HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

by Zoey Parker

  “Okay with you if we do this without protection? I’m clean. You on the pill or something?”

  “Yeah, I am, actually. I’m clean, too. I don’t want us to use anything.”

  He growl-grunted, hefted me up a bit more, and dove in for more kissing. One of his hands snuck under me to spread my juices around, playing with me, making sure I was ready for him.

  Oh, I was ready. I was more than ready. And as soon as he realized it, he said, “Baby, I can’t wait…”

  I reached down for him and guided his hard length into me, and we watched together as our bodies bonded. It was sexy and beautiful and right.

  Our eyes met again, and we smiled and breathed in each other’s air, and began to move together against the door.

  Our movements got stronger, louder, more desperate and fierce, as we met and retracted, pumping and grinding, over and over again.

  He gave me his fingers again when he saw I was getting close, and I cried out as the world of sensation exploded around me.

  He pumped into me a few more times, and muffled his sounds against my neck as he came.

  And after, we melted into one another against the door for several long moments, our breaths heaving and our bodies slick with sweat.

  When we finally came back to the world, we started laughing into each other’s eyes.

  I really didn’t care if anyone out there was listening; this was all about me and Jack. We were finally a real thing. Our merging bodies were just the physical element of a much grander reality. It was fucking perfect—literally and figuratively.

  “God, people are going to hate us.”

  “Why?” He looked at me quizzically.

  “Because we already use the same freaking phrases. ‘All-in’ was my motivational motto today, getting ready to come see you.”

  “Yeah? All-in? It’s ’cause you picked it up from me, baby. Must have.”

  “Your ego is ginormous.”

  “I got something else that’s ginormous for you, baby, and it likes to play the all-in game, too.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible, Jack. Shut up and kiss me.”

  And he did.

  Epilogue

  Jack

  “Daaaaddy!”

  “Dude, I’m right here. Volume check, yeah?”

  “Um, yeah. Did you see? Did you see me? Wanna see me again?”

  “Yeah, buddy, I saw you. Let’s see if you can do it even better this time. Go big, or go home!”

  “Jack!”

  I turned to my wife, who had narrowed her eyes at me and was shaking her head.

  “Hey, he’s into it. Let’s see what he’s got.” I tipped my beer up and winked at her.

  “Okay, are you watching? Mommy? Daddy! Here I go!” And the kid took a short running start off the shorter diving board and cannonballed into the water, causing a huge splash that circled around past the edges of the pool. Good thing I had dug it deep.

  When Pete emerged, he was wearing a huge smile that ate up at least half his face.

  “That was excellent. Nine point six.”

  “Momma?”

  “Almost perfect. Nine point seven.”

  “What wasn’t perfect?”

  “I think your eyelashes are too long. They caught the water at a bad angle,” said Ellie with a wink.

  He laughed and leaped on top of her, causing her to tip somewhat precariously in her deck chair.

  I got up immediately and lifted him off her by his still-small ribcage, hefting him over my head. He was four already, but I could still take him. When he let me. Usually, he was running circles around us. Total ball of energy, this one.

  We were lucky. Peter had had the last of his surgeries over a year earlier, and was now considered by all to be a completely healthy kid, with nothing more to worry about on the horizon. So his high energy levels were nothing but joy to us, even if we did have to rein him in sometimes.

  “Whoa, dude, easy. No jumping on Mommy, remember? We gotta be a little careful now.”

  “Oops, sorry, Momma. Sorry, baby. I won’t do it again.”

  Ellie grinned up at us and patted her baby bump. “It’s okay, honey. No harm, no foul.”

  I put on my mean voice. “El, don’t let him off the hook so easy. This kid needs to learn some respect.” I dropped him into an airplane hold, under the arms at my side. He immediately assumed the proper Superman flight pose, and I asked him, “What are you gonna do, next time you feel like jumping on your mother?”

  “I’m gonna jump on you instead!”

  “That’s acceptable.” Then I gave him the one-two-three swings before releasing him into a thrown-dive. Kid took to it like a fish.

  Ellie got up, stretched her arms over her head, and said, “I’m going in, dig up something for dinner. You want anything special?”

  I walked over to her, swept her up in my arms, and planted a long one on her luscious lips. She gave me some tongue play, too. “I got my special. Whatever you want.”

  She smiled at me, looking at my mouth, and whispered, “Later. I’ll have what I want later.”

  “Yeah, you will.”

  I was the luckiest bastard alive. And I knew it.

  THE END

  ***

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  [FREE BONUS BOOK #2] UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

  By Zoey Parker

  I made her my hostage, my f*ck toy… and now, my wife.

  She crossed a line and almost got me killed.

  There’s a price to pay for that.

