UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

by Zoey Parker

  My one hand jerks him off, while the other reaches for the hand, the cream I’ll rub on his dick.

  He freezes, shoves me to the back of the tub with the cream hand, waves the cream finger in my face.

  “Ah, ah, ah, this cream has a very special use.”

  His one hand starts kneading my breast, while the other goes to my shoulder, slides around to my neck, down to my back, then further.

  I shove my pelvis to his dick. He slaps my ass.

  “Bad slut,” he growls.

  I lay back, and he pets my head.

  “That’s more like it.”

  Then his hand starts kneading my ass, jiggling the fat then grasping it, playing with the cheeks.

  I rub my pussy against his dick and he slaps my crotch with it, grabs my ass roughly.

  “Bad slut.”

  His fingers snake all over my ass, into the crack, run up and down it, up and down, rubbing the cream in, concentrating around the hole. He throws his lips over mine, probing his tongue in my mouth while he increases the intensities of his strokes of my crack.

  Suddenly, he flips me over.

  My face is under water. A loud sucking sound, and my head is lifted up by the hair, while the water in the tub slowly ebbs.

  He presses his face into the back of my head, his finger into my opening.

  “Don’t you worry, slut. I still have more to do with you yet.”

  And then the water’s gone and he’s emptying my body cream over my lower back, then back and forth over my ass cheeks, rubbing it in with his hands. And then his hand is back on my ass crack, pressing into the hole, around it, teasing me.

  I press my ass up in frustration, but he slaps it. And then shoves a finger in me. I stick it up higher.

  He reaches down and grabs my tit.

  “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”

  His other hand kneads my ass, slides down into my pussy.

  While it starts jerking, his other finger works its way in deeper.

  Amidst the pleasure ratcheting up and down my spine, from my ass to my pussy and back again, I’m aware of only one urge, one word, one need.

  “More,” I gasp, and he obliges me.

  Shoves his finger all the way in my ass, and the other all the way in my pussy, pumping in the same frantic rhythm he can’t keep up for long and I don’t need him to. He’s given me more and more, the hot flush of oblivion is overtaking me. I can’t hold on much longer.

  On the edge, as my whole body trembles with his jerking, the word spills out of me, becomes some kind of masochistic, insane refrain, “More –more – more –more.” Until I’m delivered with it, over the edge and howling out my pleasure, the orgasm taking hold of me, until there is no more to be had and I’m delivered, crashing, into a crumpled ball of haze in the tub.

  In the blissful haze, there is the smell of vanilla everywhere, liquid vanilla running over my head, over my shoulders, down my back, over my ass.

  I’m flipped over and vanilla gets there too, spending extra time on my breasts, sliding down to my pussy, until I’m wet again and vanilla is satisfied.

  Picking me up, Gabriel leans over, engulfs my nipple with his mouth, sucks away and face in front of mine, smiling greedily says, “Now, it’s my turn.”

  Chapter 13

  Gabriel

  God, that look on her face alone could kill me: Utter submission.

  I throw her onto the bed. “Don’t move,” I command.

  And she doesn’t. She waits there, lying on her back with her legs akimbo and her naked chest heaving. Waiting for me, for what I’m going to do to her.

  I stride back, get the cream.

  I flip her over, spread the cream along the bends of the heart-shaped ass.

  Jesus Christ, that ass, that beautiful, full, waiting-for-it ass.

  She rises to all fours like a dog.

  I palm her ass, stroke up and down her silky ass crack, pressing into the hole, teasing it some more.

  She presses her ass into me further and my finger slides in easily. As I shove my finger in, she shoves her ass out further.

  “More.”

  I slap her ass.

  “Your job is to listen and get fucked. Not talk.”

  She groans, shoves her ass out even further, the word working its way out again as I pulse, going further and further each time, “Moooore.”

  Finally, I rip out my finger, throw her off the bed and shove myself into her, my cock between her ass cheeks into her crazy tight, crazy hot hole.

  “Unh,” is all she can say now.

  Burrowing myself in deeper, I growl in her ear, “What’s that? Didn’t quite catch that. You want more?”

  I grind myself in deeper, and she groans, her ass trembling.

  I slap it, shove myself in deeper, then pull out and slam into her so hard she hits the wall, both of us shaking in the aftermath.

  “Fuck,” she groans.

  I start pumping that sweet little ass of hers, pressing her head into the wall.

  “What’s that? You want more?”

  “Oh Christ, yes.”

