Knocked Up by the Bad Boy
Published by Vanessa Waltz
Copyright 2015 Vanessa Waltz
Cover art by Kevin McGrath
Edited by Faith Van Horne
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The last thing I need is a wife and kid.
The only settling down I do is at night, when I take a girl home to f*ck. I get laid to unwind from the chaos in my life. I live to hear them scream my name, but one night is all they get.
One night was all I needed.
Until I knocked up Maya.
It was supposed to be one night. But one wild night made me want another, and another. I’m addicted to every inch of her body. Now that I have her, I can’t let her go. I thought I never wanted a family, but now I can’t imagine life without one.
Only, there’s a problem.
Her father wants me dead.
I didn’t know she was his daughter.
I don’t give a damn.
She’s mine. Our child is mine. I protect what’s mine.
Even if it means war.
Note: this 72,000-word standalone mafia romance novel contains mature themes and situations that might make some readers uncomfortable. This is the second book in the Cravotta Crime Family saga, but it is a standalone novel. Get the first book, Married to the Bad Boy!
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License Note
This book is available for purchase at Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from another other than Amazon.com, it means the author was not compensated for it.
JOHNNY
Smoke shifts in front of me in a gray haze, obscuring the bodies surrounding me. Desaturated shapes move behind the smoky background, and I search through them. It’s hard to tell what makes my veins burn with the need for more—more wine, more cigarettes, and more pussy.
Music pounds into my chest like a second heartbeat, mirroring the vicious desire thrumming through my veins. Cocktail waitresses whisk the smoke-filled room like apparitions. Their clothes cling to their bodies like Saran Wrap.
Scantily clad girls are magnets for my cock, and being the boss means I can have my pick of any of them. It’s a free-for-all. Hard to choose one. Their eyes follow me wherever I go, and I look back, gauging their interest. Do I want to fuck her? How far will she let me go?
A warm, female body slides against mine. Her torso shifts so that she stands right between my legs, the deep neckline of her shirt giving me a nice fucking view of her tits, pressed against her too-small t-shirt. No bra.
Blood seems to drain from my head, feeding the rush to my groin. She sets down drinks at the bar. They make sharp raps as the glasses hit the counter, one after the other.
I recognize her.
It’s the second time she’s rubbed against me like a cat in heat. My cock stirs when she leans into my shoulder, strands of her blonde hair just dragging my shoulder.
Fucking broads. If you want my cock, just ask for it.
Is she hot though? Those big tits distract me, just hanging there without a bra. She leans over the bar counter, chatting with the bartender. I look up her slender legs, all the way to the curve of her ass when her short skirt rides up slightly. Her arm presses against mine as if she’s oblivious, as if she isn’t aware that she’s touching me. One set of deep-blue eyes flash at me as she meets my gaze briefly, smiling through those pink lips.
There are two types of women in this world: those who want to fuck me because I’m the boss, and those who want to fuck me because they’ve heard of my reputation between the sheets.
Not to brag, but I’m a pretty great fuck. I never leave them disappointed. Even the ones who think they can get something out of fucking the boss always beg for seconds. I rarely indulge them. Why try the same thing when I can have any flavor of the week?
My attention turns back to the cocktail waitress, who is still hell-bent on teasing me, leaning over to shove her ass in my face. Maddon, I want to grab the backs of her thighs and pinch that perfectly round, bubble ass.
Her, my cock says. Fuck her.
I love getting it wet, hearing them scream my name, night after night. I fucking need it because it’s not easy being me.
The waitress finally pulls away from the bar, her warmth disappearing from my shoulder. A rush of energy makes me reach out and grab her wrist before she can take two steps away. Her pulse jumps into my fingers. She whirls around, her blonde hair clinging to her neck.
I’m disappointed to realize that she’s not as hot as I thought she was. But she hit on me pretty blatantly, and that’s enough to make me want to fuck her.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
An uncertain smile twitches. “What do you—?”
“That’s the second time you’ve done that.” My fingers circle around her wrist tightly as I feel the burn from her skin.
“Done what?”
Playing coy, are we? I hate that shit.
Pink flushes her face as she sucks in her lip, my cock stirring as I imagine the wet heat wrapping around my dick, her tongue sliding up and down.
“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.”
“Okay, fine. I just wanted to get your attention.”
A smile widens my face as she allows me to slide my hand down her arm and anchor securely over her elbow. I pull her close. Close enough for her hair to flutter from my breath, and to see her vein jumping in her throat. She parts her lips, her eyes batting as though I’m about to kiss her, and her hands touch my chest.
“Just ask me.”
“Huh?” She barely whispers it.
I spot her name tag. Alyssa. “Alyssa, tell me that you want my cock, and I’ll take you into that VIP room right now and fuck your brains out.”
My words run through her like liquor. A sudden, hot burn flashes over her face. She doesn’t flinch at the word—she’s drawn toward it. “But—my job—”
A deep chuckle from my chest cuts across her words. “Who do you think hired you?”
Her eyes widen in recognition.
