by R. R. Banks
“Jay?” Simone calls.
“We’re coming.” I round the corner to his bedroom, which is right next to ours. She’s bent over the crib, her long hair swinging freely down her back. Damn, her ass in those leggings she’s fond of wearing now… It’s taking a lot of effort for me to not grab her right then and there and whisk her off to the bedroom. She’s been a little self-conscious about her body since the baby was born, but I love it even more. She’s a little softer in all the right places, just enough for me to sink my fingers into her flesh. My cock twitches in my pants.
Gray immediately forgets I exist when he sees Simone, reaching his short little arms out towards her. It burns a little, but I’m not the one with food sacs attached to my chest. I can’t blame him.
Simone plucks him from my arms and gives him little smooches all over his face. He grins, wiggling around and babbling happily. She puts him down into the crib. Like magic, he starts to get sleepy. That’s one of my favorite things about him — he’s always been good at sleeping. Simone has him on a strict nap schedule that seems to be working. We watch him for a little bit, our pinkies touching on the railing of his crib. He’s got her eyes and my hair. The rest is up in the air, since he’s not done growing yet, but he definitely has my size. He’s off the charts in his height already.
She flicks on the baby monitor and walks with me into our bedroom, leaving the door cracked so we can see him directly, too. She breathes a sigh of relief.
“Let’s hope he stays down for his nap.” She stretches into the air, her lush breasts pressing against her T-shirt.
“He’ll be fine. He’s a champ at sleeping.” I slide my arms around her and kiss her forehead. We collapse on the little loveseat we have, since it’s closer than our bed.
“He must get that from his dad,” she laughs.
I put my arm around her and pull her close, kissing her on the forehead. In the floor-to-ceiling windows, we can see the construction on our workshop. I finally got the balls to buy up the land that Edgar put up for sale, and we’re putting a craft school there. It’s almost done, so we’re upgrading the workshop on our land to have more space for her to work.
“I’m scared shitless about the school,” I say, looking out the window.
“Why? I thought you said we’ve gotten some serious interest from people in the town who want to get more job skills. That meeting with the high school went really well, so we’ll have some students coming in from there.”
“I know. I don’t want to disappoint them.” I’ve planned and planned and planned. I’ve figured out the kinds of classes that we can teach: carpentry, blacksmithing, leatherwork, knitting, and fashion design. I broke that down into basic, intermediate, and advanced classes, put together a schedule, and tried to market the shit out of it. It’s completely out of my comfort zone, doing all these meetings and talking to people. I’ve talked to more people in town in the past six months than I have in the entire time I’ve lived in Gray’s Point.
But Simone’s got my back, always reassuring me that everything’s going well. She always will. This school will be fulfilling and will actually make the difference that Gray’s Point needs. Instead of pushing everyone out, we can let people in.
“You won’t disappoint anyone.” She picks up my hand and squeezes, running her thumb along my wedding band. We’ve been so busy with the baby and the school that we just had a small wedding at the courthouse. It was us, Simone’s parents, Gigi, Gigi’s boyfriend, Maya, Andrew, and Holly. Instead of throwing a big reception, we went to dinner a couple towns over. It was perfect.
I can’t believe I’m married to her. And get to be for the rest of my life. I look down at her and give her a kiss on the forehead.
I don’t know how she does it. She not only carried and grew our very large child with hardly any complaints (like me, he was ten pounds when he was born), but she’s hardly missed a beat in working on her own collection. She has a few samples done, and with Maya’s help, she hopes that she can scale up soon. There’s already a shop in town that wants to sell some of her smaller accessories. And she’s helping out with the school, too.
I’m more and more in awe of her every day.
She scoots so she’s leaning up against me, her breasts slipping closer to my hand. Just the hint of a breast and my cock twitches again. The tiny movement catches her attention.
“I can take care of you, if you want.” She runs a hand up my leg toward my hardening cock and gives me a saucy look.
“Please,” I wink, immediately feeling less exhausted. I kiss her, nipping her bottom lip aggressively, but she has other ideas of where she wants her mouth to be.
She slides off the couch and kneels between my legs, tugging my sweatpants down. I offer her a hair elastic I found sitting on my coffee table and she takes it, whirling her hair into a bun on the top of her hair. She’s so damn good at giving head. She grasps the base of my cock and swirls her tongue around my tip. I moan and let myself sink into the couch as she works me, sucking and playing with my balls just enough to keep me on my toes.
I still can’t get over how hot it is seeing her head bobbing up and down beneath me, her lips sliding up and down my flesh. We’ve been married for three months, and it still blows my mind that I get to be with her for the rest of my life again and again.
“Baby, wait.” I rest my hand on top of her head. “Get on the bed.”
“You want me on my hands and knees?” she asks, her voice a purr. “Or on my back?”
I groan, just the image in my mind almost making me come all over my hand. I love sinking my fingers into her hips when I pound her from behind, but I also love seeing her all spread out for me, her pussy wet and ready.
