by Never, M.
“I love you both.” Baz wraps his arm around my shoulder and draws me close.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whisper. Love is such an almighty word.
“I know enough.”
He hasn’t even scratched the surface.
“I’m a killer, Baz. I’ve done horrible things.” I stress the words done and horrible.
“You’re not the only one. Redemption is a powerful force.”
“I want to be better.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “For both of you.”
Because I deserve neither of you.
“We’ll take it one day at a time. I’m not an easy person to love, Stevie. I can be a handful sometimes.”
“Just as long as you don’t pull any more euthanasia stunts, I can handle it. I’m stronger than I look.”
Baz tips my chin up to inspect me. “That’s an understatement.” He plays with a strand of my hair, coiling the platinum lock tightly around one finger. “You don’t look anything like a hitman for hire.”
“That’s the whole point.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. I may have just given my identity away. He has no idea who I really am, and I plan to take my street-given name to the grave. Some things are better left unsaid.
I turn over all the new information as I rest against Baz. He’s Benny’s son. He’s also Gianni Velona’s nephew.
I’ve spent the last nine months picking off the crime boss’ “made” men and intricately tailored chain of command one by one. I killed two more foot soldiers after I got home from Colorado, desperate to spill blood and ease the ache in my chest. But the thirst for vengeance died on my tongue. I realized soon after, it didn’t matter if I killed Gianni himself, it wouldn’t make the pain and sorrow go away. It wouldn’t bring Benny back, or Baz. The only things that could alleviate the sadness were grieving and time. I haven’t killed a soul since. I’m not reformed by any means; I probably never will be, but the urge to kill, to redeem, has cooled significantly.
I have a new page to write, and my main characters are Baz and Whoops, the little life growing inside me. Best mistake I have ever made.
Baz’s stomach rumbles ruthlessly. It sounds like he has an alien growing inside him, too.
“Fuck, I’m starving.” He rubs over his flat, muscled, lickable abs.
“I imagine sleeping for three days would have that effect.” I suddenly grow hungry myself, but food is the last thing on my mind.
“You know what I’m craving?” Baz asks.
“No, what?” I follow the trail of his hand over the peaks and valleys of his ripped stomach.
“Peanut butter and jelly.” His eyes flash with something perverse.
“Naked peanut butter and jelly?” I hint.
“Definitely. That would hit the spot.” He pushes me down to the ground and climbs on top of me. I spread my legs so he can nestle his pelvis against mine while he pins my hands next to my head. “You’re going to be naked a lot. Like, always. All the time. I want to see what’s mine every second of the day.”
“Sounds cold.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up whenever you want.” He circles his hips in a slow, maddening motion.
“Good thing we’re alone in the woods. I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea when I scream.” I close my eyes and drop my head back dreamily.
“You know exactly what’s coming, huh?”
“Know, and looking forward to it.” I peer up at him and smile widely. Proudly. Expectantly.
Baz drops his head, taking a bite right out of the neck of my T-shirt. “This. Off,” he mutters through clenched teeth, yanking at the material until it tears.
“Hey!” I protest. “That’s the only shirt I own at the moment.”
“I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe to admire. But naked, now.”
“You’re lucky I like hot, pushy, knife-wielding men.”
“Those are my three best attributes?”
“They’re at the top of the list. Talented mouth, intuitive hips, and huge cock rank high on the list, too.”
THE MOON IS just rising, casting a soft white glow over the tall trees, sparkly, white snow and fast-moving stream near the house. The landscape is a woodland creatures wet dream. Quiet, secluded, beautiful. I can appreciate it, too. For a little while. The isolation might make me go nuts after a while.
I sit on the kitchen counter as Baz returns from taking his meds and a leak. He’s as naked as me, sporting a grin and a stiffy. I told him if he wanted to see my goodies, it was only fair I got to see his, too. A pair of pants never disappeared so fast.
