Ghostface Killer ~ M. Never

by Never, M.

  A small smile breaks through Baz’s rough exterior.

  “I love you.” His hand travels south, cupping my breast then landing on my stomach. “Both of you.”

  “Show me how much,” I plead.

  “All night.” His fingers walk the rest of the way until they disappear beneath the silk of my seamless panties.

  “Oh.” I nip at his bottom lip as he massages my clit. Fast, hard, demanding. He wants me wet. And he wants me wet right fucking now.

  “Baz,” I breathe as he slips one finger, then two, inside me.

  “I’m not going to stop until you come.” He pumps his wrist, his palm rubbing relentlessly against my already tingling clit. I inhale harder, the familiar pulse between my legs pounding faster and faster. “Say my name, Stevie. Say my name while you let go,” Baz rasps in my ear.

  I sink my nails into his thighs as I climb higher.

  “Baz, oh, fuck.” I jerk my hips, the ache becoming unbearable. “Baz, fuck! Baz, fuck!” My body stiffens a second before I nose dive off the edge. I come all over his hand, no longer able to form words. I just shake and choke as the orgasm utterly annihilates me.

  “Baz,” I whine as I sag against him, my limbs heavier than rocks.

  “That’s my girl.” He kisses my cheek, then brings his hand to his mouth. He sucks my arousal off his middle and ring fingers, moaning as if he just tasted heaven.

  “No one else will ever taste that pussy again.”

  “No one else ever has,” I confess. Baz was the first. On the table in his cabin. I’m almost ashamed to admit it. “Lots of firsts belong to you.”

  “I’m perfectly fine with that.”

  “I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.”

  “Nope. Now lean forward so I can make you come again. I want to fuck my wife.”

  My pussy twinges from his use of the word wife. It’s so fucking erotic.

  I plant my hands on the mattress and support myself on all fours. I’m soaked. I’m needy. And I’m ready for my husband to make me his.

  Peeling my panties away, Baz slides his erection through my slick slit, oiling up before he sinks slowly and deeply inside me. I moan and arch from the outrageous pressure. The fullness, the stretch. He moves fractionally, with his cock planted deep within my pussy. Keeping the compression constant.

  He’s so fucking thick and long and powerful, I crumble beneath him. My body responds, my mind screams, my soul aches.

  My muscles clench as another orgasm begins building momentum. But the sensation is different this time. It bubbles from within and gets trapped in my core.

  “God, you’re fucking squeezing the shit out of me, baby.” Baz grinds his hips, his syllables strained.

  “You feel so good. I don’t want you to stop.” My syllables don’t sound much better.

  “I won’t stop. Not until you come.” His fingertips dig into my skin. “You’re mine, Stevie. Every part of you. My woman. My wife. My angel of death.”

  His thrusts start to become erratic, but he never pulls out more than a few inches. He wants me yearning, he wants me desperate, he wants me to know he’s the only man who can bring me the purest form of pleasure. And I do know.

  I also know this isn’t just a fucking, it’s a claiming. It’s Baz’s substantiation. It’s our consummation.

  Baz forges a path farther into my channel than he ever has before. He pushes past the breaking point, finally penetrating the bubble that’s entombed within me. It spontaneously pops, and I clutch the comforter rigidly as I cry out, “I’m yours. God, I’m all fucking yours.” My words are barely intelligible, but I know Baz can decipher them.

  “Fuck, yes, mine.” He drives his cock implausibly deep as my pussy pulsates all around him. It’s like an alarm is sounding in my womb.

  “Christ, Stevie.” He grabs one of my breasts as he comes strenuously. His grunts and groans reverberating through my body like an electric current. “Holy shit.” Baz continuously squeezes my breast like a stress ball until he empties his entire release inside me.

  Resting his head on my back, we both slowly recover. Fused together at the hips, he presses passionate, wet kisses up my spine, following the trail of my tattoo across my shoulder blades.

  It’s so sensual and intimate and arduous.

  “Your angel of death, huh?” I ask, tucked securely beneath Baz.

  “An angels an angel.” He strums the side of my round belly, firm in his beliefs.

