BAD BOY'S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Naomi West

  Her hand closed around his shaft, her palm warm. She used her thumb to spread a little pre-cum around his dick, and then she pumped gently, just as she had last night.

  “Oh God.” He threw his head back.

  She pumped harder, tugging gently on his dick, making him move his hips for her. He was panting hard, so close to the edge, his balls drawing tight, when suddenly…

  She stopped.

  He opened her eyes. Stared at her. “What … why…?”

  She smiled. A more salacious smile than he could ever have imagined on a girl so demure. “I want you thinking about me all day. When you get home, I promise this’ll be worth it.”

  And she got up and went to the closet to dress.

  ###

  Now what?

  Pistol worked quickly, almost manically, on a Subaru that needed a battery replacement. He’d slept with dozens of women, dozens, and detaching himself afterward had never been a problem. He remembered some of them, but for the most part, they all blurred together. He enjoyed sex, liked having some no-strings-attached fun, but he wasn’t necessarily looking to make memories that would last a lifetime when he went down on a girl. When he fucked her.

  But he couldn’t treat Katrin that way. Couldn’t push her away, couldn’t detach himself from her life, because when he was done here in the shop today, he was going home to her. This unbelievably beautiful, kind woman who shared his home. Whom he’d had sex with last night.

  Incredible sex.

  Pistol wasn’t used to sex where he didn’t come — or where he only came during a quick trip to the bathroom to jerk off afterward. But it had felt so right last night, to focus on Katrin’s pleasure. To watch her body respond to his every touch. Usually when he went down on a girl, it was to show off his own prowess, to get her to scream his name. But last night, he’d genuinely wanted to give Katrin the best orgasm of her life. Not for some ego trip, but because she deserved it. Because she’d needed it.

  Damn, the moment she’d come … the moment she’d lost control, been helpless against the waves of ecstasy that had crashed over her… He’d remember that forever.

  “Pistol?”

  He looked up at Deion. “Yeah?”

  “You’re putting that battery in backwards, buddy.”

  He looked down. So he was. All right, so his focus wasn’t the best today. Because he was still breathing in Katrin, still tasting her, still feeling her tighten around his fingers…

  He switched the battery’s angle.

  “You missed a good meeting last night,” Deion said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Eventful, anyway.”

  Pistol rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I wasn’t there. Got busy at home.”

  He could feel Deion’s gaze on him. Not judging; Deion never judged. But serious, missing nothing.

  “What happened?” Pistol pressed.

  “A couple of Smith’s goons were there. They were hinting again about how big this next shipment will be. Sounds like we’re gonna make bank.” Deion didn’t sound happy about it, though.

  “You’re worried?”

  “I dunno, man. I like the profits, I really do. So do the other guys — Ford got his new bike, by the way; you gotta see it — but it’s just not right. You saw the way Smith was ordering us around last time. He’s not gonna be satisfied with sharing. He wants to own us. That’s what I think.”

  “What’s Kong say?”

  Deion shrugged. “Nothing, man. Kong’s been fuckin’ useless. Just keeps saying listen to Smith.”

  Pistol shook his head. “That ain’t the Kong I know.”

  “No shit.” Deion tossed a grease rag on the pile and glanced at Pistol. “You remember when he came to get you up in San Antonio?”

  Pistol’s gut clenched a little at the memory. Bloody fist, clutching a payphone. Jaw nearly too swollen for him to speak…

  He tried to grin. “You weren’t even there.”

  “Yeah, but you told me all about it,” Deion said. “Kong, man. Used to be he’d do anything to protect us. Now he just shows his belly and pisses himself whenever Smith walks in the room.”

  “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  “Not sure how long I wanna spend waiting to see how this all plays out.”

  “Yeah.” Pistol’s mind was wandering to Katrin again.“When you get home, I promise this’ll all be worth it.”

  What if I don’t make it till the end of my shift?

  His balls hung heavy and swollen in his boxers. His ass flexed every time he thought about having sex with Katrin. Imagining her tight pussy around his dick…

  “Pistol?”

  “Huh?”

  Deion was looking at him funny. “You’re weird today, man. Everything okay with the missus.”

  Pistol felt himself flush. “Oh, yeah. Fine.”

  Deion wasn’t looking away. Suddenly his face split in a wide grin. “Dude. No way.”

  “What?”

  “It finally happened huh?”

  “What are you talking about?” Pistol said unconvincingly. Normally he bragged to Deion about every chick he slept with. But something about what had happened between him and Katrin … he wanted to keep that private.

  “Oh man. You did.” Pistol was practically crowing. “You fucked her. Was she a good lay?”

  “Cut it out. She’s my wife.”

  Pistol’s smile slipped a little. “Dude. Sorry.”

  “Just … have a little respect, okay?”

