by Kay Maree
“What’s the plan here, Ryker?” I demand when I’ve had about enough of his silent stoicism.
“We’ll show up and get the lay of the land, assess it for vantage points we can utilize to extract Faye if the opportunity presents itself, and wait,” he grunts, hooking the wheel hard to the right to take the off-ramp at speed.
Wait? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so. The moment I lay eyes on Faye, I’m going to do whatever it takes to have her in my arms again. If that means I have to sacrifice my life for hers, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. But let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that because I promised Faye forever, and that’s one promise I intend to keep.
Chapter Twelve
Faye
“Just shut the fuck up, and let me think for a minute,” Bruce snarls from the driver’s seat.
We’ve been sitting in the car since he sent a text to Dante telling him where to meet us. What I’ve gathered from his nonsensical ramblings, Bruce intends to trade me for Dante in an effort to gain access to Dante’s bank account.
Apparently, good old Bruce has gotten himself into a significant amount of debt after placing a few poorly researched bets at the local track. When he couldn’t come up with the money, Bruce asked his cousin for money under the misguided assumption that Scott, would hand it over and not expect to be repaid. He was family after all.
Wrong!
Scott Young is the second in charge of a black market operation that deals heroin to middle schoolers and sells guns to dangerous criminals. There was no way this guy wouldn’t want to get paid back in full, even I know that, and I’ve lived on the straight and narrow my whole life.
“Can you, at least, undo the cuffs, please? They are digging into my wrists,” I whimper pitifully for effect.
That’s an out and out lie. If I had a few minutes alone, I’d be able to free myself with relatively quickly, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Bruce is bound and determined to blackmail Dante, and I’m the only leverage he’s got.
Which is why I haven’t shared with him that Dante’s credit cards, debit card, and checkbook are in my purse. It would be a damn shame if this ridiculous attempt at kidnapping ended before I got to see Bruce have his ass kicked before being thrown into the back of a police car.
Shrugging, the bumbling idiot in question says, “Sure. It’s not like there’s anywhere for you to hide if you did try to escape anyway.”
Unsnapping the handcuffs, Bruce drops them into the center console. Big mistake. Everyone who owns a TV and was born in the last century knows who my dad is. You don’t even have to be a boxing fan to remember that he was ranked number one in the world three years running. His face was plastered on billboards and magazine covers, non-stop for months when he won his last belt and announced his retirement.
So it stands to reason, that the heavyweight champion of the world would teach his kids a thing or two about self-defense. I may not have returned to the gym my dad owned after I was attacked and abhor violence of any kind, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the basics.
When you’ve been a victim of a violent crime, you might question your instincts directly afterward, but given time, you will come to realize they are your biggest and most powerful asset. I honed mine, perfected the art of reading people's body language. A subtle shift in their posture to the right will tell one story, but a slight lean to the left can indicate something else entirely.
Take now for example; a passerby would notice a man and a woman sitting in a car on the side of the road, their bodies leaning away from each other, and automatically assume the couple are in the middle of a domestic dispute. However, if you look closer, you’ll spot the tick underneath Bruce’s left eye, the way his jaw is clenched where it hinges, and the constant opening and closing of his fists. All of that put together speaks of blatant hostility and a healthy dose of anxiety mixed in for good measure.
An advantage is what I need. A fraction of a second when Bruce is distracted enough not to see my hand inching toward the center console. He isn’t carrying a weapon, or not one that I’ve noticed, so I don’t fear being seriously injured. Which, as you know, is a reasonable fear to have in my current condition.
Barking followed by the dogs’ owner yelling for it to heel is just the opening I was waiting for. My hand darts out to grab the handcuffs as I use my other hand to pull back on Bruce’s middle finger, bending it at an unnatural right angle.
“Fuck! Shit, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bruce shouts, drawing the attention of the dog owner.
