MOBSTER’S BABY_Esposito Family Mafia

by Nicole Fox

  “You’re thicker than you used to be,” I breathed.

  “So are you. All this hip and tits; I fucking love it.”

  His shirt was off and then mine followed, his face going in to nuzzle at my cleavage before he shoved my straps down my shoulders and then yanked my bra beneath my breasts. He didn’t even unhook it, immediately going to my hard, exposed nipples. One he rolled between his fingers and the other he took between his lips. I rolled my body against his as heat flooded my core; my panties were already soaked.

  I wasn’t idle, though. I never was. My own hands went to his pants, undoing the buckle of his belt and then the button and zipper of his pants. I reached in and pulled out his length. It was hard, curving up, so thick and heavy in my hand as I stroked. He groaned against my breast and tugged, making me cry out in ecstasy.

  “You like that, baby?”

  “More,” I ordered. “Trip, you know what I want.” I squeezed him, making my point as I made him bow over and growl. He bit into my neck.

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you want.”

  He pulled back, sliding down my body. He bit and sucked my skin until he got to the hem of my jeans. Without a fuss, he undid them, sliding them and my panties down and off me. He kissed the inside of my thighs, but he was as impatient as I was, only giving a couple of them before he pushed them open wider, putting me on display for him.

  “Fuck, you’re still as gorgeous as I remember.”

  I flushed at his words, but had no time to reply as his tongue came out and delved into the wet folds of my sex. I’d had sex with Holland—and Rigger, too. Neither had ever taken the time to go down on me, though, and Trip had always been so good with his tongue. He slid it over me, sending impossibly strong tingles through me. When it flicked over my clit, I arched and took hold of his hair, and that prompted him to stay there.

  He worked over the sensitive nub, taking it between his lips and sucking, giving soft little bites. As he did, he slid his fingers inside me, homing right in on sensitive nerves. I writhed against his mouth and fingers, loving the duality of the pleasure. It was like no time had passed. He knew exactly how to touch me, where, how hard to go to bring me close and then to pull away before I could. It drove me mad, but it felt so good. I felt myself practically gushing around him.

  “Trip … Trip, please … no more waiting.” The time in the alley hadn’t been enough, and I’d let myself close off from him, thinking it’d been a mistake. Not this time.

  He lapped against my folds, though, and sucked against me one last time before he pulled away. I looked down and watched as he undressed the rest of the way, licking my lips at the sight of his cock. There was no man that could ever compare to him, that much I was certain about.

  Trip retrieved a condom from his nightstand, hovering over me as he slipped it over his length. I watched him eagerly.

  “Hurry up, Trip,” I urged.

  He chuckled as he propped himself over me, hands on either side of my head. “You in a rush or something, Misha?”

  “I’m in a rush for you to fuck me—”

  The head of his cock nudged against my entrance and I gasped as he entered me fully. My head tilted back and I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him forward. He had been my first and only when we were young, and I had always loved to feel of him entering me. It made me claw the sheets as he rolled in, pulled his hips back, and then snapped forward.

  “Fuck!”

  He hit so deep, I thought I’d explode from just that. Instead, I held off as he picked up a rhythm, jarring the bed with his deep, powerful thrusts that were strong and smooth. I chanted his name like it was a prayer, my arms coming to wrap around him to hold him close to my body. His chest brushed against mine, hardening my nipples and making them sensitive. I moaned and kissed him, whining out his name.

  “Fuck, you feel so good, Misha.” He panted against my lips, bucking harder as my nails settled into his back. Harder, harder. And I bucked my hips against him as my walls fluttered and pulsed around him, becoming tight and needy with the pleasure that he was giving me. we moved in sync, rolling and rocking until the bed was hitting the wall loudly. Trip reached up and grabbed his headboard to steady himself, and then his free hand grabbed me by one of my thighs to hold and anchor me as he drilled into me harder.

  “Ah, Trip!” My head tossed back at the cry of his name, bucking up against him and sobbing out as I felt myself grow tighter and tighter around him until I couldn’t hold my pleasure anymore. I was tight and flooded around him. Trip didn’t stop, though. He kept up the pace and didn’t seem close to stopping. When he spoke next, I knew that was the case.

  “Want you … on top.”

  He pulled back to roll us over, placing himself on his back with me straddled on top. I gasped at the sudden change of position and planted my hands as steadily as I could on his chest. I groaned as he slipped into me deeper than he had before. It was all … so good, so much. I was ripe with sensitivity.

  His hands found my hips and guided me up as I found a rhythm. They were strong and held me where my legs were otherwise weak from my own orgasm. I felt him pulse inside me as I picked up pace though, and reveled in watching him as we found our rhythm together again—he with his feet planted into his bed and bucking up into me, and me grinding down on him with sinful swivels of hip. I knew how he liked to be ridden. Hard and fast until he was tossing his head back and cumming deep within me. Well—he wouldn’t be doing that, but I was going to make him feel good.