I lick my lips as the most titillating specimen of man ambles toward me. I spread my legs as he walks right up to where I’m sitting, grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, and crushes his mouth directly against mine. He hits the bullseye with his tongue, plunging it into the wet, hot recess until my jaw stretches wide. I claw at his back as our lips smack, tongues duel, and breath quickens.
“Don’t stop.” I grab his tight ass and dig my nails into the firm flesh as his erection brushes against my equally hot, wet entrance. He’s been holding out on me. Teasing me with promises of a marathon of pleasure. I need that right now. Need that with him. Need to reconnect.
“Are you begging?” he taunts.
“Not in the least bit.” I nip at his bottom lip. He said he wants to hear me beg for him. He wants to hear how much I want him. And I do fucking want him. Enough to beg, but not enough to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Yet.
“You’re a dirty tease, Stevie James,” he accuses.
“I’m not the one who walked into the room and attacked me. I was sitting here sweetly, minding my own business, when you opened fire.”
Baz’s face drops.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I palm his cheek, quickly trying to recover. “I’m not mad, and I don’t hold it against you. I was sent to kill you. You did the right thing. You protected yourself.”
My reasoning seems to resonate with him, but the fiery arousal that was just burning brightly between us has cooled to a kindle.
“Let’s eat, okay?” He rubs my neck and drops a kiss on my lips. “I’m starving, and I’m sure you are, too.” He brushes his hand across my stomach as he turns to the loaf of bread and open jars next to us on the counter.
I let Baz have at it, watching as he slaps the peanut butter and spreads the jelly over and over until there are a stack of sandwiches almost as high as the ceiling.
“How many people are you feeding?” I giggle. Baz pauses, realizing he erected a skyscraper with organic bread.
“Shit.” He snaps back to reality, sticking the knife in his mouth to free his hands so he can close the jars.
I idly wonder if his six-story creation is a result of his problem or if his thoughts just ran away from him.
“It’s cool. I could probably eat that whole stack and still be hungry with this little one.” I pat my tummy. “Now that he’s discovered food, I believe he’s become an addict.”
“Or just has his daddy’s appetite.” Baz pulls the knife from between his lips and cuts through all the sandwiches at once.
“Could be that, too.” I accept the triangle he offers me. Taking a bite, I realize how much I missed this. Naked peanut butter and jelly with Baz. How something so simple could bring me so much joy. I’m still getting used to that emotion. Joy. Happiness. Genuine, untainted, uncorrupted contentment.
“What are you thinking about, Stevie?”
“You.” I smile, chewing my sandwich delicately. Ladylike, the way I was taught. The way I was conditioned.
“What about me?” he inquires almost self-consciously.
“How old are you? Benny wasn’t very old when he died. Only forty-five, and you don’t look all that young.”
“I’m twenty-eight. Benny knocked my mother up when they were seventeen. Young and stupid.” He takes a frustrated, meaty bite of his sandwich. It’s clear talking about his father puts hi
m on edge. A very steep, jagged, poisonous edge.
“Sort of like us.” Considering we’re in the same situation.
“I’m nothing like him,” Baz sneers. “I won’t ever abandon my family. Even if something’s wrong. Even if he’s different, every child deserves to be loved. No matter what. No matter if they’re different or not,” he proclaims like it’s a declaration.
I cover my lips so he can’t see them twitching.
“Did I say something funny?” He’s genuinely offended.
“No. Not in the least bit.”
“Then why the fuck are you laughing at me?”
“I’m not. I’m touched. I’m moved. I love your passion. And your warmth. But—”
“But?” he bites.
“But that statement reminds me a lot of him.”
Baz’s green gaze narrows. “I’m nuthin’ fucking like him, Stevie. I couldn’t be, even when I tried.”
“It’s true, you don’t share his asshole qualities. You’re not a ruthless killer who cares more about the designer of his shirt than most human lives. But you do have his tenacity. And his presence. The ability to captivate a room whether there is one person or one hundred people in it. You captivate me, much like he did.” Baz stares at me, a little stunned and a little perturbed. “Not all of Benny’s qualities were bad. And I think you inherited a majority of his good ones.” Baz’s eyebrows turn down as he considers this.
