Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

by Snow, Nicole

  For a second, I wondered if I'd been adopted. No one with Ligiotti blood should've been this stupid, this oblivious. This trusting.

  God damn it.

  “Shhhh,” Anton's coarse stubble scratched my cheek as he leaned to one ear. His voice was so loud with his lips against it, even when he was talking to me like a baby.

  “You're gonna be okay. No bullshit. The worst is almost over.” Behind him, his brothers snickered again. “Just cooperate. We make a good team. Fuck, babe. You wanna sink those little teeth into me anytime, go ahead. You like the feeling us up close and personal just as much as I do, right?”

  He rocked into me, shifting his hips from side to side, forcing my legs apart. I felt something hard and rough raging beneath his pants again. It sparked a savage fire below my waist.

  “Yeah, you do,” he whispered. “Yeah, you fucking do.”

  My pussy thrummed and swelled as he rocked, dry humping me between my black slacks and his jeans.

  He knew. The bastard knew exactly how my body turned against me – and he loved it.

  “Yeah, babe. Least your pussy's honest. Those pretty little lips can tell me a lot of lies, but your body doesn't. Shit, I can't wait 'til this ride's over. Can't wait to get you home. Cannot. Fucking. Wait.”

  I braced for another earsplitting scream, lust and betrayal and terror steaming in my veins. I slapped my fists into his huge arm one time, but it was like pounding a padded wall. My arms went numb, alternating between punching him and the truck's steel floor.

  Soon, my energy was all gone. I collapsed.

  Everything went dark. My brain shut down.

  I had to save my strength. Wait for a moment when I stood a chance against him, when a well timed bite or scratch would do something. Maybe when I could get something in my hands a lot more powerful than unprotected knuckles.

  He could take my body the same way he'd busted out of prison. No doubting that. But if I had anything to say about it – any last shred of Ligiotti strength and cunning – I'd never surrender willingly to his ruthless strength.

  Bide your time. Wait. Just like he did. Then when he least suspects it, strike out. Hit him until he stops breathing. Bash his brains out until he can't even think about making more of those harsh, filthy threats.

  If it wasn't for his masculine taste still tingling on my numb lips, taunting me, I would've smiled.

  At some point during the ride, I really blacked out. Maybe I fell asleep or went comatose or something. I didn't understand what was happening to me anymore.

  Twenty two years of crime and sin concealed me from the same fate as my forefathers. I never had to face their agonies, their risks, their consequences until today.

  I expected to wake up in a dungeon. When I opened my eyes, I was in a room, dim lit with what looked like candlelight. Silky sheets clung to my legs. I felt...cleaner somehow.

  Jerking up, I threw the sheets off. I'd been stripped, washed, and thrown into a nightgown. Nothing except the bra and panties I had on were familiar.

  It was a huge canopy bed, like something you see in movies depicting Victorian times. I could barely make out anything behind the burgundy curtains, but someone was moving in the silence. I drew up against the headboard, tightening my jaw, pressing my hands together.

  Please don't let it be Anton. Please, please, please...

  The curtain ripped open below my feet. My prayers fell to pieces. He pushed his way through the gap and grinned, wearing nothing but a set of dark trousers that fit him better than what he'd stolen from the warden.

  “I was wondering if you'd wake up tonight.” He smirked, looked down, and lifted the glowing tablet in his hand. “Beast of a bomber, huh? A devil in a dingy prison, out of sight, but never out of mind. He's no less sinister today than the night he murdered twenty powerful men in cold blood.”

  Anton stopped. My head spun. I realized he was quoting my article, and I tried to reach for the iThingie in his hand. He jerked it away from me.

  “Did you write that shit, or did your editor?”

  I swallowed a thick lump. “He may have embellished. Only a little.”

  Anton snorted. “Good answer. You keep being a good girl, and maybe you'll get a chance to read this shit sometime yourself. But not today.”

  He pulled the curtain open at his side and tossed it to the floor, carelessly, as if it was nothing but a cheap magazine. I folded my arms, feeling new adrenaline pulse through my veins. The light did evil things to him, made him look far sexier than he had any business being just then.

