Knocked Up by the Bad Boy

by Waltz, Vanessa

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Italian sausage? Is this a joke?”

  He looks at me, smiling. “They make really good sandwiches.”

  I don’t know. I look around the parking lot for a hint of chrome, because if one of my father’s people saw me with an Italian—

  “Relax. We won’t be seen.”

  He holds the glass door open for me with a smile and I walk inside as my stomach clenches over and over. I’m already condemned.

  Johnny’s suit clashes horribly with the interior. It’s an ordinary-looking café, with plastic tables and chairs. Nothing special. Johnny wraps an arm around my waist and bends his head to my ear.

  “Go get us a table.”

  I turn around to see the whole fucking establishment staring at me. Their eyes drop when I catch them, my heart pounding louder than ever.

  That’s fucking it. I’m Googling him when I get home.

  I don’t know who the fuck he is, but obviously he’s someone important. High up in the family. I choose a table and watch the cash register. Johnny takes out his wallet and argues with the cashier, who waves his hands.

  “Your money is no good here.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Mr. Cravotta.”

  Damn. That son of a bitch doesn’t have to pay for anything.

  Moments later he walks to our table with a sexy little smirk that makes my heart flip. He sits down across from me, and he looks at me as though I’m the meal even as the worker sets the plates of sandwiches down. The spicy smell of the Italian sausage, split in half in the toasted bun, makes a sudden, sharp pang of hunger hit me. I take it with my hands, but he picks up the plastic knife and fork and uses them to cut into the sandwich.

  What a freak.

  “So, what is this between us?”

  He merely glances up at me. “It is what it is.”

  Well, that’s a nonanswer.

  “You know my dad would kill you if he found out about this, right?”

  His smile widens and a stab of anxiety hits my chest.

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  I watch as he pops a piece of the sandwich into his mouth and chews, his eyes dancing with mirth.

  What is he hiding?

  “This is how it’s going to be, hon. I want to keep fucking you, but you’re right. Daddy can’t know about us.”

  My jaw clenches shut and my teeth grind together in my head. “Would you stop calling him that?”

  He grins back at me, and for a moment I’m perturbed by this guy’s cavalier attitude. The Devils MC isn’t a fucking joke. He seems to be under the delusion that he won’t get hurt by my dad, and I can’t figure out why. My chest freezes as I wonder what kind of motivation this guy could have for fucking around with the president’s daughter. Is he trying to use me as leverage or something?

  “You’re not using me, are you?”

  My voice comes out in a whisper, but he picks up what I said. Dark, intense eyes flash at me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why else would you mess around with the president’s daughter?”

  A boyish grin lights up his face. “Because she’s good at sucking cock, that’s why.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m some goddamn whore. I’m not one of your sluts that you fuck around with.”

  The amusement on his face doesn’t falter. “It turns me on when you talk back to me like that.”

  What the fuck?

  “I don’t care. You treat me with the respect I deserve, or you can spend the night with your hand.”

  He sits back into his chair and cocks his head at me as though he’s never seen anything quite like me. “Fair enough.” Then his voice deepens. “Although, a part of me thinks that you actually like the way I talk to you. I think it’s just your pride telling you that I shouldn’t talk to you like this.”

  I can feel sweat beading over my skin as he stares at me as though he can see through my proud disguise. Deep down, I’m fucking scared that he’s right. That I enjoy every filthy word that flies out of his mouth, no matter how insulting it seems. Why does that scare me so much?

  He suddenly reaches across the table and just grazes his fingertips over my hand. I clench it into a fist, hating the way my body responds to him.

  A sweet smile widens his face as keeps looking at me. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I think you’re beautiful.”

  I inhale a sharp breath as he shrugs with an apologetic smile that makes me want to leap across the table and tackle him. Damn it, he’s a master at seduction. He knows what to say, and exactly when to say it. Like a politician. He should be eating out of my hand. That’s what I’m used to.

  I don’t know how to handle him.

  Fuck, at this point it’s clear that he’s the one handling me.