  For Baz, as long as I’m his, I’ll be any kind of angel he wants.

  A sharp pain yanks me out of a deep sleep.

  “Oh, shit!” I roll over into the fetal position and clutch my abdomen.

  “Stevie?” Baz pops up off his pillow. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m having pains. Bad pains.”

  “Should I call the doctor?” He’s overtly worried.

  “Maybe.” I breathe heavily, in and out, until the coiling tightness subsides. Once it’s gone, I relax, rolling over onto my back. That’s when I feel it. Fluid drenching the sheets and the inside of my thighs.

  “Baz.” I sit up. “I think my water just broke.”

  “What?” He tosses off the sheet and reveals the huge wet stain. “Shit.” He flies out of bed just as another contraction comes on.

  “Fuck!” I fall back onto the mattress, seizing in pain. It’s so intense I almost throw up.

  Baz paces the room as he talks to Dr. Miranda. It’s nearly five in the morning.

  “Contractions? How far apart?” He looks over at me, completely lost.

  “Close!” I hiss as the pain begins to subside. “I just had two in two minutes.”

  “Every two minutes . . . Okay. Bye.” Baz chucks the phone on one of the sitting room chairs and returns to me. “She’s on her way. She’s calling Levinstein, too.”

  “Okay, good.” I catch my breath.

  “She’s early,” he voices, scared out of his mind.

  “You fucked me so hard last night you induced labor.”

  “You think?” He actually has the audacity to look smug.

  “I read it could happen. Fuck!” Another contraction hits, and there’s ungodly pressure between my legs. I squeeze Baz’s hand and scream.

  “Jesus, Stevie, you’re going to wake the whole house.”

  And that’s just what I did, cause seconds later, Gianni, Frederick, Bull, Gun, and Desmond all rush into the room. Gun and Bull both have their weapons drawn. Thank God I pulled Baz’s T-shirt on before I fell asleep last night or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

  “She’s in labor,” Baz tells them with his hand protectively out. “Her water broke. Miranda is on her way.”

  Every face in the room relaxes.

  “Master Benjamin, what can I do?” Frederick steps forward immediately, dressed in a pair of dark pajamas.

  “Answer the door when she rings the bell. Everyone else . . . I don’t know . . .” He looks to Gianni.

  “We’ll wait outside. Just call us if you need anything.”

  “Drugs!” I erupt. “I need drugs.” The force in my lower abdomen is unbearable.

  “It’s a little too late for that,” Gianni informs me sympathetically.

  The pain in my stomach is constant now, and all I want to do is push.

  “It feels like it’s happening so fast. Should it be happening this fast?” I ramble as I see stars.

  “It really is Baz’s kid!” Desmond calls from the hallway. “Always in a hurry with no place to go!”

  “Shut the fuck up, man! I’m high energy!” Baz yells back, the banter distracting me slightly.

  I squirm uncomfortably on the bed, breaking into a cold sweat. “Where’s the doctor? I feel like I have to push.”

  “Don’t push. Just wait.” Baz traps my hand with both of his, trying to keep me calm. “She’ll be here any minute. Don’t push, Stevie. Wait.”

  “That’s easier said than done, Baz. She wants to come now.” I pant like a thirsty dog.

>   “A few more minutes.”

  “I don’t think we have a few more minutes. It feels like her head is breaking through my vagina!”

  The door bursts open just in time as Dr. Miranda and Dr. Levinstein invade the room.

  “Oh, thank God.” I drop my head onto the pillow.

  They both get to work, slapping on latex gloves as they move in what looks like a choreographed dance.

  “Okay, let’s have a look.” Baz helps Dr. Miranda reposition me on the bed so she can get comfortable between my legs, while Dr. Levinstein checks my heart rate and pulse.

  “I should be in a hospital,” I cry. We discussed home birth, but there was supposed to be monitors and a doula—and drugs! Lots of drugs!

  “There’s no time for a hospital. This baby is coming now. You have to push, Stevie.”

  “With pleasure.” I’m slowly breaking down.

  “Baz, help her hold her legs,” Dr. Miranda instructs. I wrap my hands around my shins and pull my knees up to my chest, groaning miserably from the excruciating cramps holding my entire abdomen hostage.

