by Nicole Fox
He laughed again, so delighted in her that he couldn’t imagine what things would have been like if he’d had to stay with the Sons of Chaos. It had been a short time in his life, but it haunted him constantly. He had been foolish, and he had nearly lost her. Now, he would dedicate himself to taking care of her in every way he could. ”Okay, I promise I’ll feed you first. What sounds good?”
“Fried chicken and mashed potatoes,” she said instantly.
Skid dug his keys out of his pocket. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
“Nope, it’s not me. It’s the baby. He or she insists.” Mina touched her belly, which had grown quite a bit over the last few months. “Park keeps telling me I look like I’m stealing a basketball.”
“Well, you do,” Skid agreed with a shrug.
She slapped him playfully and smiled. “Well, I hope you like it, because it’s all your fault.”
He wrapped his arm around her as they made their way across the garage to his motorcycle, and he brought his hand down to pinch her ass. “You’re damn right, it is.”
After a quick stop for a bucket of chicken, they arrived at their home. There was still a lot of work to be done, but Mina had fallen in love with the place instantly. It was a small Cape Cod-style home with dormer windows on the second floor. It had been built several decades ago, but someone had already replaced the original carpet with hard flooring and had upgraded the windows. It still needed some paint (both inside and outside) and a new kitchen, but it was more than livable. Though Park would have preferred that they stay at the clubhouse where they could always have a support team around them, he understood their need for privacy and had fully supported their move. He had even bought them a suite of living room furniture and given Skid complete command of the Legion to help them move.
“I forgot to tell you,” Mina said as they came through the door and she set the food down on the dining room table. “Rose came by this morning after you left and helped me do some decorating. It isn’t much, but at least the walls aren’t bare anymore.” She gestured at some framed prints and decorative vases that had been placed throughout the living space of the house.
“She’s really taken a liking to your dad, hasn’t she?” Skid had often wondered if the two were a couple. They still hadn’t come right out and admitted that they were, but they were spending so much time together, and Rose had taken such an interest in the baby, that it was the only conclusion they could draw.
“She has,” Mina said with a smile, “and it’s wonderful. Rose is a great woman. In fact, she’s taking me shopping this weekend for some maternity clothes. I’ve been making do with what I’ve got, but I guess it’s time I had something to wear that wasn’t ready to burst off of me.”
“I don’t know.” Skid came around the dining table and put his fingers in the waistband of her shorts. He was hard again already, and thinking about her naked was enough to do him in. “I kind of like it when your clothes are trying to come off you. It saves me a little bit of work.” With deft fingers, he shimmied her shorts off her and pulled her shirt over her head.
“Do you want to go up to the bedroom?” she asked as she unbuttoned his pants. “We can dirty up the clean sheets I put on the bed this morning.”
Skid started to agree, but he shook his head. “No way. I figure we only have a few more months to do it in every room of this house before we’ll be confined to our bedroom for the next eighteen years. We can start here and work our way to the kitchen, then the living room, the hallway …” He was kissing her now, pleased with the options they had now that they were in their own home. Skid turned her around and braced her against the table, entering her from behind.
Mina arched her back to give him better access to her, and he groaned with pleasure as he reached up to grab her breasts in his hands. They jiggled gratifyingly every time he slammed into her, and he didn’t want to miss a moment of it. At this point, they’d had sex in numerous positions, but he never got tired of exploring her body. Skid admired the long planes of her back, the warmth of her ass against him, the strength of her legs and arms as he held herself out for him. He would give her everything he had, and he knew that she would do that same.
Sliding his hand down and around the bulge of her belly, he worked his finger in circles against her clit, enticing her to feel what he could. She said nothing at first, but her knees suddenly bent underneath her and he knew it was working.
Mina pushed herself back upright and against him. “Oh,” she moaned. “That feels so good, but I’m not sure I can take it.”
“Yes, you can,” he assured her. “You’ve got to. You deserve it. I want you to get what you need, Mina. You’re everything to me, and I never want to take anything from you unless I know I can give it right back with interest. I want you to come, so I can come all over you.”
She bucked and fought beneath him, so turned on that she slammed her fist against the table and made the vase of flowers in the middle jump. “It’s so much …” she whispered.
He held her hip with his free hand, keeping her pressed close against him as he pursued his goal. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other ever since he had come back to the Legion, and he hoped they never could. She was simply irresistible. “But do you really want me to stop?”
“No … Oh!” She pressed herself hard against him as she quivered.
Skid slammed into her, using his right hand to continue to keep her happy but unable to resist the temptation of simultaneous orgasms. No matter how many times they accomplished it, it never got old. He loved the feeling of her core as it shivered around him. Skid gave her what she wanted while he took his pleasure, aware of nothing for a moment but the way their bodies fit together as he came inside her once again.
