BAD APPLE: The Complete Series (Parts 1-5) (31 page)

“Happiness? You think he deserves happiness after what I suffered when my father discovered that I was fucking the son of his enemy? I will never let him go, Irina, and I will never allow him happiness after what he put me through.”

“He proposed to you.”

She laughs, a high-pitched ugly sound that makes my spine tingle, and looks at me like I lost my marbles on the playground years ago.

“Proposed. As if I could marry a common laborer when he was meant for so much more. He was supposed to take over from his father and rule the families, you little fool. He didn’t have two pennies to his name when he tried to give me that little chip he called a diamond. As if I would marry him and live in poverty.”

“Poverty? Lady, the guy is a billionaire in his own right, and he makes more money every day just by breathing. You must be completely nuts if you didn’t see all that potential in him. Your loss, my gain. Thanks so much for being a total twat and leaving him for a real woman. I owe ya big,” I say, rising to my feet on shaky knees that somehow manage to hold my weight despite the weakness I’m feeling.

This woman is pure evil, and I will forever be grateful to the powers that be if this plan works.

I don’t know for certain that the little one is alive, and I don’t know if what we’re doing here will work, but I do know that I’ve done something today. All I can do now is pray that it gets me a good result.

Misha needs closure on this, and I need Mina gone.

Irina

The feel of his lips skating over the sensitive skin beneath my arm is so amazing that I feel my sex clench and vibrate as wet, aroused heat slides free and coats my thighs.

Misha has been at me for what feels like hours and I’m half crazed with the need to beg for the release he’s withholding.

He swept me up the moment he walked in the door tonight and sent poor Feliks screaming and muttering when he grabbed my ass and started kissing me like my lips were a drug he’d been jonesing for all day.

I needed him just as much after an entire day spent biting my nails beside the phone, waiting for John and Liza to call. The wait is killing me and I feel some guilt, but right now, with his mouth licking and sucking at my sweat-slicked skin, all I feel is need and the overwhelming love that he’s brought out in me.

“Misha.”

“Hush, angel. Let me pleasure you, my love,” he drawls into the furled flesh around my nipple, his tongue peeking out to flick slowly at the tortured tip.

I feel the caress all the way to my sex and clench my outstretched and bound thighs in an attempt to relieve the deep ache building there. Misha is a master at this, at the slow buildup, and I love it as much as I hate it, knowing that he’ll toy with me and drive me near desperation before sending me into a screaming, toe-curling climax.

Right now, he has decided to lick and suck my breasts with leisure and it’s almost too much as he gently bites into the white flesh around my nipple and then into the pink point with enough force to make my need even greater.

“Hmm, angel. Your breasts are so sensitive, it makes my dick hard just thinking I could suck you to orgasm. Can you feel my mouth on your clit right now, angel? Do you feel me sucking that juicy little pearl even as I lick at your nipple?”

He goes back to tonguing me, biting and sucking with enough force, I feel it right there where he wants me to. The sensations are hot and consuming, and I feel my sex quiver and tremble in impending release. He licks me so thoroughly, my breasts are slick with his saliva before he rears up and grins wickedly.

“Misha,” I moan, protesting his abandonment, so ready to beg now that I’d say anything—any dirty, wicked thing he wanted me to—if only he’d satisfy the burn between my wet thighs.

So close, I was so close.

“Uh-uh, angel. Remember what I told you this morning?”

Oh sweet Lord, do I. The man has a nasty habit of outlining in detail what he wants to do to me while we shower and get ready for work.

This morning’s torture session involved his shaft and my swelling breasts, and the thought of having Misha jack himself off with my boobs is so hot that I mewl and thrust my chest closer to the hard shaft poking out from his groin.

“You want me there, sliding my dick through your soft tits?”

“Yes. Please. Let me touch you.”

“
Nyet
, angel. I’m so close to coming already, I’d blow like an untried youth if you breathed on my cock right now,” he hisses, gently crawling over me, his weight kept off my body as he comes up on his knees and presses my breasts together, his snarl of arousal sending another shaft of heat to my sheath.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, letting him do this to me. I always thought of sex as this soft, loving thing that’s an expression of sharing and all that mushy stuff, but Misha has shown me a whole other side to it that is dark and wicked but so good, I don’t think I could do straight vanilla again if I tried.

