His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

“He did something terrible, and I left town.”

  I lean forward as though I’m seconds away from leaping. “Why? What happened?”

  “I had to get away before he killed me, too.”

  My chest constricts when he drops the glass on the table again and buries his face in his hands. Whatever it was clearly was bad enough to haunt him decades later. The glass feels like ice in my hands as I stare at him, pulse racing.

  “Silas—”

  “I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’ll be damned if he lays a finger on you.”

  “Tell me what the hell you’re still doing here. I’m your wife now. You have to tell me these things.”

  “Not everything.”

  “Yes, everything. You might not be taking this seriously, but the syndicate is.”

  And so do I.

  I watch him rise from the chair to take a few steps toward me. Then he kneels down, and my skin burns from the heat in his heavy-lidded eyes. A jolt runs through my stomach when he spreads his hands over my thighs.

  “Not now. I’d rather spend the night enjoying my wife.”

  The moment he says wife, a small thrill hits my chest and I ball the robe’s fabric right over my heart. He glides over my nearly translucent gown, pushing it higher up my thigh as the flames seem to lick my bare skin.

  “I want my little Fawn.”

  Hearing my name uttered in that gritty tone sets my skin on fire. How can he do this to me? Every time with him feels like the first—I’m scared and excited. I can’t help but feel vulnerable because he’s so much more experienced than I am, and he looks like he’s about to eat me alive. My body blazes with warmth when his heavy gaze settles on me. I’ve given up on anger with this man. He’s my husband now, and I’m so relieved that I feel my shoulders slump. I don’t need to hate him anymore for what he did to Dad.

  My pussy tingles as the robe drags from my shoulders. His mouth trails after the fabric, kissing hot brands on my cooling skin. The heat from the fire combines with his kisses, and then I feel the blaze licking between my legs. When he grabs my tits, I let a high sound escape from my lips.

  “Silas!”

  “No,” he says in a hushed voice. “Call me Michael.”

  Michael must be his real name. Then I consider how odd it must be that I didn’t even know my husband’s real name until he told me on my wedding night. Michael. I like it.

  The robe pools to my sides, and Silas—Michael—slides his hands underneath my ass, pulling me toward the edge of the chair.

  “When we were out there, I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted the whole world to see your body, or if I wanted to keep you to myself.”

  He grips my thighs as he pushes my legs apart, and then his breath mists my pussy. I contract hard as I make a strangled sort of sound. Then there’s a warm flick between my legs. I clench even harder when his tongue teases my clit.

  “You’re lucky that I’m a selfish man.”

  Oh God. His mouth. His tongue.

  Every sensation heightens the moment I feel his tongue land on my clit, and yet my brain can hardly process them all. My thoughts are scrambled. I can’t grasp a single thread. There’s nothing but the sounds of him kissing me, sucking me, and the incredible wet heat between my legs. I feel the tickle of his hair brushing my inner thigh, the vibrations of his mouth moving up my pussy, his hands gripping my legs. I weave my fingers in his fine hair and curl my fingers when his tongue slides in, curving upward.

  “Fuck, Silas—Michael.”

  It’s as though he’s a different man. His head lifts at the sound of his name, and then he yanks on my hips. I tumble into his lap, and his hand lifts to my hair as he crushes my mouth to his. I taste myself on his lips, but neither of us seems to care. His nails drag on my scalp, and then he grabs my face. Shit, I’ve never been kissed like this. I feel as though I’m about to faint because I can hardly get any air, but then his tongue slips inside my mouth. I fall backward, onto the carpet in front of the fireplace. Silas covers me, shielding me from the heat of the fire but not from his body.

  “I fucking need you.”

  Then I’m stunned, because the way he says it sounds like I’m more to him than just good sex.

