Married to the Bad Boy

by Vanessa Waltz

  He laughs as I try to push him away and catches my elbow. “Good. I like a girl with attitude. Makes it all the more satisfying when I shove my cock in her mouth.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, giving me a look that makes me smolder against my will.

  I can’t help but want him.

  “You promised me a blowjob, and I intend to get it.”

  His sweet breath blows over my lips, and I lean forward, irresistibly drawn to his mouth. I kiss him, and my chest heats up as he deepens it, tongue sliding in my mouth. Damn, I love his fucking body. But—no!

  I push his chest gently with my hand, and he gives me a puzzled look. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m pregnant.

  It hangs over my lips, but I desperately want to keep it a secret. This marriage might as well be real now that I’m pregnant, and I have no idea who this guy is. No idea at all, and I’m having his baby.

  “I don’t know you, and we’re getting married in a week.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he says with a grin. “This was your idea, not mine.”

  A sharp, desperate gasp echoes in the room as I imagine the white dress, the ceremony, doctor visits, and all the while, dealing with my ex. Meanwhile I’m pregnant and he has no idea. There’s not an inkling of suspicion in Tony’s eyes that I just might be developing feelings for him.

  “I can’t do this anymore. This was a mistake—a stupid, stupid mistake!”

  The pressure on both my shoulders increases and suddenly I collapse into a chair, Tony’s fierce face in front of mine.

  “Oh no you don’t. You’re not fucking backing out now.”

  I bristle under his gaze. “Says who?”

  “Aside from the fact that it’s a piss-poor idea, because that lunatic will follow you wherever you go, I say so. We already told everyone about it. It’s too late for last-minute regrets.”

  I rise to my feet defiantly, and he pulls my waist toward him. “I want to know the man I’m marrying, even if it’s not real.”

  He rolls his eyes. “What difference does it make?”

  “It’ll make me feel better.”

  Then his arms drop around from my sides and he gets his coat from the closet, handing out mine.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going out.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Why?”

  “To get to know each other.”

  TONY

  The silent white stones lean out of the grassy knoll like strange growths. There are hundreds of them. Faceless tombstones, some of their words unintelligible through countless years of wear and tear. I’m walking over bodies. A cold, clammy feeling flattens my stomach as I climb the hill, Elena not far behind me.

  “You brought me to a cemetery?”

  Nothing can disguise the fact that one of these days—sooner rather than later—I’ll be sleeping under the ground just like Dad.

  “You wanted to know me.”

  I slap my hand over my father’s tombstone.

  VITO ANTONIO VIDAL

  BELOVED FATHER AND HUSBAND

  (1956 - 1995)

  Three lines of text and a hole in the ground. That’s all you get for a lifetime of service to the family. Your kid gets to watch you get buried, gets to watch his mother cry every goddamn day for the rest of his life.

  I never wanted to be like him. I never wanted to join the Mafia.

  Her eyes pinch together as she reads the inscription, and I suddenly wonder why the hell I brought her here. What does it matter whether she knows me or not?

  But she wants to know me—she asked. I never let anyone get close enough to ask me questions. I’d get naked with them before I’d let them ask me a single goddamn thing about myself, not that any of them cared.

  All I know is that I just can’t keep this inside me anymore.

  She takes a cautious step forward and touches my chest. “How did he die?”

  “He was big time. A captain. He became a huge target during this war between several biker gangs in the city. The family backed Les Diables, which made all members targets of the Machine MC. One day, they just popped him. I was ten.”

  The pain of that loss still smarts, but it’s duller now.

  “I told myself I’d never join the life. I didn’t want to go the same way my father did, leaving behind a wife and kid.”

  With a small push off the tombstone, I turn away from Elena and walk down the hill. Her footsteps trudge behind me and then her arm curls around mine. It’s as if the landscape brightens. I don’t feel as fucking bad when she’s around.

  Christ, I’ve really changed.