  He'd taken me, forced me to break the law, pulled me into a world I'd tried so hard to avoid. Damn it! I had a hundred reasons to hate him, but my eyes disagreed with my heart. They only saw a beautiful, damaged, heavily tattooed angel with a scar glowing on his cheek, dark as the ink going up his arms and meeting in the firebird on his chest.

  “What the fuck do you want from me?” I wasn't sure why I asked the question.

  His hungry eyes already held the answer. They looked me up and down, following my curves, burning my contours into his screwed up brain.

  He wanted to fuck me, use me for his pleasure, and then use me again to get at my uncle. I was his secret weapon in a war that started before I was old enough to realize what it was all about.

  “Your cooperation,” he said. “Same fucking thing I told you I wanted in the truck. Believe it or not, part of me wishes it didn't have to come down like this, Sabrina. I would've fucking loved wining and dining you in another life – one where wasted family blood doesn't make vengeance my only obsession.”

  His tongue quickly flicked across his lips. Just then, I didn't believe fulfilling an old vendetta was the only fixation on his mind. He stepped closer, putting his knee on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between us.

  There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I didn't give a crap about finding out what was behind the curtain – probably some luxurious room with locks on every door. He'd broken out of prison, for Christ's sake. No way would he screw up something so simple when he had an enemy in his bed – if it was his bed – and his brothers wanted me for more than just satisfying Anton's dick.

  My eyes darted to his crotch. There was a noticeable bulge, bigger and meaner than anything I'd seen in my nightmares. Those stupid fantasies felt like they were in another lifetime, now that I had the real thing staring at me in the shadows.

  “My beef's with your uncle and his crew, babe. Not with you. You know that, right?” The bed sank beneath his weight, and he crawled towards me, running a confident hand through my hair.

  My head snapped away from him. I watched his smug smile melt out of the corner of my eye.

  “I don't know anything when it comes to you. I don't want to, really, unless it has to do with when you're going to set me free.”

  I met his blue gaze. His eyes rippled, fiery and intense, longing and frustrated. Two small oceans of contrasts.

  “You gotta give this a chance. You work with me, you can have it all. My brothers and I are gonna put your asshole Uncle outta business, whether you sign off on it or not. I'm giving you a chance – one fucking chance – to minimize the damage we've gotta do on the way to the prize. Come the fuck on, babe. Work with me.”

  “I'm not your babe!” I sat up, taking a swat at his huge arm. “You know what? We already know which way this is going to go. You're going to take me, use me, and probably end up killing me when I don't go along with any of it. Fuck it. Here. Let's get it over with.”

  My last shred of sanity snapped. He couldn't invade me if I gave myself up willingly, taking away his pleasure, his conquest. Anton looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head as I slid my legs off the bed, stood, and stopped.

  I fingered the straps to the gown on my shoulders, letting it fall. His blue eyes widened when he saw me almost naked, instantly drawn to my hard nipples beneath the bra.

  “Take it. Lay me down and rip me apart. I won't fight it. I'll lay there like a rock. You'll fuc
k me. I'll hate it. I won't even acknowledge you're in me.” I sniffed. “I'll be too busy thinking about how I'm going to get out of this, and let Uncle Gioulio know what you did so he tracks you all down and puts a bullet in every one of you.”

  Anger rippled through his muscles. For a second, I thought he'd pounced, maybe do something a lot worse than shove his hips between my legs. He got up slowly, rounding the bed, taking patient steps.

  When he was only a couple feet away, he laughed. I fumed. Once again, I'd completely misjudged how fucking dark and evil the depths of this man's brain went.

  “That's cute, babe. You think you've got a choice. You think you'll be able to keep it together when I'm fucking your goddamned brains out your ears.” He paused, shook his head. “You think this is a fucking game, don't you?”

  I didn't answer. I was steeling myself for the inevitable, trying not to shake while my heart pumped scalding fire through my veins. We locked eyes, and I tried to tell myself I wasn't afraid, that I was ready to have him pressing me into the bed, fucking me like a depraved animal. I told myself I wouldn't feel anything except hate.