“I never got to see any of his good qualities. I was always his reject son.”
“Well, I did on occasion. So I can recognize them in you.”
Baz steps closer to me, pressing his forehead to mine. “Thanks, Stevie,” he breathes.
“For what?” I ask curiously.
“Not giving up on me.” He looks me in the eyes, our heads still pressed together.
“I’m not a quitter. And I’m a little addicted to naked PB&Js.” I press my hands against his smooth cheeks.
“I’m a little addicted to you.” He licks my bottom lip. “Scratch that. A lot addicted. Completely hooked.”
“I’ll never send you to rehab.” I tilt my face up to kiss him. To taste his sweet mouth and toy with his talented tongue. The tongue I want running along my entire body and teasing my sweet spot until I come.
“Stevie,” Baz moans my name, burying his fingers in my hair. Our kiss becomes aggressive, charged with adrenaline, need, and want.
“Baz, I want you.”
“You don’t even need to ask.” He sighs with sheer masculinity as he strokes his cock.
“No.” I break our kiss and press my index finger to his lips.
“No?” he questions, confused.
“I want this . . .” I clarify, slipping the tip of my first finger into his mouth. I touch his tongue, and he swirls it around. “Here.” I run my fingertips down the center of my naked body and cup myself right between my legs.
“Do you now?” His arrogance is obnoxious but warranted. “You like my mouth on you?” I nod. The man is a wizard when he goes south. The night on his dining room table will go down in history as the most erotic experience of my life.
Oral sex was never generously bestowed on me, but when Baz splayed me on that table, took his time, and made me come in a way I never had before, the act became something entirely new. It was like an electric chair for my senses. And I was a killer who deserved the death penalty repeatedly.
My entire body is throbbing by the time he runs the tip of his tongue down the same course my fingers took.
“We’re in the perfect place for a midnight snack.” He kneels on the floor, his face perfectly aligned with my pussy thanks to his height. He kisses my bare lips, and I drop my head back in pure, unadulterated bliss.
“Baz, make me feel good.” I slide my nails over his scalp, feeling him shiver from my touch.
“I’ll make it my mission in life.” He hooks his arms under my knees, spreading me wide, anchoring me on the countertop. I have been hungry for a lot of things in my life. Money, food, love, affection, but never a man, and never like this. But Baz is different and has been since day one. He ensnared me like no other person on this Earth. Actually, that’s not entirely true. Benny ensnared me, but in a completely different way.
Baz glides his magical tongue sensually along my slit, taking his time, tasting me, indulging in me, finding rapture for us both right between my legs. I widen my thighs, aching for more. Silently begging, pleading, wishing, wanting. Baz circles his tongue around my clit in that mythical way. Avoiding direct pressure, while still managing to wind me up tight. Driving me crazy with lust and desperate for release. God, this man. The slower he kisses me, the faster my heart beats.
“Baz,” I draw out his name, naked, vulnerable, exposed, but above all, unafraid. “I’m getting close. I’m getting so fucking close.” I nearly cry.
Baz swirls his tongue in lazy circles, lapping, licking, kissing, sucking my pounding inflamed flesh until I’m gasping.
“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come so fucking hard.” My voice rushes out in a stressed whisper. I squeeze my eyes shut and yank on his hair as my whole body locks up. It’s sweet fucking agony, and I love every single second of it. Just before I hit my peak, Baz slips one finger inside me, curling it as he pumps his hand, hitting my spot like a panic button. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of the explosion, so I let out a wail that is so uncharacteristic I barely register it comes from me. But that’s what Baz does. He yanks me right out of my comfort zone and makes no apologies for it. The pleasure is so extreme, a new solar system forms behind my eyes as my body shakes and shivers and rattles from the orgasmic onslaught.
I asked Baz to make me feel good, and he excelled beyond all expectations.