They collapsed in a heap on the dining room rug, laughing quietly as they looked up at the ugly chandelier that had been left by the previous homeowner. The tarnished brass fixture with its dusty glass globes had at one time been an attempt at something fancy, but now it was just on their list of things that needed to be replaced. Skid held Mina close as he looked at it, pleased over how small their problems were now that they revolved around curtains and light fixtures and picking out the color for the baby’s room.
“You know, I knew I shouldn’t have had anything to do with you that first time we were together. I knew it was against the rules, that you were absolutely forbidden. But when you came to me with that crooked smile of yours and you put your hands on me, I knew I was done for.”
She smiled, a movement of her cheek he could feel against his chest. “I’d loved you for a long time before that, you know. As soon as you joined the club, I knew I had to have you.”
“But you were so young,” he protested.
“It didn’t matter. I just needed to give it a little time, time that I think we both needed. Besides, you didn’t pay any attention to me for years. I was convinced you had no idea I existed.”
“Trust me, I knew.” Even though they were together, Skid easily recalled how he’d had to force his eyes to the other side of the room just so he wouldn’t look at Mina when she walked in. “At first, I thought I just wanted you because I wasn’t supposed to have you. I respect the rules, but we all want what we can’t have.”
“And now?” she pressed, looking up at him.
He touched her naked stomach gently. “I have you. You’re mine, and nobody can question that. And I still want you more than ever.”
“Sounds wonderful to me.” Mina reached up and kissed him, then she stood and opened up the food they had brought back with them. He had nearly forgotten about it. She stood next to the table, stark naked, and not even bothering to sit down, as she tore into a chicken leg. Mina reached into the bucket and fished out another one, holding it out for him.
It was completely ridiculous. It was just the way she was, and he loved it. He took the chicken and joined her for dinner.
THE END
***
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KNOCKED UP BY THE HITMAN: A Bad Boy Baby Romance
By Nicole Fox
I HAD TWO CHOICES: GET LOCKED UP OR GET KNOCKED UP.
It was either submit to the hitman…
Or surrender to his gun against my head.
Can you really blame me for what I did next?
Living out of my car, down to my last few bucks…
Could things be any worse?
Turns out the answer is yes.
When my car gets stolen – with me still in the backseat – by a gun runner and his junkie brother,
I figure I’ve seen my last sunrise.
This is it for me.
But to my surprise, the hitman makes me a deal.
He’ll help me erase my old life and start fresh.
In return, I owe him…
Anything he wants.
I’ll do whatever it takes to get away from my past.
But as it turns out, Russell has a hunger that only a taste of me will satisfy.
I strip down and give him what he desires – over and over and over again.
For a while, it seems like things might be better.
I have a new home, a new identity, a new purpose.
But then I see the three little lines no girl like me ever wants to see.
It means I’m pregnant.
Before I can tell Russell about our baby, his junkie brother comes looking for his slice of the pie.
There might be a beautiful new life lying in wait for Russell and me.
But only if I can get out of this bedroom alive.
Chapter One
Alyssa
The grim lighting of the diner made everyone look like a ghost. Sitting in the uncomfortable hard booth of dingy red pleather, I poked listlessly at my meal. I rolled the sausage links around like little logs; I dipped my fork into the goopy yellow of the egg yolk; and I made shapes with the overcooked strips of bacon, crossing them into an “X,” putting them into little equals signs, and stacking them on top of one another. Most of all, however, I sipped my coffee. It was an oily mud of a brew, but refills were free.
But I took my time, because after I finished this meal and gave the surly waitress the money for my check, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. As of that morning, I, Alyssa Culverton, was homeless. And as soon as this check got paid, I’d be broke too.
“More coffee?” asked the waitress, a frumpy middle-aged woman with bottle-blonde hair and watery blue eyes outlined with far too much makeup.
She put an emphasis on the “more,” making it clear that she wasn’t appreciating my lingering in her booth. It was late in the night, but she probably could’ve had a few more tables since I’d sat down. I felt bad, but walking out that door, knowing I didn’t have a home to go back to, well, was something I wanted to put off for as long as possible.
I took a sip of the fresh pour of coffee, letting the caffeine wake me up. My eyes darted around the diner, moving from patron to patron. Now was the time of the evening when the weirdos came out, and this diner seemed to be doing a pretty good job of attracting them. Then again, as of this morning, when I’d left my asshole of a boyfriend for good, I suppose I had made the decision to become one of them.
