Single Daddy Dom

by Sophia Gray

  “Not very subtle, is it?” Brock asked.

  “A guy like Turo's probably only seen rebels from Southeast Asia in movies,” Ben pointed out. “We want to make sure he sees exactly what he expects to see.”

  Brock addressed the room. “So, is everyone clear on the plan?”

  “You and Turo get to the mausoleum at ten,” Hammer said. “I frisk you both to make sure Turo's really unarmed, and then I inspect the money.”

  “Meanwhile, I get to do the damsel-in-distress bit,” Maggie chimed in.

  “Then I pull a double-cross and say I won't release her after all.” Greg looked into a mirror, examining his makeup.

  “At which point, I snatch Hammer's gun away, take you both out, grab Maggie, and tell Turo to make a run for it,” said Brock. “We split up. Splinter and Cobra fire off some blanks to spook him into running faster, and by the time he figures he's safe and tries to rendezvous with us, we'll be long gone.”

  Robby stood against the wall with his arms folded.

  “You seem pretty quiet all of a sudden,” Brock commented. “No yelling about how the plan is fucked, I'm an asshole who can't be trusted, and you can't believe you're still involved?”

  “I guess I ran out of things to say.”

  Brock raised an eyebrow, then walked over to Ben and spoke to him quietly. “Do you have that other thing I asked about?”

  Ben slipped him a pair of cufflinks. “It's the left one. I tested it, and it should work fine.”

  “Good. Thanks.” He turned to Maggie. “There's an office at the back of the warehouse, near the bathroom. Can I talk to you alone for a sec?”

  Maggie nodded, and they walked into the office.

  Chapter 29

  Maggie

  “You wouldn't happen to be pregnant, by any chance, would you?”

  Maggie's eyes widened. She'd taken the pregnancy test right after they'd made the call to her father, and it had been positive. In her head, she'd been rehearsing what to say to Brock for almost an hour, imagining every possible reaction from him and trying to decide how she'd respond to each one. For her, the most farfetched outcome seemed to be the one in which he'd react with joy.

  But she certainly hadn't expected him to bring it up first, and now that he had, all of her planned discussions had run away from her. She felt like a rabbit in headlights.

  “How did you know?”

  “Your mother saw you sneak me out of the house. And Turo said they've heard you getting sick in the mornings. He gave me a pretty rough time about it.”

  “So that's why they've been looking at me like that,” Maggie sighed. “That makes sense. Okay. Is this the part where you tell me you can't deal with having a baby around, and you won't be taking me with you when this is over?”

  Brock cradled her face in his hands tenderly. “This is the part where I tell you I'd never leave you behind to deal with the fallout after what we're about to do to Turo. It's the part where I tell you we belong together, no matter what. And if there's a baby, well, we'll just have to make sure we do a better job raising him than our parents did with us.”

  “Or her,” Maggie whispered.

  Brock grinned. “Or her.”

  “I love you, Brock.” She felt warm tears spill down her cheeks.

  He kissed her again. “I love you, too.”

  Maggie clung to Brock like ivy embracing a wall, trying to find every nook and crease that would allow her to take root in him so they could become an inseparable whole. He held her tight and she felt strength and comfort in his arms, radiating from him, saturating every cell in her body with the unspoken promise of happiness and safety.

  They both sank to the floor as one, their hands exploring each other's bodies eagerly. The carpeting in the office was cheap, ragged, and dusty, but Maggie didn't care. She lowered herself onto her back and pulled Brock on top of her, spreading her legs so he could lie between them. He reached up to brush some strands of hair out of her face and then he was kissing her again, sucking on her tongue gently but insistently.

  She ran her fingertips through his hair and caressed his neck, enjoying his hunger for her. Even through his trousers, she could feel his cock stiffen against her thigh. She reached down, kneading it slowly and relishing the way Brock's breath caught in his throat at her touch.

  Brock hooked his fingers under the hem of Maggie's dress, pulling it up over her head and tossing it aside. She arched her back and he reached behind her, unclasping her bra. A vent near the floor exhaled a hot, stale torrent of air, and as she felt it on her bare chest, her nipples hardened.

  “Looks like we're both getting hard,” Brock said playfully.

  He touched her breasts, and the faint tickle of his fingertips made Maggie wet. As he fondled her nipples, she closed her eyes, moaning softly.

  “I'm yours, Brock,” she sighed happily. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

  “Damn right.”

  She felt the tip of his tongue trace a line down her chest, pausing briefly to kiss her breasts before continuing its journey down to her belly. His breath was so warm against her, washing over her skin in gentle waves like a tropical breeze. He nuzzled the damp area of her panties, breathing in deeply, as though he was savoring her primal musk.

  Maggie opened her eyes again as Brock slid her panties down her legs and threw them over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and then his head was between her legs. His tongue found her clitoris easily and she gasped as it flicked against her.

  Even though he was just licking the surface of her, she felt it all the way down to the base of her spine, making her tremble and spasm uncontrollably.