  “Okay, Stevie, push.” Dr. Miranda looks like she’s about to catch a football.

  I push as hard as I can, broadcasting a bloodcurdling scream.

  “I see her head!” Baz leans over the edge of the mattress. “She’s got blonde hair!”

  “She has hair?”

  “Peach fuzz, but it looks blonde.”

  “Okay, Stevie, one more big push, and this baby is here.”

  I heave, dead tired on my back. “I can’t.”

  “You can. Baz support her back,” Dr. Miranda orders. She is such a gestapo.

  Baz slips his hand under my spine and lifts me gently.

  “C’mon, baby. Don’t you want to meet our little girl?” Of course, I want to meet her. I have secretly wanted this since I was fourteen years old.

  Baz is such a damn manipulator. He has some Benny in him after all.

  I suck in a deep breath, and with every ounce of fleeting energy, I push again.

  Screaming loudly, I give it everything I have, then suddenly all the pain and pressure disappears.

  There’s a wail, and Dr. Miranda announces, “You did it, mom.” She immediately places the squirmy, yelping baby on my chest. It all happened so fast, I can barely believe I’m holding her. One look at her smushy face and I instantly fall in love. She’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a full head of blonde peach fuzz, just like Baz said. I start to cry. It just comes out of nowhere. The feelings stirring inside me. The love, the happiness, the maternal bond, it’s like a cyclone of untapped emotion.

  Baz cuts the cord as Audie roots around on my chest.

  “Someone’s hungry.” Dr. Miranda takes her from me way too soon. “We’ll clean her up, check her out, and give her right back to you.”

  I look at Baz. He’s already shadowing the two doctors, an expression of pure awe on his face.

  When the whirlwind stops, I realize I’m still lying on wet sheets and a soaked mattress. Yuck.

  I reposition myself on the dry side of the bed as best as I can as I wait impatiently for my baby girl to make her way back to me.

  “We’re going to have to break into the baby clothes tomorrow, so a clean towel will have to do for now.” Baz walks out of the bathroom holding Audie proudly in his arms. He looks like he just crossed a warzone. His T-shirt is wrinkled, and his hair’s a mess. The elastic is barely holding the long strands in place. “But she’s totally perfect, Stevie.” He sits down next to me and holds her up. She looks so small wrapped in the big, fluffy towel.

  It’s amazing how good he is with her already.

  “Let’s give her a quick feed, and then we’ll check you out, Stevie. You’re going to breastfeed, correct?” Dr. Miranda pushes some dark hair out of her eye. She’s in pajamas like the rest of us. Her petite frame a contrast to her imposing personality.

  “I’m going to try.” I reach for Audie, and Baz struggles to give her up. Looks like I’m not the only one who fell madly in love.

  “Just for a minute,” I persuade him.

  Baz reluctantly hands her over.

  Dr. Miranda walks me through my first feeding, and Audie takes to me like a champ. Baz makes a face while she feeds. “Those are supposed to be mine,” he whispers so only I can hear.

  I laugh. “You can share them for a little while.”

  “Fine.” He pouts like the man-child he can sometimes be.

  After the feeding, Baz takes Audie into the hallway to meet everyone while I get checked out. Pregnancy, labor, and birth is a very immodest experience. I have never felt on such display.

  “Just so you know, Stevie, that birth was highly unusual.” Dr. Miranda snaps her gloves as she pulls them off. “Your first one is usually never that fast. Or second or third.” She laughs. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had to catch a flying baby.”

  “She really is Baz’s,” I quip.

  “All clear?” Desmond knocks on the bedroom door.

  “You can come in.” I’m decent now, all wrapped up in a blanket on one of the sitting room chairs. After everything, I feel amazingly well.

  He enters with Bull and Gun, sliding a new mattress into the room. “I was told you needed this.”

  I turn bright red. “Um, yes. That one sort of got destroyed.” I thrust my chin at the messy bed. It looks like a murder took place with all the fluid and dried blood.

  “You might want to wrap it in plastic before you touch it,” I suggest.