He’s shown me pleasure unlike anything I could have imagined, and made my body into a work of art that he appreciates every second of the day.

As he pushes closer and slides his hot, throbbing length between my breasts, I let out a keening cry of satisfaction and keep my eyes on where we meet, my arousal spiking even more when he slowly slides back and thrusts forward again, pinching my nipples to the point of pleasurable pain.

The pleasure on his face is enchanting, captivating, and I relish this moment and every one I’ve stored in my memory. Each one is a moment in time where he’s taken his pleasure and surrendered himself to me in some small way.

He looks lost in the bliss as he starts thrusting and retreating between the globes pressed around his shaft, his mouth going slack when I lick my lips and eye his erection with a hunger that’s unmistakable.

“You want to taste me, my angel?” he purrs, twisting to hit my nipples as he pushes back in, the very head of his dick poking up through my mashed breasts.

I do. I want the feel and taste of him on my tongue. I want him inside me everywhere, owning me, taking every inch as the pleasure I know is coming takes hold.

I love his scent, that masculine woodsy smell that’s cut with the clean sweat he gives off during sex. I love the feel of his strong, hard body surrounding me. I love the taste of his ravishing mouth and the salty tang of his cum when he has enough control to let me pleasure him and swallow his release.

It’s all mine and so uniquely him that I crave it all.

“Please. Please let me suck you,” I plead, my tongue already extending for the small drop of pre-cum oozing from the narrow slit crowning his dick.

He obliges with a groan and I moan as I swipe at him, swirling the tip of my tongue against the little slit, searching for more of that salty goodness.

“Oh yes, baby. Suck me a little and drink it down, Irina. Harder, baby. Right there. You taste me. Fuck yes, use your teeth some more. Shit, Christ, stop.”

He pulls away just as I start a sucking rhythm and bob my head to take him deeper, his body coated in sweat as he lowers himself between my spread thighs—body trembling, eyes closed, and teeth gritted as he fights not to come.

“That mouth is wicked. So fucking good, I could come with one lick.”

It’s my chance to moan as he swipes a hand through my slit and brings it up to his lips, his groan of appreciation loud in the room as he sucks my juices off his fingers and pushes into me gently.

The fullness is so welcoming, I feel my sheath tremble in warning, my orgasm so close.

I want this to last forever.

“You’re always so warm here, Irina, so wet that I glide right in. You liked my taste, baby?”

My nod is the only answer I can give when the pleasure increases and pulls at my womb in a series of tiny contractions.

“You know what you taste like here?” he snarls, punctuating the question with a hard thrust that has my eyes rolling back. “You taste musky, tangy, and yet so sweet I could eat you out for hours and not be satisfied. I want to suck your little clit till it throbs on my tongue and swells to the point of explosion.”

“Oh, yes.”

His pelvis is shuttling quickly, then slows down to lazy grinds, each one hitting my aching clit, sending me that much closer to bliss. The words are what get me, because in that husky, achingly rough growl I hear devotion and adoration for everything that I am.

That feeling is arousing to the point of climax, and I revel in each soft growl while my husband pushes into me like the master he is.

“I love your taste, angel. I want to get so deep in you, sometimes I think I could drown to death in your cream and die happy. Fuck,” he snarls when the orgasm hits and I clamp down hard enough that he can’t move another inch.

The explosion is hard and consuming, and I feel it take me over, steal my senses as my sheath goes molten and starts sucking at him in long, pulling draws.

The sensation makes my pleasure soar higher and I come again when he growls, tenses above me, and roars his own release—the thick, hot explosion of his own orgasm filling me.

“I love you, Misha. Don’t ever doubt that,” I whisper into his neck when he pulls away minutes later and pulls me into his arms, my back pressed to his shaking, sweaty chest.

“I love you. Never doubt that, angel.”

I know he does, and it’s all that’s keeping me going right now as I wait in guilty silence for that call.

Misha

Waiting has never been my forte. I’m patient only insofar as the situation requires, but otherwise I’m the instant gratification sort of man. When I see something I want I usually take it.

Right now, though, patience is required and it’s killing me slowly.

