Baby Daddy Bad Boys

by Harper Riley

  Then, getting off the bike, he strides over to me, kisses me on the lips and, gaze boring into mine, says, “Be right back. Stay here.”

  As his footsteps fade away into the night, the quiet becomes loud. The moon is a remote sliver, as if it isn’t here at all.

  Now will be my last chance to escape. After this, there will be no saying “no” to this man, whoever he is.

  A rabbit hops along by, on the sidewalk. God, how drunk am I?

  And yet, instead of the thought of no escape frightening me, it invigorates me. This is just what I need to take my mind off the business.

  My stomach swirls.

  I can hardly bear even the thought of it – what my family does to those girls...

  Cold metal slides along my back, and I turn around into a kiss.

  His hand locks onto mine, while the other runs the room key along my back.

  “Come on, I got us a place,” he says, pulling me up the stairs then along the row of rooms, past 27, 28, stopping at 29.

  As he unlocks the door, his hand slides to my ass.

  Then he pushes me in.

  Behind us the door clicks closed, shutting out my worries with it.

  Torrieght, there is only him and me, and nothing more.

  Chapter 4 - Gavin

  I take a minute to look at her. To really savor my fuck for tonight. Those liquid chocolate eyes, that fat pillow of a lower lip, those pert tits I already know are perfect.

  She stands there and lets me lead her in the room, trying not to smile, clearly hardly able to wait much longer.

  I shove her to the wall.

  Well, I won’t make her wait any longer.

  I grab her zipper and pull down. I pull as slowly as I can, leaning into her, my forehead against hers, staring into her eyes, enjoying the tortured look there.

  Finally, she grabs the zipper herself and yanks down. Her dress flops to the floor, her tits jiggling with their newfound freedom.

  I flip her around, slap her ass, which jiggles with its punishment.

  Pressing her to the wall with my entire body, I hiss, “We’re teaching you to listen, remember?”

  She struggles, hisses back, “You didn’t say anything.”

  I press into her harder, so my dick is burrowing into her thick ass cheeks.

  “I didn’t, did I?”

  She sighs, then sticks out her ass further, starts grinding it against my dick, red ruffles swaying as her olive cheeks move against my jeans.

  I unzip them.

  God, I want to take this little slut now.

  I step back.

  No, just a little longer now. I’m enjoying this too much.

  I stick my finger in her, one then the other.

  Oh yes. She’s wet already.

  As I jerk my finger in her and her huge ass trembles with pleasure, she lets out little murmurs of pleasure.

  Just wait until my dick’s in you, little slut.

  She bends over and spreads her legs further, sticking her ass up.

  “Please,” she groans, “Just take me now.”

  I slap her ass, and shove her so hard she hits the wall.

  She trembles with pleasure, while my dick twitches with it.

  Shit, she’s practically dripping.

  “Oh God,” she moans.

  I shove my dick between her ass cheeks deeper, and she whimpers.

  I pet her, growl into her ear.

  “Not yet, little slut.”

  I reach around and grab her breast, her nipple taut already, just begging to be played with. I indulge gladly, tug and swat it, knead it between my fingers.

  My other hand she lifts to her lips, starts sucking my index finger, twirling her tongue around it expertly.

  “Turn around,” I command.

  She does and, my eyes on hers, I shove myself in between her legs.

  Her eyes flutter closed, while her lips part, a groan slipping out.

  I pause for a second, my cock reveling in how tight and wet her cunt is.

  Her eyes open, half-lidded, her lips part again, her breath shallow already. She’s panting for it.

  I pull out partway, throw myself back in and get to work. My hands on either side of her hips, lifting her slightly like she’s a doll, her vanilla raven hair sliding across my chest, I fuck her good and hard, just like I wanted to the first second I saw her.

  Each slam of our bodies together sends both of us trembling. Her nipples are hard nubs of bliss, her hands grasping at my face, my chest, my butt, delirious with pleasure. She’s so wet, her juice is running down my leg, her moaned words are incomprehensible, sound like they’re a different language.