  “Way ahead of you. Same as disposing of a body.” All eyes in the room land on Desmond. “Figuratively speaking, of course.” He laughs awkwardly.

  It’s not like it’s a secret who the owner of this house is. But it is frowned upon to talk openly about family matters—such as disposing of dead bodies—in front of guests.

  Once the mattress is switched out and the bed is remade, I finally get my baby back. Baz has been hogging her.

  Everyone gathers around to gaze at the beautiful, new, little life.

  “She’s a knockout, just like her mother.” Desmond elbows Baz.

  Baz smiles boastfully. I don’t think a howitzer could eradicate his pride right now.

  It’s such a perfect moment. One I never thought I would live to see.

  Once everyone leaves the room to start their day, Baz lounges next to me, doting over our daughter. She has him wrapped around her little finger already, and she’s not even a day old yet.

  “Stevie, can I ask you a question?” Baz watches Audie sleep in my arms.

  “Of course.” I run the back of my finger down her soft little cheek, a total goner for this child.

  “Why didn’t you let me fall off the cliff that day?”

  I slice my face up, anger radiating. Why would he ask something like that now? “Baz—”

  “I need to know,” he intercepts my impending scolding. “Everything would have worked out the way it should have.”

  “Nothing would have worked out,” I snap. “If I had let you fall, we wouldn’t have this. We wouldn’t have each other.”

  He searches my eyes for something. What, I couldn’t guess. I don’t always understand how Baz’s mind works. I just know he interprets the world differently sometimes. He has dark thoughts, insecurities, and fears that run way deeper than the average person. I try to remember that when he asks questions like this, or has an outburst I wasn’t prepared for, or sinks into a depression for no reason at all. Or for no reason I can comprehend. As normal as he portrays himself, I have to remember, Baz isn’t normal. He fights demons every single day. And now I fight them, too.

  I place my hand on his cheek. It’s still smooth from yesterday’s clean shave.

  “It was instinctual. A natural reaction to preserve. I was protecting you even before I realized I should. You affected me from the very beginning. And everything worked out exactly the way it should have. She’s living proof.” I lift Audie’s tiny sleeping head.

&nb
sp; Baz nods as if this explanation satisfies him.

  “I always thought I would be alone,” he discloses with insecure eyes.

  I smile warmly. “What a coincidence. So did I.”

  THE LAST THREE weeks have gone by in a blur.

  After Audie’s surprise arrival, we scrambled to set half of our bedroom up as a nursery. The upside to being married to a man with a slight obsessive-compulsive disorder is that shit gets done and done right. Baz had the bassinet and changing table assembled in no time at all, and not one screw was remotely loose.

  Everything is different. Every day is a new adventure. I feel like a completely different human being, discovering motherhood has a profound effect. And significantly reduces your hours of sleep. Despite the fact I’m a walking zombie right now because my precious little angel has adopted a vampire’s schedule, I’m determined to get back into shape. The doctor finally cleared me to exercise, so I’m giving Gun a literal run for his money down the private beach. He hates running. And sand. And sweating. So it’s entertaining to hear the big bear bellyache. Even though I may not have been a fan of the bodyguards at first—considering they tried to kill me—the big lugs have grown on me like mildew.

  “C’mon, slowpoke, keep up!” I spin and yell to him.

  He trudges down the beach. “Didn’t you just have a baby? Aren’t you tired?”

  “Not in the least.” I kick my knees up. Truth be told, I feel exactly how he looks. Beat down and exhausted, but I’m not going to let him know that.

  On the way back to the house, all I can think about is sparring with Baz. I’ve watched him and Desmond workout, and let me tell you, my husband can throw a punch. Not that I didn’t know that. But seeing it in real time is a thing of fucking beauty. He owes me a date in the boxing ring. He promised he’d keep my ass in shape, and I’m going to hold him to it. I smile. I was cleared for all physical activity, so a naked interlude in the shower afterward isn’t off the table. Actually, I’m going to make it mandatory.

  I zip up the back steps onto the deck and jump around like Rocky. That felt fucking good, even if my legs are about to give out like Jell-O.

  Gun climbs the stairs with a smiley face of sweat on the front of his T-shirt.