“Oh.”
Oh.
She might not have brains, but my cock stirs again when her hands suddenly clench my sides.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cravotta. I didn’t know who you were.”
“You didn’t offend me, hon.”
It’s not every day that a girl blatantly hits on me. People who know who I am avoid me like the plague. No one wants to run into the boss of the family. They’re afraid of pissing me off. As if I would get offended by a girl asking me to suck my cock. Jesus Christ, what has the world come to?
I take her waist and guide her to the VIP rooms. They’re a series of black leather booths with enough privacy for someone to get in a quick fuck—or a blowjob—as I’m judging by the sounds.
I lead her through the doors, the men parting to give me space. She wraps her arms around my waist, her tits flattening against my chest. My blood boils as she reaches down with a sly smirk, grabbing a fistful of my cock.
Fuck.
Yes.
The noise of the bar slightly drops away as the door closes. Then I slide into a leather booth and look up her trembling legs.
“Take off your clothes.”
Without a split second of hesitation she pulls the flimsy tank top from her head, and a thrill shoots into my heart. Creamy tits bounce on her chest, the pink nipples contracting slightly from the cold. Platinum-blonde hair falls on her delicate shoulders. My hand curls around my cock, feeling the blood pounding through it already. It screams for me to fuck her—to get on with the show.
The flimsy skirt and nylons are
next. She watches my hungry gaze with a knowing grin that I’d like to wipe off her face. I beckon to her, blood rushing to my groin as I see her thighs glistening, her pink pussy already flushed. I reach up and yank her naked waist so that she tumbles into my lap, big tits rammed against my face. I’m addicted to that red flush that spreads across her chest like a fever when my mouth opens wide and I tongue her hard nipple, flicking it. Alyssa wraps an arm around my neck, still wearing that smirk.
I don’t like it.
I grab one of her tits and pinch her nipple hard. If this little cunt is going to play games with me, I’m going to torture her with my tongue.
“I don’t believe that you didn’t recognize me the moment you saw me.”
My dick tells me to shut the fuck up already, but what I like more than spreading those lips apart is making them come for me. Manipulating that little pussy to do what I want. She looks down at me with a slightly dazed expression—halfway between lust and fear. All I can think about is that she’s positioned right over my cock, her thighs gripping my waist, and the warmth of her skin under my hands.
“Lie down.”
She obeys, lying faceup as my hands knead her perfectly round globes. Her knees draw up together and my hand rips over her thighs, her face cringing with the sting.
“Spread your legs for me.”
“But, Johnny—”
“It’s ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Cravotta.’”
I suppress a small grin as she flinches at the growl in my voice.
Her cheeks blush as I stare down at her, my hand spreading over her stomach as her thighs spread apart, trembling.
“I swear, I didn’t know—ah!”
My hand engulfs her glistening pussy, the middle finger riding against her clit. Her blush deepens, and her lips part. Fuck, it gets me hard as a rock. The way she begs me with her eyes. My fingers curl into her wet cunt and she lets out a sharp moan as I grab her tits with the other hand.
“Just admit it. You wanted to know what it was like to fuck a boss.”
She’s so fucking wet. I pulse my fingers slowly inside her, slamming them home as she arches her back.
“Admit it.”
“Yes, okay,” she says, out of breath.
She must be able to feel my thick length just under her head. With her head in my lap, she turns to the side. Desperate fingers grasp my jacket as I slam into her cunt. Over and over again. The obscene, wet sounds and her shallow breaths fill my ears. Her greedy hands try to grasp my tie, but I yank it away from her.
No. I’m in control.
I stop for a moment to give her a rest, my fingers deep inside her as her chest pulses.
“Please, I want you inside me.”
Maybe it’s because I’ve heard the words so fucking often, but they fail to thrill me. Of course she wants me, but there’s something that turns me off about this broad. She tried to play me. Manipulate me. The idea makes me laugh. Yeah, everyone knows that I’m constantly banging a different girl. That doesn’t mean that you can flash pussy in my face and get me to do what you want. I fuck them because I want to fuck them, because it’s how I manage to keep breathing.
She tugs at my slacks, her fingers plucking at the fabric as her lips shape into a bratty pout. Hunger claws my insides. My dick doesn’t give a fuck that she’s not what I want. I know that if I bang her, I’ll still need to find someone else.
I’ll finish her off quickly.
My hand twists inside her, and I feel my cock twitch as she fists my slacks and lets out a groan.
“Mr. Cravotta, please.”
“Please what?”
I stop for a moment, and she cries out as if I slapped her. Fuck, it turns me on to see her so hot for my cock. Her pussy contracts over my fingers, and I grab her tits with my other hand, kneading one after the other.
“I want you.”
I’m hard enough to pound nails into the wall, but I’ve already decided that I’m going stick my dick into someone else.
“Please, sir!”
She’s begging you to fuck her. Just do it already.
No.
I look into her heavily lidded eyes. “I want you to come for me. Understand?”
