Crime Boss Baby

by Krista Lakes

  I start a classical piece that I know by heart. The familiar melodies are soothing and I can almost let my mind settle enough to think clearly.

  What if I take Victoria's offer? What if I get the evidence to prove my mother was murdered? Would it soothe this ache on my soul? I don't know, but I do know that I want justice. My mother deserves that much.

  Except Dante.

  My fingers slip and I sour the passage. I know this piece well enough to do it in my sleep, but just thinking of leaving Dante makes me forget what I've always known. He changes everything. Those dark eyes and the warmth of his smile make me want only him.

  Thoughts of the man I'm falling in love with and my mother war in my head. Two people that I love. I have to choose.

  My hands hover over the piano. I've gone through all my scales and the warm-up pieces. I have to make a choice: do I attempt a new song or go with something I know and am good at?

  Instead. I close the piano lid.

  If you don't like the game, change the rules.

  So that's what I'm going to do.

  Chapter 17

  “I'm so glad I was able to attend your fundraiser, Mr. Senator Grayson,” I say, making my voice low and sexy. To be honest, this had been one of my better business meetings. I had actually enjoyed the conversation part of the evening. I just wished Dante had been here with me.

  I'm at a dinner fundraiser for Senator Grayson. The Savio Family bought out two tables. Only I came, but I made political connections. The heir to the mattress empire is someone everyone wants on their side.

  Senator Grayson's not bad looking for a man over sixty, but it's his influence and power that makes him attractive. As the head of his political party, he can change policy with the raise of an eyebrow. He's exactly the kind of person that I want on my side. He is an asset to my family. If half his claims are true, just dropping his name would get me out of paying taxes this year. It's good to have friends in high places.

  “I haven't had that much fun discussing policy in years,” he says with a chuckle. “You certainly know your politics.”

  “A girl has to stay current,” I tell him. I'm winning him over. He will be an ally for my family in the years to come. It's one step to making sure the Savio Family business lasts.

  “Yes, this is true.” He nods. “Will I be able to expect you at the next fundraiser?”

  I look around the hotel. It's one of the nicer hotels outside of the city. The big ballroom is draped in red, white, and blue. There are stars and small flags decorating every table. It's gaudy, but nice.

  “I would love to,” I tell him. “Please make sure you let me know when it is.”

  As if I didn't get three invitations and a phone call for this one. Politicians will never forget you if you give them money, even once.

  “Have you heard anything on the Michigan race?” I ask him. I'm prepared to donate more there as well. It's a cheap investment in making the senator a friend to the black family for life. Not only did I help his campaign, but I helped his party out as well.

  “You haven't heard?” The senator looks surprised. “I thought you would have been the first to know. Finally, something I know that you don't!”

  He looks pleased with himself for a moment.

  “Now you have to tell me,” I say, doing my best to flirt. However, a cold dread has started creeping up my spine.

  “Senator Norwood has dropped out of the senate race,” Grayson tells me. For a moment, I'm relieved. This is good news. Then he continues. “He's out of the senate race because he's announced he's going for the presidency.”

  In old-movies women feint when they hear bad news. I always thought it was an over exaggeration or a result of the constrictive gowns, but in this moment, I know understand it. I feel like I'm going to pass out.

  Washington DC is only a three hour train ride. It's too close for comfort. My palms go sweaty just thinking about having Norwood that close to me. I'd rather he was in China. Or ten feet underground.

  “Are you okay, Cara?” Senator Grayson asks me. “You look a little pale.”

  “As you know, I'm no friend to Senator Norwood. You said he's running for president?”

  That man in charge of the country sounded like a dystopian future to me.

  “Yes. It's not too unexpected, really.” He shrugs. “It's a little early,

  “I'll be happy to contribute to any candidate that runs against him,” I quickly say. I will commit my entire inheritance to making sure he doesn't move to DC.

  A predatory smile crosses the senator's face. “I was hoping you might say that.”

  “Why? Are you running?”