  “Oh yes,” she murmured. “Yes, Brock, please, just like that.”

  Brock took her clit between his teeth tenderly, rubbing it with his tongue. As he did, he slid a finger inside of her, followed by another. They pressed against Maggie's G-spot and the room began to spin around her like a carousel. Her hands shook as her nails dug into the carpet at her sides. He moved his fingers in and out, in and out, expertly finding the most sensitive areas inside of her and applying pressure to them.

  He was like a brilliant conductor and every nerve-ending in her body was an instrument in the orchestra, their individual notes rising in harmony until their chorus reached its apex.

  “No one's ever made me feel like this,” Maggie whispered, each word carried on its own sharp exhalation like leaves on the wind.

  Brock's mouth chuckled against her skin, and the tickle of his breath was more than she could bear.

  “Take me...please...I need you inside of me, I need you now...”

  Brock continued to taste her, the movements of his tongue and fingers growing more rapid, but not fast enough to give her what she needed. “Beg me,” he commanded between licks.

  At first, Maggie couldn't gather her thoughts together into coherent words. What flickered across her mind were scattered colors, feelings, impulses. How could she speak when she couldn't even think?

  “Beg me, or I'll stop.”

  She mustered all of her strength and focus. “Please...please, take me...please, Brock, please, please, I'll do anything, please...”

  Brock withdrew his mouth and fingers from her and moved forward until he was on top of her again. Maggie unhooked her fingernails from the carpet and impatiently reached up to seize the front of his shirt, tearing it open. His buttons scattered across the floor.

  “That was an expensive shirt,” he said with a grin.

  “We'll be rich soon,” Maggie laughed. “I'll buy you a closet full of them.”

  A brief shadow passed over Brock's face, but before Maggie could ask why, he reached behind her head and pulled a handful of her hair. Maggie's head tilted back, exposing her neck. Brock planted a series of kisses under her jaw as he reached down with his other hand, unzipping his pants.

  A moment later, he was inside of her, his cock growing even more rigid as it filled her up.

&nbs
p; Brock plunged deeper into her with every thrust, their cries of passion crashing against each other in the air between them. Maggie was sure the others in the warehouse could hear them, but she didn't care. In that moment, her entire world was this man, this room, this feeling.

  Their hips rocked against each other until they ached, each trying to disappear completely into the other. The sweat of their bodies mingled together in an intoxicating perfume. Brock pressed into her harder and harder, until Maggie believed she could feel him making his way up into her stomach, her chest, her heart. Her pulse seemed to throb in perfect time with their lovemaking, filling her ears with its singular booming rhythm.

  They came as one and it was like a dam breaking, a gushing, elemental roar that ran through both of their bodies. Maggie wanted its raging current to lift them both up and wash them away together, anywhere at all, as long as they could continue to cling to each other.

  But instead it passed over them, leaving them in a pile of limbs, damp and gasping for air.

  They stayed that way for a long time before finally getting up and composing themselves. When they walked back to the main area of the warehouse, Hammer looked them over disdainfully.

  “Looks like you'll need a new shirt for tonight. Better hurry up and get one before the stores close.”

  Chapter 30

  Brock

  Brock pulled up in front of the Metairie Cemetery in the red Ferrari at ten minutes to ten. Turo was already there, waiting for him with the valise. As he walked over, Brock noticed that Turo was freshly-shaved and wearing a crisp suit. His eyes were still baggy and exhausted, but he didn't look stricken and helpless, the way he had at the waterfront earlier.

  This gave Brock a faint twinge of anxiety, but he pushed it aside. He was about to pull off the biggest score of his life. It was only natural for him to feel a bit jumpy.

  “Glad you were able to smooth yourself out a little,” Brock said. “I know how hard that must have been, given the circumstances.”

  “It's nothing. Just a shower, a shave, a change of clothes, and a couple glasses of grappa. I didn't want to give these animals the satisfaction of seeing me like that.”

  Brock nodded. “We'll get through this, Turo, I promise. But listen—just in case anything goes wrong in there or it looks like they're going to screw us over, I'll grab Maggie and get her to safety, okay? You just turn around and run as fast as you can.”

  Turo shook his head. “No. She's my daughter. I'll take her.”

  “Of course she's your daughter, and of course you feel that way, but you have to think it through. With all due respect, Maggie and I are both younger and more in shape than you are. The odds of me getting her out of here in one piece are a hell of a lot higher. But if you split off from us and run for it on your own, Bogyoke's men will have to split up, which will lower the chances of them finding any of us. Once we've all gotten away, we can meet up at The Azalea Room and call your guys down there to protect us.”

  Turo considered this. “Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. You've dealt with these slant-eyed terrorists before, so you're in charge of this show. Just make sure Maggie makes it out of here alive and unharmed.”

  “You have my word on that, Turo. Now come on, follow me. I found Fournier on a map before I got here. We should be able to get there pretty easily.”

