mys
elf, it’ll never replace the warmth of a real man’s body, thrusting over mine. God, his clothes, the way he smells, his voice—I can’t live without this anymore.

  The spray cuts off as I turn the nozzles, wiping the water from my face. The steam is oppressive and I can’t see a damn thing. I reach up, gathering my hair in a ball, and I wring it out. My palm hits the cool metal of the door handle and I push it open, shivering as the steam pours out of the shower and into the bathroom—

  Where there’s a man sitting on my chair.

  My eyes follow a pair of Italian loafers to his long legs, which are covered with dark slacks. I get a brief image of wide shoulders, and then I duck back into the shower as if the tiles burned my feet. My scream rebounds sharply and my back hits the cold wall, my heart beating wildly.

  “Get the fuck out, pervert!”

  His blue and black figure remains seated, his legs crossed. I can’t make out his face—it’s just a beige blur. Now that I’m looking out the fogged glass, I don’t understand how I didn’t spot him before. Jesus Christ. He was sitting right there. How long was he watching me?

  “I’m just enjoying the view.”

  A very familiar voice echoes in the bathroom, the low timbres sending a hot line of pleasure down my spine. It’s him. I crack open the door, wrapping an arm around my breasts.

  It’s like a dream.

  A man with skin the color of milk sits there with his legs crossed, the sleeves of his robin-egg blue shirt rolled back. His reddish-black wave of hair is slightly damp as though he ran wet fingers through it. A gorgeous dimple curves into his cheek as he spots me, his mouth wide and inviting. My heart flutters when he presses his lips together and swallows slowly as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

  “Damn.”

  His rich voice rolls out, stroking my body. Silas is here. In my bathroom. Like some sort of porn-vision.

  A slow burn rises to my cheeks as his gaze locks in on my breasts pushed up against my arm. He stands up, and then I notice the erection livid against his slacks. He drinks me in with a hungry-looking grin, and I take a step back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Finishing what you started.”

  Oh my God.

  Cool air blows over the foggy glass, eating away the steam as Silas watches. I can feel his eyes trailing over my tits, caressing my naked skin. He takes a step closer, still unabashedly looking up and down my legs, smiling at my hands, which are spilling with my breasts.

  “You look even sexier when you try to cover yourself up.”

  “Hey!”

  He shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic for staring at my tits. “Weren’t you trying to get me to look at them the whole time I was here?”

  All those weeks I played with him, he never showed the slightest inclination that he was attracted to me until that other night. Now he’s here. Actually here. He broke into my room, for fuck’s sake, and I’m naked.

  I reach down and pinch my leg hard. Shit, that hurts.

  “You broke into my room.”

  Well said, genius.

  “Guilty.”

  Then he puts his hand on the glass door, and he yanks it open so that all the steam disperses, but I don’t feel chilled.

  “At least give me something to wear!”

  Smiling, he bends down and picks up the slippers I left in front of the door. They dangle on his long fingers.

  “Here you go.”

  He lets them drop to the floor, and I jump at the sound of the rubber smacking the tiles. I can barely breathe with him standing so close, and then a deep growl reverberates in his throat. It’s a primal sound that makes goose bumps rise on my skin, and then he actually steps into the shower, getting his shoes all wet.

  “What—?”

  His hands fly in my hair, digging into my scalp as his body invades mine. His thumbs run under my jaw, lifting my head. Before I can gasp, his mouth descends over mine, crushing and brutal. Holy fuck, it’s hot, but for someone whose sexual experience has been practically nil, it’s also overwhelming.

  He pulls slightly back, his breaths making my lips burn.

  “Are you crazy? My dad’s gonna—”

  “I don’t care, Fawn.”

  I stare at him. How could he not care? The guards will report him to Dad. I don’t know how the hell he got past them, but any second, Dad’ll burst in here. He’ll fucking kill him. Probably right in front of me.

  “What happened to Ms. Haines?”

  “You’re not her anymore. You’re the girl I’m going to fuck.”

  A small thrill runs through me when he says, “Fuck.” Before this, it was all “Miss” and “Please” and “I’m having a pleasant evening, thank you.” He even sounds different. His voice is much lower than usual, with an edge I’ve never heard before.

  “My dad will find out. He always does.”

  “And I told you that I don’t care.”

  Either he’s bat-shit insane or he’s really that into me.