  He laughs. “No. Not this cycle, though I might be tapped to be VP.”

  “So what will happen to all of my campaign contributions?” I ask with a coy smile.

  He laughs and gives me a wink. “I think you'll find that every dollar is well spent. I always keep my constituents in mind.”

  “I'm glad to hear that,” I say. “Will you let me know if you hear anything on Norwood's presidential campaign?”

  “Of course.” He glances around, making sure no one is listening to our conversation. “And if you happen to hear anything that might help discredit that campaign, I'd be very interested to know that as well. Anything you hear through your channels. I'm sure mattress sales have some interesting information.”

  I raise my eyebrows. At least now I'm sure Senator Grayson knows that my business isn't exactly mattress sales.

  “If I learn anything, you'll be the first to know,” I promise. I wish I had something that could destroy Norwood. I would give my left foot to have something that would ruin his life the way he ruined mine.

  “I'd appreciate that.” He gives me a smile. “If you'll excuse me, I need to make the rounds.”

  “Of course.” I smile and bob my head. There are lots of other wealthy benefactors for him to schmooze. The benefit of money being in politics these days is that I can buy it.

  I'm tired. I've been tired all week. I wonder if I'm getting sick. I turn down a second glass of champagne. I've done my job. I've rubbed elbows with the people who are or will soon be powerful. It's time for me to go home and rest.

  Chapter 18

  A knock on my door wakes me. It's still dark outside, but this late in the year it's practically dark until noon anyway. I climb out of my cocoon of blankets and pad over to the door to find Dante waiting for me.

  Seeing him makes my heart do flip-flops. I'm glad my family picked him. This is a match that is good on paper and in real life.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, going up on my tiptoes to kiss him. His cheek is cold and there is snow in his dark hair.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” he replies, holding out a Styrofoam container. “I brought you some breakfast.”

  I giggle, taking it in my hands. I can already smell the delicious scent of french toast inside.

  “You sure know how to spoil a girl,” I say, grinning as I bring the container to the table and set it down. “Thank you.”

  He grins. It's boyish and heartwarming. I love it. I love the way his eyes sparkle. I brush the snow from his hair, my eyes going to his. His eyes are warm and brown, wrapping me up with heat.

  I go up on my toes again and kiss his perfect lips. Suddenly, I don't care about breakfast anymore. I'm a different kind of hungry. I'm hungry for Dante.

  I deepen our kiss, tracing the curve of his upper lip with my tongue and nibbling on his lower lip once I'm done. Kissing him is like getting drunk. I feel lightheaded and wonderful when his lips are on mine, and I never want to stop. I want to kiss him until the world ends.

  “Vesper,” he whispers. I love the way deep, rumbling way he says my name. Like he's breathless to have me. Goosebumps pop up all over my skin, but they're not from the cold. Even though I'm only wearing a baggy, over-sized I <3 NY t-shirt and panties, I'm not even close to cold. I love that Dante wants me. Me. Not the escort, the girl that he's just payin
g to be what he wants. He just wants me.

  My body is responding to the way he's kissing me. I know the instant he does anything more than just kiss me, my whole body is going to light up in flame. I'm so hot for him, I'm afraid I'm going to melt.

  His hands tangle in my messy hair, pulling me further to him, and pressing his mouth harder against mine. I can't break free of his grasp, not that I want to. He's in complete control, but I know he isn't going to hurt me.

  He's dangerous. I know this. One doesn't become a crime boss without being deadly. I know I've made my own grisly choices. Things that keep monsters awake in the night. It's all a matter of perspective. I keep my family safe. He keeps his family safe. Soon, we'll be family to each other.

  My lust warped brain doesn't want to think about that though. I want to think about him filling me. I want to think about how are bodies are going to join and the look of pure ecstasy that fills Dante's face when he enters me for the first time. Just thinking about how his body reacts to mine has my temperature rising.