  I rose up and slammed down on him.The sound was lewd as I was soaking wet, and the headboard creaked and bumped against the wall. I held onto it as Trip had when he’d been on top, the leverage allowing me to ride him smoother and harder. It felt so good—I could get off again if I wanted, and I wanted to. He always came harder when I was tight around him.

  “Yeah, Misha, just like that,” he encouraged. I moaned at the dig of his nails in my sides the harder I went, and he rolled into me hard. I knew he was close.

  His chest heaved, and the sounds of his pleasured growls turned me on so bad. I’d always loved how gravelly his voice could get. That hadn’t changed, only deepened with age, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

  “You like that, baby?” My voice was shaky, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  His head was tilted back as he nodded, eyes closed as he basked in the pleasure of me riding him.

  “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, fuck, ah—”

  Trip arched up hard, and his hands gripped me even harder. He held me down on his cock, emptying himself. I missed the warmth of his release, but I still got to enjoy the pure bliss that etched itself across his face. It was red and sheened with sweat and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  I leaned down, putting my face to it. I nibbled and sucked as Trip rocked his still-hard cock within me, moaning with each pass. I sighed against him and nuzzled into his neck. We smelled like sex and satisfaction, but mostly, we smelled like each other. I had missed that scent.

  “Fuck, Misha. That never gets old …”

  “Sex?” I asked with a little laugh.

  “You. The way you feel. The way you work your hips.”

  Trip took my chin in his hand and tilted my head towards him. He kissed me, deep and claiming, as he rolled me onto my back again. He started to soften, I could feel it, but when he pulled out, he replaced his cock with my fingers.

  “All mine,” he sighed against my lips as my hips jerked against his hand. “You’re all mine. This body, your pleasure, your heart. Misha …”

  We had never said it when we were younger. I knew the urge though. It was in me too.

  I pulled him to me, the kiss swallowing what I knew he wanted but struggled to say. He worked his fingers in and out of me, this time slowly, gently, like he was loving me with them rather than fucking me. Even then, I felt every pass like an intense sensation; I had come close to cumming, too, before Trip had. But I wanted this one to last.

  I moaned against his
mouth and rocked on his fingers. They curled and brushed deeply, intimately. I whined for him and when it was all too much, I arched against him softly again and spilled around his fingers.

  He pulled them out of me gently as my rocking hips slowed and eased until I was lying there, spread open on his bed. He settled beside me, wrapping around me. Experimentally, I took his hand in mine and dragged my tongue over his fingers, tasting my own satisfaction there. He watched me and groaned.

  “I don’t know if I could take much more of you right now,” he said, rolling his hips against me. He was still soft. That was okay. I nuzzled my nose to him after cleaning his fingers off. I let myself scoot close to him, and I wrapped arms and legs around him, snuggling with him in the afterglow.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “How about we nap for a little … maybe after we can go for another round … or two … or three, even.”

  He laughed.

  “Two or three? Greedy little thing today, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. I just know I have five years and a little bit of celebrating to do, and I haven’t had sex like that in forever. If anything, it’s better than it used to be.”

  He grinned.

  “Then let me not keep you from your nap. Would hate to impede your celebrations and catching up.”

  Chapter Nine

  Trip

  I woke up with Misha kissing her way down my chest.

  I felt the brush of her lips against me, starting at my neck, over my chest. Her tongue flicked over one of my nipples, making me arch and blink down at her sleepily.

  “Mmm, what are you doing down there?” I asked, rocking my hips against her body and not really needing to know what exactly she was doing. She didn’t answer me, just kept moving down and down and down some more with those damn lips. Still naked, she found her mark and nuzzled against my pelvis, her hair brushing over my hard cock. I hissed.

  “Come on, baby, don’t hold out.”

  She giggled, and her mouth met the head of my cock. Ah, that was nice. I laid back and enjoyed the cute little kitten lick she gave the head before she wrapped those sweet lips around me. It’d been a while since I’d cared to get intimate enough to allow a woman at my dick like this. Most of the time I wanted a quick fuck—but Misha wasn’t just a quick fuck, after all.

  She lowered herself on my, taking me all the way down. She was hot and wet and she sucked like she’d missed it. I fisted my hand in her hair and rolled my cock into her throat. After sleep I was always sensitive, and I felt it in the early twitch and the way the pressure built in the base of my spine. I didn’t really care; this was one hell of a way to wake up.

  Misha bobbed and moaned around me, and I moaned with her as she sucked me off expertly. The harder she sucked, the harder I bucked, until I was holding her down on my dick and spilling down her throat with a groan.

  “Ah … fuck …”

  She kept sucking me though, drinking all of me down. It made my hips buck even more, even worse. I had my head tilted back as the ministrations teetered somewhere between mind blowing and a little too much.