Too little too late, I muse to myself when the man who is yet to corral his dog knocks on the passenger’s side window. “Let me take care of our innocent bystander, and I’ll be right with you,” I chirp, alighting from the car.
“Hi,” I smile at the man.
Frowning at me he asks, “Are you all right? I heard yelling.”
“Of course,” I nod trying to reassure him as quickly as possible so that he’ll go the hell away.
Now, I get that you probably think I’ve lost my mind. I assure you, I haven’t. My first port of call should have been to find my cell, calling the police and Dante, in that order. However, it’s completely unnecessary.
After Bruce sent the text to Dante, he would have told Ryker immediately. And Ryker being the kind of man he is – a straight arrow – would have called it into the police in the amount of time it took to pull his cell out and dial the number. Not to mention, Dante is without a doubt on his way here as we speak.
“Miss,” the man says, placing his hand gently on my forearm. “Are you sure that you’re okay, that is?”
“Absolutely,” I answer, giving him my best imitation of an award winning smile.
“Okay, then,” he mutters, not sounding convinced in the slightest.
I watch him jog off in the direction he last saw his dog before yanking the car door open and peering inside. Good, Bruce is right where I left him. “In answer to your question, I’m righting the balance of power in our relationship, Bruce.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Essentially, it means that I’m detaining you until the police arrive. But hopefully, prior to that, Dante, Ryker – and whoever else they deign to bring with them – will show up and teach you what happens to men who stupidly kidnap women that have friends with guns that know how to use them.”
Bruce grunts, straining against his bonds as a late model Ford pickup skids to a stop parallel to us. Dante is out of the truck and dragging me into his arms before Ryker can even remove the key from the ignition.
“Jesus, baby. You scared the absolute shit out of me,” he breathes into my neck.
Wrapping my arms around his middle, I lean into Dante and inhale deeply. Tonight could have turned out very differently. I could have been lost to Dante permanently and him to me. But whether it’s considered naïve or not, I don’t care. I believe in fate, and tonight it intervened so that I could end my day in the arms of the man I was destined to belong to from the moment I took my first breath.
“I love you, Dante,” I smile into his chest, feeling him shudder as his arms imperceptibly tighten around me.
“Mine,” is the one word I get in response, but it tells me everything I need to know so I’ll take it. And him. Forever After.
Epilogue
Dante
“On your knees,” I command, using my fist tangled in her hair to guide Faye to the floor. Once she’s positioned exactly where I want her, I growl, “You know what to do next, baby. Be a good girl and take me deep,”
Kneeling between my spread thighs, Faye slowly unknots the towel around my waist. She moves in closer, running her nose along my shaft before gripping the base and taking the head of my long, thick, leaking cock into her mouth.
Faye’s wickedly talented tongue rims my tip, then begins lapping at the pre-come steadily dripping into her waiting mouth. Moaning as she gets the first taste of my come today, F
aye increases the depth she taking me and her speed until she’s practically swallowing me whole.
With one hand still firmly lodged in her hair, I use the other to cradle her cheek and tell her, “When you get back up to the head use your teeth on me, gorgeous.”
Following my instruction to the letter, on the upward glide, Faye’s teeth nip at the highly sensitive flesh where the tip of my cock meets the shaft. Shards of pain mixed with intense fucking pleasure has my dick hardening and growing thicker, and my balls pulling up tight, ready and waiting to explode.
Thrusting further into her warm, wet mouth, Faye’s throat convulses around me, making me hiss, “Where do you want it; mouth, tits, ass, or cunt?”
Whimpering, Faye manages to murmur, “Mouth. Definitely in my mouth.”
“Not getting off without taking you with me, baby.” Pulling out of her mouth with a wet pop, I fist my cock and start jacking off while Faye watches on with rapture.
Inserting two fingers into her glistening pussy, Faye starts to fuck herself but doesn’t once take her eyes off the movement of my hand shuttling up and down my shaft.