  But I knew it was a lie. The wet cream pooling between my legs just wouldn't stop coming. He turned my panties to mush without laying a finger on me. If I wanted to be brutally honest, the pleasure of him rubbing up against me on the ride in was just as responsible for the blackout as the exhaustion buzzing in my body.

  Maybe plunging headfirst into this sick fantasy would finally get it out of my system. Maybe if I told enough lies to myself enough times, I'd believe them.

  Anton glowered. He darted forward without warning, grabbing both my wrists, throwing me down on the mattress as he bent, pushing my body with his.

  Determination wasn't worth a damned thing when he was on top of me. I kicked, I thrashed, I screamed, just like in the prison and the truck. He held me down, rubbing his rough body over mine. The power packed in his muscles was inevitable.

  He reached down with one hand, squeezed my thigh, pushed the gown up above my belly. “Let's get one thing straight, Sabrina. This shit's no joke. I laugh about it, sure, laugh at your fiery ignorance. But there's nothing fucking funny here. Nothing at all. You think you can challenge me? Control me? You think you've got a single shred of fucking leverage here at all?”

  He squeezed my inner thigh. Holy shit!

  Desire pierced through my explosive rage. My blood, my skin, my eyes burned hot. I hated him and needed him at the same time, split down the middle by the violent storms turning my blood molten.

  Anton grunted, satisfied with the way I'd melted in his arms. He pushed my legs apart and his fingers went for the waistband to my black panties before I realized what was happening.

  “What's the fucking matter? Too scared to answer? Too fucked up already with how bad you want this dick hammering some hot wet truth outta that tight cunt?” I shook my head, denying it, terrified to let him find out I was too sopping wet for words.

  Of course, he found out a second later. His fingers brushed over my folds, wet and slick and swollen. My pussy craved his touch, a rough primal magnetism stronger than the hate surging through my heart. I thrashed one more time, mostly against myself, abhorring my body's betrayal.

  “I'm gonna make you come, babe, and you're gonna love it. Come on. Fuck my fingers. Show me how you'd ride my cock.”

  If I could've imagined this was the way my first time would be with a man's fingers there, I would've whored myself out to some cheap high school kid years ago. Now, I had this brute stroking me, slathering his fingers in my wetness, grinding his fist against my pussy, slowly zeroing his circles in on my clit.

  Each time his tips brushed me there, my whole body jerked. Electrified wasn't half of it. No, lightning struck deep again and again, rolling me against him, making me come undone.

  My fragile will and virgin ignorance collapsed against his power, his years of experience. He stroked me like he already knew my body, listening carefully to the moans spilling from my tortured throat. I couldn't stop myself.

  A single shot of sickness pulsed through my stomach once, and then I was sinking into his pleasure. Into his control. He locked his thumb on my clit and began to rock, circle, and jerk, a steady rhythm taking me over the edge.

  My hips turned. They rocked against his hand, and my thighs clenched around him, drawing him to me. I wouldn't let myself look at him. The devilish satisfaction on his face burned without even seeing it, almost as hot as the hand between my legs.

  Pushing. Pleasuring. Owning.

  My head slipped back and I caught a quick blur of his lips moving. “Shit, you're beautiful when you come, aren't you? Let go, Sabrina. Enjoy these hands. They're just the very tip of the way I'm gonna fuck you when I'm balls deep in that tight pussy. Think about that. And don't you dare stop grinding that clit against me.”

  His breath was hot, hurried, the same as my breathing. I was turning him on, turning him mad with lust, and for some sick reason I loved it. I tried to resist the burning coal constricting everything in my womb for as long as I could. But all at once, it exploded, sending hot shards up and down my waist.

  I clenched my jaw, smashed my thighs together, and rode his fingers for all I was worth.

  I came like it was the end of the world. And for me, it probably was. Everything I knew was swept up in the roaring tide that passed through me with the pleasure, hurricane force ecstasy. It promised to leave me wet, exhausted, and destroyed.

