Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  My husband’s hands hold me, one on my baby belly, and the other on my hip. My husband. Inwardly, I’m grinning like a fool just thinking the words. My husband.

  Today has been a dream come true—still a dream I never allowed myself to dream, but a dream nonetheless—and he’s made it all a reality.

  I listen to the people around us chat.

  They’re drinking beer, and every so often, Dirty Johnny stands up to go smoke, careful not to do it around us since Kentlee and I are pregnant. I notice that Johnny has a new tattoo on his forearm, and I smile.

  “I like Dirty’s new ink,” I whisper, referring to the name that is now permanently marked on his arm.

  “Thanks, he did it last week,” Hattie says shyly.

  “It’s sweet.”

  “He can be so sweet,” she admits.

  “They all can, Hattie,” I smile before Max announces that its time for us to leave.

  I’ve been able to feel his semi-hard state beneath my dress for the past hour. I was wondering when he’d had enough. I know that he wanted to make sure I had a good time, though, which makes me love him that much more. I’ve had my day, now it’s time to have our night, and I’m ready.

  We wave, and I hug and kiss so many cheeks, it’s ridiculous. Max then loads me up in his big ass pickup. As he walks around the truck, a commotion in the parking lot catches my eye, and I gape at the scene before me.

  Torch has his hands on his hips and he spits on the ground. The beautiful redhead from the jewelry store turns away from him and starts walking. She’s wearing a skintight pencil skirt and an equally skintight tank top.

  Max was right. Her body is bangin’.

  Then Torch spits again and marches after her. He wraps his arm around her waist and spins her around. Her hands fly up to his chest, and I watch her push him. He leans in really close, getting right in her face before he bends down, shoves his shoulder in her stomach and hauls her up and over.

  My eyes widen when her fists beat against his lower back and her legs start kicking, her spikey high heels flying around dangerously. He raises his hand and slaps her ass, hard. I jump slightly when Max squeezes my knee at the same time.

  “Don’t meddle in other people’s shit,” he warns as he starts the engine.

  “I was just watching,” I shrug.

  “Bullshit,” he chuckles before he takes off.

  It doesn’t take us long to get back to our house. When we pull into the drive, Max instructs me to stay in my seat. Then he jogs around the pickup and opens my door. I don’t even get one foot out before he slides his arms underneath me and picks me up. He carries me through the front door and then all the way upstairs and into our bedroom.

  Without a word, he sets me down and then unzips the back of my dress. He peels it down my chest before letting it fall into a poofy pile on the floor. There I stand before him, in nothing but a pair of white lacey panties.

  I’m his wife and he’s my husband.

  I’m his Old Lady and he’s my Old Man.

  The father to my unborn child.

  He’s the man who murdered for me without batting an eyelash—three times.

  I love him.

  I love every piece of him—including the ruthlessness he holds inside of him.

  Max wraps his hands around my biceps and yanks me against his chest, his head slants and he devours me. He doesn’t stop devouring me until the sun comes up. We’re sweaty, exhausted, spent, and wrapped in each other’s arms.

  The second best night of my life, the first being the night I climbed on the back of his bike in front of my apartment in San Diego.

  My rough and ruthless lover.

  I lean my head back, letting it hit the headboard, closing my eyes and enjoying the warm mouth that’s wrapped around my dick. Fuck, but my wife knows how to give head. My balls tighten and I surge up once before I push her shoulders back slightly.

  “I wasn’t finished,” she all but pouts.

  “Sweetness, your mouth feels like heaven, but after six weeks, I need to come inside that cunt,” I grind out.

  I grin when she starts to crawl up my body and straddles me. Her slick heat sliding over my dick feels like fucking heaven. I reach between us, not ready for her to take me yet. Honestly, I’ll come in an instant, and I want to draw this out.

  I gently thrust a finger inside of her and press my thumb to her clit. She whimpers before she starts to ride my hand. She’s gorgeous, my sweet girl. I feel her pussy flutter, and I know she’s close, so I move my hands and line up my dick as I guide her down.