  And she’ll be paying it for a long, long time.

  I’ll make her see – from the handprint on her a** to the ring on her finger – that all of her belongs to me now.

  Billie thought she was tough.

  A bartender in a rough part of town – she’d seen it all, right?

  Wrong.

  She’s never seen nothin’ like me before.

  I’m all muscle and ink.

  I take what I want and f*ck it ‘til I’m finished.

  And my eyes just landed on her.

  The stupid broad almost got me and my crew arrested or, worse, killed.

  Who shows up to a bank robbery like it’s a spectator event?

  She needs to be taught a lesson.

  And I need to tie up this loose end.

  Against the wishes of my crew, I take her with me.

  They thought I should have killed her.

  But I have a better punishment in mind.

  I’m going to make Billie taste me.

  Submit to me.

  Cry for release at the top of her lungs.

  As we run through the desert, just steps ahead of the cops on our tail, I make her plead for mercy.

  She’ll take me as her master.

  Her husband.

  And, soon, the father of her child.

  Prologue

  Billie

  Billie Rosewood let out a sharp gasp as Carter's powerful hands slid behind her thighs, lifting her up and setting her down on top of the motel's small desk. Her naked ass still stung from where he'd slapped it moments before, and the hard wood beneath them made them ache.

  Carter's hands moved restlessly from Billie's legs to her back to her neck, finally sliding around to her chest so his rough fingertips could explore her erect nipples. His lips quested over her mouth, the side of her neck, and her shoulder. Her heart buzzed inside her chest at his touch.

  She'd wanted him from the moment she saw him.

  But in her wildest dreams, Billie could never have imagined it like this—in a no-name motel at the edge of the desert, with over a million dollars in cash and a massive .357 revolver on the
bed, and lawmen at their heels.

  She was an outlaw now, notorious, a woman on the run. The excitement of it was making her wetter than she'd ever been before, almost as much as Carter's touch was. His brown hair gave off a dizzying scent of sunshine, sweat, and road dust as he kissed her breasts.

  “This is what you've needed from the start,” Carter murmured.

  “Oh God, yes,” Billie breathed. “Please don't stop.”

  Billie reached down between her legs, her fingers finding Carter's belt buckle and undoing it. She unzipped his fly and his cock emerged, pressing against her inner thigh eagerly. She stroked it slowly, relishing its warm throb against her palms as it grew even harder.

  “And you'll do anything for me, won't you?” His voice was husky with desire.

  “Anything,” she promised. “Anything at all.”

  Carter's mouth found hers again as he reached into his pocket. Billie heard the faint crinkle of the condom wrapper as he opened it, rolling the latex sheath down his shaft quickly. A moment later, Carter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body as he penetrated her deeply.

  “Take it,” he hissed. “Take every fucking inch.”

  A low moan escaped Billie's lips. Every thrust seemed to set off fireworks in the core of her being, hissing and sparking and exploding outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. She wrapped her arms and legs around Carter as tightly as she could while their bodies rocked back and forth together, their rhythm growing faster, harder, more insistent with each new push.

  “Your pussy feels so good,” Carter whispered.

  “It's yours, baby,” Billie said softly, digging her fingernails into his back. “It's all yours.”

  Her tailbone slammed against the desktop over and over, sending bolts of pain up her spine. She knew that she'd be nursing a bad bruise later, but for now, each impact just made the whole experience seem more real and drove her closer to the edge.

  The top of Carter's cock rubbed against Billie's clit hard with every movement, and she felt herself growing light-headed as a pressure built inside of her, just waiting to be released. It spilled out in a warm gush a few minutes later, her orgasm soaking them both as she dug her fingernails into Carter's back.

  He inhaled sharply and came, biting the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark she'd wear proudly afterward. She cried out, her sounds of passion mingling with his in the cramped motel room.

  Their bodies remained pressed together for a long time, heaving and quivering. Somewhere out in the desert, a coyote started to howl.

  Billie smiled.

  She knew exactly how that coyote felt.

  Chapter 1

  Billie

  Three Days Earlier

  Billie stood behind the bar at The Boot Hill Saloon and brushed her auburn hair back seductively, considering the proposition Clem Folsom had just made.

  Beneath the red bandana tied around her neck, there was a thin sheen of perspiration on her breasts. The first four buttons of her denim shirt were undone, and she saw Clem's pale blue eyes flickering from her face to her cleavage and back again. The shirt was tied up at the waist, revealing her flat tummy. Her jean shorts were so tiny that the flaps of her flat white pockets were fully visible, resting against her outer thighs.

  Clem gulped nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he waited for her answer.

  “Okay,” Billie agreed, taking a sip from her beer and wiping her mouth. “How much money have you got?”