  God I’m not going to be able to take much more of this. The way she’s just taking it, taking it up the ass, legs spread, ass shoved up. Not like she wants more – like she needs it.

  I pull out all the way.

  Well, more is exactly what I’m going to give her.

  I shove all the way in again and slap her ass, and she’s swaying in back and forth, grinding those thick cheeks around my dick while I’m inside of her.

  She starts to say something, but I slam her back into the wall.

  “Shut up, you’re for fucking, that’s all.”

  And then I ratchet up the pace, and her moans are in time to my slams and she’s shaking that ass, that sweet slutty little ass, and I slap it and she loses it, falls to her knees, just as I’m over the edge, cumming everywhere, all over her back, her ass, that ass that’s still trembling, shaking with what it wanted but couldn’t handle.

  When we both fall still, I pull out. Then, I pick up the fucked-out ragdoll and toss her in the bath, scrub the both of us clean. I pick her back up, toss her in bed and climb in beside her.

  I watch as she drifts away, the traces of a smile still on her parted lips.

  I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about this woman.

  ###

  When I feel a cool softness at my chest and open my eyes, I know.

  She wants more.

  The next thing I can feel are those cool hands running along my dick, her breath grazing my cheek.

  “When does the pussy get him?”

  I roll around so my back is to her.

  “When she’s earned it.”

  Now the lips are on my shoulders, kissing and sucking away all the tension.

  “What do I have to do?” she asks, her tone alone making me hard.

  I wait a minute before answering, torture her a little.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please,” she groans, her hands snaking around to my front, stroking my chest, slowly moving down further and further.

  “Get in front of me,” I say.

  I sit up and she walks over in front of me.

  I have her stand there for a minute so I can enjoy her, let my gaze feast on her wide hips, her dick-wide landing strip, her cunt with a sheen of wetness already.

  “Kneel down,” I say.

  She kneels.

  “So, what will you do for it?” I ask casually, spreading my legs so she can have a full view of my cock.

  “Anything,” she murmurs, entranced.

  “Anything?” I ask again, shoving him out further, almost to her lips.

  “Anything,” she says, throwing herself on him with vigor.

  I pull myself away with a loud slopping sound.

  “Wait there,” I command, striding away to my bag.

  I take it out, hold it behind my back.

  I sit back where I was on the bed, put the gun in
front of my cock.

  “You did say anything,” I say, my ironic gaze scanning hers. I shove the gun in her face, say, “Suck this off how you’re gonna suck me off. Suck this off good and hard.”

  There’s no hesitation, not even any fear; as soon as the words are out of my mouth, her tongue is out, running up and down the barrel’s length eagerly, never taking her eyes off me.

  Jesus, that look alone…

  Eyes still on me, she probes the muzzle with her tongue, then throws her whole mouth over the gun, going down until it hits the back of her throat.

  She pulls back with a loud smacking sound, then rubs the muzzle over her lips, over her cheek, over one tit and the other.

  My hand finds my dick. This is the best show I could ask for.

  She plays with her tits with the gun, then slips it back to her mouth. Then she’s engulfed it in those slick red lips again, sliding up and down in time to my dick strokes, as if my hand is her mouth.

  I’m about to come already, so I rip it out of her mouth.

  She flops back, spreads her legs, and I smile.

  “Not just yet. You haven’t earned it yet, slut.”

  I shove the gun between her legs, and she groans.

  “What’s that?” I ask, “Not what you expected?”

  I shove it in deeper and her gaze goes to my dick, which is so hard it almost hurts.

  I start pumping the gun in her, while her pussy clasps at it in ecstasy and exasperation, her gaze never leaving the hard thing she really wants.

  But I’m merciless, pumping her good and hard. When she tries to speak, I pull it out, shake it in her face, remind her, “You’re for listening and fucking, that’s all.”

  Then, when I’ve thrust it back in and she’s writhing with animalistic grunts, teetering on the edge, I pull the gun all the way out.

  “You had enough?”

  Her eyes flutter open and she gapes at me.

  I lift the gun, shrug.

  “You’re right, this is sick. Wrong. I should stop.”

  Panting, she shoves her pelvis up at me.

  “What’s that?” I ask, then, leaning in, add, “Go on – you can tell me.”

  “More,” is all she can come out with.

  And oh, more do I give her. I shove the gun all the way in, pumping her wet cunt eagerly, so fast she can only moan with pleasure. I ratchet up the pace until she’s thrashing back and forth, her moans growing, her body trembling. Finally, I slam into her so hard she falls back, a cry breaking free of her lips, her pelvis exploding into tremors, while I keep pumping mercilessly, and grab her tit.

