Hitman's Bride (Bad Boy Empire)

by Vanessa Waltz

  “We need to talk.”

  I use that kind of tone that brooks no argument, and a frown spreads over my wife’s face. She flinches as I yank the chair next to her and sit down.

  “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I love you. That’s my only defense.”

  Tears spring to her eyes, and I hate the way my heart flies out to her. I want to gather her in my arms and kiss her hair. I want her neck, arching for me, and her lips.

  What am I supposed to say?

  “After promising me you would never put your life in danger like that, you did it again.”

  “I swear to God I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  I know.

  And somehow that burns. I feel the anger, caustic like acid, ripping away at my insides.

  She reaches out, tentatively touching my face, and I reflexively grab her hand. Touching her is like a balm. I grab Fawn’s lithe hips and pull her onto my lap. I bury my face into her chest and blow out a deep breath. God, I need her.

  “I know you’re stressed.”

  Stressed doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m the de facto leader of this syndicate, and, holy shit, it’s a lot of work. I have a stack of paperwork a foot high to go through. I’m a fucking hitman, not an office drone. How the hell am I supposed to get through all this shit?

  “Maybe you should delegate more. Or look into reinstating the Council.”

  “Because democracy worked out so well for you guys.”

  Fawn falls silent at my acidic tone, and I blow out a deep breath.

  “It’s not that, really. It’s Viper.”

  “What about him?”

  There’s nothing but a sour taste in my mouth. “He didn’t suffer enough.”

  “Michael.”

  I flinch at the sound of my real name. Uttering it here feels like a betrayal, like I don’t deserve to be called that anymore.

  “You have to let it go.” She takes my head in her hands and my heart pounds with the closeness of her lips. “We’re together and we’re whole. That’s all that matters.”

  Her mouth is hot against mine, and it sparks a fire that surges down my body. I kiss my wife back, moaning as my cock throbs with a needy pulse. She wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss as electricity spreads over my skin, and then I lift her up. She squeals in delight as a low growl reverberates in the back of my throat. I walk into my bedroom and I deposit her gently over the bed.

  Suddenly I can’t wait another second to rip the clothes from her body and taste every fucking inch of her. It irks me slightly that the last time we fucked, Viper was hiding in a closet. She was so stupid to taunt him like that. Stupid, but brave.

  God, I fucking love her.

  I yank on her pant legs so violently that for a moment they fly through the air. Then I take her panties into my fist and I rip them off her creamy thighs. She sits up and grabs my belt, a ferocious look in her eyes as she rips it off my slacks. Her small hand curls over my cock and squeezes hard, and then she slips her fingers behind the waistband, pulling it slowly down so that the fabric feels like a caress.

  I move her hands away and let my pants fall to the ground. Then I touch her flat stomach, my fingers curling around the edge of her white t-shirt. Her nipples stand out like pins, and she’s been teasing me with that shit all day, hoping I’d give in and just fuck her. Fuck the pain away. The anger. Everything.

  My dick sheathes inside her, and her mouth opens with that surprised gasp that I love so much. She wraps her legs around my waist, giving her body to me. Her pussy tightens around me, gradually opening to my thickness. My mouth finds her tits, and I circle my tongue around her stiff nipples, sucking them hard as I thrust.

  She’s mine.

  Forever.

  The ecstasy blows through me when our mouths meet each other, and it’s a soaring feeling. I’m riding high on her. She cries out as I pound her, emptying my seed in her womb. And when she’s milked every drop and she lies in a pool in my arms, my mind burns. The high is gone, and I’m simmering.

  Let it go.

  * * *

  It looks exactly how I remember it. The rocks are still weathered white with salt and the battering of restless waves. The Sutro Baths ruins sit in the middle of the beach and the Bay, the stagnant water pungent even from this distance. Tourists walk all over its foundations. There’s the cave to the right, where Pepper and I used to play. And there’s the beach.

  Families are spread out on the sand, enjoying a rare afternoon of warm sunshine. Wet sand sticks to my boots as I trudge into the sand, past a couple lazing over a beach towel. I walk right into the shallow water where Pepper died. The wind from the ocean feels like her breath, and I stare out into the blue. The unusually warm weather feels like a gift from her, along with the breeze playing with my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” I speak into the wind. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you.”

  For weeks there was nothing but the claw of hunger in my stomach. The dizzying pangs. Nausea. I clutched a discarded chocolate wrapper, licking at the foil for crumbs of sugar, anything that would stave off death.

  Pepper found me. She gave me an apple. A whole one to myself. I didn’t even know how to eat it. I was too weak to chew, so she mashed it for me and fed me. The other kids told her to let me die. He’s too little. He’ll never make it.

  Pepper gave me life.

  And the grief hits me suddenly, hard and strong, like a punch to my gut. I drop to my knees, not caring about the water soaking through my slacks or the sand pooling around me. I dig my hand into the sand where she fell, and I wish with all my heart that I could turn back time and bring her back.

  He’s dead. He can’t hurt anyone else, ever again.

  Anguish clutches my heart in a vise as I curl into the fine grains.

