His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  He is. It’s unmistakable when he pulls back slightly and kisses my clit, rolling his tongue up and down. He’s done it before, of course, but I wasn’t blindfolded then. It’s a completely new experience. I can’t see a damn thing. All I can do is feel his fingers digging into my thighs slightly, his amazingly hot mouth, the way he moves his tongue in circles around my nub. He’s teasing the fuck out of me when I just want him to dive in.

  “Fuck you, Silas. Get off me!”

  I yank my wrist, hearing the handcuff jangle against the wood.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill.”

  A small chuckle reverberates from his deep chest before the heat of his tongue caresses me again. Holy shit—the sound of him licking my pussy. I might come to the wet noises he’s making. A thickness slips into me as his mouth closes, and I feel him running his tongue from my clit deep inside.

  My back arches as though an electric current runs through my spine, forcing my body up. He seizes my thighs and keeps them spread-eagle, even though I want to tighten them around his face.

  Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

  Am I still pretending to not want it?

  “Please!”

  But I don’t know what I’m begging him for. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to stop. I want him to take his cock out.

  The t-shirt blocking my view shifts and I finally see him perched between my legs, his tongue running over his lips and sucking in greedily. Silas seems just as affected as I am. He sits upright, the bulge in his slacks almost comical because it’s so fucking huge. Good God, the look on his face is almost frightening. Dark eyes blaze as he violently undoes his belt, ripping it from his slacks. It scatters loudly on the wooden floor as he tosses it aside.

  “You’re going to open your legs like a good girl and take my cock without a fight.”

  This is my cue to do the exact opposite.

  I lash out with my foot, catching him hard in the chest. A pang of guilt hits me when he winces, but he quickly recovers with a savage grin, gripping my ankles so tightly that it hurts.

  “You’re going to pay for that.”

  With one rough tug he pulls down his slacks, flattening his cock against his legs until it springs free. He’s so hard that his skin is almost translucent. There’s hardly any give when he wraps his hand around himself and pulls. A smirk tugs at his pouty lips as he grips his cock, almost as if he’s proud. Fuck, he should be. I’ve seen dicks that size before—but only in porn videos.

  Then his slacks slide down his muscular thighs, and he kicks them away. The moment his knee bends the mattress and I feel him sliding toward me, a jolt of fear hits my chest and I yank my ankle out of his grip. His predatory grin makes my heart hammer against my chest, and my wrist is still attached to the headboard. He wouldn’t hurt me.

  Would he?

  That tiny, niggling doubt is enough to make my breath catch in my throat when he grabs my legs and yanks my body toward him. I know we’re pretending, but the darkness inside him is real. And right now its sights are set on me. Suddenly his hand smothers my frantic breaths and his hips dive into me, forcing my legs apart. A hard, swift pressure plunges inside me, and I scream into his hand. His back rises like a wave and then his muscles flex, driving every inch of him as deep inside me as he can. My free hand shoves against his chest, and he bears down on me and bites my neck in response, sinking his cock so deep that my breath feels knocked out of my chest.

  Silas’s lips drag over my sensitive skin as animalistic grunts blast from his throat. He wraps his body around me, locking me into a position that makes him free to fuck me as hard as he wants. I love listening to his hand swallow my cries and the desperate way he claims me. It hurts to fight him, but I do it anyway because my pussy contracts when he takes my hand and slams it into the mattress. I’m powerless for the first time, and it’s okay to enjoy him thrusting inside me even though he fucked my life.

  “Give your body to me.”

  The fury and passion builds into a crescendo as he fucks me. It’s as though his life depends on burying every inch of him inside me. It’s as though he’ll die if he doesn’t come inside me.

  Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.

  He slips his hand from my mouth, and I hear my voice burst into the air for a brief moment until he crushes his lips against mine with a cry of his own. A deep, guttural sound reverberates from his chest, and his hips slam against my wet pussy, flooding me with his hot cum. Holy shit—this is an entirely new thing for me. It’s warm and very wet, and I feel his thighs contracting as he buries himself to the hilt. He pulls back, smiling, his black hair damp with sweat, and then I feel his hand on my pussy. He pinches my clit as his cock swells inside me, and then I’m unraveling in his arms. I contract hard, the convulsions running up my body as his hot mouth descends upon mine.

  His arms wrap around me again, but this time to hold me close. It’s like being doused in a hot bath. One moment he’s fucking me as though he hates me, and in another he’s nuzzling into my neck. My eyelids flutter when Silas kisses my cheek.

  “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

  I shake my head, still too dazed to speak.

  His chest pulses against my aching body as I try to wrap my head around what the fuck just happened. Then his lips bump my cheek in a brief kiss as he rolls off me and stands up in front of the wide window. I admire the view, taking my time to look at his perfectly shaped ass and broad back, which is dotted with a handful of freckles.

  “Are you Irish?”

  Silas turns halfway, running a hand through his black hair streaking with gray. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I never had a mom or dad to tell me where I came from.”

  I did. And then you killed him.

  I don’t say it out loud even as heat rushes to my face. As he walks, I notice the scars slicing up and down his arms: proof of a hard childhood, or occupational hazards?