  Gradually, though, I’m shutting down. The closer and closer we get, my insides twist and bunch together. My skin freezes—I haven’t been to visit her in years.

  Then finally I get there.

  It’s a small, modest tombstone because her family didn’t have any money. I scraped together what I had and paid for her funeral and burial. Elena stands stock-still in front of the stone, her lips moving silently.

  MARIA ELIZABETH DESBIENS

  (1985 - 2002)

  “She was my girlfriend. And she was the reason I joined.”

  Elena’s mouth widens, and I don’t blame her. I’ve such a shitty reputation for sticking my dick into anything that moves, it’s hard to believe that I had a girlfriend. That I was once in love. That we were going to—fuck. It doesn’t matter.

  Nothing matters.

  “She was killed. I went to the boss at the time and asked him for vengeance. He would only give it to me if I joined their ranks. So I did.”

  And I’ve regretted it ever since.

  I think she can see it in my eyes. Fuck it, I don’t care about holding back. I don’t want to do this anymore. The killing, the violence, the pain I inflict every day numbed me to every feeling, good and bad. Following my father’s footsteps was never something that I wanted. I joined because I was young and stupid, and it’s a mistake I have to live with for the rest of my life.

  Maybe if I turned off everything, I’d be fine.

  But I can’t become yet another one of the dead-eyed assholes I work with. I just don’t have it in me. Part of me is ashamed to admit that.

  “So you never wanted this life?”

  “Don’t tell nobody.”

  She smiles weakly, her eyes shining with pity. I don’t need that—I don’t want it. It’s my fault. The decision to join was mine. I’m just having a hard time living with it. Pussy and booze just doesn’t cut it anymore.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m 33. I like to drink Irish whiskey. I love French onion soup and I can’t stand Tim Hortons. My favorite color is blue. Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I love skiing in the winter.”

  “What about—”

  I grasp her shoulders and that seems to silence her. “None of that shit tells you who I am, Elena. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out who I am.”

  I release a long breath, feeling the tension exhale out of my lungs. “So what about you? I told you my big secret.”

  Elena shrugs, looking at the ground. “I’m 27. I don’t have anyone and I don’t really know what to do with my life. I hate raw tomatoes—”

  “What?”

  “I hate tomatoes.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re Italian.”

  “I know.” She narrows her eyes at me.

  “You hate tomatoes? Seriously? That’s like saying, ‘I hate onions.’ What the hell kind of—”

  “You don’t think I’ve gotten shit from my parents my whole life because of that? I hate the texture, but I don’t mind when they’re cooked in stuff. Anyway, my favorite color is pink and I have two siblings that I don’t get along with. When Dad was boss, it was like having a big family. That’s all gone now.”

  I’m still reeling over the shock of a full-blooded Italian hating tomatoes.

  “Who cares?” I rasp finally. “They whacked your dad. You don’t want any
thing to do with them anyway.”

  “I know, but they were all I had.”

  Her eyes are like two dark pools, and some of her sadness reaches inside me when she meets my gaze. Really, we’re not that different. Both of our families were destroyed by the mob, and yet we’re still indebted to them.

  “What would you have done if you weren’t in the life?”

  My lips pull into a bitter smile. “I have no fucking clue.”

  I never gave it a thought, because this is all I know. Even if Johnny allowed me to leave, what would I do? I have no skills.

  Her face breaks into a watery smile. “I don’t know what I want to do either.”

  “I guess we’re both hopeless.”

  We descend the hill in silence, my head full of troubling thoughts. I don’t know anything, I just know that my chest tightens when she smiles at me, and my desire for her is out of control. The wedding doesn’t really bother me as much as it should anymore. I like the idea of her becoming mine.

  “Elena, this wedding is happening,” I tell her as we reach my car. “Capiche? I’m not stopping it for anything.”

  Her eyes burn with questions I’m not sure I can answer. She opens her mouth, protesting—

  “Look, it doesn’t mean we’re in love or any of that shit. It just means we understand each other. You need my help, and I need your smoking-hot body.”