  He pushes me to the bedroom and I willingly stumble along. The room is still blissfully dark with the curtains pulled, and I feel my way to the bed. The back of my knees hit first and I lay back with Dante's weight following me.

  He runs his hands along my arms, drawing them up over my head and then pinning them to the bed. I arch my hips into his, pleased with the way he thrusts back. He wants me. One of Dante's hands stays on my wrists, keeping me in place, while the other goes to my thigh. His fingers caress the delicate, smooth skin of my thigh for a moment, then slowly move upward, inching my shirt along with his hand. Up over my hip, up my ribs, up to my breast. I love the way his hands feel against my skin. He's so strong and confident.

  Slowly, he caresses the soft swell of my breast. Electric tingles of want explode out from his touch and travel straight to the V between my legs. He pinches my nipple and it puckers tight in his grip. He groans slightly and I buck my hips up to the sound.

  I want him so bad. Every inch of my skin craves his touch. Every nerve is singing his name. I need him to fill me, to make me whole.

  Dante stands up, turning to watch me as he takes off his jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt. His eyes are practically glowing in the dark with want. They never leave me. I am the center of his universe.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. I love the way his lips move. “Perfect.”

  Dante is all muscles and testosterone. I can't help but stare at the male perfection in front of me. I lick my lips in anticipation. I want to taste his skin. He grins, watching me, and slowly undoes his belt. His movements are sensual and teasing.

  “Touch yourself,” he commands. My hands fly to my panties without having to be told again. The thin, lacy fabric is already damp with my excitement. Dante's eyes flick to my fingers. “Take them off.”

  I pause for a moment and he holds perfectly still, his pant button halfway out of the hole. He's waiting for me. I have to do what he says for him to keep undressing. I quickly comply, wriggling out of my panties and throwing them to the floor. I'm back in position on the bed, angled so that he can see me.

  Dante finishes undoing the button on his pants. His fingers hold the zipper to his fly, but he stops there. “Shirt, too,” he says.

  I grin, and pull my shirt up and over my head. I'm naked in front of him and reveling in the way his pupils dilate when he looks at me.

  “Keep touching yourself,” he reminds me, pulling his pants down just enough for me to see the bulge of his desire through his fly. He waits to go further until I comply.

  My fingers swirl into pleasure and I gasp. I imagine it's his fingers instead of my own as he lowers his pants. I can see the outline of his erection through the fabric of his underwear. He's hard and ready for me. I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want him. I close my eyes for a moment as I slide two fingers into my damp heat. It's a pale substitute for what I really want, but it still makes my hips arch up.

  “Harder,” he commands. I open my eyes to see him staring at my fingers. He wets his lips and his hand twitches like he wants to do it himself, but he's holding back. Watching. I pump my fingers in and out, moaning at increase in pressure building in my core.

  Dante strips the last of his clothing and kneels on the bed. His hand reaches for mine, and before I can thrust it into me again, he takes it and puts my wet fingers in his mouth. The difference of heat and the light suction of his tongue make me shiver.

  “Delicious,” he whispers. His voice is rough, like he can barely contain the animal within him trying to get out. He keeps sucking on my fingers as he slides his own between my legs to continue my pleasure. I gasp as he pushes past his knuckles, going deep and feeling every inch of my with his fingertips.

  “Come for me.” He pushes deeper. “I want to feel it.”

  My hands go to my nipples, pinching and teasing them into tight buds of sensation as he beckons my body to orgasm with his fingers. He's fucking me with his fingers and I can't help but moan. He's rough but gentle at the same time, pushing my body to explode.

  Dante kisses my thigh, his unshaven face scratching the tender skin slightly. His tongue traces up the curve of my leg, up to the rise of my hip bone where he bites down. It's not hard, but it's enough sensation to overwhelm me. It's all I need to skitter over the edge. I succumb to pleasure, to his touch, and to him. I lose control of my body as it contracts and writhes around Dante's fingers.

  I wasn't expecting an orgasm that powerful, but something about having Dante watch me makes it so much better. So much hotter. More intense and personal.