  I move to follow him into the bathroom, but my wrist is still attached to the handcuff.

  “Hey! Uncuff me!”

  He gives me a brief glance and smiles as though I’ve asked him how his day was. Then he walks out of the bedroom, ignoring me completely.

  The light flickers on in the bathroom and I hear him pad barefooted on the tiles. Then the sound of the shower blasting on. Maybe he’s waiting for it to heat up?

  I lie there for minutes, yanking on the goddamn wooden rod until my wrists scream with pain. The unmistakable sound of a glass door opening and shutting reaches me, and then a red-hot fury overcomes my body.

  That motherfucker.

  “Silas. Silas! Let me the fuck out!”

  I scream his name, but I might as well be shouting into a hurricane for all the good it’ll do. The sound of water trickling down his shoulders incenses me. Then the shower shuts off and he comes back with a towel wrapped around his waist, his curly hair combed to the side. He digs through his dresser for a pair of underwear, and then he grabs a fresh suit from his closet.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  What?

  “You said you needed to sleep!”

  “I have to find out what’s going on out there,” he says as he removes the towel and pulls on a pair of slacks.

  My chest constricts suddenly as all the sickening details of yesterday come back into full force.

  He buttons up his shirt and shoves the tail in his pants, ripping the jacket off the coat hanger.

  “You can’t just leave me like this!”

  Silas pauses, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t trust you to stay put.”

  “No—I’ve got to get out! There could be hundreds of injured people—”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he says in a harsh voice. “You’re staying here.”

  Suddenly the air blazes. I feel as though I’m stuck in a furnace, because I hate him so much.

  “You can’t just lock me up whenever you step outside!”
>
  “I don’t trust you not to do something stupid, so that’s exactly what I’ll do from now on. There are a bunch of guys out there willing to rape and murder you. Is that what you want?”

  “I’ll be careful!”

  “You’ll be dead!”

  His scream of fury makes my heart jump into my throat. He takes several strides toward me, and I instinctively back into the headboard, away from him. I don’t understand what I’ve done, but I’ve never heard a sound like that from him. It’s as though I struck an exposed nerve. The last syllable of his voice trembles in the air as he glares at me.

  “What the fuck is your problem?”

  His gaze drops and he winces as though with pain. There’s bitterness all over his face. I’m alarmed by the change, but I don’t relieve the attack.

  “Why do you even give a shit about what happens to me?”

  “Stay here, Fawn.”

  Then he disappears behind the door before I can shout another word, and he’s gone.

  * * *

  Fuck him.

  I’m sick to death of being told what to do. All my life I’ve had a father who thought he knew best when it came to every aspect of my existence. I was told to sit down, shut up, and be good.

  Those days are over.

  My old man’s gone, and I’m sure as shit not going to let another one tell me what to do.

  The wood groans as I wrap my hand around the bar and pull hard. It’s cheaply made, and it bends in my hand. I yank hard, and the rod pops out of the socket, nearly bashing into my face.

  Goddamn it. Finally.

  The wooden rod slides out of my handcuffs and I spring out of the bed. Now where the hell did he hide the key? I yank open the drawers on the nightstand and rifle through their contents. Something rattles inside and I scrape the corners of the drawer, finding a small key. It fits in the handcuff’s lock and the metal falls from my wrist. Then I toss the damn thing aside and head straight for the bathroom. Son of a bitch thought he could keep me locked up.

  I shower quickly, anxiety ramping in my chest as I think about what lies behind that door. There’s no rapid rat-a-tat of gunfire, no sound at all that would indicate that anything is amiss, but what keeps flashing through my mind is the bloodstained marble floors of the throne room, and Viper, sliding his gun casually from his jacket and firing it into Mrs. Lee’s chest.

  I shiver in the blast of hot water. When I was a kid, I used to be proud of this place. We were the most powerful organization on the West Coast. I saw police commissioners shake my father’s hand. I wanted to help the syndicate grow—I wanted a part that was more than marrying some man and helping him climb the social ladders of this place. There were plenty of areas where the syndicate was still sorely lacking. Its treatment of women, for example. What started out as a street gang grew into a fraternity that only accepted women behind its walls in the last fifty years, but most of them leave the syndicate when they turn eighteen anyway. My mom only stayed long enough to have me, and then she left. All we’ve ever been in this place were Madonnas or whores. I wanted to change it. Why the hell should I have to leave to be in control of my own damn life?

  Water trickles down my skin as I close the shower and reach for the towel. Then I rake through the pile of clothes on the kitchen table and find a pair of shorts and a black tank top. It’ll do until I reach the infirmary. There, I’ll be able to find scrubs that fit me, and hopefully help out the staff.

  Despite my inner voice urging me to leave the suite, a prick of fear stabs at my chest.

  I’ve no idea what’s behind this door.

  8

  Silas

  I ran. I ran until my feet were numb and the wind tore at my eyes, drying my tears. I ran until I couldn’t taste the salty air anymore. My feet carried me all the way across the Bay Bridge to Oakland, and then I bought bus tickets until I was out of California. I was thirteen when I got arrested the first time, and then after a few months in juvie they tossed me into the system where I was passed around.

