by Jaci J
“It’s only been a few months.” Like that makes a fuck of a difference. It could be one day or one hundred years, and I’d still want to marry her, no matter the amount of time.
“You’re pregnant. We’re living together. We should be married.”
Mia laughs. “Seriously? I didn’t peg you for traditional.”
“I’m fuckin’ serious.” I don’t know how else to say it. “You’re marrying me. You have no choice now.”
That seems to do it.
Chucking the taco back into the bag, she crawls onto me, her knees on either side of my hips and her tits right in my face.
“We’re getting married,” she smirks, kissing me, her lips soft and smooth.
“And my baby is inside of you,” I add, cupping her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers.
She arches, her head falling back. “Shiiit. Jesus, Cruz, they’re sensitive.”
“I know.” I continue to play with her tits, making her squirm.
She rubs on me rubbing her pussy on my cock.
“You wanna come, baby?” I chuckle, my voice hoarse when she grinds down on me, making my cock throb.
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Please, baby.”
Running my hands down her body, over her stomach, I pull her panties to the side and slip my dick into her wetness.
“You’re ready for me.”
Mia tightens, squeezing down. “Fuck.”
“That’s good, baby.”
Hands on her ass cheeks, I guide her up and down my cock, watching the way her tits bounce every time.
We’re getting married. This shit is forever.
I take my time enjoying her body, giving her what she wants, what she needs. And I know goddamn well this is exactly how I want my life to go.
Mia
The word crazy has been thrown around a lot since meeting Cruz. From the way we met, to this moment, it’s been crazy. Intense. Out of control. Wild. Unexpected. But right. So right. I wouldn’t change it.
Cruz gets out of his cool black Chevy Impala and walks around the hood, giving me a mischievous look through the windshield. The look, that look, does weird things to my heart. The way the man looks at me, like I feed some sort of hunger, makes me feel crazy hot.
He’s so sexy, and he’s mine.
With his gray tee, a beat-up pair of jeans, and his tattoos, it makes him that much sexier.
Opening my door for me, he raises his chin. “Out, Angel.”
I take his hand, letting him help me out.
He likes to do it, so I let him.
“You ready?” he asks, eyebrow raised, teasing me.
I laugh. “Are you ready?” I toss back at him, pulling him toward the door. He might like me now, but only time will tell. “Because I can be a brat.”
“Baby, I’ve been ready. I was ready twenty-four hours after meeting you. And I know you’re a fuckin’ brat, but I can fuck the brat out of you.”
That makes me roll my eyes. “Not sure I believe that.”
“Believe it, because this is it. You’re stuck with me for life.”
Rubbing at my belly, I smirk. “Ring or not, I think we’re pretty much stuck together.”
“And once that one is out, I’m putting another one in you, trappin’ you.” Can you really trap the willing? The wanting? I don’t think so.
“So, I’m just going to be pregnant forever?” Sounds reasonable...
Holding the door open for me, he lifts a casual shoulder. “More than likely,” he growls as I walk by him, my body brushing up against his.
“You’re crazy.” There’s that word again.
A bell above the door rattles when we step into the store. A woman in a flowy white dress greets us. “Welcome to Smith and Son’s.”
“Hi.” I smile at her, trying not to roll my eyes when she makes that face once she gets an eyeful of Cruz walking in behind me. It’s the face that says her panties have gone up in flames and her ovaries are dancing.
I get it, he’s the type of guy you don’t bring home to Daddy. The type of man that looks broken and needs to be fixed. Rough around the edges and wild under the sheets. Big. Strong. Mean. A bad guy.
He may be all those things, but he’s mine, and all those things belong to me.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, her eyes following Cruz, but Cruz is just looking at me.
He walks up next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. Kissing my temple, he says, “Gettin’ my girl whatever the fuck she wants.”
“Anything, huh? That’s pretty brave,” I laugh. I could do some damage in a store like this. Diamonds. Shiny things. Sparkles and glitter. I’ll take one of everything.