  “Goddamn,” I curse as she takes me wholly inside of her. Heaven. Pure goddamn heaven. “Move,” I grunt.

  Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t hesitate as she starts to move, and it doesn’t take her long to topple over the edge I brought her to. I follow in about a nanosecond, filling her completely full, my eyes seeing stars I’ve come so hard.

  “Maxfield,” she whispers before she falls against my chest.

  The soft fabric of her nightgown brushes against my skin and it irritates me.

  “Will you take this fuckin’ thing off,” I grunt.

  “No way. I’m so gross,” she whispers against me.

  “Sweetness, I’ve seen it all. Take it the fuck off. I want to feel your soft body against mine,” I murmur against her temple as I gently glide the nightgown up her body. She sighs heavily but relents, and I can’t help but grin.

  My Mary-Anne is gorgeous all of the time; but right now, she’s absolutely stunning. Where she sees extra skin, I see the body that housed our daughter for nine months; the body that nourished her and brought her into this world. That alone makes her stunning. Couple that with the fact that I thought she was too thin to begin with, and it makes these new curves fucking spectacular.

  “When does she eat again?” I ask as my fingers trail up and down her spine.

  “Thirty minutes,” she mumbles.

  “Gonna clean you up, then I’m gonna eat that pussy until she wakes up. I’ve missed it,” I announce as I roll her off of me and head to the bathroom.

  Once I’ve cleaned her up, I commence with my promise, and I eat her until she comes. Then I lazily lick and suck on her soft, sweet cunt until Riley starts to wail from her crib. With a kiss to Mary’s clit, I stand and tug on my boxers before I go and get my hungry girl.

  Riley is lying on her back, screaming her sweet little head off by the time I make it into her bedroom. I pick her up before I smell her head, her soft black hair tickling my nose. After I change her diaper, I hold her close to my bare chest as I take her into her mama. She’s sucking on her balled up fists, searching for food.

  Mary is waiting for us, her back against the headboard. I expect to see that nightgown back on, but it’s not. She’s completely nude, a sheet pulled up to her hips, and her arms out for our daughter. I pass her over and she smiles down at Riley as she places her at her breast.

  I look down at my girl. She sighs before her bright blue eyes pop open and then roll in the back of her head in ecstasy. I feel the same fuckin’ way when Mary’s tits are in my mouth.

  “Don’t be perverted,” Mary hisses, knowing exactly what I’m thinking, mainly because I’ve said it before.

  “I’m not, sweetness,” I chuckle my lie as I walk around the bed. Mary just rolls her eyes.

  Crawling between the sheets, I curl into my woman’s side, placing my hand on Riley’s soft hair, watching the gorgeous girls of my life—watching my wife feed my baby.

  I never thought I would have this again, not ever. I want more, so much fuckin’ more. More kids, more Mary, and more time on this earth with all of them.

  “I want another baby.”

  “Are you crazy?” I ask as my eyes widen.

  Riley is six weeks old, six, and he’s talking to me about another baby already. I feel panic rising throughout my body just at the thought.

  “I’m sixty-one, sweetness.”

  I bite my bottom lip. He doesn’t need t
o say anything else. The look on his face, the worry, it says everything to me. He’s afraid he’ll be too old to enjoy them if we wait.

  I must be a special kind of stupid, or maybe I’m just that in love with my husband. I don’t want to see him worry, ever. It isn’t natural for him, and it makes me feel shitty, so I smile widely.

  “Boy or girl?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice soft.

  I love it when he gentles his voice, when it’s soft and sweet like this. It’s the way he talks to Riley, and me too, when we’re alone.

  “Okay,” I whisper as I reach out and cup his bearded jaw.

  “How on fuckin’ earth did I end up with an angel like you?”

  “Lucky bastard,” I giggle as I switch Riley to my other breast.

  “Fuck, yeah I am,” he laughs.

  Once Riley is fed, Max burps her and takes her back to bed for me. I slide down between the sheets and lie down, pulling the covers over my naked body. I’ve been so uncomfortable in my skin since having her. Granted, it’s only been six weeks, but I’m not used to feeling this way.

