by Naomi West
Millie sucks on her middle finger before dipping it into her pussy. She moves it in and out, her other hand working diligently at her clit.
“Can you come?” I ask.
“I need batteries,” she says.
That’s code for her vibrator, so I reach into the nightstand and find her little bullet vibrator. I click it on and she grabs it greedily, placing it against that sensitive little bud. Instantly, her legs stiffen and her hips push up. She humps at the little mechanical wonder, her moans getting frantic.
“I need you,” she begs. “Please, please. I’ve needed you all day.”
My turn to lie down. I settle onto my back, and she crawls on top of me. She positions herself on my cock and starts to ride. My hands caress her belly, up to those massive breasts. She pushes them into my hands, begging me to squeeze.
She works the vibrator on her clit as she picks up the pace, throwing her head back as she moves. I just watch, awestruck, as she moves toward climax. Her muscles tighten around my cock when she does, her face a mask of ecstasy.
As the shocks subside, she flops to her side and I turn, spooning her, entering her from behind as my hands roam her breasts and large belly.
“You are so hot,” I say. “Did that feel good, Mama?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she affirms. “So good. Needed it.”
I move inside of her, kissing her shoulder as I continue my light massage of her front side, my fingers making their way to the wet, swollen patch of heaven between her legs.
“I can’t get enough of you, Millie,” I say. “I’ll never get enough.”
She moves with me, as much as her body will allow, and I feel the quickening of orgasm again. It’s enough to send me over the edge. I climax with her, both of us crying out as the waves of pleasure shoot through our bodies like shooting stars.
We lie together for a long time, our hearts beating wildly, our breathing labored. It feels good to align with her body like this, to caress her soft skin, to breathe in the scent of her hair.
Damn, I could not love this woman more.
***
Millie
I’m making fried egg sandwiches for dinner. It’s like nine at night, but I’m famished after our little sex-fest.
Sometimes I can’t believe this is all real. Axel, the baby, this love I feel for our little family that just grows every single day.
Axel is a bit of a study in contrasts. He’s very physical, obviously, and demanding. He doesn’t cook but he’s a surprising bit of a neat freak, and I’ve come home several times to see him scrubbing the kitchen floor or the shower tiles. He doesn’t really subscribe to traditional gender roles, which is very different from my parents, and even Phillip. Both of my parents work, but the workload around the house is very definitely split into roles my dad considers masculine and feminine. She cooks, cleans, and does the wash. He mows and fixes things.
With Phillip, he did nothing. I did it all, and he sat on his privileged ass. So there’s that.
Axel also likes to read. I’ve learned that he’s an introvert and he needs downtime after having to be around a lot of people. He likes to read fantasy novels and he can get lost in a book for whole days if I let him.
These are just the things I’ve learned so far, in these couple of months that we’ve been living together.
The house is for sale. I need to be free of all things Phillip, and his name is on the mortgage. Plus, this tiny one-bedroom place simply won’t be enough for us as our baby grows.
Axel sits at the table with his textbooks as I sit the plate down in front of him.
“Mmm,” he groans. “Looks and smells amazing.”
“Fried egg sandwich with sharp cheddar, tomato, lettuce, and sourdough,” I say. “I got the recipe listening to NPR on the way to work the other day.”
He takes a bite and his eyes close. I love that about him. He loves food, really savors it. It’s just one more little thing I add to my mental list of things I love about him.
“You’re the best, babe,” he says.
We eat while he looks over his books. When he looks up, he rubs his eyes. “I think I might need reading glasses,” he says sheepishly. “I might be getting too old for this shit.”
I laugh. “It’ll be worth it in the end.”
“I know it will be,” he says. He fumbles in the pockets of his running pants and pulls out a box. “Look, I’ve been carryin’ this thing around for a while …”
“Yes,” I blurt.
“Wait, wait,” he says, grinning. “Let me finish. So, I’m running the show right now and without the regular business, we run some of our stuff through another club. Other than that, we just run like a regular club, with dues and such, so I get paid a little salary. And I … I sold my custom bike. I, uh, bought a less expensive bike and before you start, I can see your mouth already open to argue with me it suits me just fine, and it gave me a little money to stash away toward our next house. And … I bought this.”