Cruz isn’t fucking around. Straightening, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the biggest stack of cash I’ve ever seen.
The sales woman’s eyes bug and my jaw drops.
Cruz looks at me, a smile teasing his lips. “Do your worst, Angel.”
Handing me the cash, he adds, “Only rule, you better find something that sits on your left ring finger. You feel me, baby?”
Taking the stack of cash, I nod. “I feel you.”
I tour the store, looking in case after case, trying on ring after ring. Some glitzy. Some flashy and huge. Others simple and elegant. I lean more toward the vintage, though. The preowned. The rings with a story.
“Can I see that one?” I ask, pointing to a beautiful old-school, white-gold ring, with one single round diamond in the middle of the band.
It’s perfect.
“Honey, you don’t want that one. It’s used. A pawn,” she tells me, practically sneering at it.
It makes me want it more.
“I don’t care,” I tell her, because I don’t.
She looks at Cruz for confirmation, and he just looks back at me. “Give her what she wants.” Cruz couldn’t care less what I choose. He just wants me happy, and that ring makes me happy.
“I want that one.” I’m determined.
The sales woman huffs, not happy, but opens the case and pulls it out.
It’s beautiful.
Slipping it on my finger, I decide right then and there that this is the one.
The ring has a backstory. Possibly a sordid backstory, and I love it. “I want this one.”
It doesn’t even cost a quarter of what Cruz gave me, and that’s extra satisfying, handing him back his stack of cash with hardly a dent in it.
“Here you go,” I smirk, slapping the cash down in his hand, proud of myself. “It was two thousand.”
Cruz just lifts a shoulder, returning my smirk. “You happy with it?”
“I fucking love it.”
“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he tells me, holding the door for me again and swatting my ass as I walk by him.
We talk outside, me staring at my pretty ring and the way the sunlight hits it, making it shine. Cruz watches me, his eyes hard and unforgiving when we run directly into the woman I saw at the hospital, the woman I saw leaving the shop.
“C–Cruz,” she stutters, her eyes wide.
“Jesus,” he grumbles, throwing an arm over my shoulders and pulling me close.
The woman looks rattled. She’s staring at us, at him, her eyes unable to focus on any one thing, until her eyes land on my ring.
She doesn’t know for sure, but I can see it in her eyes that she knows. “Is this your...” She fights with the word, and Cruz doesn’t let her stumble wrong.
“Wife,” he tells her, sounding ridiculously proud.
His wife?
Her mouth makes a little circle, her words caught in her throat. She doesn’t know what to say. “Your w–wife?” she sputters. “Well...congrats?” That was hard for her to say.
“Thanks,” Cruz grins, kissing my hair.
I don’t know this woman, and I don’t know what happened between her and Cruz, but I can feel something there. She felt something for him, and whatever that something is or was is still
there.
“Cruz,” she starts to say, her eyes a little unfocused and glassy, but Cruz cuts her off, turning to look at me. “Get in the car, Angel. I’ll be right there.”
“Excuse me?” I’m not one to be dismissed. “You want me to get in your car so you can what? Stand here and talk to your ex?”
Cruz chuckles. “She’s not my ex. She’s not anything. I was telling you to get in the car because there’s a car across the street idling, watching us.”
His eyes look over my shoulder.
I go to turn my head, but Cruz grabs it, stopping me. His hands on either side of my face, he kisses me, speaking against my lips. “No, eyes on me. Get in the fucking car.”
I don’t argue.
I nod, getting in the car, my heart crawling up my throat with a sudden, overwhelming anxiety.
Cruz
Mia’s sitting in the car, staring out the window. She won’t look at me, and she’s chewing on that fucking lip. That shit isn’t good, because that lip between her teeth means she’s thinking, and it’s not about how hard I’m going to fuck her later. She’s thinking about me and my life before her, and how much she doesn’t like it.