Soaking wet from Baz’s mouth and my own arousal, I slump on the counter as he rises to his feet. Watching him vacantly, Baz wipes his lips with the back of his hand and eyes me like a vicious predator. I feel the starving look in every inch of my body. In every follicle, and every cell, and every molecule.
Baz attacks, crushing his mouth and chest and hips against mine. We fuse our lips together, pawing and pulling as raw animalistic need takes over. Baz slides his stone slab of a cock between my soaked folds before his head finally finds my entrance and he forces his way inside. I break the kiss to expel a tortured moan as he fills and stretches me beyond the point of no return.
Digging his hands into the underside of my hair, he grips it tight, moving his pelvis back and forth in a long, slow glide. Controlling my head, he tilts my face down so we can both watch as he enters and exit’s my body, the two of us shaking from the physical restraint and overexertion. He feels so good, and this is so different from the adrenaline-induced, rough fuck that happened in this very place days ago. Which now feels like a lifetime ago.
“Baby,” Baz breathes, tormented, as he thrusts powerfully, conjoining with me. This isn’t just sex, this is a union, a merger, an alliance, a rebuilding of a burned bridge.
“Shit, I can’t . . . I have to . . .” The pace of his hips pick up on their own accord. The weight of the ecstasy becoming too much to bear.
“Don’t fight it, just let go. Come inside me,” I encourage as we’re engulfed in a fog of gluttonous rapture.
Baz’s muscles are strung so tight they look like rubber bands ready to snap, veins cording in his neck and forearms. He’s so fucking powerful, so fucking male, so fucking mine.
“Stevie.” He clenches his jaw as he gets closer and closer. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie.” My name is a prayer on his lips. A talisman to worship. I’ve never been worshiped. Barely ever been cared about, but Baz makes me feel all the things I’ve been deprived of my entire life. And he hands those emotions out in spades.
He stills, his grip on me ironclad, his release furious, as mighty as the lion heart beating in his chest.
In the calm moments that follow his release, the fog dissipates. Three long, estranged months fade away, and time resets.
Baz’s ragged breathing
against my ear is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. He turns his head into me, his strands of runaway hair tickle my temple. He presses his lips against my cheek as he inhales deeply.
Then he speaks. “I killed him, Stevie.”
I pause. Not exactly the pillow talk I was expecting.
“Killed who, Baz?”
He lifts his head so we are looking at each other through the corners of our eyes.
“My father. I killed him.”
I immediately crash from my copulation high. Slamming into pavement like a crushed paper airplane. If there were any words in the English language that had the physical capability to slice me open and gut me like a fish, those would be the ones. I killed him.
I draw my face back to look at him. To really, really look at him. If anyone else in the world admitted to killing Benny, they’d already be dead. But Baz is the one person I just can’t kill. He’s my exception. My choice. The first real one I’ve made in ten years.
What a conundrum my life is. I’d spent months searching for Benny’s killer, avenging his death, and the one who took his life is the one I never saw coming. Is the one I’m now bound to. The father of my child. Benny’s own son.
Karma is cruel and twisted and undoubtedly a bitch. There have only been two men I’ve ever cared about, and they both come from the same bloodline. Talk about some kismet shit.
“It’s why Regina was hunting me down like a dog,” Baz continues to explain.
“Regina?” I blink, confused. Regina organized a manhunt? Honestly, I thought the only thing she was capable of organizing was her shoes. Despite the family she’s from, and her desperate attempt to step into Benny’s role, she’s a princess pussy cat. She was never interested in the life, as far as I could tell. Just the money and status and security it provided.
“She was there. She saw the whole thing. It was self-defense,” he argues.
“Self-defense?”
“My father hated me, Stevie. We hadn’t talked in over four years before my grandfather died. And then after he did, Benny called me up, spewing the importance of family and how we missed so much time and wanted to hash things out. I was skeptical. Suspicious, even. But curious, most of all. I agreed to meet him at his downtown restaurant. He said he’d close the place just for us. So we could be alone, eat, talk, without any interruptions.”