  He clears his throat. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  His lips touch the back of my neck, and I feel my skin prickling into a row of goose bumps. My world is black, but I feel him. Taste him. Hear him sigh as he pushes my hair to the side. My body pulses with need, every surface of me aching to be touched.

  “I’ve thought about you all week.”

  Deft fingers touch my shoulders and then slide down my arms. Christ, how does he make everything feel so goddamn erotic?

  “It’s not like me to get obsessed over pussy. Put your hands behind your head.”

  I do as he says, feeling that wonderful release as I follow his commands. The cool air makes my nipples contract, but he makes me burn. His palm touches my stomach, and I suck in surprise. Another hand gropes my breast, gently massaging. The ache grows between my legs like a fever. I feel hot and delirious.

  The hand on my stomach dips down, and down. Excitement ramps up in my chest, and then he slides a finger down my clit, tutting in my ear.

  “So fucking wet for me. You must have it bad for me, huh?”

  The slightly mocking tone makes blood rush to my cheeks. “You going to talk all night, or are you going to actually fuck me?”

  I wait for the swift blow of a slap, but all I feel is his sigh on my shoulder. “I think I’ve a solution to your smart mouth.”

  Rough fabric suddenly presses against my lips, and a musky smell invades my nostrils. Is that my fucking underwear? I open my mouth, protesting, and he shoves it inside, clapping his hand over my mouth.

  “Hold fucking still while I gag you.”

  The terrifying sound of duct tape makes me jump, and then I hear it tear. A sticky substance presses against my skin when he uncovers my mouth and slides it over my lips. He traces them with his fingers and I groan against the duct tape.

  “You want me to fuck you? Tell me.”

  Jackass.

  Nothing escapes my mouth except for muffled groans. I can just imagine the grin on his face.

  The warmth of his body disappears for a moment when I hear metal clinking together, and he grabs my arms so that they link behind my back. Then he locks the cuffs around my wrists. The coolness of the metal bites into my skin. He yanks the links, and I fall back against his chest. My handcuffed wrists find his thigh, and then slide up his muscled legs to his rock-hard cock.

  The fabric that I’m sure is my underwear slowly soaks with my saliva.

  “You see how fucking hard you make me? It’s a sin, what you do to me.”

  Whatever the fuck that means.

  His breathing quickens as his voice deepens into a growl, and his grip becomes biting. He shoves me forward and I land on the mattress. Naked, blind, and mute. His body quickly follows, the fabric rough against my skin. I want him so fucking bad. My legs slide on either side of his body, my hands uncomfortable behind my back, but I don’t care about the pain. I care about the ache pounding through my pussy.

  I hear the sound of his belt unlooping from his slacks and his pants hitting the floor. Then I feel his body sinking into the mattress, his bare skin pressing against my legs. His cock lies flat against
my pussy. I buck against him. Feeling that hardness so close to me is torture. The ache screams for him to adjust his length slightly and drive deep inside me.

  “You want it so fucking badly.”

  With a small chuckle, he adjusts his cock, and I groan into my gag as he barely pushes through, teasing me with his head. His hands scrabble at my ears and suddenly the world explodes with light. Johnny’s mocking face hangs over mine. He gently pulses in and out of me, only burying the head of his cock inside me. It’s fucking maddening.

  More, I want more!

  “I want to see you.”

  I use the backs of my heels to dig into his bare ass, but he shakes his head, refusing to budge. His cock teases my pussy, but I’m sure it’s torture for him, too. His lips shake as he moves his hips and stops for a moment to stroke my tits. Bending his head, he takes my nipple in his mouth and bites down hard. It’s a sharp pain, but then he draws a circle with his tongue and it’s as though he’s doused my ache in gasoline. I feel it fucking burning, and then his hips jerk and his bulge moves inside me. Not quite enough to make me satisfied.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  I give him a furious look as I twist my hands behind my back. I can’t say a fucking word and he knows it. I try to say it anyway, and it comes out as muffled nonsense. He laughs.