“Either, just get on the bed, babe.” I shuck off my sweatpants all the way and watch her leap onto the bed enthusiastically. She settles on her hands and knees and looks back at me, expectantly. I grab her hips and slide my cock up and down her slit. She’s already wet, but I want her wetter before I get inside her.
I stoop down and bury my face in her pussy, making her gasp. She grabs a pillow and puts her face in it so she doesn’t get too loud. I slide a finger inside her, getting that spot she likes, and tongue her clit until she’s whimpering and pushing her ass back into me. I lean back and watch her twitch around my fingers.
“I need you, Jay.” She flips over onto her back and motions for me to climb over her. I do as she wants and settle between her legs. She’s so petite in comparison to me, which taps into my animal side in a way that makes me harder than steel. I love how easy she is to move, how damn female she is.
I glance over at the nightstand, where we keep our condoms. We’ve been using them since Gray was born because Simone was tired of taking the pill. Plus, she’d forgotten about the pill anyway, which is how we ended up here. Though honestly, I don’t love the condoms. I miss feeling her, all of her, and watching my seed come spilling out of her. It was all so simple when she was pregnant. It’s not like she could get pregnant again, so we didn’t bother with anything.
“Don’t get one,” she says, looking where I’m looking.
“You sure?” I rest my hand on her hip, my dick getting even harder, if that’s possible.
She nods. “If it happens, it happens.”
I grin and kiss her, sliding inside of her slowly. Both of us groan, sucking and nipping each other’s lips like our mouths have been made for each other. I make love to her slowly, savoring every moment, resting my forehead against hers
I slide a hand between us and play with her clit, making her tighten around me. That nearly does the trick, but I don’t want to come until she does. I wind her up higher and higher, her legs twitching around my body as she gets right up on the peak. She comes with a sigh, and I follow right along with her with a violent shudder. I pull out and flop onto the bed next to her, becoming exhausted all over again. She snuggles up to my side.
“Love you,” she murmurs.
“Love you, too.”
>
We cuddle in silence for a while.
“I think we should have another baby. Like actually try for one on purpose, before Gray realizes that he was an only child at some point. Less drama about his sudden shift in status, no?” she says.
“You think so?”
“Oh yeah.” She lifts her head, her beautiful green eyes meeting mine. “We’re both only children. It’ll be fun to see him grow up with a sibling.”
“Yeah.” My mouth spreads in a slow grin. “Plus, it’s a good excuse for us to fuck in the middle of the day, whenever the time feels right.”
She snorts. “Of course that’s the first thing your brain goes to.”
“Can you blame me?” I give her a little squeeze. “You’re irresistible.”
Her hand trails over my stomach and down to my cock again, which starts to lift to meet her hand.
“Then let’s go for it.” She slides her hand up my cock, making me shudder. I’m not sure how I’m so raring to go so soon after our last round, but I’m not going to question it. “Let’s take the leap.”
Accidentally Married (Sample)
“Let’s get married.”
* * *
That was the last thing I had in mind.
Then I saw Holly, a curvy redhead in a tight green dress.
I knew she was mine. And I had to claim her.
I tasted her full lips and devoured every inch of her.
I woke up with a ring on my finger, but she was gone…
* * *
Our marriage was an accident, but my vows are real.
Finding her isn’t easy. And I’m not the only one who wants her.
The cartel thinks they own her, but they have no clue.
I’m not your ordinary billionaire. I’m ruthless.
* * *
I’ll protect my wife. And our baby growing inside her.
Chapter One: Michael
* * *
The night is dark, cold, and I've got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. Gabriel Trujillo called me earlier and told me we needed to meet. And when Trujillo calls, you don't say no. You clear your fuckin' schedule and go where he tells you to. It's a lesson I learned the hard way.
I shudder and pull my coat tighter around me, attempting to ward off the chilly Colorado night. I'm standing in the parking lot of a rest stop on a hill, overlooking the city of Denver. I was born and raised here and I'm probably gonna die here. I just hope that death is still a long time comin' though.
My cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the ID. Trujillo.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself.
With a sigh, I connect the call and stare down at the glitter and sparkle of the lights in the city below me. I'm not an overly sentimental man, but looking down on the city makes me appreciate its beauty.
“I'm here,” I say irritably. “I've been here for twenty minutes already.”
“Running late,” Trujillo said, his Mexican accent coloring the words. “I'm a couple of minutes out. Relax, my friend.”
“Hurry up,” I snap. “It's freezing.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone into my pocket. Ordinarily, I'm more deferential to Trujillo. Given who he is and what he does, it only seems prudent, if not wise. I don't know what got into me just now. Talking to him like that is a good way to get my teeth kicked down my throat.
I guess I'm just cold, tired, and stressed the fuck out.
Turning back, I stare out at the city again, trying to block out the cold, calm myself down, and not to think about what's about to happen. Truth is, I don't know what that is. Maybe nothing. Trujillo has a flair for the dramatic and might just want to make an impression by meeting me in this secluded spot in the middle of the night.