  Clem grinned nervously, reaching into the pocket of his grass-stained overalls. He pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and counted them out on the bar. “Fifty bucks.”

  “Not bad,” Billie commented, nodding. “For how long?”

  Clem's smile widened, revealing two rows of small, crooked teeth. “Heck, gal, since it's you? I'd go a whole forty-five seconds.”

  Next to him, Big Pete Crabtree let out a wheezing guffaw and slapped his knee with a huge, hairy hand. “Boy, are you kiddin'? This is Billie Rosewood we got here!” Pete pulled out a roll of bills and peeled off five twenties. “I got a hunnert dollars fer the full sixty seconds.”

  “Aw, yer a couple a' cheap-ass pikers, both of ya,” Red Hawley sneered, tossing some money on the bar. “I got a hundred an' fifty bucks says we're gonna have ninety seconds of pure goddamn poetry in motion tonight. What do you say, darlin'?” He winked at Billie lasciviously.

  “All right, boys, all right,” Billie said, sipping her beer again. “No need to fight. There's plenty of action to go around. Only what if I say anything less than the full two minutes is a waste of this lady's time, huh?”

  The men gaped at her, astonished.

  “No way,” Pete said, shaking his big head vigorously. Dust and hayseeds drifted down from his shaggy gray hair, settling on the surface of the bar like snow flurries.

  “Nuh-uh,” Clem agreed. “Ain't no way a little gal like you is gonna be able to hang on for the full two minutes. Not with somethin' that big an' powerful between yer legs.”

  “Ninety seconds,” Red chimed in. “Anythin' more than that an' yer gonna be on the ground lookin' up, feelin' like you just got punched in the pussy by a freight train.”

  Billie shrugged mildly. “Well, maybe you're right, and maybe you're wrong. But there's one surefire way to find out, fellas. And in the immortal words of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, 'Money talks and bullshit walks.' So are you in, or not?”

  The three men exchanged skeptical looks. Finally, Clem said, “Okay, you're on. Show us what you got.”

  Billie nodded and finished her beer in three long gulps. “I'll need some tunes to get in the mood,” she said, pushing a button on the bar's stereo. The song switched over to Merle Haggard lamenting about how there ain't no good in an evil-hearted woman.

  Satisfied, Billie walked around the bar to the mechanical bull in the center of the room.

  “Hey, Carlito,” she called out to the bar's owner.

  Carlito was in his early fifties, a short, stocky Mexican with a shaved head and a white handlebar mustache. He looked up from the table he was wiping down, his eyebrows raised.

  “I'm gonna ride Bessie,” Billie announced, stepping up to the bull and straddling it. She wrapped her fingers around the fake horns, ready to hold on for dear life. “Make sure you turn 'er all the way up, y'hear? I want to make sure these boys get their money's worth.”

  Carlito shook his head and chuckled as he positioned himself next to the control switch for the bull. Billie's entire body tensed up as she prepared for the machine to start moving. She'd never actually managed to stay on for more than one minute and ten seconds, but she felt lucky tonight.

  The other bar patrons formed a loose circle around the platform with the bull. All the faces were familiar, especially the men's. They came to the saloon to drink almost every night, swapping the same old stories and dirty jokes. Sometimes it seemed to Billie like she'd either dated, fucked, or rejected every man in Cactus Hollow at one time or another.

  Sometimes she fantasized about leaving, but where was there to go? The town was close to where the borders of Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico converged. It seemed like deserts and wheat fields stretched out to infinity in every direction.

  Carlito counted down loudly. “Tres...dos...uno!”

  He hit the button and the huge machine heaved between Billie's legs. She gripped the horns as hard as she could, her palms already slick with sweat. The hairy bull head rose and fell sharply, its glass eyes reflecting the neon beer signs over the bar.

  As the crowd around her cheered and hollered, Billie stole a glance at the clock on the wall.

  Only twenty-two seconds. Shit.

  She squeezed her legs together with all of her strength as the mechanical beast bucked and lurched. Her head bounced in every direction with such force that she felt like her neck might snap at any moment. With each sudden movement, her crotch slammed against the unforgiving saddle. The sound of the patrons whooping blended into a
single constant roar, like the sound of a seashell against her ear.

  Another peek at the clock.

  Fifty-seven seconds.

  Okay. Not bad.

  The bull reared up suddenly and Billie was almost thrown backward. Her wrists ached from how tightly she was clinging to the horns, and the bones in her arms felt like tuning forks. She felt herself starting to slip off to the side and tried to hold on tighter, but her fingers were filled with pins and needles and she worried that soon they'd go completely numb. She kept one leg hooked over the back of the machine and threw herself to the other side to counterbalance, straightening out.