  But something switched inside of me tonight. Maybe it was the way Max held me, maybe it was the way his eyes couldn’t take in enough of me while his face was buried between my legs. I don’t know, but I suddenly feel, good—maybe even a little bit sexy.

  A few minutes later, Max walks in and casually wraps his fist in the sheets before he yanks the covers off of me.

  “Hey,” I protest, sitting straight up and trying to reach for the bedding.

  “I’m not finished with you yet,” he growls as he drops his boxers and crawls toward me.

  “Maxfield,” I gasp as his hands wrap around my ankles and he yanks me toward him, spreading my legs as he does.

  “Gonna fill you with a son tonight, sweetness,” he whispers against my lips.

  “Oh, Max,” I moan arching my back when he thrusts inside of me with one quick move.

  “I love you, Mary,” he whispers against my lips as he takes me, fills me, and owns me like only he can.

  “I love you, too, Maxfield,” I whimper.

  He wraps his hand around the ink on my thigh, the ink that claims me as his. Then he intertwines his fingers with mine, the hand where my wedding ring claims me as his as well. His eyes focus on mine unwaveringly as he fucks me, hard and slow.

  “Most beautiful fuckin’ woman on this goddamn earth, and she’s all mine,” he rasps.

  When I come, it’s on a sob, the emotions of the evening too great for me to feel anything but over-the-top bliss.

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  I look at the little stick and blink in surprise. Max didn’t lie when he said he was going to fill me with another baby. I don’t even want to think about the math, about how old Riley is going to be when this baby is born. I’ll probably panic if I do.

  Instead, I smile. I might be freaked out and scared, but I’m also elated and excited all at the same time.

  “Sweetness, what the fuck are you doin’? We’re supposed to be leaving right now,” Max calls out as he walks into the bathroom.

  I look up at him and smile, holding up the pregnancy test. His eyes drop to my hand as he takes a step closer. It’s easily read, the word pregnant is printed on it. I watch as his lips begin to curl, and then they go from a grin to a blinding white smile.

  “Seriously?” he asks unable to stop smiling.

  I nod.

  “Fuck, yes,” he cheers before he reaches down and picks me up, burying his face in my neck. “Fuck, yes, sweetness,” he whispers. “I love you so fucking much.”

  “I love you too,” I cry.

  The love of my life.

  My husband.

  My Old Man.

  ROUGH & READY

  Notorious Devils #5

  I hear his boots hit the foyer, and I know he’s home. My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest, my belly begins to flutter, and my lips part into a huge smile. I jump up off of our bed, a bed we shared for only a week before he was shipped off to foreign lands to fight for my freedom.

  I am so very proud to be married to him. He’s good and clean and perfect. We’re young, of course; I’m only eighteen and he’s twenty, but what we have is beautiful. I knew, the moment my eyes met his stormy blue ones, that there would be no other man for me, ever.

  I bound down the stairs and almost falter on the last two steps when I see him standing there —in the foyer. He would call it a doorway, I call it the foyer, because that was what my Gram had always called it. Gram was the woman who raised me, and old fashioned, therefore it will always be the foyer.

  My eyes sweep his body, looking for any type of injuries. It’s been a long eight months he’s been gone. He’s thinner, so much thinner, his face perfectly chiseled, almost gaunt. He’s standing there in his uniform, looking commanding, beautiful even. Tall and thin, but handsome and all mine.

  When my eyes met his, I gasp.

  They aren’t the warm, boyish blue eyes that I had fallen in love with; they are cold and harsh, dead.

  I blink.

  I run to him anyway, shaking off the shock at seeing the obvious coldness to his eyes, and jump into his arms. I feel his face in my neck, hear his nose inhale my scent, and I sigh at the beautifulness of the whole thing.

  His arms wrap around my body, my legs around his waist, and my own arms around his neck. I pepper his face with kisses. I didn’t expecting him home yet; he wasn’t due back until tomorrow. I even have an outfit all picked out. Tonight, I was prepping. I’m only wearing one of his workout shirts that says AIR FORCE across the front, and a pair of panties.