  Pepper found Achilles in an alley, rifling through garbage in Chinatown. He was such a pathetic sight, hobbling on that disfigured leg. She took pity on him and brought him into our fold. I took one look at him and urged Pepper to kill him. I didn’t see the charming, sweet boy that the others did. I saw rage. I saw a pride that could burn down cities. There was no doubt in my mind that he would kill her for exactly the thing that had saved his life: pity.

  The smell hits me as I shove open the door to the second floor. It reeks of death after only half a day. The metallic tang hits the air, recycles through the air-conditioning. I nearly walk into a corpse, which already feels like solid rock under my shoe. Bodies are scattered throughout the second floor, and everywhere I see syndicate men with Viper’s insignia pinned to their chests. The red dragon. I try to gauge the atmosphere.

  A man dragging a dead guy toward the elevator stops for a moment to look at me with wide eyes, and I see similar expressions of shock and disbelief until I approach the throne room. The doors are wide open, probably to air out the room. Viper’s guards give me a cursory look before nodding at me. Of course. I’m the guy who helped spring Viper’s plan into action.

  They think I’m one of them, and I’ll play along until I get my chance to finish the bastard for good.

  I step inside and immediately wrinkle my nose. And I thought the hallway was bad. To my immediate left stands a pile of corpses several feet high, the smell overpowering. Brown, sticky blood clings to the floor. My eyes follow the trail of blood to the massive table, where that blond fuck sits alone. Rage hits my chest again, banking up like a huge fire, and I think again about his threat toward Fawn. I have to keep my arms stiff to stop myself from launching at that bastard and ripping off his fucking head. Viper’s men stand like sentries around him, armed with Kalashnikovs.

  Keep cool. Don’t give anything away.

  I walk toward the table and several guards accost me, buffeting me hard in the chest as they search my body for weapons. I look over their shoulders at Viper, who gives me an apologetic smile and I grin back, thinking of what he’d look like with a bullet in his head.

  “Silas. You show up when all the fighting’s over.”

  They stop patting me down and I give the guards a leer as I approach Viper at the table. He’s in his element here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. Killing off the Dragons was probably the finest moment in his miserable life.

  “I had other things to attend to.”

  “Like Fawn?”

  I stiffen when her name passes through his cold lips. “What happened? Is it really over?”

  “Oh, I doubt that, but I don’t think anyone’s going to challenge my authority anytime soon.”

  Everyone’s probably still reeling over the fact that their decades-long democratic Council was just eviscerated by one man.

  “I’ve been waiting for this for years. We’re going after the street gangs in Oakland, and then we’ll hit the Norteños in San Jose.”

  I grit my teeth. The syndicate, to my knowledge, didn’t really engage in territorial disputes beyond San Francisco. The Norteños are important allies. What the hell is he thinking? He’s a raving fucking lunatic if he thinks he’ll live long enough to antagonize every major gang in the area.

  “I need your support, Silas. Hitmen like you are in scarce supply.”

  “You’ll need to get the members who weren’t here during the coup.”

  “Exactly.” He smiles at me, glad to see that I’ve caught on so quickly. “There’s also the matter of the girl.”

  I bristle inwardly. “What about her?”

  “We should do the ceremony today.”

  Today? Is he fucking joking?

  “There are corpses rotting in the hallway and you want me to get married?”

  He smiles through his steepled fingers. “Silas, you have a lot to learn about the Dragons.”

  Not sure I want to.

  This is fucking insane
. Not a bone in my body is built for marriage, especially with a girl I barely know.

  “If you won’t take her, I will.”

  My stomach clenches hard. I want to reach across the table and snap his neck for the flash of desire in his eyes. Either I bind Fawn’s life to mine forever, or he will. And then she’d be dead in a matter of weeks or months.

  * * *

  My heart pounds when I see Fawn dressed in blue scrubs, wheeling an empty gurney between two curtains. Her dark-blonde hair is tied up into a ponytail. The scrubs are shapeless, but I can still see her tight, round ass when she bends over the table, cleaning it. I’m sure she’s wearing nothing underneath because I didn’t see any underwear in that pile of clothes. I imagine her tits bouncing as she sprints down several flights of stairs. Amusement punctures the swath of anger poisoning my blood.

  She left the suite when I warned her not to. I told her to stay—it was for her own good.

  A part of me feels a grudging admiration for her. She knew the risks and wanted to volunteer at the infirmary anyway. That kind of compassion is lost to me. A painful twinge hits my heart when I think about the other girl who had a weakness for injured children and broken things. The girl who gave the hard-eyed boy with a limp a chance and paid for it.

  I’m not going to let the same thing happen to Fawn.

  Why the hell do you care so much about some girl you’ve known for less than a month?

  I can’t answer that. All I know is that I can’t let anything bad happen to her. There’s no way I could stomach that empty look in her eyes. This marriage will keep her safe, as long as I stay in Viper’s good graces, which I plan to do until I find an opening—a weakness.

  I walk toward the curtains. The infirmary is swarming with activity. A doctor sidesteps me, her eyes trained on a clipboard in her hands.