  Deion shrugged. “Sure. Didn’t realize you were, uh … actually getting attached.”

  “I’m not, just—”liar “—just, she’s my wife, and I’m trying to treat her that way.”

  Deion shrugged again. “Sure, dude. Your call.” He was grinning again.

  Smug bastard.

  But Pistol couldn’t help grinning too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Pistol got home, he couldn’t find Katrin at first. She wasn’t in the kitchen, or in the front office. Maybe she was napping? Or reading in bed, the way she sometime did in the afternoon after she finished her freelancing work.

  He made his way upstairs, the pharmacy bag rustling. He smelled something sort of cinnamon-y as he crossed the hall and opened the bedroom door.

  Katrin was on the bed — reading, as he’d predicted. But she was on her stomach, propped on her elbows, with her head at the foot of the bed. Two scented candles were lit on each bedside table. Katrin’s long, loose dark hair shone in the candlelight, and her skin glowed gold.

  So much skin.

  Because she was wearing the skimpiest dress he’d ever seen.

  It was fire engine red cut low in the front, so that he could see the full, round tops of her breasts — a shade lighter than the rest of her suntanned skin. The dress hugged her ass and hips, and her legs and feet were bare and smooth.

  “Hotdamn,” he murmured.

  “Hi, honey,” she purred, rising up on her elbows so that her arms pushed her cleavage up. “Welcome home.”

  “Well this is certainly a surprise,” he said, stepping into the room.

  She got up on her knees. She looked a little nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous, he was pretty sure. She was giddy.

  So was he. “That’s some dress.”

  She blushed. “Well, you didn’t defile me on our wedding night. And I’d rather get defiled in this than a white gown.”

  “So you’re wanting to get defiled?”

  She smiled shyly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” He swallowed. He was gonna come before they even got started if he kept looking at her body in that dress.

  “Been thinking about you,” she said softly.

  “Yeah?” He set the bag on the nightstand. “What were you thinking about?” he tugged off his greasy T-shirt. Tossed it aside. She didn’t appear to care that he hadn’t put it in the hamper. He walked to the bed, and she leaned back on her hands, dress stretching acro
ss her thighs. He wanted to push that skirt up and see what panties she was wearing underneath. Wanted to smell her, lick her, make her cry out like she had last night…

  “Just…” Her lips parted. She seemed to have lost her train of thought.

  He sat on the bed beside her and brushed her thick, silky curls over one shoulder, baring the side of her neck. Her head tipped to the side slightly, and she gave a little sigh.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered.

  He leaned in so that his lips brushed the crook of her shoulder. “Gladly,” he whispered back.

  He kissed her again, sucking lightly on the side of her neck until she gasped. At the same time, he placed a hand on one of her knees and slid it up, under her skirt, until his finger brushed lace, until she trembled. He stroked her lazily through her panties, teasing her the way she’d teased him this morning. Her eyes fell closed, and she rocked back and forth.

  He kissed down to her exposed cleavage, nipping the top of one breast. He cupped it with her free hand, circling her nipple with his thumb until the outline appeared in the stretchy fabric. Slowly he eased the strap of her dress down. Pulled the fabric down to below her breast. She was wearing a black strapless bra, which he made short work of. Then her bare breast hung out of the dress, its stiff, rosy nipple begging for attention.

  He kneaded her breast, and she threw her head back so that her hair swept down almost to the bed. He lifted that heavy breast a little higher so that he could lean in and lick her nipple, teasing it until it was so tight he couldn’t help but bite it — gently, but firmly enough that her back arched.

  “Get on all fours,” he whispered. “I’m gonna show you what you get for teasing.”

  She obeyed with a breathless laugh, getting on her hands and knees, her breathing roughened from his attentions. Her bare breast dangled, the other one still tucked tight in her dress. The skirt rode up over her perfect, round ass. He ran his palm over that delicious curve. Pinched lightly. She jumped and gave a little whimper.

  “You’re gorgeous. You know that?”

  She ducked her head, candlelight dancing in her hair. He reached up under her dress and tugged her panties down. Black lace. Wet with her arousal.

  He pulled the bottom of her dress up, exposing her ass. She wiggled it slightly in anticipation. Damn, he wanted to give her all the pleasure in the world.

  He started by stroking her pussy. One finger, back and forth, occasionally nudging her clit. She rocked slightly against the touch, making her exposed breast swing.

  Pistol slipped two fingers inside her, stroking her deep. Her breath hitched, and then she let it out. She moved with him, the dress strap falling from her other shoulder, baring both breasts.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Jax…”

  He started at the use of his real name, but recovered quickly. “Please what?”

  “I need you … in — inside me…”

  “All right sweetheart,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers. He undid the zipper in back of her dress. “Lie back.”