  “Baby, you’re home,” I breathe, smiling wide.

  He stares at me blankly.

  “I am,” he agrees, his voice ragged.

  Instantly, I decide he is just emotional and trying to hide it. Probably jet lagged, too.

  “I didn’t expect you,” I state. His eyes immediately sharpen and turn ice cold.

  “Who in the fuck were you expecting?” he barks harshly as he drops me. Luckily, my knees don’t buckle, and I don’t fall on my ass.

  “Nobody. I was going to pick you up tomorrow morning. How did you get home?” I ask quietly.

  “Got a ride,” he shrugs, leaving me standing in the foyer alone as he walks toward the kitchen.

  I stand there for a moment, completely shocked by his attitude, by his quick anger, and then I follow behind him. He’s never been angry with me before. I’ve seen him get pissed with other people, with his friends, but never, ever with me.

  “Fuck, I’m starved,” he announces as he opens the fridge and starts rifling through it.

  It’s as if he hasn’t been gone for eight long months; as if he’s just had a long day at work and now he is home for the evening. I don’t know what to say or what to do. He’s acting so strangely.

  Granted, I don’t know him that well. We only dated for a few months before we were married, and then he was gone. But I don’t think this is normal. I didn’t expect this at all.

  “You didn’t get me any fuckin’ beer?” he barks, making me jump again.

  I just stand in the kitchen, unable to speak, move, or even breathe.

  “I-I-I,” I don’t get anything else out because I start to cry.

  I turn to run back to the bedroom, tears streaming down my face. I can’t buy him beer. He knows that, he can’t even buy beer yet. I didn’t know he expected me to have it. I didn’t know what he expected of me. I feel so stupid and scared, and so very foolish.

  Every single phone call and e-mail he sent had been sweet, kind even—never once had he talked to me this way. I don’t know what to do, and I have a sinking feeling that becoming his wife was a grave mistake.

  I feel an iron band clamp around my bicep, and it stops my body from fleeing. Then I am hauled backward into a hard chest. I feel his nose at my ear before he whispers, his breath warm on my skin, his voice soft but ragged, and it sends shivers u
p and down my spine.

  “Christ, Cleo, I’m sorry. I’m bein’ an ass, and I ain’t even been home ten minutes. Fuck the beer. Let’s go upstairs. Eight months without your sweet pussy was long enough.”

  I press my thighs and my lips together and nod. Eight months has been a long time, especially to a girl who was a virgin on her wedding night, and only had sex with her husband for one week before he was deployed.

  “You still my shy girl?” he asks.

  One of his hands slips down the front of my belly, under the hem of his shirt, before diving into my panties. I whimper at the feel of his large, warm hand on my mound. Then, his finger slides through the folds of my most intimate place. I wrap my hand around his tanned, muscular forearm, trying to brace myself.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Fuck, still my shy, sweet, innocent wife, aren’t you?” his voice is soft, but there’s an edge I don’t quite understand. Two seconds later, it doesn’t matter, because one of his fingers slides deep inside of me. I gasp and arch my back.

  It feels good.

  He feels good.

  I missed this.

  Every piece of it.

  Paxton quickly pushes my panties down my thighs and pulls my shirt off, spinning me around to face him. His eyes look up and down my body, but it is as if he is looking straight through me. I feel like I could be anybody. Who I am doesn’t matter because he isn’t seeing me.

  His lips crash down on mine and his warm, wet tongue slips deep inside me. I taste him. He tastes like sunshine. He is warm and masculine, and I melt into his body. I hear one of his hands rustling his clothing, and then the sound of his pants dropping onto the tile flooring fills the air.

  My body is whirled around, again, and his hand is on my back, pushing my chest and cheek against the cold kitchen countertop. Before I can say a word, I feel his boot kick at my ankle, to spread my feet farther apart. One of his big hands is at my waist as he forcefully pushes himself inside of me.