  But when her whole body starts shaking, I understand.

  For my part, I’ve been ready to cum since the second I was in her tight pussy.

  I ramp up the pace until she’s howling for it, until finally I start pouring into her and she collapses back to the floor while I jerk myself all over her.

  I can hardly believe how much cum pours out of me, how much warm whiteness I let rain upon her pretty eager face.

  When I’m done, she flops back onto the floor, limbs spread like a snow angel, her chest rising and falling with each exhausted breath.

  I leave for the bathroom and return with two robes and a Kleenex. I kneel down, pet her head, hand her the Kleenex.

  I put on my robe and, when I turn back, she’s in the same position, except the Kleenex is stuck on her face.

  That funny little whore.

  I lie down beside her, whisper in her ear, “I don’t know if that’s where the Kleenex goes.”

  Her still red lips are visible beyond the white sheet. They smile and say, “I can only know that I know nothing.”

  I lift the Kleenex, scrutinize her closed-eyed, blissful face, ask, “War and Peace?”

  A smirk works its way onto my face before she can respond; I know the answer already. There’s no way.

  Her eyes open with momentary comprehension, then she nods solemnly. Giggles, then, eyes closing, her head flops to the side.

  And just like that, she’s asleep.

  I wipe off her face, then pick her up and tuck her into bed. I watch her for a minute, this beautiful stranger. This woman I’ve gone and had tonight, known the most intimate way you can, and yet whom, as I watch her soft contented breathing, I realize I don’t know at all.

  Chapter 5 - Gavin

  I wake up a hundred times, and fall back asleep a hundred more. Each time, hovering in half-wakefulness, I see her. Raven hair draped over me like a blanket, crimson lips curled in a secret half-smile. My last night. The woman whose name I still don’t know.

  Each time, I drift back off.

  Until one time I extend my arm into nothingness.

  Cold. The spot on the mattress where she lay is cold. She’s gone.

  I stretch, sit up, listen. For the sound of the faucet, footsteps, anything. But the motel room is as silent as a tomb.

  The bathroom door is closed. No light is coming out the bottom.

  I get up and open it, stare into the dingy, untouched-looking box. There’s no sign of her. Not a trace. It’s as if she never existed at all.

  Back in the room, everything else is similarly untouched: the leaning hulk of the cabinet, the somber sunset painting that looks more like an ode to pollution than anything. Even the front door mat is parallel to the door, not askew in the slightest.

  No, there’s no denying it. She’s gone, and I may never see her again.

  I fling open the door and storm outside.

  A woman further down the balcony takes another drag of her cigarette, while her open robe trembles in the breeze.

  Shit, I love my life, but sometimes....

  I get out my phone and remember. I can’t text Hannah.

  She’s not going to be answering me anytime soon.

  Still, my fingers dial her number before my brain can think better of it.

  The hopeless rings echo down the balcony hallway.
/>   It’s just been a week. A week since that horrible omen of a text and no sign of her.

  I jam my phone to silent, shove it in my back pocket. I can’t take any more of it, any more of those mocking rings.

  Leaning on the balcony railing, I stare out into the highway wasteland before me, everything in a gray, molasses-like motion. A waft of smoke from the woman further down the balcony throws a tempting finger in my face.

  I shake my head to get rid of the smell.

  No. No way. I quit smoking a year ago for Hannah, and I’m not about to start up again now.

  I go back inside.

  On the bed, staring at the wall, I inhale, then exhale. There.

  I’m fine now. I won’t go back there, to my twenties, all of it a haze of girls, money and drugs. After Mom died, I almost went over the edge.

  No, there’s no going back.

  I get out my phone, then put it away again.

  Hannah was the one who got me out of those dark days, the only reason I’m still here today.

  I see her at the edge of the bed now, her eyes wide with the solemnity of her words, “You can’t keep doing this, Gav. You’ll die and I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

  “I don’t know what to do without you, Hannah,” I murmur to myself.