  I can’t keep torturing myself like this.

  My faith in God is tenuous at best, but I keep looking around the beach for a sign from Pepper, telling me that it’s okay to forgive myself and move on. I wait, the water slowly soaking through my slacks.

  “Michael!”

  I turn around to see a frustrated woman kneeling on the beach next to a boy clutching a plastic shovel in his hands. The tide rolls in and floods the small hole he’s digging. She scoops him in her arms and walks to a smiling man with a plastic beach chair folded under his arm. A stab of longing hits my chest as I watch the happy family walk away. It grows inside me like a balloon, swelling underneath my ribs.

  I stand up from the sand as another peculiar, warm breeze strokes my face, and I walk away from the water. When I turn around to look back at that spot, I wait for the familiar feelings of rage and anguish to surface, but there’s nothing. Just a moment of golden peace.

  FAWN

  I watch dutifully as the nurse threads a needle through the reddened flesh, suturing the wound of a young man’s arm. Vicki is one of my favorite nurses for a reason. When the doctors aren’t around, she lets me do things the other PAs aren’t allowed to do.

  She smiles and gives me a wry grin, holding up the needle. “Wanna try?”

  Like I said, she’s awesome.

  “Are you sure?”

  The man gives me a wary look, not enthused by the lack of confidence in my tone.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  Damn.

  I slap on a pair of gloves and take the needle from her hands gingerly. Fuck, I don’t have the faintest clue how to do this, but it can’t be that hard, right? Just like sewing clothes. I look up at Vicki, and she smiles encouragement. “Go on.”

  I pierce his skin, and he flinches as I poke it through the other side. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect! Just keep the stitches small.”

  After a few stitches I get the hang of it and reach the end of the gash. Vicki teaches me how to tie a knot.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” she says, smiling. “I’ll teach you how to do mat
tress sutures next time.”

  Cool.

  I glance at the clock as the man I sutured slides from the chair, looking faintly irritated at being used as a pincushion. I give him an apologetic smile and leave the room after Vicki.

  “I’m going to clock out.”

  “All right—oh! Look who’s here!”

  I look in the direction she’s pointing and see my husband leaning against the wall in his dark suit, a devilish smile on his handsome face. My heart flutters as I say goodbye to Vicki and head straight for him, my hands somehow finding their way to my belly. The smile widens as his eyes rake me up and down.

  “Hey, you.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He slides his arm around my waist, and blood rushes to my skin. Silas—Michael bends his head, kissing my cheek in what would be a chaste gesture if it weren’t for his hand nearly grabbing my ass.

  “Looking for my wife, what else? I want you.”

  I recognize the stark lust in his eyes, and desire curls around my stomach. It hardens my nipples and heats my skin. Six months he’s been leading this place, and he thinks he can shirk his duties to fuck me whenever he wants. The warmth of his hand disappears as he gently pushes me against the wall. His hard, insistent mouth smothers mine, and I melt between his body and the wall.

  “We’re giving everyone a free show.”

  “I don’t care,” he says between stolen kisses.

  “I’ve got to clock out first.”

  A minor annoyance crosses his face, and then he grabs me close, his palm curving possessively over my belly. My heart pounds hard, sending a fierce spell to my head.

  “Fawn, what about the baby?”

  Worried eyes gaze down at me. It’s only been a few months since we found out we were going to be parents. Me—a mom. I can’t help but feel a small thrill of mingled horror and excitement whenever I think of it.

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll take some time off and then I’ll go back to work.”

  He nods, looking uncertain as he gazes around the place. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  I grab his chin, kissing him softly. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  # # #

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  MARRIED TO THE BAD BOY (CRAVOTTA CRIME FAMILY #1)

  Read on for the entire first novel of the Cravotta Crime Family series:

  No one in their right mind marries a bad boy…

  I’m a player. A man whore. Whatever the hell you want to call it, I get around.

  During the day I crack heads and extort businesses. At night I find girls. I live to hear them moan for me, but one night is all they get. No one ever made me want more.

  Until her.

  Elena.

  The moment her lips wrapped around me, I was done. All day I think about running my tongue all over those curves.

  Too bad those curves are off limits. She’s running from a man who will kill me for touching her.

  Well, she’s tired of running and needs my help.

  She thinks I’m doing it for money.

  I’m doing it to make her mine.

  TONY

  “C’moooooon, Tony.”

  Blondie sighs into my ear, her vermouth and gin breath gusting over my nose as she tries to shimmy over my legs, a feat that sends a lot of raised eyebrows my way, considering this chick’s dress is practically hiked up to her panties.

  It makes my cock stand to attention when her little ass rubs my lap. She’s wearing the same panties as yesterday. Dirty. Sexy.

  But if I thought for a second that I had a good chance of running into yesterday’s one-night stand, I would’ve never come to this bar. I fucked her last night, and the needy bitch wants seconds.

  Of course she does.

  She grips my waist with surprising strength and lands a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I sweep a hand over her bare shoulders and a row of goose bumps sprouts over her skin.

  “Sweetheart, listen to me.” I smile, painfully.

  “No.”

