by Nicole Fox
“So, how’d the talk with your father go?”
“As well as to be expected.”
“Did he behave himself?”
“Define behave.”
Tony cracked open an eye to look at me.
“I mean did he threaten you? Did he try to get anything out of you? We both know your father. He doesn’t do anything without a purpose and a talk isn’t just an innocent talk when it comes to him. He’s a right bastard.”
At that, I had to laugh some more.
“I mean, you’re right about that, but he didn’t try any of that. Not this time. He did try to get me to tell him when the baby was due and tried to guilt me into letting him see the baby after it was born.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that he wasn’t going to have any sort of part in our child’s life, that that was going to be the very last time that he ever saw me, and to never contact me, you, or our family ever again.”
“Good answers.”
“I certainly thought so.”
Tony sighed, and leaned forward, nuzzling at my thighs as he pushed my skirt up—a nice, flowy thing because pants and pregnancy simply didn’t mix. I squirmed under his touches. Pregnancy always made getting turned on so easy.
“Tony—”
“I love you, Evie,” he said, placing kisses to each of my thighs between his words. “I love you so much. More than I can tell you.”
He moved up and up. He pushed my thighs wider apart the higher he got, and I let him. This wasn’t new for us, and me being as big as a blimp didn’t stop the fact that we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.
“Tony—”
“Let me have you.”
It wasn’t an order, so much as it was a request—and who was I to deny it? I couldn’t. I wanted this too much.
I let him hook his fingers in my flimsy panties, then pull them down to my ankles. He pushed my skirt up higher, exposing my sex to him. I was already warm and wet. I wanted him inside me in any way.
He looked up at me from between my thighs as he slid his fingers over my slit. I trembled beneath his touch and spread my thighs further, opening myself to him. I was surely already dripping onto the desk, but he’d taken me so many times over it that the mess didn’t really matter.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Your face, your body, your breasts, your pussy. All of it. I love it. I love you.”
He slid his finger inside me, crooking it. I moaned. He had already found my G-spot, touching and tickling it expertly, stroke after stroke.
“Tony, please,” I moaned, begging.
“Tony, please, what? You gotta tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth,” I said. “Put your mouth on me. Suck my clit. I want it.”
He bit his lip and smirked, and I could have cum from just that, honestly. But it was when his tongue darted out just so, flicking a teasing little lick across it, that had me whining.
“Like this, babe?” he asked, and I knew that he was trying to undo me.
“Your whole mouth, baby. Eat me out. Please. Fuck me on it.”
“As you wish.”
I gasped fully when he wrapped his lips around my throbbing, little bud. It made me lean back and lay on the desk. My husband-to-be stayed sitting in his chair with my legs splayed open and my pussy wet and wide as he worked his fingers in and out of me and suckled at my clit like he was starved for just the taste of it in his mouth. I was shaking and moaning and oh so close—so quick. I thought that he might stop. He liked doing that when he had me like this. He’d get me tight and close to cumming before he slid his cock in me to finish the job, but not this time. His tongue replaced his fingers to fuck me and his thumb circled my clit to keep up the simulation until I was clawing at the desk and arching as much as I could in my state. I flooded out against his tongue with a wild, manic cry.
“Tony …Tony …” I breathed out his name like it was a prayer and my chest heaved.
“It’s all right. I got you. You think you can take me, baby? You think that’s okay?”
“God, Tony, fuck me. Please. Fuck me. I want you in me.”
We couldn’t fuck hard, not in the way that we were used to, at least. That was all right though. Tony knew how to handle me even if I was like this, even if we had to be a little more careful because of the baby.
I remained laid on the desk while I heard him undo his zipper. He parted my shaking thighs a little wider and nudged the rock-hard, thick head of his cock against me. Even after all this time, I never got tired of the press of him inside of me. We moaned together as he sheathed himself within me. He let me adjust, just resting within me until I was the one to rock my hips against him.
“Fuck me, Tony,” I begged again. “I want you to fuck me and cum in me.”
He took hold of my hips, gripping me as he pulled himself back and out, then slid back in smoothly. It was a nice, slow roll. I could feel every inch of him as he pressed into me and could feel all of his girth as he stretched me wide. But it was a gentle, loving kind of fuck that always made me feel closer to him. He pressed deep, his cock head rubbing against all the overly-sensitive places inside my pussy, live wired with sensation.
“Tony …Tony …just like that. God, you feel good.”
“You feel good too, baby. Fuck. So Goddamn tight. Always so good.”