  When Misha pulled off, my cock was clean, and she slithered up my body.

  “You sleep good?”

  I wrapped my arms around her and laughed. “How the hell do you sound so cute and innocent after sucking my dick like it has the antidote in it?”

  She smacked me lightly on the chest. “Shut up. Come on, we need a shower. We’re telling Rose the news, remember?”

  Ah, yeah. That.

  After Misha had confessed to me that she wanted to try this thing with us again, we’d spent the better part of the rest of the day fucking. I ate her out in between; she sucked me off when she felt like it. I’d had her against every conceivable surface in my room—and the kitchen, because apparently Misha cooking in just panties was too distracting for me—before we’d finally slept the night away. In between, we’d decided that we would tell Rose the news, as well as inform her that she and her mama would be moving in.

  It was step one to ‘Trip Becomes a Real Dad.’

  It was kind of terrifying, but it was a step I wanted and was willing to take. Anything for Misha. Anything for that little girl that was mine. It made a lot of things flow into perspective for me, but that was shit I’d be working out on the side and wouldn’t be bothering Misha about.

  I followed Misha into the bathroom with a grin. We showered, fooling around a little but not taking too long. When we got out, nice and squeaky clean, we hopped on my bike and headed to Ace of Pride.

  Trixie was outside with Rose when we pulled up. She’d bought Rose a set of chalks about a week back. Trixie was drawing pictures with her on the steps. Misha laughed at the sight as we walked over.

  “Hey, baby, you having fun?”

  “Mama!” Rose jumped up, immediately going to Misha’s open arms. She snuggled into Misha’s embrace, and it warmed my heart seeing my girl and our girl like that. “You like them? Miss Trixie was showing me.”

  Rose pointed to a rose done up in chalk. Misha raised a brow.

  “Woah, that’s actually pretty good. You did that, Trixie?”

  “Yup,” Trixie said, pretty proud of herself. “Mama always said back in the day I shoulda been an artist, but everyone knows that that stuff don’t do well around here.” Trixie stood up and dusted herself off a little. She smiled at Misha. “She was an absolute doll, but I gotta go—I got a date!” She smooched Misha on the cheek and waved at me. I looked to Misha.

  “A date?”

  Misha shrugged, though she wore a conspiratorial smile. I wondered if she knew who Trixie was going on a date with, and decided maybe later I’d find out. In the meantime.

  “Hey, Rose?”

  “Yes, Mr. Trip?”

  “Your mama and I have something cool to tell you.”

  “Oooh?”

  We walked Rose inside, back to the back room. I hadn’t spent much time in it since Misha and Rose had moved in, and there was a definite mother’s touch that had come to it. Everything was straightened up and in its proper place. There was little hint of the fact that the space was usually occupied by a piece of shit slob like me—but I supposed that that was the point.

  “Is everything okay, Mama?” Rose asked as we settled into the room.

  Misha took Rose into her arms. “Everything is fine, baby. But there’s going to be some changes, and Trip and I wanted to talk to you about them and see what you thought about it.”

  “Are we leaving again, Mama?” Rose seemed a little panicked. “Like the last time? I don’t wanna leave. I like it here. Mr. Trip is nice.”

  Misha shushed her, and I was amazed at her ability to do so, so easily.

  “No, no, baby. Nothing like that. Trip and I … Well, we’ve known each other for a long time. You know that, right? And we knew each other before I ended up with Mr. Holland and Mr. Rigger. Trip and I’ve decided that since I’m back, it would be a good idea to pick back up where we left off.”

  Misha looked to me, encouraging. I cleared my throat.

  “Basically. I like your mama. She likes me. So … You two are going to move in with me. I want you two with me. You two are a part of the family here, you know.”

  Rose’s eyes widened as she looked between me and Misha. I wondered for a brief moment if it was dread or if she wasn’t going to want to. Maybe she had more attachments to the Jackal men than she did here. After all, she’d lived with them for five years. They were all she knew.

  Those fears were bullshit the second that that little girl threw herself into my arms.

  “I get to live with Mr. Trip for real! Yay!”

  For the first time, I hugged my own daughter. I had to bury my face in her hair to keep myself from doing something stupid, like blubbering like an idiot.

  The next week was busy. There wasn’t anything else but what Misha had managed to bring with her to move in from the bar to my home, but there was a bit of furniture that needed to be bought. My guest room was more of a messy
closet, and while I let Brig take over the running of things, I was running myself ragged trying to get shit up to snuff enough for a little girl to be living in my home.

  Misha was a huge help. I would have been happy and fine with doing it all on my own, but she wasn’t having any of that. Misha was right there, hauling things out of the room, hammering shit if I needed another set of hands, and determining with her mother’s expertise what was and was not suitable for a five-year-old girl.

  We were tired on the first day. By the third, we were ready to take a vacation. We held out until the fifth, and sprawled in the middle of our little girl’s new room.