My legs suddenly felt tight and tense, and I got up to stretch them. Walking to the bathroom, I felt the hot glare of the waitress on my skin, my neck going hot. But I was soon in the shelter of the bathroom and, thankfully, alone for the time being. I went over to the mirror and checked my makeup, confirming that bruising around my eye was still covered by the heavy application that I’d been touching up whenever I could. I felt terrible enough being a homeless woman; I didn’t want the added attention that my black eye might bring.
And as I stared into the mirror, I felt myself go back to a few nights ago, the night that my life had taken a turn that I never imagined it would.
# # #
“Hey, Alyssa!”
Logan, my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now, I suppose—called out as soon as he walked in the front door, his voice causing my stomach to tighten up by instinct. I didn’t say a word, knowing that if he had to come find me, well, that was at least an extra minute or two that I was free of him.
“Where the fuck you at?”
He walked slowly through the apartment, his steps uneven. His voice was slurred, and I knew exactly what that meant—another night out with his goddamn lowlife friends. He was drunk, no doubt about that, and when he was drunk that meant he was on a hair-trigger. He could be sweet as candy one moment and a raging beast the next. And there was never any way for me to know what would make him shift from one way to the other. Either way, he’d want me to … please him, and by this point there wasn’t anything that I wanted to do less.
“There you are, sweet thing,” he said, his voice now close behind me.
I turned from where I stood by the window overlooking Manhattan from across the river where we lived in Brooklyn. I wanted to enjoy the quiet of the view for one more moment before Logan ruined it.
“Hey, baby,” I said, barely able to fake the enthusiasm.
“Been thinking about you all night,” he said as he walked towards me.
I turned and looked him over. Sure enough, he was drunk as could be. His tall, sturdy frame was leaned against the dresser in our bedroom, and his normally slicked-back black hair was loose, thick strands curving over his forehead. His tie was undone, and his dress shirt, the white one I’d made sure was crisp and pressed for work today, had a thumb-sized splatter of what looked to be whiskey on it. And sure enough, the smell of some floozy’s cheap perfume wafted off of him like a skunk’s stink.
It ’hadn’t always been like this. When Logan and I’d met in college, he had been sweet as could be. I still look back on the night we met at that senior mixer, when he’d charmed me liked I’d never been charmed before. Soon, we were an inseparable couple. My friends had all told me to watch out for him, telling me that he was no good, that he was all charm up front with nothing underneath but scum. They had told me that he had a reputation for using women and tossing them aside when he got bored. They had told me that he got … strange, when he drank.
But I didn’t care, of course. As far as I could tell, he was handsome, charming, and ambitious. So when he told me a few months into our relationship that I didn’t need to finish school, that he’d gotten some high-paying job in New York waiting for him that would provide for the both of us, I was all too eager to get swept up in everything.
Little did I know what I was getting into.
It was a few weeks after moving into this fancy apartment in Williamsburg overlooking the city that he started to change. He became more possessive, telling me that I couldn’t go anywhere without running it by him first, and that I wasn’t allowed to have any male friends, gay or not. This rule didn’t apply to him, of course, he was free to do what he wanted with whomever he wanted. His drinking started getting out of control too. It started with him going out for happy hour with his work friends and soon became day-long benders. Whenever I’d take him to task about it, he just told me that work was stressful, and that if he was going to be paying the bills I didn’t have a damn bit of say in how he spent his free time afterwards.
It went on like this for months, and the walls of my life seemed to be closing in on me. It got to the point where I could hardly leave the apartment for anything but a thing or two from the grocery store at the end of the block. Logan never came out and said it directly, but he made it clear that he didn’t trust me to not cheat on him the first chance I got. And just like all sexually paranoid men, his concerns were rooted in his own behavior, I’d found more than a few smears of tacky lipstick on those dress shirts of his. I didn’t thin
k it could get any worse.
Then, he hit me.
The first time it happened it felt like a dream. It didn’t even hurt, really. I just remember the blur of his open palm followed by the fleshy cracking sound of his hand against my cheek. I fell backward onto the bed like I’d been pushed by a big gust of wind. Only when I touched my cheek with my fingertips and felt the heat of his slap did I realize what had happened.
And, of course, once the line of physical abuse was crossed, there was no going back. The next time he hit me, I wasn’t lucky enough to be too shocked to feel anything; I felt all the pain.
This was something I wouldn’t stand for. I began to think more and more about leaving. But everything was in his name; I didn’t have a dollar to call my own aside from a little bit of mad money I had socked away. If I left, I’d be totally on my own. And Logan must’ve been suspecting this—he made it clear that if I ever left, he’d track me down and bring me right back.