  I thought it would go on forever. Fiery pulse after pulse ripped through me, curling my toes each time muscles I didn't know I had convulsed. They hadn't ever been worked like this. Self-pleasure was a pathetic substitute for this man's touch, driving me apart with his tireless fingers, forcing me to understand.

  When I started to come down from the high, I finally did.

  He was in control. All the happy thoughts about resistance died right there in the bed. He was going to lead me to my demise or else my freedom some dark day. One thing was for sure: it was going to happen on his schedule, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it.

  I collapsed with half my sanity, spent and confused. It wasn't until I closed my sweat drenched thighs that I realized his hand was gone. Planting my palms on the bed, I forced myself up, pulling down the gown's hem, hiding the soft, leaking slit he'd ravaged.

  The curtain was open. I saw him near a huge fireplace, going through some kind of large cabinet. I was still staring at him when he turned and saw me. My eyes shot to the small box in his hands.

  Condoms. Fuck.

  There was no putting the brakes on anything, was there? He was going to finish what he'd started, completely chisel out the last flimsy stones I had to hold onto for dear sanity.

  Jesus, what were they again? What did I have left?

  I tried to think about the article, the blog, my budding career. Everything I'd ever hoped to write and throw on a resume. I tried to think about the Silver Pear, about Uncle Gioulio, the honorable and ruthless blood that led me to his place.

  Blood and family. Sophistication and sin.

  I was a prisoner of war, wasn't I? Then why the hell was I giving everything to the enemy?

  Maybe this was my fate, to pay the price for what my father and his brother had done. I swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in my throat. I tried to brace myself for what was about to come, but I couldn't.

  Having his hand seizing me like that, forcing me to come on his fingers, was one thing. Having him deep inside me...shit. Losing my sanity wasn't just a figure of speech if that happened. I didn't know who I'd be, or if I'd ever be a functioning person again if he took me tonight.

  I glanced up. Our eyes met, sharing new dark and light. His were strangely calmer – the exact opposite of what I'd expected after he'd taken me, after I'd seen the erection raging in his pants.

  “Here.” He dropped the box he was holding on my lap. “This shit doesn't mean anything's changed. We're fucking, Sabrina. But not today.”

>   My hand was shaking as I gripped the box and turned it over. No, not condoms after all, but birth control pills. Why?

  “I'm a bastard on a one way mission. I'm not the fucking monster you think I am.” He paused, reaching softly for my face, making sure I didn't break his gaze by holding up my chin. “I'll give you a few days to settle in. Give that shit some time to work if you're not already on it. Take it. Or don't, for all I care. I got no problem blowing off if you think you're gonna fuck me over not taking it. I'll put a kid in you without hesitation. Shit, I'll need a son or two to take over all the new business we'll be dealing with once your family's outta it.”

  “What? What is this?” Blood throbbed in my ears, and I wasn't sure if I was understanding his bizarre threats mixed with reprieve.

  “Your chance to get ready for the rest of your life. Your time to get your pretty little head screwed on straight. Your opportunity to figure out that doing what I'm telling you isn't half bad.” He cocked his head. “Neither is fucking me. I know you enjoyed that shit just as much as I did. Next time you open your legs for me, don't fucking fight it. Enjoy it.”

  Red heat settled in my cheeks. I flushed like this was a stupid prom date, rather than a ravishing by the heartless tattooed Russian beast before me.

  Had he done this to me? All of it? Or was I just born with crossed wires meant to burn me down twenty two years later?

  “I'm gonna leave you here to get some sleep. It's been a big day. Don't do anything stupid. We're upstate and there's no way out for miles, even if you managed to get past the guards. You need anything, you knock on the door to the room where I'll be sleeping.” He pointed to the adjoining door on the other side of the room, between two immense bookcases.

  He started to walk. I watched the dark shapes on his back shifting as he moved, huge like the tiger I'd seen the first time we came face to face behind glass. And yet, he seemed just as conflicted, like he was still caged.

  I didn't understand. He turned, brought his palm to his lips, and – honest to God – blew me a kiss.