  They walked through the vast, impeccably-manicured graveyard, passing rows of gothic crypts and monuments. There were many marble angels perched on the headstones in various poses—smiling, weeping, praying, brandishing swords, spreading their wings.

  At last, they reached the tall, narrow mausoleum with “Fournier” chiseled over the doorway. The narrow doors had panes of stained glass depicting Michael the Archangel wrestling with Satan as crimson flames danced around their feet.

  The doors were ajar, and a light flickered inside.

  Brock walked in with Turo right behind him. Greg and Hammer stood waiting in their costumes, with Maggie kneeling on the floor between them. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was tied around her mouth. Hammer's AK-47 hung from his shoulders on a strap, and Greg had a handgun tucked into his belt. A lantern rested on the stone slab in front of them, casting their giant shadows on the rear wall.

  “Thank you for joining us, gentlemen,” Greg said, using the accent once more. “Before we conduct our transaction, please be so kind as to turn around and place your hands on the wall, so my associate can make sure you are both unarmed.”

  Turo set the valise down, turned, and put his palms against the cool stone wall. Brock did likewise. Hammer stepped forward, frisked them both quickly, and nodded to Greg.

  “Excellent. Now please, hand the money to him so he can verify it's all there.”

  Turo picked up the valise again, handing it over. Hammer opened it, pawed through the stacks of bills, and nodded again.

  “We've done everything you asked, Bogyoke,” Brock said. “Now let her go.”

  “Hmm.” Greg narrowed his eyes, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I think not. I think now that we're here, there are many opportunities for us to use the resources of your criminal operation to advance our cause. And I think your precious daughter would be the perfect insurance policy to retain when embarking on such a business venture. From now on, Mr. Ricci, you and all the assets of your little empire will be at our disposal.”

  Brock snatched the AK from Hammer, snapping its strap and slamming the rifle butt into Hammer's stomach. As he did, he was careful to use the choreographed moves Ben had taught them, so it would look like a savage blow without actually doing any damage.

  Greg reached for his gun, but Brock swung the rifle around, firing several blanks into Greg's chest. The squibs went off as planned, and the fake wounds exploded with blood. Brock aimed the rifle at Hammer just as he was starting to get back on his feet and unleashed another short burst of blanks. Hammer's squibs popped, too, the dyed red corn syrup splattering against the marble slab.

  Hammer and Greg slumped to the floor, playing dead.

  Brock untied Maggie's hands and pulled the gag off. “You came for me,” she said breathlessly. “Both of you. Thank you...”

  “No time for that now,” Brock barked, turning to Turo. “I've got her. Go on, run! The rest of Bogyoke's men will be here any second!”

  Turo stood firmly in place, his hands behind his back, his expression neutral.

  “What are you doing?” Brock demanded. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Run!”

  “Why should I?” Turo asked quietly. “I'm not afraid of guns filled with blanks. Especially when I have this.”

  His right hand emerged from behind his back, holding a .22 pistol.

  Brock stared at it, his heart sinking. “Where did you get that?”

  “I hid it in my crotch,” Turo said evenly. “Adamo was right. Most men won't frisk another man there. Oh, maybe actual guerrilla fighters would...but not a bunch of half-assed bikers and con men, which is all you are.” He leaned over, addressing Greg and Hammer. “You can both get up now, I think. There'll be plenty of time for you to bleed on the floor soon enough.”

  Slowly, Hammer and Greg got up, facing them. Hammer pulled off his ski mask, glaring at Turo.

  “Of course it's you,” Turo sighed. “I should have known.”

  “Daddy, I can explain everything...” Maggie began.

  “Can you?” Turo sneered. “What possible explanation could you give for betraying me to a pack of greedy thieves and vultures? How much of my money did they promise you? What did it take for them to convince you to turn on me, after everything I've done for you?”

  Maggie's expression hardened. “Not much.”

  “Okay, so it seems like you know the whole score,” Brock admitted. “Fine. It was a scam. But it was all my idea, from top to bottom. I'm the one you want.”

  “Bullshit,” Hammer spat. “I'm the one who called him in to help us get our money back from you. None of this shit would have happened if it wasn't for m
e. You want to torture someone, kill someone—here I am. This begins and ends with me. Go for it. Just let the others go.”

  “A noble display, but you can all save your breath,” said Turo. “None of you are leaving this graveyard alive. Not after what you've done to me. Now come on, let's get out of here. I want to shoot you in the open air, so the bullets don't ricochet on the walls.”

  He gestured to the doorway with his gun. They filed out in a line, stepping out onto the grass between the headstones.

  “She's your daughter, Turo,” Brock whispered. “And she's pregnant.”

  Turo's face crumpled with rage and anguish. “I don't care. I'd rather let my bloodline die right here, tonight, then let this ungrateful bitch live to spawn another rotten, spoiled, poisonous little traitor to the name Ricci. Everything I've ever wanted for my family has been stolen from me. This is all that's left.” He cocked the pistol.