  She pouts her small lips for a moment and then erupts into giggles.

  “No? What the fuck do you mean, no?”

  “I don’t wanna listen. I wanna fuck.”

  My cock wants to fuck her, too. It swells in my slacks despite how much I want it to calm down. I don’t fuck girls twice. Ever. Whatsherface is making it extremely hard for me to turn her away.

  Blondie slides her manicured hand over my thigh and grabs the bulge between my legs. It twitches in response and I groan out loud, embarrassed for my cock. Blood roars through my veins, pounding through my head: Shut up and fuck the girl.

  It’s hard to ignore that fucking voice when it’s hissing in your ear, over and over.

  Goddamn her. I grab a fistful of her hair and bend my mouth to her ear. “Fucking listen to me or I’ll spank you in front of this whole bar.”

  That captures her attention. Finally.

  She shuts up and her doe-like eyes find mine, but they drop away almost immediately, focusing on my chest and arms. She places her hands on me and feels me up. I don’t want her, but it’s hard for my cock not to get excited when I’ve a half-naked chick bouncing on my lap.

  It’s hard to keep her eyes locked on mine. She has the attention span of a goldfish and is just about as bright. I tap her cheek lightly and she turns her head toward mine again.

  “We had fun last night, but it’s over. I don’t go out with girls more than once.”

  I’m distracted by her nipple, which slips out of that thing she calls a dress, and my cock jumps in my slacks.

  “It feels like you want me again.”

  Then her hand tightens around my stiffening cock and I am less and less aware of the fact that there are people gawking at us.

  Jesus.

  Blonde hair tickles my neck as she leans in, smiling drunkenly. “I’ll leave you alone if you fuck me one more time.”

  One more time?

  I blow air out from my cheeks and consider it. She’s a lusty broad, and willing—and I could easily bring her to the back and fuck her in one of the VIP booths. Or the storeroom. I can just imagine her slick, pink pussy wrapping around my cock like a glove, just like it did last night. I could fuck her cunt nice and fast, and as long as she didn’t spread out word that Tony Vidal could be persuaded into a second fuck, I’d be all right.

  “You’re the best I ever had, baby.”

  You’re not the best I ever had.

  Still, she was a good, hot fuck and she came real nice for me. Sometimes they come in the bar looking for me because they know who I’m connected with, and they think that if they flash their tits at me I’ll loan them money or beat the shit out of their boyfriends—no. Other times they’re danger whores looking for a hot piece of action. They know I’m a bad boy, and they’ll fuck me if I pretend to tell them some secrets about the mob. It gets me off to see them hot for my cock. I stick my fingers in their cunts and make them scream for me. They twist and writhe, and I make them come before I get my dick wet. I’ve got a real reputation for scoring pussy. Tony—the great fuck. Hey, it’s not a bad one.

  Her fingers splay over my chest and they coil around my cock. It thickens in her hand and she gives me this coy little smile, because she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

  “You just want me balls deep inside your cunt, don’t you?”

  She doesn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”

  All right. Fuck it.

  “I’ll bang the shit out of you—again. But that’s it. No more. You know the rules.”

  She nods drunkenly. “Yeah, I know the—the rules.�
��

  We slide off the stool and her tits practically pop out as she stumbles next to me. The guys in the bar wheel their heads around like sharks smelling blood, but she’s my meal for tonight. Actually, only a snack, really, because I’m interested in the piece of ass I briefly spotted. If I see anyone else talking to her when I get back, I’ll tell him to fuck off right before smashing his fucking face into the wall.

  I drag her bony ass behind the bar, looking for Tommy before I open the door to his storeroom. It’s a small, dusty room with boxes of liquor. There’s nothing really important, but he’d bust a nut if he knew I was fucking in here.

  “Tony.”

  I turn around after closing the door, and the crazy bitch stands there, already naked. Her pink dress pools at her feet. My eyes follow her bare, slim legs to her trim waist—not an ounce of fat—and then her small, firm tits. Seeing them now reminds me how I nailed her tight little cunt, how her tits almost seemed to fit in my mouth, and how she squealed when I sucked on her perfect skin. She opens her mouth, but all I want from her lips is to have them wrapped around my cock. Her shaved pussy gleams as I approach her, slapping her inner thigh. She spreads her legs apart and I run my fingers over her swollen clit.

  My cock throbs as she tilts her head back, her blonde hair hanging as her chest pulses.

  “Fuck me, Tony.”

  The request makes my mouth water, but not as much as her glistening pussy. I want her swollen lips in my mouth. I want to taste her while she comes on my tongue.

  “Do I look like the kind of guy who takes demands from women?”

  Still smiling stupidly, she shakes her head. “No.”

  “Then why are you trying to treat me like a bitch?”

  The question is too complex for her to answer in her state. Still, I enjoy watching the puzzlement on her face as she struggles to figure out an appropriate response. She lifts her small shoulders in a shrug.

  I sit down on a box and beckon to her with a single finger.

  “I want to taste that beautiful cunt of yours.”

  Blondie smiles coyly as she approaches me, her small feet curling against the cold floor.