I had to put her ass in the car. I couldn’t leave her standing on the sidewalk like a fucking target. I don’t care how much she didn’t like it.
I recognized the car across the street, caught one look at those motherfuckers in it and I knew. Those assholes that hurt her are still out there, lookin’ for her, but why?
“Angel?” I grumble, grabbing her hand, the one with my ring on her finger, the ring she picked out not more than twenty minutes ago. That ring that tells the world she’s mine. “Stop doin’ that.”
“Doin’ what?” she asks, finally looking at me. Her voice is tight. She’s wound up, ready for a fight.
“Thinkin.”
“Thinking? I can’t fucking think?”
Here we go.
“Not about what you’re thinkin’ about.”
She scoffs. “And now you know what I’m thinking?”
I know her. “You’re thinking about that bitch on the sidewalk, wondering if I bought her a ring. Thinking about me putting your ass in the car when you would have rather stood there and watched me tell her we’re getting married and that you’re pregnant, and watched her cry.”
“Jesus, Cruz, I didn’t want to see her cry.” That’s some bullshit.
“No?” I don’t believe that shit for a second. Mia might be sweet and soft, but she’s a woman, and a woman in love at that. She wants every other female to know that shit. I don’t fucking blame her. I feel the same goddamn way about her.
“No, I don’t.”
“Okay then.”
She stews for a minute, before turning in her seat and looking at me. “Who is she?”
I laugh, I can’t help it. I knew that shit was coming. “Maria.”
“And who is Maria to you? I saw her at the hospital and leaving the shop, remember?”
“If you’re asking me if I fucked her, then the answer is yes. If you’re asking me if I bought her a ring, then that answer would be fuck no. She’s not a goddamn thing to me. She was just a hang around. I met her at the Disciples clubhouse a few years ago and she hitched a ride back to ours. I fucked her a couple times for a few weeks and then she moved onto Jagger and the rest of my guys.”
“But?” she drawls, waiting.
“But what?” I don’t know where this is going, but I’m sure we’re heading in a dangerous direction.
“But she wanted you and still does. That’s why she was at the hospital.”
“Baby, I run this shit, the MC. I’m fucking sure she did. That bitch is just looking for a come-up. She wants to hitch herself to any man worth anything.” Maria is bad fucking news. It wasn’t too long ago that she was getting me caught up with the cops when I didn’t want more with her. She’s a bitch, a sneaky one at that. “I’ve never fucked her without a condom, and I’ve never done anything with her outside of stuffing my cock in her. Period.”
Mia cringes. “I don’t want to hear that shit.”
“What? That I’ve fucked other women? I’m no saint, baby, but you know goddamn well the shit I do with you, I’ve never done with another bitch. You got my baby in you and my ring on your finger. You’re it, Angel.”
“And what happens when you get bored with me, tired of fucking me?”
That shit makes me pause, and not because I have to think about it. It’s because I’m shocked as fuck she would even question that shit.
“That’s never gonna happen.”
“It might. I’m pregnant, Cruz. My body’s going to get weird. Shit will change. You’ll get used to me, tired of me.”
I hate that she feels that way. “I promise you this, you could be a hundred pounds heavier and have bags under your eyes, and I’m still gonna want you. Jesus, Mia, I don’t just want to fuck you because of the way you look. I want to fuck you because of the way I feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me?”
“Like I’d be fucking lost if you left. Like shit isn’t worth dealing with if I don’t have you. Like I wouldn’t be able to live without you.”
“You’re crazy.” She doesn’t know how to respond to what I’m saying, but I can see it on her face, that she likes it.
“Hell yeah, I am, but I’m being honest.”
I don’t have to ask her if she feels the same way because I know she does. I can feel it.
Mia
“The lease on my house is up,” I mutter, putting my phone back down on my lap and looking back out the windshield.
I don’t know how I feel about that, not after today. Not after the ring and Maria.
