My dick slides back into her and a low moan trembles from Maya’s parted lips. She wraps her legs around me and screams. My hips slam into the desk, fucking her cunt so hard that I have to force myself to slow down because of the edge of pain in her voice. Her tits bounce on her chest as I bang her, and I bend over her body, overcome with a need to mark her as mine. Her fingers thread through my hair as I touch my lips to her gorgeous tits and suck. I bite her fucking hard and she yanks on my hair. The red mark swells and I find another area of smooth skin to defile. She doesn’t tell me to stop. She digs her heels in my back and arches her body into my mouth as though she can’t get enough of it—enough of me.
My mouth finds her nipple and she twists under me, moaning. I love seeing her like this. It makes my cock pulse with blood. I feel myself getting close, and I think how hot it would be to come all over her body, to see her tits dripping with my cum. It’s filthy as fuck.
“Johnny!”
My beautiful fiancée is close. I can see the desire screwing up her face. My mouth finds her lips and she crushes them against me as I bury myself balls deep. She nearly chokes me with her tongue and I bite down on it. Her moans vibrate through my lips.
“Keep going!”
She digs her fingers in my back so hard that I know I’ll have marks. No matter. I gave her about a dozen on her tits. I nearly come when I think about defiling her pretty body, and taking a picture of it and sending it to her asshole father, but I would never do that, of course.
I thrust my hips harder as she clings to my back and moans into my ear. She squeezes my cock and convulsions rip through her body.
“Oh my God!”
I pull out my dick, so close I can feel it building up inside my shaft, and then I fist the base of my cock. A rope of cum shoots out, draping over her tits. I pump my shaft as three more ropes shoot out, the energy leaving my body as I stroke my dick. It’s as perfect as I envisioned. Thin streams of white lie across her body, over her breasts and the marks sprinkled all over. Goddamn, it’s beautiful.
“I want to remember the way you look right now.”
She turns her head, too tired to respond.
You’re completely and utterly mine.
I bend over, my legs shaking as I take my discarded shirt and wipe the cum from her body.
She sits up on the desk, her eyes narrowed at me as I hold my shirt.
All of a sudden my balance is off. She shoves my chest and she’s on her feet, and then her palm rips across my face. She slaps me so goddamn hard my head whips to the side. A vicious sting makes blood rush to my cheek.
What the fuck just happened?
My cheek burns as she looks at me as though I’m scum, and I touch her shoulder. She flinches from my touch, and that alone makes me swallow hard.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then what is your problem?”
“You.”
Arrogant eyes flick toward me and away as she walks to the door.
“Is this some kind of pregnancy hormones, mood-swing bullshit, or do you have a reason for slapping me?”
“You might have fucked the anger out of your system, but I’ve been pissed off for days.”
Fine, I get it. She’s used to getting what she wants, and she’s upset that she can’t go off on her own anymore.
“I’m stuck here all day, and I’m getting married to a man, who, well…”
Her voice trails off and I cross my arms, my temper flaring again. “Who…what? Finish your sentence.”
A pink blush spreads over her cheeks. “Never mind.”
I reach out and touch her cheek. “Tell me.”
Her eyelashes flutter against her cheek and then she looks back at me with that challenging stare. “You’re a cold bastard.”
I’ve heard it a thousand times before, of course. My ex-wives loved to hurl it at me, and each time they did I never felt anything but cool indifference. This time there’s a tiny pinprick of pain, like a splinter in my heart.
“You have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
Don’t get angry.
She’s just plain wrong about that. I used to feel joy, instead of a numb detachment. It’s hard when you don’t even remember what it was like.
“I’m not a hearts-and-flowers guy, Maya.”
But my heart rips in half when her eyes suddenly bead with tears. “This is never going to work.”
“I’m not calling this off.”
“Then maybe I’ll have to.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll want a divorce!”
A knife twists in my heart. “Good luck finding a lawyer who will represent you against me.”
Her eyes widen as I take her arms and gently pin her against the wall.
“I’m not letting you go, sweetheart. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s supposed to make you stop fighting against me.”
A gust of air leaves her mouth. “Fat chance.”
Fucking hell.
I grab her chin, anger flaring up inside me again. “I might not be what you want, but I’ll treat you better than any man ever has in your life. I promise. You can have anything you want. Just ask, and I’ll give it to you.”
Maya stares at me for a long time, as though judging whether she can trust what I say. Then she walks away from me.
Goddamn it.
I stalk her, heat rising in my chest when she ignores my footsteps. She spins around when I grab her elbow.
“What?”
“Did you not hear what I fucking said?”
My chest caves in when her eyes swim with tears. She turns away from me and wipes her face, a sob shaking from her throat. I’ve seen a lot of women cry in my time. God, the screaming fights with my ex-wives, and the wailing at funerals. The sound made me inwardly cringe, but the noise coming from Maya—that desperate intake of breath—is like a knife to my chest.