“That’s just insulting, gorgeous,” I growl, working myself faster. “Two fingers don’t come close to how thick my cock is. Try four. Shove them as deep as you can inside your perfect pussy, and use your thumb to play with your pretty, little clit.”
Faye licks her lips, concentrating hard on attempting to fit almost a full fist inside her pussy. I watch with avid interest and pre-come rolling down my shaft as Faye’s pussy lips stretch wide, and the tight little hole made solely for taking my dick sucks her digits deep.
Fucking hell! That has got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Faye’s inner thighs are slick with her thick cream. The hood covering her clit is pulled back, allowing me to look my fill at the swollen, pink nub beneath. Her skin is flushed from the tips of her blush-colored nipples all the way up to her cheeks.
Slicking my thumb through a bead of come, I swipe it across Faye’s lips. “I’m going to work my dick for you, baby, but I need you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me.”
“Dante. Honey,” she moans, still plunging her fingers in and out of her cunt.
“Do it, Faye. If you’re a good girl, later I’ll fuck your ass while you’ve got that nine-inch glass cock you love shoved up your cunt,” I grunt as the first drop of my come lands on her outstretched tongue.
“Please, Dante. Fuck, I’m going to come,” she cries, slamming all four fingers into herself as deep as they can go.
“If you close that beautiful mouth of yours and I come on your face, I’m going to spank your ass while I fuck it, but I won’t be getting you off afterward,” I warn, watching as Faye’s eyes widen in disbelief.
Good. I’m glad we understand each other.
Faye’s orgasm slams into her with the force of a freight train, leaving her panting, flushed, and trembling between my thighs. But throughout one of the most intense climaxes I’ve ever seen her have, she doesn’t once close her mouth.
Seeing her juices covering her fingers, palm, and dripping down her wrist when she finally removes them from her sated pussy, I demand, “Don’t waste your sweet come, baby. Hold your hand up for me so I can taste you while you taste me.”
Complying immediately, Faye lifts her arm toward my head, so that I can suck all four fingers slowly into my mouth. Jesus, she tastes so fucking good. So goddamn sweet.
“Are you going to let me paint your tits too, gorgeous?” At her nod, I grin wolfishly. “You like walking around smelling me on you all day don’t you, baby?” Again she nods, but this time more fervently. “You know what I love? That every time you talk to another man, he can smell my come on you too. It lets those fuckers who stare at your tits know you’re taken. That you’ve got a man in your life who’s possessive enough to mark what’s his.”
Faye’s thighs quiver as the first rope of my come hits her tongue. “You’re mine, Faye. And I’m about to claim every inch of you.”
Emptying half my load into her mouth, I pull back and spray the rest across her chest, loving how it slowly travels over the globes of her tits and pools in the valley between them.
“Yes. Fuck, yes,” Faye screams, finding the friction she needs to achieve her second orgasm by simply rubbing her legs together.
Feeling the last jet of come leave the head of my cock, I command, “Rub it in, baby. And don’t forget your nipples. I want to see them shining with my come by the time you’re finished.”
Doing as she’s told, Faye cups her perfect tits and uses her thumbs to spread my jizz across her nipples, circling them repeatedly to make sure every inch is covered.
Hours later, finally sated and lying flat on my back in our bed with Faye draped across my chest, I ask, “So, when were you planning to tell me you’re carrying my baby?”
Faye jolts in my arms but doesn’t try and shift away from me. I wouldn’t let her even if she did, but it’s a good thing she didn’t because that would earn her another spanking. This one she wouldn’t enjoy half as much as the one I gave her an hour ago, though.
Chuckling at her shocked expression, I mutter, “What, you didn’t think I’d find out? I know your body better than you do, gorgeous. Your nipples are more sensitive, your tits are fuller, you’re always sleeping when you aren’t working or taking my cock, and you throw up almost every fucking morning. It wasn’t hard to figure out, baby. But my question to you is, why didn’t you say something when you found out?”