  After her tremors have subsided to a soft trembling, I pat her head, tell her.

  “Now, my dear little slut, I will fuck you.”

  Chapter 14

  Toni

  He throws me onto the bed, which is good because I can barely move. He spreads my legs, then slides himself all over me. Like those full body strokes, only now it’s his cock doing the stroking.

  When it gets to my mouth, I slip my lips over it, reveling in its incredible hardness.

  He pulls himself back, pats my head.

  “Good, but right now, he can’t wait. There’s something else he’s been wanting all night.”

  He drags it all along my trembling body. Until he reaches my pussy, which I shove up to join him.

  He gives me an amused look, and shoves himself into me.

  After so long wanting it, the pleasure leaves me shaking.

  Jesus, he’s a perfect fit, just the right size. I’m so… full.

  “God, you’re tight,” he says, as his cock twitches with its own joy in me.

  He pulls out until only the tip is in, then shoves himself back in all the way.

  “I’m going to carve you into my size,” he growls.

  My hands claw at his back and he starts pumping himself into me, my pussy screaming ecstasy with every thrust.

  “A custom fit,” he says, his half-lidded gaze on my pussy.

  He shoves himself in harder, and then harder.

  “This is my pussy and I will do to it what I see fit.”

  And then he’s jerking himself into me firmly, pitilessly, each thrust more intense then the last.

  I grab his buttocks, pull himself into me more, harder. I can’t take any more and yet more is exactly what I need. Already I’m almost at the edge.

  His lips meet mine, and my teeth bite at them, draw blood.

  He raises his hand, shoves himself into me the hardest yet.

  Our eyes meet and I smile, glance at his raised hand.

  “Do it,” I say, “Do it.”

  And he pulls out then shoves himself back in again, his cock meets the back of my pussy at the same time his hand meets my cheek, and my stinging pain fuses with my singing ecstasy, and my joy is streaming down my legs, his cock jerking inside of me. And I pull it out and he drags it over me, one final full-body stroke leaving a spray of white in its wake.

  And then my body is one up-down stroke of his pleasure, and we immerse ourselves in each other.

  At some point, I’m being lifted again, brought back to the tub again, my old friend. I’m being cleaned. I’m lying on the floor as something white is tossed beside me, and something white is picked up and put in its place.

  And then I’m tucked into the billowing whiteness, into the ivory limbs of the white man, and then all is silence.

  ###

  When I wake, we’re in a tangle of blankets and limbs and soft breaths. Every breath seems slower, more relaxed.

  Words spill out of my lips, just part of the calm in-time breathing, just natural.

  “What do you think of sex trafficking?”

  We both stiffen at the same time, and I close my eyes in horror.

  Why in hell’s name did I say that? Am I trying to give myself away?

  Now his chest is a hard plate and his eyes probing searchlights.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I close my eyes again, try to burrow into him deeper.

  “I never really thought of it, but lately I found out more about it, looked into it deeper, and it just sickens me.”

  He doesn’t answer for a minute, and then he shifts.

  For one terrible second I think he’s getting out a gun, a knife.

  But he just pulls me in tighter, murmurs, “Me too. It’s always easier not knowing, not really thinking about it, staying in the dark. But it’s not honest.”

  I peer into his face.

  The words don’t belong to him, to Gabriel Pierson, fearsome leader of the Rebel Saints, the unfeeling, hardened sociopath.

  And yet, as my gaze traces the edges of his sculpted profile, the high, proud line of his cheekbones, the noble slope of his nose, the hanging too-big lower lip, I realize I’m not looking into the face of Gabriel Pierson at all.

  The man I’ve heard about is more legend than fact, caricature than real person. This man in front of me, however, this man I’ve experienced first-hand, is nothing like the stories led me to expect.

  I grab a chain on his neck.

  “What’s this?”

  His hand closes around mine.

  “That was from my mother.”

  “Oh.”

  I release my grip, but he doesn’t release his.

  “She’s dead,” he says, “She was the kindest, most gentle woman I ever knew. And she died.”

  His hand squeezes mine.

  “She was shot,” he said, his voice loud, angry.

  I glance to Gabriel’s face. The mask of cold fury with narrowed slits of eyes and flared nostrils is almost unrecognizable.

  My hand feels like it’s being squeezed into dust.

  “Hey,” I say, but he’s deaf to my words.

  “Hey,” I say, louder this time, pulling back.

  Coming back, Gabriel releases me, shakes his head.