Yeah, either that or he's going to put two in the back of my fuckin' head.
A few minutes later, I see headlights coming around the bend and feel my balls tighten instantly in response. He's here. Shit.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself. “He can't kill you. Otherwise he gets nothing.”
It's something I've repeated to myself a million times already. And even now, after saying it one million and one times, it doesn't make me feel one iota better. Trujillo is a wild card. He's unpredictable and I never know what he's going to do, let alone what he’s thinking. He very well could decide that I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That he'll eat the money I owe him just to wash his hands of me. I just don't know.
And it's that uncertainty that has my balls climbing up into my throat.
The black SUV pulls into the rest stop, as I’m trying to avoid comparing the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires with the sound my bones would make beneath those same tires. The SUV pulls to a stop in front of me and the driver cuts the lights. After being nearly blinded by the headlights, it takes my eyes a minute to re-adjust to the darkness.
I hear the door open. Blinking away the spots, I watch as the driver walks around to the rear door and opens it. Gabriel Trujillo steps out of the vehicle and makes his way over to me. His dark hair is slicked back, and his thick beard neatly trimmed. The dark designer suit is well-fitted to his frame, with a vibrant blue pocket square, complete with matching tie - providing the only bit of color. Trujillo looks the part of a respectable businessman.
He's anything but respectable though.
Gabriel Trujillo is the head of one of the most notorious, violent, and brutal drug cartels in Mexico. Like most of the cartels, he's expanded his business operations into the U.S., moving drugs, guns, and girls. He's also eliminating his competitors along the way. The mass graves that seem almost commonplace south of the border these days, have been cropping up in places like Arizona and New Mexico. Recently, a couple had even been found in southern Colorado.
There is no question that Trujillo is solidifying his hold on power in this part of the States. And I'm right in the middle of all this shit. If I'd known who and what he was when he first approached me, I never would have gotten into bed with him in the first place. But, desperation and a lack of options make a man do stupid things sometimes. Hell, all the time.
He stops a couple of feet in front of me, smiling. He hands me one of the two cups he's holding. I look at it for a long moment, feeling completely uncertain.
“Cappuccino,” he says. “I picked one up for you on our way. Thought you might like something to warm you up.”
I reach out and take one of the cups, eyeballing it skeptically. “T-thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
We stand in silence for a moment, Trujillo sipping his drink as he looks out over the skyline of Denver, admiring it as I had been before he pulled up. I look down at the cup but don't drink, hoping he doesn't notice. Though, I know that poison isn't exactly his style. No, when Trujillo wants you dead, he makes a statement about it. It's a fact I've unfortunately had to learn as he seems to enjoy trumpeting his kills.
After a few moments, he turns around and looks at me. “It's beautiful up here at night,” he says. “Gorgeous view.”
I nod, as thick tendrils of dread wrap themselves around my throat, pulling tighter and tighter. Trujillo's eyes are darker than space and just as unfeeling. It's almost as if he can peel the skin off my bones and completely eviscerate me, with nothing more than a glance.
“Nice to see you, Michael,” Trujillo says, his accent rich and cultured. “Thank you for meeting me out here tonight.”
“Did I really have much of a choice?”
Trujillo smiles. “No, not really. But I am a firm believer in manners,” he says. “What can I say, my mother raised me to believe in being polite and observing social norms.”
“It's cold out here,” I say. “What can I do for you, Mr. Trujillo?”
“I was wondering about the money you owe me,” he says, his voice smooth and pleasant. “And more specifically, when I can expect full payment on your debt.”
I clear my throat and look down at the ground. “I'm working on it, Mr. Trujill
o,” I reply. “I mean, we're doing a good job of cleaning a lot of it through the construction projects, and –”
“Yes, you're cleaning some of it and turning a tidy profit,” he says. “But, that is ultimately, a slow process. Considering the interest accruing on your original loan, you're barely breaking even at this point. I'm looking for a more – substantial – payment, Michael.”
Shuffling my feet on the ground, I kick a small stone away. “I'm working on that, Mr. Trujillo,” I say softly. “Times have been tight lately. Some of my bids are getting undercut by –”
Trujillo moves so fast, I barely have time to register the fact that he's in motion before his hand lashes out and slaps the cup of coffee out of my grasp. I watch numbly as the cup sails through the darkness of the night, hitting the gravel of the rest stop. The top pops off and the drink spills out all over the ground.
I turn to Trujillo, my heart hammering, and a sick, queasy feeling rising in my stomach. He's staring at me, his eyes darker and harder than I've ever seen them before. Jaw clenched, body tense, fists balled at his sides, I can see Trujillo trying to physically control and restrain himself.
I should have known better. I feel myself grimacing. Trujillo is not a man who likes explanations and justifications. He expects results. Action. Those are the only things he respects.
“I don't want excuses, Michael,” he says, his voice as cold as his eyes. “I want my money.”
“I understand, Mr. Trujillo,” I say. “And I'm –”