  As I wind down, he removes his fingers. “My turn,” he says, sensually licking the fingers that had just been inside me. “So sweet, Vesper. So sweet.”

  Before I've even finished coming down from the high of my orgasm, he's at my entrance. I want him in me, I need him in me. Without him, I don't feel complete. I arch and writhe, trying to pull him inside of me, but he just hovers on the edge, teasing me with his control.

  Slowly, more slowly than I can tolerate, he pushes in. I can't make him go faster of slower, no matter how much I struggle for more. I want to feel him run me through and complete me, but he takes his time. Finally, when he is enveloped to the hilt, I am content.

  He starts to pump his hips, using his athletic ass to rail into me. It starts gentle, but he is in control and his lust is quickly eroding his will to stay slow. I cry out in pleasure, and he stuffs his fingers into my mouth. I can still taste my own ecstasy on his fingers. I suck, wanting as much of him in me as I can take.

  “On your hands and knees,” he growls, pulling back. His absence is like a knife wound. I need to have the gape filled or I'm afraid I'll die. I need his body like I need oxygen.

  I willingly flip over and rise up on all fours. With a grin back at him, I wave my ass from side to side, inviting him to take me.

  His hand comes down in a spank I wasn't expecting. I yelp and jump, but he just grabs my hips. With a gentleness that I don't expect, he rubs the red hand print on my ass. The soft caress is almost painful against the angry, reddened skin. I want more.

  “Do it again,” I request, biting my lip. His lips twitch and his hand comes down on the same spot. Pain and lust spike through me and I arch my back, my ass in the air like a cat in heat. I love the way the pleasure and pain mingle and dance through my body.

  He slams his hips into me, filling me so completely I can barely stand it. My fingers pull at the sheets and I scream his name into the pillow. I'm loosing my sense of reality to his animalistic thrusts and strength. I love the noises, the grunts and heavy breathing, coming from behind me.

  He spanks me again, pain filling the abused skin and I scream with wanton need. I can't hold back the tide of pleasure as he thrusts his hips into mine. I come hard on him. Every muscle in my body, every nerve, every fiber of my being tightens to pull him into me, begging his body to join mine in heaven.

  I forget to breathe. The pleasure is so in
tense I can barely move. I hover between ultimate fulfillment and a lust for more. I know I will want this again and again. And that only Dante can give this to me. This level of pleasure is Dante's trademark.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” I hear him groan, his head falling back as my body massages his. His hands are on my hips as he dives into me. “You're so fucking tight...”

  He can't stop. I can feel the change in his grip on my hips- the way his hips press that much harder, even the tone of his voice and the ragged edge to his breathing. I don't want him to hold back. I want him to join me in this amazing world of pleasure the two of us have created. I feel him release, his whole body shuddering and freezing with release. Our bodies merge and mingle.

  I can't believe how good this is. Or how badly I had wanted him. His pumps are slow and sensual now, as the two of us enjoy the heightened nerves and senses that can only come with release.

  I have never craved another human being like I crave Dante. Even after the best orgasm of my life, I still want more. I'm sure I'll never want anything else but Dante.

  I ache for more, even as he pulls away and collapses on the bed beside me. He's breathing hard and fast, with a sheen of sweat coating his perfectly sculpted chest.

  This is how every day should start, I think to myself. I could get used to this. I could start my days out with amazing sex and end them the same way.

  I lay still on the bed, just feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. Dante has the ability to make me feel. That both frightens me and comforts me. If I don't choose him, I'm afraid no one will ever make me feel this way again. I look into his eyes and see everything I could want there. A future. My heart thrills and I decide to throw caution to the winds. Dante won't fail me. His mother's threat are just empty words.

  My mother is gone. There is no bringing her back. She would want me to be happy. I am happy with Dante. Revenge isn't for the dead. It's for the living. It's a way to cope with grief so strong that we can't handle it all at once. We have to concentrate on hating something just so that our hearts don't shatter.