  It’s a disaster waiting to happen. We’re two trains on the same track, heading toward each other at full speed. It’s inevitable disaster, but I don’t fight him when he takes me in his hands and kisses my neck. I stand there frozen, as though paralyzed. Every small movement is amplified. I swear that I can feel the grooves in his fingertips when he caresses me. Then I feel the sharp sting of his tongue on my nipple. Holy fuck. It hurts like blood rushing into a numb limb.

  I gasp suddenly, the high sound surprising me. My thighs clench as he tongues my tits, sucking them into his mouth. I’m sure—I’m pretty damn sure no one’s ever done this to me. I weave my fingers through his dark curls and arch my body into his.

  “Fuck.”

  My nipple pops out of his lips, wet and shining, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the image of Silas’s mouth on my breast. He grabs a fistful of my tits and sinks his teeth into me. Is he biting me? I let out a yelp of pain and Silas laughs, squeezing my nipple between his knuckles. The pain dulls as my pussy pounds with another sharp ache. Then he attacks the other one, latching on to my nipple and sucking hard. I run my hands over his head and neck, eager to touch all of him. I’m messing up his hair, but I don’t care. I haven’t touched a guy like this in years. Years.

  He flicks his tongue across my raw nipple, and then he straightens, following the pressure of my hands. I grasp his button-up shirt and I pull hard so that a few of the top buttons snap open, revealing a flat, hard chest and dark hair. Jesus Christ, I want to rip the clothes right off him and ride that iron cock. It’s standing against his slacks—a perfect outline.

  He grabs my wrists, pulling me away from his shirt.

  “Not so fast, hon.”

  I look into a pair of mischievous eyes darkened with lust.

  “You said you were going to fuck me.”

  “In good time.”

  In good time?!

  “You teased me for two weeks.”

  My cheeks burn under his accusing stare. “That was just to get your attention.”

  “You got my attention by flashing your tits in my face.”

  “So?”

  “So, you crossed the line. You played with me when you thought your father wasn’t looking. Well, I don’t like being teased, or being treated like a toy. Especially by a woman I can’t fuck.”

  “I wanted you!” I shout. “Do you know how long it’s been for me?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Five years!”

  His eyebrows lift in a slight show of surprise, but he recovers quickly. Damn it, I just want to kiss that freckle dangling on his bottom lip. Still holding my wrists, he tugs me forward until I’m out of the shower.

  “That is a long time.”

  “I told you.”

  “You still need to be taught a lesson.”

  “And then you’ll fuck me?”

  The hope in my voice makes me sound so goddamn pathetic.

  He grabs my chin, hovering c
lose enough that I can almost taste his lips. “If you’re a good girl.”

  Silas tries to hide his smile as he pulls away and bends down. One arm cuts the back of my knees, making me fall backward as his other arm wraps around my back.

  “Shit!”

  He hoists me into the air. Our faces are inches from each other, and I can study every mark on his face. His eyes scorch me as he glances down my naked body cradled in his arms. I’m still wet, and his shirt dampens as he holds me, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit about the state of his clothes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a moment to appreciate your wet tits pressed against my chest.”

  A predatory smile tugs at his lips and his throat reverberates with a primal growl. Energy hits my chest as his eyes flick to mine again, suddenly narrowed. There’s darkness lurking in them—raw passion that can’t be told to slow down or stop. Now I’m in free fall, and there’s no way I can undo what I’ve done. I taste the beast inside him when he kisses me roughly, consuming my mouth as he carries me out of the bathroom and into the apartment. Fear and excitement feel like the same thing. I want him, but I’m afraid of what I’ve awoken. Silas kicks open the door to my bedroom.

  A chilling mask descends over his face as he sets me down on the mattress. I jump when he uses his leg to shut the door. It closes with a resounding snap and I cross my arms over my chest, heart hammering.

  Oh God, this is really happening. He’s going to take out his cock and somehow fit it inside me. Jesus, look at it. His cock looks like it’s snaked halfway down his thigh, that’s how big it is. My pussy clenches as he grabs himself, slowly stroking.

  “You’re huge.”

  “Do you want me, Fawn?”

  What does he want me to do? Beg? I can do that. I don’t give a shit—as long as the night ends with my legs wrapped around his waist and that rammed inside me—I’ll do whatever he wants.

  “Of course I do.”

  I reach out to touch his length, and I’m startled by how hard he is. I tease him through the fabric, tracing the outline of him, feeling the mushroomed head of his cock. He twitches in my hands as I squeeze. I reach for his zipper, but he stills my movements, grin widening.