Bend: A Dark Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I grabbed her hips, pulling her against me. I needed this tight cunt, needed her pussy. I wanted to fuck her until she screamed my name, wanted to feel her come on my hard cock again. Everything was her, the sweat on my skin, the feeling in my veins, the pleasure rolling along my spine. I grabbed her full breasts, teased her nipples, kissed her spine as I worked my cock deep inside her.

  She rolled her hips, bucking her ass back against me. I savored the sweet slap of my skin against hers. “Fuck me, Emory,” she moaned. “Don’t fucking stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  I reached around and began to work her clit as I fucked her. She moaned, her body working and working harder, rolling along my thick cock as I fucked her deeper and deeper. She took that cock like she was starving for it, and I knew she was. I had to make her come, had to feel that body twitch and tense as the orgasm washed over her.

  I fucked her hard, savagely, like a fucking animal. I slapped her ass and pulled her hair. “Take that fucking cock, you dirty girl,” I whispered in her ear. “Take that thick fucking cock. I want to see you come.”

  She worked her back, rocking against my cock as I fucked her deep. I slapped that thick ass again and she moaned, gripping the counter so hard her knuckles were white.

  I grabbed her hips, fucking rough and deep, taking her like a fucking animal, making that cunt mine. And then slowly I could see her tensing, tensing as she stood up on her tiptoes like she couldn’t keep still.

  The orgasm washed over her, rolling down along her skin, making her twitch and tremble. She moaned my name over and over, shaking from the power of the orgasm as I kept fucking her deep and hard, unrelenting with my cock.

  As her orgasm slowly faded, I stepped back, tearing the condom off my dick and throwing it aside. “Suck me off,” I said. “Swallow my fucking cum.”

  She dropped to her knees again and sucked my dick, greedy and hungry. I was so fucking close already, on the verge of shooting my thick load down her throat. I let her suck me like that, her lips sucking hard and her tongue working me. She was still wet from the shower and covered in sweat from getting worked so hard, and she’d never looked any fucking sexier than in that moment.

  She sucked me greedily, taking my cock into her throat. I pressed her down harder, pushing my cock between her lips, and I could feel it building up in my balls. “Fuck,” I groaned as I came hard down her throat.

  She took every single drop of my hot cum. The orgasm rocked my body as she kept sucking me, working me, jerking my shaft and sucking every drop of my cum. Finally it slowly faded, and she swallowed every drop, cleaning me off with her tongue.

  “Fuck, girl,” I said, lifting her up and kissing her hard. “Fuck that was incredible.”

  She smiled at me, pressed her head against my chest. “I can barely stand,” she said. “My knees are shaking.”

  We leaned like that together against the counter, dripping wet and spent, pleasure rolling around my mind.

  Damn right I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.

  I didn’t have a chance when Tara fucked like that.

  Chapter 19

  Tara

  My head was buzzing as I came down from my orgasm. Emory kissed me and grinned as he got into the shower, and so I was left alone to lean up against the counter, my mind running back over what had just happened.

  I knew I should have told him to leave, should have just told him to go away. But I couldn’t, not when I wanted it so much. Emory was the only thing that made me feel good, feel really good, aside from Mason of course. Emory just made me feel new highs, new peaks of sensation and pleasure, things I never knew were possible.

  He almost made me forget the danger we were in, and that was probably dangerous in itself. His cocky grin and his delicious, muscular body made me forget that I was being hunted by dangerous terrorists.

  And I had to remember, couldn’t forget. I had to remember, at least for Mason’s sake.

  As I stood there catching my breath, I heard something in the other room. I paused, listening, and then sighed. “Mason’s crying,” I said to Emory.

  He poked his head out of the shower. “I can get him.”

  “No. That’s okay. Finish your shower. You’ve done enough.”

  He grinned at me. “I’m just getting started.”

  I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I left the bathroom and went into my bedroom. Mason was awake and crying loudly, a screaming cry, very unusual for him. I bent down and lifted him up. His diaper was clean and he’d been fed recently. He almost never woke up crying like this, or at least not screaming like this.

  “Okay, Mason, okay,” I said, rocking him. I could remember a handful of times that he’d cried like this before, but none in the last two months.

  I bounced him as I walked slowly downstairs, heading into the kitchen. I thought maybe he might be hungry, but as soon as I tried feeding him, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t. I stood up again and walked around, bouncing and talking to him.

  When I first found out I was pregnant, so long ago, I was terrified. I thought my life was over, that I was never going to do anything that I wanted to do again.

  And in a lot of ways, I was right. My life as I knew it was over, but I could never have imagined what my new life was going to be like.

  Sleepless nights, crying babies, stress, so much stress. Having an infant was so stressful, and it wasn’t going to get any better.

  My parents and Lindy helped as much as they could, but in the end it was up to me. I learned as fast as I could and took on as much as I possibly could, but it was so hard.

  But it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  That probably sounded cheesy, and maybe it was, but Mason really was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Before, I didn’t really have a set path in life; I didn’t have a purpose. I was going to parties and studying hard and spending time with my friends, but all of that was so empty and meaningless compared to Mason.