I trembled for him and rocked against him, reveling in his praises. Our moans and groans mingled together, and he grunted here and there, sometimes thrusting a little harder, and I knew he was trying to control himself, as to not go too rough. But his nails dug into my hips as he took me, and sometimes the desk would jerk a little.
It was …so hot. All that rough, raw power wanting to let loose on me and claim me like a bitch, but he was so good and so caring as to not do so.
“I love you,” I sobbed out as I felt myself get closer and closer to cumming—as the tension within my walls made me tighter around him, clinging to him.
“Fuck, I love you, too, Evie. Shit—shit—”
We groaned together, and his pace quickened just so as I flooded around him again, calling out his name as my completion drew out his own. I felt his warmth fill me and leak out. There was so much of it. I loved it.
We stayed like that for a little. It was too good a time to not bask in it, and as his hand caressed my swollen stomach, there was nothing in the world that could ruin how much I loved this man.
Epilogue
Tony
It has been a year since our son was born, and I’d never been happier.
I was running the family businesses. It was a lot of work—clubs, strip joints. We even had a race strip getting ready to go up in the fall and a lot of really good business deals about to go down—all clean. My father was skeptical. He’d always done things dirty and raw. It was the only thing he knew how to do, and I couldn’t blame him too much for hesitating, but I was glad that I didn’t let him cow me, either.
And then … there was Evie. Evie and our little boy, Christopher. We called him Chris for short. He was the fattest, happiest little baby that I had ever seen, not that I had seen a lot of babies, to be honest. But he was the best. There was no disputing that.
I stood in the doorframe of his nursery as Evie cooed him to sleep. She bounced him in her arms, and he made those cute little gurgling noises that babies tended to make. I had never been moved by a baby. They were kind of weird to me in theory—tiny people, but they didn’t act like people. Christopher was something else, though. Evie was something else.
My little family.
I came up behind her as she put him down in his little baby bed and tucked him in. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her, tickling a little at the remaining pudge that was still at her tummy. It was cute. She swatted at my hand and laughed as I tickled her.
“Hey! Don’t do that. I’m still trying to work all of this off!”
“Aw, don’t do that. The pudge is adorable. I like it.”
/> “Mmmhm.”
We stood like that for a while, just watching Christopher sleep. We did that a lot. It was a parent thing, I think.
“He beautiful,” Evie whispered. She turned her head to me. “He takes after his daddy.”
“Really? I was gonna say that he takes after his mama.”
She giggled.
“He takes after us both. We were in that whole thing together, remember?”
I smiled.
“Yeah. Yeah, we were.”
THE END
***
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TRIP’S BABY: The Pride MC
By Nicole Fox
I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD. BUT NOW SHE’S BACK… WITH MY BABY IN HER ARMS.
I heard her scream as they gunned her down.
I promised I’d get my revenge for her death.
Years later, I’m almost ready to strike.
But then everything changed.
I’m a soldier, a warrior, a stone-cold killer.
It’s the only way to survive in this world I’ve chosen…
Kill or be killed.
As VP of the Pride MC, my men depend on me to be ruthless.
I’ve got reason enough to stoke the fury that burns in my chest:
The murder of my girlfriend years ago.
My enemies took her from me.
They wanted to stop me in my tracks.
But all they did was throw gasoline on my fire.
For years, I’ve told myself to wait for the right time to make things right.
Death for death, blood for blood.
But then Misha shows up on my doorstep.
And she’s not alone…
She’s got my baby in her arms.
I’m reeling now, my world turned on its head.
I know only one thing for certain:
I’m about to show her what she’s been missing all these years.
Prologue
Trip
She was gone.
She was fucking gone.
There was blood smeared all over her room, splattered across her windows. It painted everything in the dainty little space that she used to occupy, but there was no body. There was nothing left of her amid the overturned lamp with its bulb shattered on her floor or her bed, messed up like someone had fought her in it. Even her curtains were torn from her windows—and she wasn’t there to witness the aftermath of whatever the hell had gone down.
But fuck, there was blood. A lot of it. More than there should be to hope that she would be alive. There was a trail leading out her door like she’d been dragged out and away.
I paced around the fucked-up room, my boots thudding against her floor. When I stepped in a pool of blood and nearly slipped, it clicked that it was hers. I grabbed her dresser in a white-knuckled rage and slung it across her room. It crashed, scattering lace and silk that I’d gotten to peel off her body to worship what was beneath too many times to count.
“Fuck!”