By my estimate, Faye has to be at least, fourteen, if not, fifteen weeks pregnant, that’s why I’m relatively confident she kept it from me. Not that it matters. I’m fucking over the moon she’s got my baby inside her, regardless that we’re not married yet which means her dad may possibly kill me.
Faye and her mom, Zara have been planning our wedding since I proposed to Faye three weeks ago. I had the ring and took her out to dinner, but my proposal wasn’t delivered by way of a question. More like a demand without the option of saying no. Thank fuck, Faye said yes, though, because if she hadn’t, I would have probably dragged her ass down to the local courthouse and got the deed done while she was still under the influence of whatever sedative I gave her.
“I didn’t…I mean…I wasn’t keeping it from you because I didn’t want to tell you; I just didn’t know how,” she stammers with an adorable pout.
Stroking down the length of her spine, I stop when I get back to her hip and roll us so that we’re on our sides, facing each other. “You thought I was going to freak the fuck out, didn’t you,” I grin, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“Yes, that may have been one of the alternatives that crossed my mind,” Faye scowls.
“Well, you’d have been wrong. I’m fucking ecstatic. We’re having a baby, and what makes it even better, is that I probably knocked you up on the first go.”
Huffing in exasperation, Faye flops onto her back. “Only you, Dante, would be proud of impregnating your girlfriend at the same time you relieved her of her virginity.”
This is most likely true, but it doesn’t change the facts. I have super sperm that comes fully equipped with homing beacons and laser guided sights set on a direct path to Faye’s uterus.
“When we tell your parents, how about we leave that part out, and just go with the standard, ‘guess what, we’re having a baby’ line,” I suggest, genuinely fearful that my death would not be pleasant or swift if Faye said any of that to her dad.
“I’ll think about it,” she shrugs, snuggling back into my side.
Oh, shit!
Faye
Three Years, Nine Months, and a Handful of Days Later
“That kid is a freaking menace to society, and he’s only just turned three,” Harleigh tells me as if I didn’t already know.
“Remind me again why I hired you?” I snap while at the same time trying to wrangle an uncooperative child out of the swimming pool which is quite s
imply on the verge of having a thermonuclear meltdown of epic proportions.
“Let’s go with because I’m awesome, and you don’t know how to fire me without hurting my feelings,” she winks.
Hmm, she could be right about that. No, not really. In truth, Harleigh is a godsend.
On one of many trips Dante and I took home, I burst into a flood of hormonal tears and snot – and possibly other bodily fluids I don’t want to admit to – Dante promptly told me that if I didn’t agree to hire an assistant, I was being put on maternity leave. Effective immediately. Enter Harleigh; my savior who comes with the added bonus of being a naturally gifted child whisperer.
Now, while I was overjoyed one of my best friends would be working side by side with me on a daily basis, someone else was not. In fairness, that’s not an entirely accurate description of how not okay, Lyric was with Harleigh leaving him. A better way to describe Lyric’s opposition to Harleigh’s decision would be furious, livid, incensed, or enraged; take your pick, all of them fit the bill.
It took Dante, my brother, Drake, Harleigh’s brother, Dexter, and Lyric’s brother, Luca to stop Lyric from throwing Harleigh over his shoulder and carrying her off to his man-cave where she would be held prisoner, never to be heard from or seen again.
Everyone thought that after the initial shock subsided, Lyric would come around, but nothing could have been further from the truth. His surly attitude only seemed to intensify as the days leading up to Harleigh’s departure drew closer. But watching Lyric mourn the loss of his best friend, his soulmate, wasn’t what broke my heart.
No, my heartbreak was reserved for when I saw the look of disdain on Lyric’s face as he gave Harleigh an ultimatum outside her house on the day we were due to leave. Four years later, I still remember it like it was yesterday, no matter how hard I’ve tried to erase it from my memory.
“Hails, wait,” Lyric shouted, swinging his leg over his bike.