  She did, and he positioned her with her lower back at the edge of the mattress, her legs, dangling down. She lifted her shoulders as he peeled the dress off her.

  He studied her perfect, naked body for a moment. Then stripped off his jeans and socks. Then his boxers.

  He went to the nightstand, opened the box of condoms, and rolled one on.

  She spread her legs as he approached the bed again. He ran his hands down her sides, leaning down to kiss every inch of her he could reach. Worked his way to her lips, and they kissed hungrily, moaning into each other’s mouths.

  When she was so aroused that she kept lifting her hips, trying to rub her pussy against him, he positioned his dick between her legs, then pushed slowly inside her. Her breath caught as he slowly filled her. Her body stretched to accommodate it, and she gasped a little. But she was wet enough that it slid in fairly easily, and she whimpered, seeming desperate for him to begin thrusting. He drew back and pushed in — not hard, but firmly, letting her get used to his girth. She scissored her legs, apparently wanting to control her own pleasure — but she was at his mercy now. He began to pump faster, trying to find her G-spot with each stroke. She arched off the bed, moving her hips to try to control the rhythm, gasping with soft laughter each time he thwarted her.

  He was toying with her, teasing her. Grinning down at her as he delivered arrhythmic thrusts, some slow and tender, some rough and sharp. “Yes,” she panted. “Oh God, yes, yes.”

  She hooked her legs once more around his hips and pulled him deeper into her.

  “Katrin…” He thrust harder. “Katrin…”

  “Yes!” Her voice got higher, and her pussy clenched around his cock, over and over again. “Yes, yes, Jax, oh, yes…”

  He bucked suddenly, the pleasure more intense than anything he could have imagined as he came deep inside her.

  He withdrew, and she pulled him down onto her, kissing him — a single, long kiss that made warmth surge through his body. He brushed her sweat-dampened hair behind her ear. “Do you feel properly defiled?” he whispered.

  She nodded hazily. Then she rolled him off her and straddled him, gazing down at him with that half-shy, half-seductive smile. “How soon until you can go again?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  They spent the rest of the evening having sex in every nook and cranny of the house. On the kitchen counter. On top of the washing machine. Over the edge of the bathtub. In the shower. Even, when it got dark enough, out on the porch. Katrin loved every minute of it. Loved how Pistol’s body responded to hers. Loved how he lay with her afterward, holding her and whispering about how beautiful she was.

  In those moments, she could almost believe he was a man she truly loved, not just someone who’d wound up in an impossible situation with her.

  The next few days passed in a haze. She ran her errands, did her freelance projects, and waited for Pistol to get home so they could get back to fucking. One day, she’d run into Penny, her neighbor from when she’d lived at her dad’s house.

  Penny had given her a huge, enthusiastic greeting and had asked a million questions about what she was doing now. “Is it true you’re married to Pistol Wilson? Oh, honey, I warned you he was trouble, didn’t I? How did you finally tame him? How come I never see you around your dad’s anymore?”

  Katrin hadn’t known what to say.My dad arranged for me to marry Pistol and now my dad’s basically keeping me a prisoner in a house he bought on the edge of town. It’s great, thanks.

  But the thing was, itwas great. And not just the sex. The way they were around each other — laughing, joking, watching TV together in the evenings… It felt very companionable, very domestic. It was almost possible to forget sometimes that they’d been forced into this life. Pistol was letting his guard down, and so was Katrin. Together, they were building something out of something that Leonard had tried to build for them. They’d crushed the life that Leonard had forced on them, and now they were creating something new and beautiful.

  But how long could it last?

  ###

  She could tell it would be one of those nights. One of those nights where the memories of her mother took over and she couldn’t sleep. She stayed downstairs for as long as she could, drinking decaf tea and reading. Waiting until she was fairly sure Pistol was asleep, because she didn’t want to explain to him why she didn’t want to have sex tonight.

  Why not?she asked herself.You have no problem fucking him six ways from Sunday, but you can’t just say, “I don’t feel like it tonight?” But what if he sensed something was wrong and wanted to know what it was? She wasn’t sure how much to tell him about her mom.

  And worse, what if he didn’t notice anything was wrong? What if the only thing he wanted from her was sex? She needed to be careful not to rely on him too much, not to trust him to comfort her or actually be … a husband. He wasn’t her husband, not really.


  At two a.m., when her eyes felt strained from reading and her butt numb from sitting, she made her way quietly upstairs. Pistol was breathing heavily — not snoring, but close. She smiled. Stood there for a moment, watching him sleep. He sprawled like a big cat, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, the covers kicked off. He was wearing just a pair of black boxer briefs that hugged his ass. The moonlight coming through he slats in the blinds gleamed along the ridges of his thigh muscles. Beautiful. This beautiful man was hers.