My mouth is hanging open. I was actually about to tell him that he didn’t need to sell his bike. But damn, the glittering, gorgeous rock practically blinds me.
Tears are leaking from my eyes again. A regular occurrence around here these days. He pulls the ring from the box and slides it on my finger while I cry like a big baby.
“I love you,” he says, pulling me closer, kissing me lightly. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted. You. Our son. Nothing else compares to that.”
If I could speak, I’d say I feel the same. But I can’t get words out, so I just cry and kiss him and laugh when the baby gets involved with a big kick.
“Still yes?” he asks.
“Still yes,” I say. “A thousand times yes.”
Epilogue
Millie
I look at the alarm clock. It’s three in the morning.
The baby is crying in his little bassinet, so I sit up, bleary-eyed, and force my feet to the cold wooden floor of our new home.
As I force myself off the mattress, Axel says, “I can give him a bottle if you need the sleep,” his voice muffled by his pillow.
“I’m fine,” I say. “My boobs hurt. Need a letdown.”
“Kay,” he says sleepily. “Get me if you need a break.”
I shuffle over to the bassinet and pull our week-old baby out. “Oh, you’ve peed right through your diaper, dude,” I whisper. “I’d be crying, too.”
We walk over to the changing table, and I change him, swaddle him, and then head to the nice glider chair my parents bought me when we moved in.
I pull out my aching, heavy breast and he latches on.
Many women complain about not getting a lot of sleep with an infant in the house, but I don’t mind it. I mean, yes, I like sleeping, but I also like these quiet hours alone with my son.
My son, who still doesn’t have a name.
This has been the single thing that Axel and I have argued over during these months we’ve been together. We sold the house really quickly and found our new one within a week. We agreed right away that this three-bedroom home was the right one for the start of our family. It felt like home right when we walked in, and Axel agreed.
But try naming a human and Axel gets quite stubborn.
So we left the hospital with a birth certificate that literally says “Baby Boy King.” Which kind of has a ring to it, if we want our kid to grow up to be a boxer or MMA fighter.
Once I get the little guy nursed and back to sleep, I just stand, watching him sleep in the soft moonlight that shines through our bedroom window. He’s so beautiful, with light brown skin, wide, big eyes, and a head of thick, black, curly hair. I can’t believe he’s mine.
I feel Axel’s big presence behind me, so I lean back against him.
“All tuckered out?” he whispers.
“Yep,” I say. “Big pee, big meal. He’ll be down for a couple of hours.”
“Tuckered,” Axel repeats. “Tucker. What about Tucker?”
I tilt my head. “Tucker,�
�� I say. “I like it.”
“You do?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I really do.”
“Well, then, I think our son has a name,” he says.
I turn to my fiancé and he wraps me up in his big arms as I bury my face in the front of his T-shirt.
“Can his middle name be Edmund?” he asks.
I laugh against his chest. “Fine. Whatever. But I get to name the next one.”
THE END
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Books by Naomi West
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PAY FOR HER: The Warhawks MC
HE PAID WHATEVER IT TOOK TO MAKE ME HIS.
The thug who stole my home wants me as his slave.
The biker who bought my body wants me for something worse.
I had no choice but to become his possession.
I just never thought I’d like it so much.
I used to be a good girl, once upon a time.
I had a grandmother who loved me.
A home to shelter me.
But then these men came into my life and took it all away.
Before I know it, I’m stripped bare under the spotlights while faceless men bid for my body.
The night grows longer.
The price goes higher.
But one man won’t be outdone.
I’ve never met him before.
But by the time the nightmare is over, I have a feeling I’m going to know him very, very well.
My new owner, Tank, is a monster.
A killer.
A thief.
He terrifies me.
And from now on, I belong to him.
AXEL’S LITTLE ANGEL: The Rippers MC
I WANT HER TO BEAR MY LITTLE ANGEL.
I knew it from the moment she hit me with her car:
This girl would be the one to bear my child.
The problem is, she doesn’t know that yet herself.
Time to take her in my arms and show her how things are gonna be.
Millie is a good girl.
An innocent girl.
But not for long.
She hit me with her car and now she’s going to pay the price.
I don’t want money – not that she has the necessary funds, anyways.
