Baddie Caribbean Novels & Stories

She thanked Him for all He had done for her. As she approached Baddie’s Burgers in her black Range Rover Velar, the color of her car and ensemble coordinated perfectly with the signs that enveloped the building. The candy apple red, neon Baddie’s Burgers flashed brilliantly across the black background. Let’s get this day started, she thought.

Gabriel unties me without cumming in my ass and makes me stand in front of everyone with nothing but a cockring, harness and collar. “What you see before you is a beautiful birthday boy. My Boy! My Bad Boy who I love with all my heart! My Bad Boy who will be in my bed tonight and always, if I have it my way…Rhett, Sweetheart...I would like to show you the sample for the custom leather pieces I am having made for you and I so that we can have a matching set. I will commission matching pisces for when Rachelle earns her collar as well,” Gabriel says, presenting a beautiful black piece of leather, stamped with a wave pattern and stained with hints of blue and green.

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I hear a deep, throaty voice, so I look up to face him. A six-foot-five muscular figure graces my eyes, and a small smile spread across my lips. My wait is finally over. He has tanned skin, and his shoulder-length hair is pulled back to reveal a gloomy face. Along with his tattoo sleeves, there is a big, ugly scar spread from his forehead to just below the eyebrow, completing his typical bad boy look. This is the face of Daniel Ortega, the biggest, baddest kid in Skyland High. Or at least misunderstood as one.

She replied and that was the end of that topic. We spent the rest of the lunch time laughing at lame people and mocking low class students that kept embarrassing themselves. "Hey barmy!" Ava yelled at a girl trying to stuff her doughnuts at the same time into her mouth. According to Ava, barmy is like a British phrase for a stupid or crazy person. "Take it a little easy on yourself, of your parents can't afford a doughnut they can't possibly afford a good hospital you know..." She said and almost everybody in the cafeteria burst out laughing.

“Why the hell would I do that?” “Because you’re bored out of your mind,” Marcus shot back. “Because she bruised your ego in front of the whole hallway. And because it’ll be hilarious watching the great Aiden Voss chase a girl who doesn’t want him.” Tyler whistled. “Loser pays for spring break in Santorini. Full crew, private villa, yacht, everything. That’s real money if you fail.”

Centuries. Darkness. Loneliness. Waiting. Starving. Dreaming. Praying. Not evil. Not originally. Something abandoned. Something twisted by endless isolation. Something that no longer remembered what it had once been. “She promised.” Pain flooded my chest. “She promised me.” I saw Selene. Broken. Destroyed. Holding her dying daughter. And I understood. The bargain. Not power. Not immortality. Not conquest. Companionship. The creature had been alone. And Selene—

Laura "Can you please turn the music off? It's so annoying." I blurted out, sneaking a glance at the driver. Grandfather's father driver was just like him, depressing as hell. He had been driving the car so fast even after telling him to slow down. Above that, he played some bedtime 1980s music like I want to know what love is, I'm on fire, put some sugar on me and now the careless whisper. Like what the heck? Where was his mannerism?

We head to the bar and Mom orders 4 tequila shots. “Yes, Sue!” Monroe says and gives her a high five. I wonder idly whether or not my girlfriend becoming friends with my mother is cause for concern. We all take our shots and decide on a round of rum and cokes because apparently in the Carribean that means a glass of rum with a splash of coke. We decide to check out the casino area first. Mom goes for roulette, Ben goes for black jack and I follow Monroe to a texas hold ‘em table. “Do you play?”

I opened it slowly, one hand gripping the edge of the door frame, the other still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Sean stepped in, not a scratch on him, but he was breathing like he’d just run from the devil himself. His shirt was soaked through, gun still in hand, though pointed to the floor. His eyes scanned the room quickly, landing on Tamara. He gave a short nod of respect before turning to me. “They were the Caribbean Mafia,” he said, voice low, controlled, but I could hear the pulse of rage under it. “They stormed the perimeter. Two trucks. Armed.”

I want all of the Caribbean, not just Mexico. Yesterday I had a meeting with Don Gonzalez. The most ruthless man ever known in the Caribbean. The only one I dare not rival. We have an unspoken understanding. He respects me because of what I have achieved on my own. He knows that I am strong and ambitious. I respect him because I know he can do me over in a blink of an eye. He is the most powerful in the Caribbean. The police don't even bother with him anymore. His brutal ways earned him the title "The Iron Fist", but only a few eyes have seen him. I cannot have the Caribbean without going through Don Gonzalez. That would be me asking for a show down. A very unwise move. The meeting I had wit