She nods, and I ram my fingers back inside her. My other hand massages her clit, and she arches her back in a soundless gasp. Fuck, it’s taking everything in me not to flip her over and drive my cock deep inside her. I slide in and out, unable to not think about that tight warmth around my throbbing dick, which is uncomfortably thick in my pants.
“Oh my God—!”
Alyssa grabs my tie and yanks my head down. I snake my hand through her tangled hair and yank her head back, my teeth finding the delectable flesh on her throat. I kiss her, flicking my tongue over her skin as my hand locks inside her.
“Oh, fuck me!”
My mouth smiles against her raw skin as she reaches up, gripping my hair. Her body arches into me as her pussy contracts on my fingers. It clenches over and over, sending shaking moans out of her chest. Then I slide my hand out and lift my head, giving her a second to breathe.
I pull her upright, her head lolling to the side as I stand up from the booth, my hard-on still on perfect display.
“How was that, sweetheart?”
“Fucking amazing.”
A glow of pride hits my chest as she stares at me, her chest still heaving.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“Wait—where are you going?” She grabs my hand, stopping me.
“Back to the bar.”
Her face falls as I slide my hand out of her grasp, but she doesn’t say a word. She can’t complain. I just got her off.
Energy pulses in my chest as I leave the VIP room and enter the bathroom to wash her juice from my hands, looking up into the mirror at my scowling face. The need to have a naked girl in my arms still blazes under my skin like fire. Fucking her would have been like eating the shitty chocolate bars I used to get as a kid. They crumble in your mouth and by the end of eating the whole thing, you’re left with the same craving.
The cloud of smoke blasts my face as I walk back into the bar, scanning it briefly. Women—so many fucking women. None of them catch my eye, and I’m headed back to my seat before I see a girl who makes the one I almost fucked look like a wilted hag.
I don’t recognize her. This is supposed to be a closed event—just a little celebration for my men—but I’ve never seen her before. I know everyone’s girlfriend, but not her. Fuck, who gives a shit how she got here?
The first thing I notice is her body, wrapped up in a skintight lacey black dress that shows off her curves. I can make out the faint line of a G-string under the fabric, and my mouth waters just thinking of pulling it right off her thighs. She crosses her legs, exposing a length of tantalizing flesh. Then my eyes travel up that body I can already see naked, all the way to the tits nearly popping out of her dress. It’s fucking sinful. A sliver of her bra peeks out, and she keeps pulling the top of the lace over it, only for it to slip back down.
No, don’t do that. By all means, let your tits go free.
She has a haughty-looking face, like a girl who usually gets what she wants. Her eyebrows arch high. Dark. Dramatic. That’s what I’m getting from this chick. She’s gorgeous. Makes the place burn a little brighter.
Only, there’s a problem.
François is already hitting on her.
How the fuck did he get here so quickly?
He leans beside her, his body turned toward her. She laughs at something he says, a beautiful smile lighting up her face, and a surge of jealousy burns in my chest. She moves suddenly, her eyes roaming through the crowd. They fall over mine. They jump back and hold me. And a grin hitches on her face as she studies me.
Good thing I’m the boss.
I make a beeline for François, trying in vain to think of something nicer than telling him to fuck off, but let’s face it. I didn’t become boss by being a nice guy. There comes a point where you stop giving a fuc
k. Taking what I want, whenever I want has served me pretty fucking well so far, but there are rules, of course. I can’t fuck around with anyone’s girl, but she’s not his girl. She’s fair game, except nothing is fair when I’m involved.
She notices my approach before I even get there, and a small blush fills her cheeks as I approach her. Damn, she’s gorgeous.
But I have to get rid of him first. I touch François’ shoulder and lean in slightly, talking low enough so that the girl can’t hear a word I’m saying. “I need you to check the VIP rooms. I don’t want anyone doing drugs in my bar.”
He blinks at me.
It’s a bullshit request. He knows it. I know it.
The faintest glint of resentment shines in his eyes as he nods in affirmation. “All right.”
I can just hear his thoughts: Fucking cock-block.
It’s a dick move, but I wouldn’t be what I am today if I just stood aside and let people take what I want.
He moves away from the girl, giving her a second glance as if wondering if he should ask her for her number, but I smile at him.
Don’t even fucking think about it.
He keeps walking and I take his seat.
She turns her head toward me, a seductive smile on her pretty face. “That was a pretty epic cock-block.”
A smile stretches my face. “I guess I couldn’t help myself. I mean, look at you.”
“What about me?”
Blood rushes to my chest when she brushes her fingers across my knee. Heat blazes through her fingertips into my slacks, and for a moment I don’t know what the fuck she just said. Now that I’m close to her, I see that she’s young. At least ten years younger than me. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit. She looks me up and down, sucking in those plump lips.
Jesus Christ.
“I hate to break it to you, but your tits are popping out of your dress.”
She lets out a frustrated sigh and notices that her dress slipped down again. It distracts me. She tugs at the lace, and her tits bounce, and I think about just yanking it down.
“Guys will come after you like flies on honey when you look like that.”
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