  I want to touch his face and reassure him that I need him just as much, but I think he already knows it. I sit upright and touch his bulging cock, which feels like a rock under my fingers. Then I unzip his slacks, helping him push them down his muscular thighs that I love running my hands over. His briefs are soon to follow, and I watch with impatience as he springs free. My mouth waters at the sight of him. He tears off his shirt haphazardly while his expression hardens with lust. I watch it eagerly, like unwrapping a gift, and nearly sigh at the sight.

  The fire deepens the shadows of his muscles, making him look fucking ripped.

  “Come here. I want you in my mouth.”

  The shadows make his sweet smile look menacing. “It’s our wedding night.”

  “So?”

  “I wanted to be gentle, for once.”

  I’m taken aback for a moment. This is Silas we’re talking about.

  No, Silas was the man I met. The hitman for hire who whispered filth in my ear when Dad wasn’t around. He’s the kind of guy you fuck around with a couple times, but he’s not one you keep around. Definitely not marriage material, even by Black Dragons standards.

  But what about Michael?

  I feel like I barely know him.

  “You can gently fuck my mouth.”

  A grin that almost looks savage stretches across his face. I take his hips and tug, guiding him forward. He straddles me until his cock hangs over my lips, and I lift my head. The moment his cock spears my mouth, I realize that his intention to “be gentle” with me is probably going to be short-lived. His thickness stretches my lips apart as my tongue glides on the underside of his cock. As his bulbous head hits the back of my throat, he lets out a long, drawn-out, “Fuck.”

  My lips tighten around him as he glides in and out, his breath quickening. I love the way I’m able to affect him, love the way he jumps in my mouth when I flick my tongue over his head. Then he sinks in deep, testing my limits. I wrap my hands around his firm ass and I squeeze, urging him on. His hips lower, his cock bulging in my throat until I feel the cool skin of his balls, flush against my lips. He pulls back, and for a moment there’s nothing but the sound of my deep breaths, and then he pushes in again, filling my throat with cock. For several seconds he crushes my lips to his balls, and then he pulls out. His dick shines with my saliva as he sits back, his neck and face completely red. A rough hand suddenly tightens around my shoulder, and I’m pulled upright. Silas looks agitated and his face shakes with the effort of restraining himself. Gentle fingers run down my neck and circle down my flesh.

  “I’m going to make love to you. I’m going to give it to you nice and slow, because you deserve that on your wedding night.”

  When his fingers reach my tits, and the warmth of his palms envelops them, I don’t really care much about what his plans are.

  His arm slides beneath my knees, and the other goes around my back as he lifts me. I grasp his neck, feeling the strength of his body around me, inhaling the sandalwood musk of his hair. Then he sets me down on the mattress, his weight falling over me as he twists his hand in my hair, the other caressing my tits. His lips claim mine again, and I’m slightly distracted by the hardness digging into my hip, but Silas—Michael—seems to be intent on taking things slow. Man, fuck slow. Fucking him was always rough and fast. One minute I’m standing, talking to him, the other I’m naked with my legs wrapped around his waist, getting nailed on the wall.

  But I can’t pretend that his touch isn’t doing something to me. His hand floats to my face, and he brushes my cheek in a tender gesture I didn’t think he was capable of. I glide over his chest, in awe of the fact that this man is mine. Then he grips my waist, still stunning me with his kisses, and I’m convinced that he’s about to plunge his cock inside me.
I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his back, but he lifts himself, parting his lips from mine.

  God, my skin tingles when he looks at me like that.

  “Fuck me, Silas.”

  He thumbs my bottom lip. “I’m Michael when we’re alone together.”

  Michael. It’s going to take some time getting used to.

  “Michael, I want you to fuck me hard.”

  A growl rumbles from his throat. “You’re making this very difficult for me.”

  “I don’t want sweet or gentle.”

  “You might if you knew what it felt like.”

  He hovers above me, his hand still caressing my face as he lowers himself. His pillowy lips part slightly, and I run my fingers through his curls as he seals his mouth against mine. My heart pounds from his barely there lips, and he lightly grasps my neck, my heartbeat jumping into his fingers. Then I feel a slight pressure between my legs, and my pussy throbs with an ache that I didn’t really pay attention to until now.