No, Little Miss Millie has something I want far, far more.
A body to bear my baby.
She can try to resist me all she wants.
But when I come to collect what I’m owed, there will be nothing in the world that can stop me.
I won’t rest until I have my little angel.
PISTOL’S BABY: The Brethren MC
I SWORE I’D PUT MY BABY IN HER WOMB.
I promised I’d put a baby in her belly.
And Pistol Adams doesn’t break his promises.
Lisa doesn’t recognize my face, but when I tie her to my bed, she’ll remember…
I’ve owned her since the day we met.
It was a silly promise struck between silly kids.
If she wasn’t a mother by the time I came back,
I’d make damn sure that I did the job.
Years went by.
A lot of stuff happened – to both of us.
But I’m back home now, and I’ve got business to settle.
Lisa doesn’t even remember me.
In her defense, I’ve got scars I didn’t have back then.
Tattoos.
Blood on my hands.
But I’m a man now, not a little boy anymore.
And I’ve got a promise to fulfill.
I don’t give a damn if she has a man, or a career, or anything else like that.
Only one thing matters now:
Holding her down until I fill her with my child.
I won’t take no for an answer.
KNOCKED UP BY THE BIKER: The Ancestors MC
I NEVER MEANT TO GET KNOCKED UP BY THE BIKER.
The biker had me once. I guess that wasn’t enough.
Because he comes crashing back into my life…
And this time, he won’t be satisfied with one kiss, one touch, one night.
He won’t rest until I’m pregnant with his baby.
I let him own me like no man had before him.
I should’ve known he’d leave me in the dirt.
Afterwards, I tried to forget about Bryce...
Until he showed up in my emergency room.
With his gun aimed at my head, he told me exactly what he wanted me to do.
I didn’t have a choice but to comply.
So I knelt.
I bent.
I submitted.
But one taste of me wasn’t enough.
He wanted more, and more, and more.
There’s only so much a girl can give.
Or so I thought.
But when he told me what he really wanted, my heart stopped.
That’s how I ended up a thousand miles from home…
Kidnapped.
Claimed.
And knocked up by the biker.
CRAVE: Santora Mafia
One night with her was not enough. I crave more.
If I like what I see, I take it.
Being a mob boss has its privileges.
I had no right to her, but I took her anyways.
And it’s about to cost me everything.
She didn’t deserve what I did to her.
But when did that ever stop me?
She was too tempting, too innocent for me to ignore.
I needed a taste.
So I took one.
A whole night of tasting.
Of touching.
Of satisfying every. Single. Craving.
If I could do it over again, maybe I would have left her alone.
She was delicious, yes…
But it was wrong to leave her to her abusive husband, her depressing life.
I had it all – money, power, adventure.
She had black eyes and sleepless nights.
But as everything crumbles around me, I find myself thinking of her again.
There’s war.
Blood.
Death and betrayal.
But all I want is another taste of Sofia.
And when I find out her son is my heir, the deal is sealed:
I’m coming back to get what’s mine.
TRADED: A Dark Mafia Romance
I traded my freedom for a chance at survival. Now, I belong to a monster.
You can’t outrun your fate.
I would know – I tried.
I fled death and destruction…
…only to end up in the bed of a killer.
Michal
Alina was like all the other girls.
Hopeful. Expectant. Naive.
I've seen this picture a hundred times before.
And it never ends well.
The fighters usually survive for a few years.
Not her though.
Alina's not cut out for this life.
But try swaying my father when there's money to be made.
I'm still stuck figuring, Why her?
Maybe it was her eyes calling to something deep inside me.
Or maybe I just hate sharing.
Don't get me wrong. I'm no saint.
But I won't be responsible for another body splayed in some alleyway.
Not this time.
Not Alina.
Alina
I should have listened to my gnawing insides.
It all seemed too easy. Planned.
I was right.
When my parents were killed I was left with nothing.
Coming to America was my l
ast hope. A ticket to a new life.
But I should've taken my own advice:
Don't. Trust. Anyone.
It's hard not to wonder how many other girls there have been.
If any of them survived.
Not that it matters considering I'm bound to one man now.
And don't let the charming smile fool you.
Iwan Nowak is a monster.