  He gave my life purpose. During those first couple of months, I learned over and over again why people wanted to have children. It was so difficult, but so incredibly rewarding. Every new milestone he hit sent joy through my heart. Every time he smiled, I felt complete.

  And every time he cried, I felt like my heart was breaking just a little bit.

  I remembered those early sleepless nights when Mason just couldn’t stay down for more than a couple hours. I was like a walking zombie, and there were times when I wanted to give up. But I never did, because I loved that crying little baby more than anything else in the world.

  People said your life changed when you had a child, and they were right. You just couldn’t really understand it until it actually happened to you. Until you had a child, it was impossible to really get how important and powerful that love was.

  Mason was my everything, and as I walked around the living room, rocking him and talking to him, I felt a sadness growing inside me. I hated seeing him cry, especially like this. I had no clue what was wrong with him, what he needed.

  I tried everything. I tried his favorite toys, his binky, his bouncy chair. I tried feeding and changing him, walking with him, bouncing him, reading to him.

  But nothing worked.

  I sat down in the kitchen, so frustrated. Emory walked in and leaned up against the doorframe. “Going okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t understand it,” I said. “He never cries like this, Emory.”

  “Here, let me try.”

  I frowned. “Okay. Worth a try.”

  I handed Mason over to him.

  Mason just kept right on screaming.

  Emory bounced him, talked to him, walked around with him, but nothing. He made faces and spoke in baby talk, but Mason wasn’t having it. Emory was adorable trying to help, and maybe if I weren’t so stressed and upset I would be able to appreciate it, but Mason’s crying had me on edge.

  Finally, Emory handed Mason back. I rocked him, staring down at him.

  “Does he f
eel warm to you?” I asked Emory, cocking my head to one side.

  Emory pressed his cheek against Mason’s forehead. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? He either does or he doesn’t.”

  “I don’t exactly have experience with this, Tara.”

  “Okay. Sorry. Just, maybe he’s sick? He does feel warm to me.”

  I felt Mason’s forehead with my cheek again, and sure enough he felt warmer than usual.

  “You’re just upset,” Emory said. “For good reason. But Mason is fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Of course I’m worried,” I said, annoyed with him. He couldn’t understand. How could he?

  Emory didn’t have to raise Mason. He didn’t push Mason out of his vagina, didn’t feed him, change his diapers, didn’t do everything for Mason like I did.

  I couldn’t just sit back and watch Mason suffer. If he had a fever, something was seriously wrong.

  I left the room, bouncing Mason, trying to calm him down. I went upstairs and read to him for another hour, going through every book I had and then moving on to random things on my phone. By the end of the hour, I was getting desperate, and Mason was definitely warmer than he had been before.

  I went back downstairs and found Emory sitting on the couch, his feet kicked up, watching a crappy TV.

  “I want to take Mason to a hospital,” I said to Emory.

  He looked at me. “No.”

  “Emory, he has a fever.” I carried Mason over to him. “Feel.”

  He reluctantly felt him again and made a grunting sound. “He’s warm,” Emory admitted.

  “Hospital. Please. A fever is bad. Mason doesn’t normally cry like this.”

  “No,” he said again. “We can’t go to a hospital. It’s too dangerous. We have to let him pass this on his own.”

  “Emory, he’s a baby. He can’t just fight off infections on his own.”

  “He has to,” Emory said. “I’m sorry. He’s my son too.”

  “No, he isn’t,” I snapped. “You weren’t there. You didn’t raise him. You don’t know what it means to be a father, clearly.”

  He stared at me for a second, his face hard. “I’m sorry. No hospital.”

  “I’m going. You can’t stop me.” I stormed off toward the front door.

  I didn’t even hear him come up behind me. One second I was reaching for the door, and the next Emory was in front of me, blocking my way.

  “Move,” I said.

  “No. Go back.”

  “Move or I’ll make you move.”

  He grinned at me. “Let’s see you.”

  I clenched my jaw, ready to lash out at him. I wanted to hurt him, to hit and kick him. How dare he keep me from bringing my baby to a hospital? Mason was hurting and he was my child, and I had to do everything possible to get him there.

  But then I took a deep breath and let it out.

  “You can stop me now, but I’m not giving up,” I said. “I’m going to get to a hospital. I’m not going to let my son suffer, no matter what.”

  “You realize we have terrorists chasing after us, don’t you?”

  “I know, but you can lose them. We can make it to a hospital.”

  “It’s not safe, Tara.”

  “None of this is safe,” I said. “Mason isn’t safe out there and he isn’t safe if we don’t go.”

  Emory sighed, looking away. “I don’t want either of you to suffer.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  He looked back at me and then touched Mason’s forehead. “Another hour. If he’s still bad in an hour, we’ll go.”

  I stared back at him. “Fine. One hour.”

  I turned and walked back upstairs.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Maybe this was the wrong decision to make. But I couldn’t live with myself if Mason had something really wrong with him and I’d done nothing to help. I understood that men were after us. I’d seen their dead bodies. I’d seen the violence and the blood. I was absolutely terrified to leave this safe house.