  I gasp as his thickness slowly spreads me open. My husband props himself up on his elbows and looks down at me, his body trembling with the effort of keeping himself from rutting me deep. His heady gaze never looks away, and I scrape my fingers over his slightly freckled arms as he slowly inches inside me. His cock hits the back of my pussy, and I feel my muscles contract over him as a wave of pleasure hits me. He slumps down to his forearms, his nose centimeters from mine as he rocks his hips back and forth.

  Silas screws his face in concentration as I dig my nails into his back, the slow pace torturous. But he gradually fucks me faster, the room exploding with my moans as he anchors his huge cock inside me. He lays his palm flat on my chest, and then he moves across my collarbone and dips in between my tits. His hands round, taking one of my breasts to squeeze. My nipple sends a jolt of electricity to my pussy as he takes it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching me.

  Gradually he loses himself. His face twists with pain right before he slides his arms under my back, holding me close so that his damp chest glides over my body. His cock throbs as he pistons in and out, finally reaching that tempo my pussy aches for. I’m shoved deeper inside the mattress as his hips crush against mine.

  “Fawn, kiss me.”

  I turn my head and catch his lips just as he lets out a deep groan. Another deep thrust shakes my body as he comes apart, his thigh muscles spasming as his cock fills me with warm cum. Then he growls, biting my lip as he pulses inside me. I screw up my face, feeling it building up like the pressure behind a champagne cork. My pussy clenches hard and my muscles grip him, milking every drop as a wave of pleasure heats my body.

  Silas gives me a lingering kiss, the first one that sends a thrill straight to my heart. I long for another one, but he pulls back and a shaky smile staggers over his face. My heart does backflips. A pink flush gives color to his normally pale cheeks, burning the freckles dotting his skin. He looks several years younger, or maybe that’s just the dampness of his skin and his curls plastered to his head. I trace the fine stubble of his jaw, noticing how his beard seems to be a dark red. I look into his hazel eyes, marveling at the depth of color.

  “Who’s the real you? Silas or Michael?”

  “They’re both real.”

  He’s still speaking in that softened tone that I don’t recognize. Suddenly tired, he collapses on the bed and slips behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist. He drags me into his chest, and then a wave of exhaustion hits me. Faint blooms of pleasure spread when he kisses my upper back over and over. I feel something breaking inside my chest with every kiss he plants on my body.

  * * *

  Michael is gone in the morning. Silas is there in his place, his gritty voice whispering in my ear how I’m his wife now, and I need to get used to being fucked and filled with cum. He grabs ahold of my hair and yanks me on all fours, and then he fucks me against the headboard. He wraps his hand around my throat and pulls me upright, pressing my tits to the wall as he nails me from behind and bites my neck. He fucks me all over the room, and when it’s over my legs are shaking and my chest is covered in fresh bruises, the memory of him making them burned into my head.

  He dresses himself in his wrinkled crimson shirt as I lie on the bed, my chest still heaving. I watch his hands button up his shirt. An hour ago they were ripping across my ass, twisting my nipples until I screamed, and squeezing my throat just enough to make me strain for air.

  “Michael?”

  I still don’t know what the hell to call him.

  He looks at me and his eyes trail downward, over my naked body. He makes a sound at the back of his throat as he stares at me. I know he’s thinking of throwing off the shirt and fucking me again, and for a second I’m consumed with the image of his hand buried in my hair, pulling hard as he forces between my legs.

  “Yeah?” he prompts.

  “What do we do now?”

  I still don’t know why he’s done this, other than to save me from whatever the hell Viper would’ve had in store for me.

  He finishes buttoning his shirt, and then he walks to my side with that predatory smirk still tugging his lips. Then he trails his finger over my chest, slipping between my breasts.

  “Now we blend in. You act like a perfect syndicate wife and I’ll be the loyal lapdog.”

  I sit up, taking his hand in mine. “What’s your endgame?”