Cruz looks at me, his eyes narrowed. “And?”
“And I wanted to know if I should let it go?” I don’t know why I’m asking this. I’m living with Cruz, but after seeing that woman on the sidewalk look at him the way she did, it has me a little uneasy. A little unsure.
“Why the fuck would you keep it? What the hell’s even there? An old couch and a few things in a couple of drawers?” he grunts, pulling into the driveway.
“Probably nothing after the way you packed me up two weeks ago,” I grumble, giving him some major side-eye.
“You stalled, and I did what I had to do.”
“You steamrolled me.”
He laughs. “Like I said, I did what I had to.”
I woke up one morning and found my shit all over Cruz’s house. Boxes. Bags. Clothes all over the bed. He moved me in. He didn’t ask, he just did it.
I tried to be mad, but I couldn’t. He wanted me here, and I wanted to be here.
“So?” I ask when he shuts the engine off.
“Jesus, baby, let that shit go. You live here. Forever.”
“Forever, huh? Like if you leave me, I get to keep the house?” I tease, getting out of the car before he can get out and open my door. I know how much he likes to do it, and right now, I’m pushing buttons, hoping he’ll snap and show me how much he wants me and only me. “And the dogs? And...” I purr, running my hand along the side of the car as I walk toward the house, “the car?”
Cruz shakes his head, thinking I’m crazy. He’s not wrong. I’d have to be crazy to be head over heels in love with this guy, pregnant, and getting married, all within months.
“So that’s a yes?” I ask, walking into the house.
“You want the house, the car, the dogs? Baby, it’s all yours, because if I leave you, it’ll be in a goddamn body bag.”
That snaps me out of it. I don’t like that. “Don’t say shit like that.”
Cruz follows me into the kitchen, grabbing my hips and setting me on the counter when he corners me near the island.
“You know she means nothin’,” he tells me again, nestled between my legs, his hands on my hips. “No one fucking does.”
He said that already, but it feels good to hear it, again. “I know.”
“Do you?” He drags his
hands up and under my dress, fingers scraping along my skin. “Do you know I only want you?”
“I don’t think I do,” I smirk, wiggling when he runs his knuckles along my panties.
He pulls my panties to the side and glides a finger along my pussy. “You’re a damn tease.”
“I know.”
“She knows,” he muses, talking to himself. “Of course she fucking knows.”
His fingers tease me, slowly, softly.
I shudder, a tingle running up my spine.
My head falls back, my eyes closing.
He’s so good at this.
Cruz curls his fingers, finding my G-spot.
“Right there,” I moan, my thighs trembling. “Yeah, like that.” I squeeze, chasing my orgasm.
He pushes his fingers deeper. “Right there?” he teases, kissing my neck, his tongue tasting my skin.
“Yes.”
My orgasm comes in like a tidal wave, strong and powerful, damn near knocking me over.
Cruz kisses me roughly, his lips hard and greedy, devouring me. “You’re mine, baby.”
“I know,” I moan, kissing him back.
“Not a goddamn thing will change that.”
Pulling the fabric of my maxi dress down, he frees my tits, smirking when they pebble against the cool air.
Between my legs, Cruz unbuttons his jeans and unzips his fly.
Pulling his cock free, he runs it between my thighs, sucking in a breath when he sinks into me.
One stroke.
Two strokes.
And then, “Yo, Cruz! The fuck are you?”
Still inside of me, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me against him, hiding my body.
I shiver, the angle pushing him that much deeper inside of me.
“Keep squirmin’ and I’m gonna nut,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
I wiggle. He’s so damn deep.
“Cruz?”
He growls, his face in my neck and hair. “Get the fuck outta my house!”
It doesn’t work.
I hear footsteps and start to panic.
“Shit, he’s coming in here.” I wiggle, trying to right my dress.
I get one boob back into my dress, but I’m not fast enough for the other.