  I get out my phone again, call Pip.

  “Hey Boss,” he says in that strange high-pitched shrill I can never believe belongs to the bulky beast of a man.

  Most people look at me like I’m on crack when I tell them he’s the tech guy and Jaws is the hit guy.

  “Hey Pip. Can you run another scan on Hannah’s phone?”

  “Sure thing,” he says, “Just a sec.”

  His “sec” is actually a few minutes of heart-pounding waiting before he says, “Sorry.”

  While the last of my hope works its way out of me, burrowing out my toes into the orange shag I’m standing on, Pip continues, “Same as before, Boss. Her phone’s still off. I can’t get any sort of trace on it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” I say, my hand lifting the phone away from my ear, my thumb reaching to the screen, ready to hang up.

  But I don’t and neither does he.

  For some reason, I can’t bear the thought of hanging up and facing this dismal room and this Hannah-less world alone.

  “Hey Boss?” Pip says after a minute.

  “Yeah?”

  “What about her friends, her boyfriend, her neighbors?”

  I stare into the gloom. I don’t want to admit it. That I’ve avoided asking around, checking in. Because then it means the crisis is real.

  “I can help,” Pip continues, “But today you have a meeting with Jaws.”

  “Right, thanks Pip. I almost forgot. Tell him I’ll be at the usual place in thirty minutes.”

  “Ok,” he says, and I hang up.

  It doesn’t take long for me to pack up my things. Coming in last night, I barely had time to put my bag down, let alone put my stuff anywhere.

  I brush my teeth, sweeping the vibrating bristles over my top teeth for 100 seconds, then my bottom for 100 more. Just like Momma taught me.

  Momma.

  My reflection in the mirror sags.

  It’s been almost four years and still, most times it returns to me as a hit to the gut.

  Now it’s even worse.

  “Always take care of your sister, Gav my boy. Protect her.” Those were her last words to me. Not “I love you,” because I knew that already, not even “Be careful” because she knew me too well. No, my mom used her last words for what was most important: family.

  What would she say now that Hannah is all but confirmed missing?

  When I lean over the bedside table to pick up my wallet I see it. Tucked behind my wallet. A note. A phone number.

  416-747-1111.

  My hand grasps it, and a smile slinks onto my face.

  No fucking way.

  But there’s no other explanation. It has to be hers.

  I tuck both in my back pocket. Maybe it’s just me, but the room looks a little lighter now.

  AS SOON AS I WALK IN, I see him. Jaws, waiting in our usual spot with his usual mountain of Rainbow Sherbet.

  While I head for the end of the long cash line, Jaws gives me a glinting grin.

  In the line ahead of me, two ponytailed girls’ stares slide from my incongruous friend to equally incongruous me.

  I smirk.

  Being an albino, I got used to people’s stares around the age of five. But as far as Jaws is concerned, I always forget how striking a figure the crazy bastard is. Especially in a pinky family-friendly establishment like Baskin Robbins of all places.

  Toothpick-skinny with glued-on looking muscles, Jaws is basically a cross between an action figure and a crack addict.

  The forest of gelled spikes on his head probably doesn’t help. All this, with sea green eyes, virtually no lips and a mouthful of braces, makes for an interesting time with any potential clients.

  I throw another look back at Jaws, who’s now entirely immersed in ice cream ecstasy. From here, the bulk of the gun in his jean pocket is still visible.

  Yeah, he may look like a Dragon Ball Z character, but Jaws is the best there is.

  By the time I make it back there with my cone of Very Berry Strawberry, Jaws is all finished his Rainbow Sherbet and ready to talk business.

  “So,” he says, smoothing out his rainbow-smeared napkin on the table, “the Piccolos.”

  I nod, and through a strawberry spoonful, repeat, “The Piccolos.”

  He picks up the napkin and speaks to it, “So they stole another shipment, right up under our noses. Turns out they bought out Kyle a few months back.”