  I feel as though my gasp almost hits the air when he suddenly wrenches back my body and impales me with his cock. His whole throbbing length drives into me all the way until he’s balls deep. Then he hammers me. My breath is knocked out.

  I’m trying to gasp, but there’s a gag in my mouth so I breathe hard through my nose as my heart jackknifes into my chest. His hips slam against mine, and he nudges hard, burying that cock as deep as it’ll go. He swells inside me and I’m overwhelmed by the sensations. His lips shake with the energy of holding himself back.

  “You’re mine.”

  I look into his frenzied eyes for a moment before he buries himself deep inside me again.

  Holy shit.

  I moan hard into the duct tape, my hands screaming with pain as he nails me against the bed. He hoists my legs over his shoulders and looks down at his cock. Bam. Bam. Bam. He keeps hitting me so fucking hard that I feel the jolt in my stomach. The pleasure ramps up, and my breathing quickens, and I want to touch him, but I can’t.

  “I want your mouth. I want to come inside that smart mouth.”

  And he rips off the duct tape, wiping the saliva from my mouth as he takes my soaked panties and throws them aside. His lips crush against mine as his hips thrust, and I’m taken to a new high. I can’t take it anymore.

  “Come for me, baby.” He whispers it against my lips.

  “Fuck me harder!”

  His arms wrap around my shoulders and he thrusts with his whole body, pounding my cunt so hard that I scream into the air. I jerk my hands against the cuffs as I feel the wave hit me.

  “Johnny!”

  He knows. He feels my pussy gripping his cock, and then he pulls out and hoists himself so that he’s straddling my face. I open my mouth and he slides over my tongue, gripping my hair as he fucks me. Deep moans echo in the room as he gets closer, throbbing inside my throat. Then I feel his gasps shudder into a long, drawn-out moan, and his cock hits the back of my throat.

  “Oh fuck.”

  Warm saltiness fills my mouth as he comes. A thrill shoots into my chest as I feel his legs shake, and the possibility that I make this powerful man vulnerable. I swallow his cum as he sighs, smoothing my hair over my head. He pulls out of my lips, and I lick them, savoring his taste. Something between a groan and laugh shakes from his chest as he lies down beside me.

  “You’re too fucking good.”

  My face twists. “Johnny, my hands.”

  Smiling, he pulls my body over his and grabs the key on the nightstand, unlocking my hands. I put them on either side of his head, and he kisses the faint pink line on my wrist. A swooping feeling makes me weak. I touch his face, sliding my hands through his thick, dark hair, and finally his restless gaze falls on mine.

  “You’re sexy as hell.”

  A pang hits me.

  Why couldn’t he have been an asshole?

  It hurts because I want him again, but it’s never going to happen. Not now that I’ve lost my job and the only freedom I had.

  “I can’t see you again.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

  “I mean it.”

  “You’ve said that before.” He grins. “And look where you are now. Hell, I can’t blame you. I know I’m hot shit.”

  “I can’t leave the compound anymore. He made me quit that job and there’s no way he’ll allow me to leave for hours anymore without getting followed.”

  A shadow crosses his face. “Your dad’s a real prick. No offense,” he tacks on quickly.

  None taken.

  I lower my body into his arms and lay my head over his chest, closing my eyes. His steady heartbeat pulses into my ear. I should leave, but a voice inside me keeps saying: Just a little longer.

  A heavy arm wraps around my back and I relish the feeling of being held, that afterglow of sex when you’ve been fucked into exhaustion.

  I shouldn’t have to live up to anyone’s standards but my own.

  “We’ll figure something out. I’m having way too much fun with you to give up that easily.”

  Johnny’s voice is filled with confidence, but I just don’t feel it this time.

  It’s over.

  * * *

  It’s for the best.

  Isn’t that what people say when something they really want gets ripped away from them? It’s for the best. We were a ticking time bomb. Dad was bound to find out, and when he did, Johnny would be dead. So it’s for the best, really.