“Please don’t—I’m sorry.”
I’ll do anything to make her stop crying.
“Don’t!”
She pushes my attempts to hold her—to stop her from making that awful sound. I hold her against my chest even though she shoves me, because it’s the only thing that I can think of that’ll make her stop.
“I don’t want to live like this.”
“Like what?”
Then her tears stop and her reddened face snarls at me. “If I’m going to be your wife, you need to start treating me like one.”
What the fuck is she talking about?
“I am treating you like my wife.” My fingers spread over her back. “Anything that’s mine is yours, Maya—”
“I don’t want your fucking things! I want you.”
A grin spreads across my face. “Not fifteen minutes ago, I was balls deep inside you. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I want intimacy. I want to know you—”
She wants to go on fucking dates. To hold hands and walk down the street and hear sweet nothings whispered in her ear.
“All you had to do was ask.”
Her eyes flutter when I run my fingers over her flushed cheek.
“I didn’t think I had to.”
Snarky little spitfire.
She leans into my hand and lets out a sigh. It’s one of those painful sounds. Every instinct tells her to hate me, but she wants me—feels hurt at the idea that she’s only a piece of ass for me.
I bend down and suddenly pick her up. She throws her arms around my neck as I lift her into my arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the living room.”
“For what?”
For a fucking date, that’s what.
“To watch a movie with me.”
Deep down I know that I’ve been an asshole to her. It’s the stress of so many things going on. I’ve had no time to make sure she was happy. She’s having my kid. T
he least I can do is make sure her needs are met.
She smiles when I sink down into the couch with her in my arms. Maya nestles in my chest as I turn the TV on.
“What do you want to watch?”
“Legally Blonde.”
Oh Christ.
Somewhat regretting my idea already, I choose the channel and prepare myself for an hour and a half of Reese Witherspoon’s ridiculous face. But it works. Maya laughs at the screen, the sound shaking through my body. The movie is boring, but I’m content just to hold her and watch the mirth on her face. The couch squeaks as she moves her body. She rests her head against my chest and her eyelids flutter.
“So tired.”
“Go to sleep.”
She murmurs something and I’m just content to stroke her arm, my eyes heavy. I lie there, my fingers slowly kneading her until I’m lulled to sleep, too.
MAYA
The warm, humid air clings to my skin as I walk down the street in a short cocktail dress. I take Johnny’s hand, forcing him to slow down and walk by my side. The night hums with the slight buzz of packed bars and happy voices. We pass by a closed restaurant and he grins at me before pulling me behind a privacy screen of the outdoor seating.
“What are you—?”
The backs of my legs hit the wooden bench next to the folded-up chairs, and he climbs on top of me, silencing me with his lips pressed against mine.
Damn it—it’s instant heat between us. Or at least, I feel it burning my chest. The heat is right above my heart, which flies like a bird.
He pulls back with that crazy, animalistic look in his eyes and bends swiftly to kiss the swell of my breasts—and bite.
“Johnny!”
A growl rumbles in his throat and then he sucks in air, straightening from me. He pulls me to my feet effortlessly, and I bump into his chest. Then he reaches a hand under my dress and gives my ass a squeeze.
Jesus Christ.
“You look hot.”
His voice creeps inside me as his hand lingers on my ass.
“Tonight’s for going out.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He promised he would take me out so we could get to know each other a little better before our engagement party, although I doubt he really gives a shit about getting to know the finer details of who I really am. Still, I can’t be mad with him. He’s making an effort.
My insides simmer as we walk down the street, hand in hand. According to Johnny, my father’s people would snatch me the moment I strayed from his presence. I know they’re here, watching me, but I don’t really mind. I’m desperate for news about my mom, and Chuck.
I follow Johnny without really seeing where I’m going, full of doubt. Weeks ago I was following my dreams. The classes for beauty school started a week ago, and it’s hard not to feel a pang for what I’ve lost.
Now I’m just a pregnant mob fiancée destined to become the don’s wife.
Johnny stops walking and I nearly crash into him. I look at the tiny hole in the wall. Napoletana.
“This is one of my favorite places.”
I’m skeptical as he leads me inside, eyeing the amateurish painted mural on the wall and the plastic green-checkered covered tables.
“How’d you find this place?”
“My father took me here all the time.”
We squeeze through the narrow entrance and Johnny heads toward an open table in the side room where it’s a little quieter. He pulls back the chair for me and I sit down. Then he circles the table and sits across from me. A passing waiter notices him immediately.
“Bonsoir, Monsieur Cravotta.”
He gives him a little nod of his head and the waiter returns with two menus and a bottle of wine. The waiter pours just a small amount of wine and Johnny tastes it, nodding in approval. Johnny looks at me across the table and smiles as the waiter pours him a full glass. When he goes to fill mine, Johnny makes a stopping motion with his hand.
“She can’t drink.”
That’s right. Shit.