  Her cheeks flush as I wrap my arm around her waist. She wears a thin cotton dress underneath her coat, and I told her not to wear panties. It must be cold. Hell, it’s the middle of January.

  My hand curls around her bare thigh, pushing the dress higher and higher up her legs until she hisses through her teeth.

  “Tony, we’re in a parking lot.”

  Since when do I give a fuck?

  “No one can see what I’m doing to you.”

  My body blocks her from view, but a thrill leaps inside me at the thought of someone catching a glimpse.

  “Why is it that you always want to share me?”

  Even though it’s cold, her legs feel like a furnace. My fingers run over her smooth skin, over her shaved mound, and then I just graze her pussy. It’s wet for me. She’s always fucking wet for me.

  “I would never share you. I’m showing off what’s mine.”

  She attacks me the moment I slip my finger inside her. The smooth walls wrap around me like a tight glove as she throws her arms around my neck and moans loud enough to let the whole parking lot know what we’re up to. My cock stiffens in my pants when I hear how turned-on she is. Elena arches her body against mine and crushes her lips over my mouth. Her hand drops down and seizes my cock, and it’s like an electric shock. Blood pounds through my dick and I bury my fingers in her wet cunt, curving inward as she moans in my mouth.

  “You belong to me, baby. Just look how wet you are.”

  Heavy brown eyes stare into mine. “You belong to me, too.”

  I grin at that, but she’s right. There’s no denying that this girl has me, hook, line, and sinker. No one else captures my attention like her. No one gets me as hard as she does.

  “I’m yours, but more importantly, you’re mine.”

  I twist my fingers inside her, knowing how close she is based on her rapid breaths. Her face flushes and she bites her lip, trying to contain herself as I keep finger-fucking her.

  She unzips my pants in one swift movement and yanks my briefs down. We couldn’t be more exposed, but she gives me that desperate look that I’m addicted to.

  “I need you.”

  Yes, she does need me.

  The cold air bites my cock, but I hitch up her dress and guide it to her steaming pussy, which feels like a hot bath. I sink inside her, my face buried in her tits. Jesus it’s so warm and tight. I glide inside her, thrusting deep as she squeezes around me.

  “There’s—there’s someone coming!”

  My teeth graze her perfect tits. “Let them watch.” Smiling at her horrified face, I take as much of her as I can in my mouth and suck hard, digging my cock as deep as it’ll go.

  Her fingers wrench my hair as she lets out another guttural sound.

  “I need you to come, baby. I can’t get off unless you come.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a couple standing unnaturally still in the parking lot as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. Awesome.

  She blushes hard. “I—I can’t!”

  “I can do this all day.” I thrust hard, her body arching up my car.

  Well, no. I couldn’t. I’d blow a load before long, because she keeps squeezing my cock while it glides up her slick walls. Another harsh cry tears from her throat, rebounding through the parking lot, and the couple in the distance turns around. I see them holding a cell phone.

  “They’re calling the cops. Better hurry.”

  I slide my dick out of her pussy as she rakes my shoulders, and then I bend to my knee, pulling her dress over my head. Her slightly swollen pussy contracts when she feels my breath over her wet skin. Then I roll my tongue over her clit.

  She makes a sound as though she’s in pain. It must feel amazing in the cold to have something hot and wet engulf you. Her hips grind against my mouth as I fuck her with my mouth, sucking her juices, using my fingers to pound her hard. I have three inside her, curving into that bed of nerves that makes her legs shudder. I want her as close to the edge as possible. My mouth closes over her clit and sucks hard as my tongue runs along her wetness.

  “TONY!”

  I stand up, her dress flattening against my body as I bury myself back into her throbbing pussy. She clings to my shoulder and cries as she comes hard around my cock. Somehow one of her straps falls down her arm and her bouncing tits pop out of her dress. I grab one, digging my fingers into her flesh as her nipple hardens against my palm. My fingernail pinches her nub as my hips grind against hers. The friction builds up and my balls tighten. I’m overwhelmed with the smell of her around me. She’s all mine for me to do whatever I want with.