  I take an extra big bite, glaring at the napkin myself.

  “That bastard.”

  Jaws shrugs, throws the napkin into a sweeping gesture of dismissal.

  “That’ll be water under the bridge when you hear what I’ve got planned.”

  I lean in.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, we want to completely put them down, right?”

  I shrug, avoid his eager gaze. His excitement is contagious. And dangerous.

  “I don’t know man. I think we should just hit the Piccolos back harder. Steal their next shipment. Maybe take out a few of them while we’re at it. So they get that we’re not ones to be trifled with. So they back off.”

  I shake my head, continue, “I’m not sure I want a full-out war. Not yet.”

  Jaws nods, then shakes his head.

  “I don’t know, Boss. You remember how they responded to trying to talk it out.”

  He self-consciously scratches at his neck, at the angry gash from the last of those talks.

  I stab my spoon into the soft body of strawberry with an added vigor.

  Ah yes, I remember all too well.

  How we’d finally gotten them to agree to a sit-down. How we were going to divvy up areas, girls, stop the feud, figure out a win-win solution. How they tricked us, decided they’d use all of us as target practice instead.

  They’d apparently changed their minds last minute, decided they’d rather use Jaws and his men as target practice instead.

  I inhale, then exhale.

  Letting my temper get the best of me could be fatal. An all-out war would be bloody, and I don’t want to put my family and friends in any more danger than I have to.

  Jaws folds his napkin slowly, studiously. Once it’s as small as it can get, he says, “Just hear me out, ok?”

  I nod, and he continues, “So I’m thinking – I’m thinking we won’t get many chances when they’re caught unawares, surprised. I’m thinking we throw them for a complete loop, you got me?”

  I nod, and he continues, “Problem is the whole clan sticks to that big old house like it’s their jail. Not to mention we don’t even know what kind of fish we’re dealing with as far as Torrie Piccolo goes.”

  I frown.

  “Still no word on who he is?”r />
  Jaws shakes his head.

  “Nope. He’s as good as a ghost, and our sources can’t get shit on him.”

  I shrug, and he continues, “So we need a time when they’re separated – when we can hit them where it hurts. So hard that they won’t be able to get back up again, yeah?”

  I take a big spoonful to hide my smile. I like where this is going, but I’m not about to change my mind.

  “So, I’m thinking – big old Papa Piccolo’s getting pretty long in the tooth. There’s been more doctors in and out of there than girls in your bed.”

  I punch his arm.

  “I’ve been slowing down, you know.”

  Jaws gives another glinty grin and waves the napkin again.

  “Be that as it may, main thing is – the evil old bastard is dying. It’s only a matter of time before he croaks entirely.”

  “So?” I say, “And then Torrie Piccolo steps up as the official head of the family. Torrie Piccolo – the guy who could be anyone for as much as we know about how he looks. How does the old guy dying help us?”

  Jaws is unfolding the napkin.

  “So, I’m thinking, when the whole sad Piccolo family is at the very sad funeral boohooing over Papa Piccolo, that’s when we do it. That’s when we strike.”

  I grin, but Jaws is focused on the napkin, unfolding parts and refolding others.

  “We blow up their house. Then we wait nearby and shoot a few coming home in the chaos. Maybe even take out Torrie Piccolo himself if we’re lucky.”

  Jaws lifts the napkin, which he has somehow folded into the shape of a person. His gaze flicking to mine, his smirk spreading over his face, in one rapid motion he rips it in half.

  As the severed halves fall to the table, I punch Jaws on the arm again.

  “Fuck you’re good.”

  His brace grin still wide, Jaws rises.

  “This calls for another Rainbow Sherbet.”

  He goes to the now lineless front counter, and returns a minute later with what looks like four scoops.

  “I’m hungry,” he tells my stupefied look.

  Then, taking a big bite, he adds, “You know they have Baskin Robbins PJ shorts for chicks now, yeah?”