My hand unconsciously curls around my stomach. “I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant.”
“I haven’t.”
He surveys me across the table, the low visibility obscuring half of his face in shadows. Then the waiter lights one of the candles and softness flickers over his tanned skin.
“Are you—are you scared of becoming a father?”
I know I don’t feel ready to become a parent. Johnny mulls it over with a slight smile and shakes his head.
“No. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
It just doesn’t compute. Why would a sex-crazed mobster want anything to do with kids? Why have anything get in the way of fucking as many women as he wants and going out all night?
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t feel like a whole man. There was something missing—a void.”
His black eyes blaze with restless hunger as I curl my hands over the table. I can’t identify with that. I was just trying to have fun, to get out a little bit, not sign up for a lifetime of domestic bliss.
“But you don’t even know me. I might be a terrible mom.”
He shakes his head, smiling.
“I might smoke and drink while I’m pregnant—beat the kid or something.”
“I don’t get the crazy vibe from you.”
I don’t get any kind of vibe from you.
“What makes you think that a baby is going to fill this void of yours?”
The intensity in his eyes drops to a low simmer. “I didn’t know how badly I wanted a family until your dad threatened to take it away from me.”
A small thrill runs through me when I feel the protectiveness of his words, but it’s not just that. He wants a family—he wants to possess me.
“I know it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”
I never thought I would keep a baby from a one-night stand, but here we are. I don’t know why, but I trust him. He’ll take care of me and the baby. He’s a fucking Italian, for fuck’s sake. It’s practically encoded in their DNA.
“All I know is that I just need to protect what’s mine.”
My heart jumps in my chest. “You’re mine, too.”
A small smile curls his lips as he slides his hand down the table and takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Yes.”
“I mean it, Johnny.”
“I don’t plan on getting another wife.”
“You know what I mean. No fucking strippers, cocktail waitresses—I’m the only one who gets to touch your dick.”
A smirk staggers across his face. “I find the fact you think that I chase hired pussy insulting—”
“I saw you staring at that cocktail waitress’ ass the second time we met.”
His smirk refuses to disappear and my insides boil with heat as he leans across the table, his hand stroking my knee underneath. “You’re already fucking jealous, huh?”
It’s not exactly jealousy, but I can’t deny that I’m worried. He has a crazy sex drive, and what’ll happen when I’m huge and there are hot waitresses and strippers strutting around him all day at work?
“You don’t need to be jealous, Maya.”
“My stomach is going to swell and I’m going to get fat—”
It feels ridiculous to admit these stupid, insecure fears of mine as he inches his hand up my thigh.
“You’ll be sexy.”
His dark eyes seem to glow at me from across the table, and I can tell that he means it. Maybe he’s even looking forward to it. It brings a smile to my face.
“My child is inside you, and you’re wearing my ring. Why would I want someone else, when I have you all to myself? All I want to do is fuck you until my cock stops working.”
Greedy fingers squeeze my thigh and a sudden flare shoots between my legs, sending heat to my face. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. He makes me feel like a prize. It’s the way his eyes linger on every inch of my
skin, and the way he strokes my body after he fucks me, as though he still wants me. I’m addicted to that. The more I look into his eyes, the more I just want to call this whole dinner off and go home.
“Have you thought about names?”
“A little bit,” he admits. “I like Matteo, for a boy.”
Thinking of the baby sends my heart racing.
“I worried about becoming a mom.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“I have no one to look up to. You don’t understand what it was like growing up in that place.”
“That’s exactly why you’ll be a great mom. You survived that shit-hole.”
Confidence blazes from him, but I can’t help the trembling of my hand. I wish I could be that sure of myself. I only know what I know.
“You’ve been there?”
“Many times.” He clasps his hands on the table. “Bikers have no fucking class, no offense.”
He’s right, but it’s a little rich to hear him say that.
“Your opening line to me was, ‘I want to fuck you.’”
White teeth flash at me as he lets out a short laugh and shrugs apologetically. “I was just getting to the point, sweetheart.”
“Nothing gets to a girl’s heart faster.”
The corners of his lips turn. “You didn’t seem to mind any of the filthy shit I said to you.”
“Well—”
“You definitely didn’t mind that filthy shit when I did them to you.”
Cocky bastard.
“If you’ve been to the fortress, then you know what it’s like there.”
“I guess.”
I lean in across the table. “I don’t want our kid to be surrounded by violence.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
My voice lowers to a whisper. “But your job—”
“Unlike your father, we don’t involve our women and kids in the family business.” He slides his hand along my arm. “I don’t bring my work home.”
My eyes search him, the handsome, dark suit, his hair neatly swept, the deep, earnest eyes. He’s not lying. How could that be possible?
“Sounds too good to be true.”
The smirk lifts to his eyes. “It probably does after living in that place for so long. It may come as a surprise to you after hearing your father’s bullshit, but we respect our families.”
Knocked Up by the Bad Boy Page 16