  She yanks my head toward hers and her tongue slips into my mouth. I bite down hard as my cock explodes, filling her pussy with my cum. She kisses me blindly, just as crazy for me as I am for her. A flash of red and blue makes my heart thump hard against my ribs. I bend down and yank my pants back up as she slips to the pavement. Then I give the couple in the distance a sarcastic wave.

  “Enjoy the show?” I bellow out to them.

  Elena yanks on my jacket. “Let’s go.”

  Chuckling, I turn back toward her. I gather her beautiful face in my hands and I plant a soft kiss on her red lips, smoothing my thumbs over her cold cheeks. Aftershocks of pleasure run through my body as she slips her hands around my waist.

  And I don’t want her to let go.

  * * *

  The hushed whispers of the congregation echo through the cavernous church. I stand at the altar, hands flexing at my side. That hair-raising, unnerving song I’ve sat through so many times begins as a slow line of procession moves down the aisle. My stomach clenches as everyone’s gaze turns back. Elena’s sister appears in a champagne-colored dress. I’ve already forgotten her name, but I felt a strong surge of dislike when I shook her hand. She has an upturned, snotty look to her face, and seemed to be annoyed at the fact that she had to come all the way here.

  Ma’s already sobbing in the front row, and I try to avoid looking at her. My chest tightens as the wedding march increases in crescendo, and I think about how wrong this is—how I loathe these boring as fuck weddings, and how we should have done it in my Ma’s backyard—tradition be damned. I could give a fuck about religion, and having all these eyes on me isn’t pleasant.

  A sliver of white moves into the room and everyone’s head turns to look at my bride to be. My chest swells as she walks down the aisle in a white dress that clings to her body, showing off just enough skin to make my breath catch in my throat. The neckline dips down in a V, exposing her neck and just a hint of cleavage. Her hair is pulled up into an elegant bun, dark,
smoky makeup around her eyes, and light lipstick. She looks beautiful. So beautiful that my heart clenches when she reaches me.

  This is it.

  No turning back.

  I want to reach around her head and let her hair fall to her shoulders. She doesn’t look like the girl I saw in the bar—the girl who gives me so many hard-ons throughout the day that I worry my dick might fall off. I only half-listen to the priest as he prattles on and on in Italian, and I wonder why the fuck we always have these ceremonies where we can’t understand the fucking words. He repeats them in French and then in English.

  To have and to hold, in sickness and in health. Blah, blah, blah.

  It doesn’t feel real. All of it is wrong—the church, the music, her hair, my future sister-in-law with a sour look on her face. Elena’s trembling lips.

  I kiss her anyway as cheers explode in the church.

  I’ll make her mine in my own way, when she won’t have that terrified look on her. When I say the words, I want to mean them.

  We just have to get through this bullshit.

  Her hand shakes in mine as we walk down the aisle, and I smile back at Johnny’s beaming face. He can’t resist pounding my back as I walk past him. Sunshine pours over our heads as we leave the church to the limo waiting for us. I hold the door open for her and she bends her head as she steps inside.

  “We’ll meet you there!”

  A wave of exhaustion hits me as I join her in the limo and shut the car door. She looks at me with the same frightened expression she had on the altar, and I catch a glimpse of her left hand, which gleams with the ring I gave her.

  She turns her perfectly manicured face toward me. “I need a fucking drink.”

  Good thing there’s champagne in the limo. I fish it out of the ice and pop open the cork, tilting the foam into a tall, skinny glass for her. She holds it daintily while I pour one for myself.

  What should I toast to?

  Elena seems to consider her glass before her cheeks flush and she extends it toward me. “I forgot—I’m pregnant.”

  I take it from her, grinning. “No one’s here to see you except me.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to risk it.”