I know that Irina and her little band of misfits snuck out of that exit into the alley and went to see Mina. I knew the moment she brought it up, and I watched the live camera feed in the kitchen as her and the little terrors hatched their plot, their voices hushed and barely audible over the sound of the faucet.

I almost didn’t know what they were planning until John gave me a call and let me know what his wife Angelica and my girls were planning. I know John. The man runs one of the most established sex clubs in the city, one I used to be a member of before I met my girl and cancelled immediately.

I wanted to be angry at first, and believe me, I have every right after warning her not to interfere, but I also agree with her and therefore let the plot stand.

She was followed, of course. Not difficult since the little hurricane drives around the city like a mad woman in that little pink death trap of hers. Who could miss them?

And I heard it all over the wire planted beneath the chair that one of the servers took to the table.

I wanted to rip Mina to shreds through the entire conversation. For a few seconds, Leo and Vadim had to restrain me in the back of the car when she so flippantly spoke of sending more killers after my wife.

But I controlled myself and let it play out. Now I’m waiting only for that bitch to make a move and for Liza and John to follow.

In a different car, of course. Only women would think that using a hot pink, sputtering Mini as the tail car is a good notion. God help me if I am not proud of my woman. Although I nixed my plans to sexually torture her and made sweet love to her instead.

Vadim, however…the man is raging pissed that his “sweet” Nikita had the gall to endanger herself by going near what he terms “a vile and evil bitch that should be put down to rid the world of her stink.”

I don’t blame him, and yet I pity Nikita her actions because where I am lenient and mostly amused by Irina’s escapades, Vadim is different.

The man is a dominant to the core and tolerates no disobedience. I think he will drop all guilt and do what he’s been wanting to do for days.

With that thought I smile, wish him luck, and snuggle my wife back into my arms, my hand going to the slightly rounded curve of her belly where my son sleeps, safe and content for now.

***

Nikita

The cloying taste in my dry mouth is so strong and oppressive that I disregard every lesson I’ve ever been taught by my self-defence coach and open my eyes.

Part of me knows what’s happened, and though I’m groggy and weak as a kitten, I feel myself almost grin at the man’s complete gall and daring. I am lying on a soft bed in a room that is dark yet seems to be well appointed and spotless, just the way I like it.

I love Vadim with every single miserable fiber of my being. He’s my perfect half, my soul mate, my Dom, and I need him.

What we have is a relationship where I cede control to him because I need to. Without his firm hand and guidance, I’m lost and so afraid that I usually go a little crazy with the OCD.

See, I was married before to this asshole who used to not only hit me, but would also leave things so unmanageable that my life was a mess from one day to the next.

He’d throw parties and the house would be a disaster area that I would clean, only to have it messed up a few hours later. He’d insist on managing the checkbook and then let the power be shut off or forget to pay the heating bill in the middle of winter.

My life was chaos back then, and by the time I finally grew a pair and left, I was strung so tight it hurt to breathe most days. I learned to control it all, so tightly that I didn’t make a move without checking my planner first, and it was slowly killing the vibrant girl that was struggling to survive inside me.

When Vadim came into my life he took that all away. He took over and demanded my trust, and in taking control and doing it all, from paying my rent to planning my meals, I finally was able to let go and just breathe.

With him I can be me without fear and the need to control. I know that he’ll care for it all.

It sounds fucked up, I know, but he’s my center. Without him, I’m drowning.

He’s gentle, never hurts me.

The scrape of a key in the door lock alerts me to his entrance, and I force myself not to look at him, instead keeping my eyes focused on the ceiling above me.

I know that his golden blond hair will be dishevelled, that his blue eyes will be blazing with lust, and that he’s already sucking and licking his lips in anticipation.

“Ah, you’re finally awake. Good. We can begin.”

That voice sends immediate shivers down my spine and an answering zing to my sex.
Strength, Nikita. Stay strong
, I caution myself when he comes to the side of the bed and directly into view.

The move and the way he grinds his jaw when I peek at him out of the corner of my eye makes me want to laugh with joy, but I school my features and instead continue to ignore him.

“Nikita, my woman. Look at me, please.”

He’s asking? In that soft voice that tells me about affection and emotions that I wanted but never got from him? I don’t want that. I need the commanding growl that is so familiar. I want him to order me and make this easy.

I don’t want to cede victory, I want it and the choice taken from me.