  But that terror just didn’t match the terror I felt when I thought about Mason sick with something that could kill him. That terror was worse, far, far worse.

  One hour and we’d go. I wasn’t going to sit around for a single second longer.

  I rocked Mason in my arms as his screams just kept going and going, ringing in my skull.

  Chapter 20

  Emory

  I didn’t want to keep the damn kid from the hospital. I was not some monster who liked making babies sick and listening to them scream.

  In any other situation, we’d be out that door. I’d get them to the hospital so fast that they’d forget what it meant to travel. But we weren’t in any normal situation. Leaving the safe house could mean death or even something worse.

  Tara disappeared upstairs and I watched her go, hating every second of it. I wanted to get them to the hospital, but I had to consider the mission. I had to balance the dangers of leaving versus the dangers of staying, and so far it seemed like the right call was to stay.

  Yes, Mason had a fever. But as far as I could tell, it wasn’t a bad fever. He was still crying, which meant he was still conscious and wasn’t too far along. We didn’t know what was wrong with him. It could be something bad, or it could be something totally fine. But I knew for a fact that there was something very, very bad outside that door, and I wanted to keep Tara and Mason from it.

  But I couldn’t keep saying no to her. I’d seen how serious she was in that moment, and I knew she really wouldn’t stop. She would do everything in her power to get to a hospital no matter what. She was a mother trying to protect her baby son, and I didn’t envy any man getting in the way of that.

  This shit couldn’t have come at a worse time. Of course I didn’t blame Mason for getting sick, but it was frustrating. We finally were in a safe space and could wait this whole thing out while my team found Omar and eliminated him, but now it looked like we were going to be forced to take a risk that I really, really didn’t want to take.

  After a half hour of waiting, I could still hear Mason upstairs crying. I pulled out my burner and dialed Travis’s number.

  “Hey, cap,” he said.

  “Travis,” I said. “I’ve got some bad news.”

  “More bad news? You know I fucking love that.”

  “The baby is sick.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear it.”

  “We might need to make a hospital run.”

  There was a pause. “You sure that’s a good idea, captain?”

  “No, not at fucking all, but unfortunately it looks like it’s going to be necessary anyway.”

  “Shit. Okay then.”

  “Think you can be ready to go in a half hour?”

  “I can probably manage that.”

  “What’s your location now?”

  “End of the block. Just did a sweep. We look free and clear.”

  “Roger. We’ll take your car. Grab us in thirty unless you hear from me.”

  “Got it. I’ll map it out.”

  “Good.” I hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch.

  This whole operation had been one big clusterfuck from the very start. I’d gone in with too little backup, gotten too close to Tara, and ended up killing three men in front of her and her parents. Throw a baby in the mix and fucking nothing was going my way.

  But it didn’t matter. I was a fucking SEAL, and we were trained to get the mission done no matter what obstacles got in our way.

  And that was what I planned on doing.

  I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and listened to Mason’s crying echoing down from upstairs.

  “Buckle up, folks. This might be a wild ride.”

  I grinned at Travis as we pulled out into traffic. Travis was about my height, thinner, with scruff on his face and short-cropped brown hair. His eyes were a bright green, and he had tattoos running up his arms. He was dressed in nondescript black clothing to better blend into his surroundings.

&nb
sp; “Thanks for this, Travis,” Tara said. She was sitting in the back seat with Mason, trying to keep him calm.

  “Thank the captain here. I just do as I’m told.”

  Tara glanced at me but said nothing.

  “Do babies always cry like that?” Travis asked.

  “No,” I said, “which is why we’re making this trip.”

  “Well, I’ll try and be quick. Can’t make a straight line there, though.”

  Travis drove fast, his eyes concentrating on the road. I hated sitting shotgun with nothing to do, but that was my role. Travis was good at his job and would do his best to evade anyone who may have been following us, but there was just no way of really knowing.

  Omar was very good. I doubted he knew where the safe house was, but I was betting he knew the general area where we were staying. If he recognized Travis’s car, we would be screwed.

  Which was why we weren’t taking the Mustang. That car was a little too easy to spot.

  It took us a half hour to get to the closest hospital. Travis took the long way, cutting back once or twice, running red lights, pausing at yellows and then gunning it, basically using every trick in the book. I could practically sense the worry rolling from the back seat, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Finally, we pulled up out front of the hospital. “Good luck,” Travis said. “I hear our medical system isn’t the best.”

  I smirked at him. “I’ll call when we’re done.”

  “Later, cap.”

  “Bye, Travis,” Tara said, holding Mason. “Thanks again.”

  He waved and then pulled off.

  Tara didn’t wait. She stormed right into the emergency room, a woman on a warpath. She marched right up to the lady at the reception desk and stared at her, Mason crying loudly the whole time.

  “Fill this out and take a seat,” the woman said.

  “Do you hear my son?” Tara asked her. “He’s in pain and has a fever. We need to see someone now.”

  The woman was in her mid-fifties, with short hair, and looked like she hadn’t gone for a jog in several years.