  Silas’s dark eyes glitter strangely in the dim light. “I’m not leaving until Viper’s blood spills all over my hands.”

  “Are you crazy?” I say in a harsh whisper. “He’s surrounded by people now.”

  “You asked me why I stayed—revenge. I will kill him.”

  I’m afraid of his ringing voice, so close to where there might be a member eavesdropping, but the look on Silas’s face tells me he’s beyond reason.

  He’ll kill him or die trying.

  10

  Silas

  Married bliss.

  Isn’t that what they call the first few weeks of marriage? Fucking my wife until my dick is sore, and hard enough so that she can’t breathe. Ordering in. Fucking some more.

  Dismantling a criminal empire. Protecting my wife from a psychopath. What, that’s not normal?

  Viper gave me five days off to “breed my wife,” and I wish I could’ve told him to go fuck himself, but I’m supposed to be playing the bowing, scraping servant. The hitman who doesn’t ask questions. Who participates in blood ceremonial weddings without raising a fuss.

  I finger the healing wound on my forearm as I walk through the black marble floors of this place. When other members see me, their eyes quickly glance away as though I’m an extension of Viper’s wrath. I hate that. Bile rises in my throat. I need to get these fucking bastards on my side to take him out.

  I saunter to the second floor, where Viper has doubled his security. I’m waved in the moment they see me, and the huge double doors where Viper murdered the whole council open outward. Unlike the rest of the place, the floor is white. The throne room smells a bit better. At least they cleared the corpses, but the room still has a faint tinge of corruption, or maybe it’s because I’m staring at a man who’s more dead than alive.

  Viper’s broad shoulders lean forward as he studies someone’s iPad. He frowns as his eyes move back and forth, reading. I wonder what the hell has him so engrossed, until one of his men grasps my elbow. It’s Peter—or Paul? They’re identical twins who both sided with Viper the moment his men came sprinting to the third floor, where the lower-level associates live.

  “Peter?”

  The whites show all the way around his eyes. “Paul. Silas, news about the coup has reached every major outlet. Someone has been talking syndicate business to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “So what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

  “Talk to him. Get him to stop all these wars.”

  I can practically smell the fear coming off him, and judging by Viper’s surreptitious gaze, he can, too.

&n
bsp; I drop my voice a few decibels. “You know as well as I do that it won’t work.”

  “But you and him go way back, don’t you?”

  “No one talks Viper into anything.”

  Paul rips his hand from my sleeve, so angry that his lips shake. “Fine. Let this whole place burn to the ground with everyone in it.”

  His raised voice reaches the dais, where Viper sits. Paul turns his back on me and stalks toward the exit, throwing open the door. Viper’s narrowed gaze watches. It might as well be a death sentence.

  Idiot kid. Why couldn’t you keep it cool?

  Six heavily armed guards watch me as I approach Viper, who gives me an inquisitive look.

  “What was that about?”

  My hatred for him bursts into flames the moment he lays his pitiless eyes on me. I give him a sort of half shrug.

  “He’s scared shitless about the leak.”

  “They’ll be found and dealt with. I’m thinking of reintroducing public hangings, and whoever talked to those reporters will be the first to be strung up by their insides.”

  I smile at the gruesome image, wondering where the hell he’ll have space to do that. The foyer? In here, where the blood of dozens already saturates the air?

  “Anyway, that brings me to your next assignment.”

  He shoves the white iPad toward me and I squint at the small screen:

  Black Dragons Turn Red: Massacre at Crime Syndicate

  Aptly put, I think as I raise my eyes.

  “Your target will be the woman who wrote this article, along with her entire family.”

  My mouth goes dry the second I hear the command fall from his lips.

  “You’re involving civilians in this now?”

  “Collateral damage.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the man with a reputation for a fetish of wrapping his hands around women’s throats and choking them to death.

  “They have to learn the consequences of printing articles that smear us.”

  “That’s going to strain our relationship with the SFPD.”