“Trip. Trip! Calm down, man—”
There was a hand on my shoulder and I flipped out. I swung around to face whoever the fuck thought they were gonna touch me while I had to look at her blood all over the damn place, knowing that she was gone and that I was never going to see her again. I couldn’t see anything but red, but I felt the hands on my arms as I fought against them.
I struggled until there was no fight left in me. I struggled until my face was on the floor and the wood pressed into my skin. I could still smell her perfume in the air, even with the blood. The wood didn’t mask that, and as the fight started to leave me as I sagged against it, and I didn’t know how I felt.
I was numb.
It was those Jackal bastards, over the border. I knew it, and I knew my boys knew it too. They were the only ones who left blood baths like this. They thought they were untouchable. They knew a few names—thought they’d take a few of ours for themselves. We wouldn’t let them.
“It’s gotta be retaliation. Gotta be retribution.” It was what—barely a week ago we made it firm that we didn’t do business with Jackals—not now, not ever. I bet that had made them mad as all hell. When the Pride backed an MC, it was known it was always smooth sailing from then on out.
“Jackals, those damn Jackals …”
“Trip?” It was Brig. “Trip, man, you gotta breathe normal or something man. Come on.”
I couldn’t.
There were voices coming from the other room. Big John. I knew his voice; Misha’s daddy. He was like us once. He hadn’t wanted her around us or me—me especially. Too much bad news, and I guessed he was right about that, since I had dragged his little girl into this world.
“Trip, if we let you go, you gonna be good?” Brig asks with a shaking voice; that’s right—he’s never been fond of blood. Must be woozy.
I didn’t answer, and the arms didn’t let go of me. I thought they probably thought I was going crazy again; I might. I almost wanted to laugh, that’s how crazy I felt. That would be a hell of a lot better than just the nothing that’s settled.
I heard heavy footfalls, and I didn’t move, not even when it was a foot falling on my skull, followed by Big John’s shouts. There was so much ringing, I could barely hear a damn thing over it, but I heard him calling me every name in the book like I deserved it. Like it was my fault that he had walked into his little girl’s room to find it like that.
Maybe it was.
Who was at fault and who was not, though, didn’t really matter when I knew whose hands Misha’s blood had drenched when they killed her.
I was gonna ruin every last one of them.
Chapter One
Trip
The rev of bikes trolling the highway was a comforting sound, oddly enough. There was just something right about the purr of the engine, nothing between you and the asphalt that raced underneath you, and the growl like a beast that came from your ride as you cruised.
Misha used to love it, but I tried not to think about her too much anymore. She was long gone.
Trixie, though, was here right now. She was pressed against my back, with her tits squished against me. She held on to me like she was afraid that she was going to die, and I kinda liked having that kind of power over her. It made her thankful when I delivered her sweet ass safely back to her house and made her tremble at how scary but exciting it was, right up until she was inviting me inside her house to make her more than tremble. We had just gotten done celebrating; news had come in about a run to disrupt some Jackal business, landing us a nice stash of goods to hock off on the market and putting the Jackals out a few nice, fat ten-grand stacks off the spoils they’d have made from that load.
All was fair in love and war, after all. And when war was fruitful, Trixie was there to help me celebrate in ways my boys couldn’t.
She wasn’t very smart, but she was always wet, always wanted to fuck, and didn’t ask questions she didn’t need to. She wasn’t that hard on the eyes, either, and when I took a look back at her as I pulled us off the highway and onto the road her rickety little house was on, I caught those pretty, doll-like, blue eyes and those cock-sucking, pink lips of her, smirking at the look of admiration on her face.
“Almost there, doll face.”
She giggled at me; she loved that name, like it makes her special. She pressed her tits against my back, right up against the Pride patch on my kutte.
“Don’t go too fast. I don’t wanna crash, T!”
“Crash? With you on my bike? Wouldn’t dream of it doll face. I like you too much.”
She giggled again, and it wasn’t the most annoying thing I’ve heard in my life, but it was damn sure not the sweetest. I revved a little to make her squeal and zipped through the dark streets with their flickering street
lights. Trixie didn’t live in the best part of town; her family was textbook trailer trash because her daddy liked to spend all his money on lotto scratchers and big titties down at Assets. Trixie didn’t do too badly for herself though. She had a nice, cushy spot working the diner the next exit down the highway and maybe a little ass-selling on the side, which is fitting; Trixie was hardly her real name.
I pulled n, and she slid off my bike, thick legs wobbling like she’d had them spread to fuck. I reached out and popped her on her ample ass.