  I sit in one of the booths in the clubhouse, too lonely to just waste away in my room, but angry enough to avoid conversation with anyone. Another week of playing with Johnny’s card, folding it and unfolding it so many times that it’s about to fall apart. Dad has me watched day and night. I can’t go to the fucking store without a goddamn chaperone now.

  No, it’s not for the fucking best because if “the best” means surviving in here, I don’t want to survive. I want to live. Fucking that mobster, however wrong it might be, made me feel alive.

  The TV blares with some news story, and the vice-president’s voice roars at it.

  “Change the fucking channel. I don’t want to look at that fucking wop.”

  I look at the bright TV screen and see a handsome, dark-haired man who looks a hell of a lot like Johnny.

  “Reputed mob boss Johnny Cravotta was sighted attending a charity dinner yesterday. He was seen entering La Ciccia at seven pm last evening.”

  The image flicks away as someone changes the channel, and I grip the edge of the table and fight everything inside me to scream to change it back.

  He’s the boss of the Cravotta Crime Family.

  I fucked a boss.

  Oh Jesus. Oh my fucking God. And he knew! He knew who I was and went after me anyway. No wonder he wasn’t worried about getting caught. He’s only the guy who my father worked with for fucking years. He has Dad under his thumb, just like everyone in the city.

  And I didn’t put two and two together.

  I feel faint. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  I stand up, legs shaking, and head for my room, avoiding everybody’s face.

  The things I said to him. I was so disrespectful. If I had known who he was, I would have never approached him. Jesus, what was I thinking? He must have thought I was so cute, having no fucking clue who he was.

  As soon as I’m inside my room, I burst into mad laughter.

  I didn’t just fuck a boss. I fucked the boss of Montreal. The most powerful man in the city, and I didn’t recognize him. To be fair, I’ve never seen him before. I try to avoid anything related to my father.

  God, I’m such an idiot. I feel so stupid.

  Now you real
ly can’t see him again.

  If it was any other guy, Dad would throw a fucking fit, but this goes beyond anything he’d tolerate. He’d take it as a personal insult.

  The mattress squeaks as I sit down, twisting my hands in my lap. Another pressing worry makes my stomach twist in knots.

  It’s been a week since I’ve seen him.

  My period is a week late. It’s fine, really. Happens sometimes. Right? Then I think about the first night we were together, a week before the last time I saw him. We didn’t use a condom.

  I rise from the bed so quickly that blood rushes to my head and blackness overcomes my vision. Color pricks back into my view as I take deep, shuddering breaths.

  It was only once.

  It only takes one time, idiot.

  I have to find out. Now.

  My footsteps seem oddly loud as I leave my room and head toward the stockroom where we store all our pharmacy supplies. I keep my head down, as if maintaining eye contact with anyone would spill the fact that I fucked the boss of our biggest fucking rival. Everyone would loathe me if this got out. It’d be considered a betrayal.

  I burst into the small pharmacy, which is manned by a sweet but inconveniently sharp woman. She smiles at me behind a small desk.

  “I’ve a headache.”

  “All right, well, help yourself. The Tylenol is in the back.”

  I head in that direction while keeping my eyes peeled for pregnancy tests on the shelves. My eyes scour the rows, and then I see them a few rows behind the Tylenol next to all the condoms. Goddamn.

  I pretend to search for the pills, and then look over my shoulder at her. Her gaze is fixed on me.

  “I can’t find—oh, shit.”

  My arm sweeps aside a dozen or so pregnancy tests to the floor, and I stuff two of them in my jacket before I shove the boxes back on the shelf. Shit, she’s going to see where I was searching. Her chair scrapes the floor.

  “Did you find it?”

  I pretend to be replacing the toothbrushes just as she sweeps behind me. My arm pins to my side, crushing the pregnancy tests to my body. They can’t fucking fall.

  “They’re over here.” She leads me to the Tylenol and pops open a bottle for me.

  “I’ll just take two. Thanks.”

  I pop them in my mouth. I’ll probably need them anyway.