Dirty Work: Part 2

“Look, everything’s gonna be all right,” he said.

“How? Your father is working twelve-hour shifts because the NYPD is going crazy looking for these terrorists, and the man I’m having an affair with is involved somehow.”

“I’m not involved, it’s just a beef wit’ this stupid muthafucka,” he corrected.

“You need to tell your father about this,” she suggested.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?”

“Papa John, you need to do something. What if these people who want to kill you track you here? Did you ever think about that?”

He hadn’t. But Papa John was certain that he wasn’t being followed. He made sure to cover his tracks and watch his back.

“I’m not being followed, Dina.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know,” he retorted.

She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t plan to argue with him, but the situation was becoming too real. She didn’t want to bring his drama into her home—her fiancé and his father’s home. Looking into Papa John’s eyes, she clearly saw that he was a dangerous man. The same thing that had turned her on was now turning her off somewhat. The last thing Dina needed was the feds or a threat encroaching on her fairly happy home with Darryl.

“Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not being followed, and nobody knows about you, Dina. Shit, my pops is this big-time detective and the muthafucka is clueless too. You think I’m gonna bring some drama to his crib and put you at risk? Nah, it ain’t even gonna go down like that.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and fondled her body. He wanted to feel her close. He needed her loving. The softness of her body was bringing on an erection inside his jeans. Dina still looked hesitant. Papa John kissed the side of her neck and caressed her body.

“Baby, I didn’t drive over here to argue wit’ you; I came because I missed you, and I missed this.” He reached between her thighs and embraced a handful of pussy.

She cooed a little. His tender kisses continued against the nape of her neck. His touch became more audacious against her flesh. He untied her robe and found she was naked underneath. He slipped his index finger inside her pussy and started to slowly finger her.

“I need you tonight, baby. I got a lot on my mind and I need this release. I need your loving,” Papa John said.

Her robe slid from around her shoulders and dropped to her feet. Her naked body was always a pleasure to see. He cupped her breasts and groped her. Her back to his chest, his arms around her nude flesh, and his kisses started to create a serious wet leak between her knees.

What was it about Papa John that made her crumble with sin and infidelity? Darryl was one heck of a man—a strong man, and a good man—but Papa John carried that bad-boy persona flawlessly, and she always had a weakness for bad boys. Fucking a cop and his criminal son at the same time was daring and stimulating.

She felt herself being lifted off her feet. Her legs straddled him and he carried her into the master bedroom.

With Dina on her back with her legs spread, Papa John went in for the kill. He tasted her completely, tickling her clit with his mouth and tongue and kissing her thighs while parting her lips and fingering her gently. She moaned and squirmed. He ate her out until she came. The sex was always mind-blowing. Papa John made his escape from his plight as he twisted and knotted his father’s fiancée into one sexual position after another, the big dick moving in and out of her repeatedly with strong friction ready to set flames to her pussy. Dina held on tight and was truly enjoying the ride of her life. When he came, she came too—and then came again three and four more times. Afterwards, they spooned on the bed with their bodies once again spent from all the sexual play. It was then that she decided to tell him the news, and it wasn’t so good.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.

“Shit, I’m gonna have a baby brother?”

“Or a son.”

“But I always bag up.”

“And the condom has broken how many times?”

“Is it—”

“I don’t know if it’s yours or Darryl’s,” she said.

Shit. Papa John laid there with blankness in his eyes. If the baby was his, then this would make baby mama number seven for him. His numbers were climbing higher than a good day at the stock exchange.

“Damn,” he simply uttered.

“That’s all you have to say?”