“Nikita, sweetheart, look at me.”

I obey, though I know it isn’t a command but a softly spoken plea. That quietly pleading tone gets me right in the heart, and I bring my eyes up to look at him, drinking in every bit of his handsome, drawn face.

There’s no sign of the Dom; what I am seeing now is the man. He’s open and vulnerable and fully dressed in jeans and a light blue T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest.

I should have known the moment I woke and felt no restraints pinning me to the bed that I’d be talking to Vadim and not my masterful lover. This side of him is so rare, so odd without the authority or even the happy-go-lucky joker who hides behind that carefree façade.

“What am I doing here, Vadim?”

He sits beside me gingerly and keeps our eyes locked, not touching me but close enough that his heat and strength seeps into me where our hips almost meet.

“I was angry when you accompanied Irina to see Mina. I thought, well, I was upset and resentful that I had no say in the things you now do, and…I just wanted to have more than ten seconds of telephone conversation with you without you telling me to screw off. I kidnapped you thinking that I would bring you here and show you who is boss. I thought I could use my anger as fuel to just take you and force you to stop ignoring me…”

“You’re no longer angry enough to justify what you were going to do?”

He shakes his head and sighs, his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor and seems so defeated, it breaks my heart.

“I had a best friend.
Friends
, really, if I’m being truthful. Peter and his high-school sweetheart, Ashley. We did everything together and were practically joined at the hip.”

I’m actually sitting up and completely shocked when he just starts talking, one of the first signs that whatever has happened has totally felled my man to the point that he’s willingly talking to me instead of holding himself back as he always does.

“Pete worked his ass off in college and got into med school. He finished the programs early, and by the time Ash and I finished college, he was going into his residency and working sixteen-hour days while still trying to have a life. By then, I was so involved with Misha and the family and struggling to keep it all together after Minkie died that I spent less and less time with them till Ash started calling me, crying about the fighting and the bickering. She and Pete weren’t doing well at all, and without me there to referee she was terrified that they wouldn’t make it through that year together.”

“That must have been rough on you, trying to mourn and help Misha as well as trying to council your friends to save their relationship.”

Selfish bastards.

“It was,” he admits, seeming so weary now that I can’t help but take his hand to try and impart some sort of comfort. “They argued constantly, even while I was there trying to make them see how stupid it all was. I’d just lost a little girl I loved like my own, and my family was crushed. Misha was so out of control that I feared he would off himself at any given moment, and his company…it was up to me to try and manage it while also keeping my own clubs running and making money. It was a hard time for us all, but I was getting it all done and also trying to be there for my friends.”

“It was all destined to crash, though,” I say, threading our fingers together, heartened when he squeezes me back and smiles sadly.

“Yes. I had managed to somehow get Misha back into this life and the company flourished after a deal I negotiated, so that, at least, was on track. Leo somehow convinced Mama and Papa to go to therapy. It was okay, though, and for the first time I could breathe, until the night I was at Misha’s trying to talk him off the bottle again and I got a call from Ashley. She and Pete were at a party, had been drinking heavily and fought. She asked me to come drive them home. I agreed immediately and left Misha. I didn’t want to, and I was too late, anyways. I was almost two blocks away from the address she gave me when I saw the accident.”

Oh no.

“Pete had been thrown clear when it rolled, but Ash was still stuck in there, inside a crumpled tin can that looked like nothing could survive inside the ruins.”

I know that accident. I vaguely remember reading about it in the paper since one of the victims was the daughter of a suspected mobster.

According to Mama, they deserved it for their recklessness. I’d felt so wretched for the poor woman who’d survived and was left paralyzed that I’d prayed for her that same night.

How small the world truly is.

“Pete died and Ash was a wreck. They operated on her three times but eventually just gave up when nothing seemed to work for her. She’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Oh, Vadi.”

“She was angry for a long time, and by the time I was ready to wash my hands of her, she’d convinced her father to blackmail me into marrying her. It worked. I couldn’t let a cousin face family justice and possibly be killed, so I gave in. I think also because I felt guilty for not making it on time.”

“No…”

“At first it was no big deal. I thought she’d heal physically and mentally, and we’d get divorced and stay friends. It never happened, and year after year I came to realize that I would never be free. But I also wasn’t willing to just lay down and die for her. I fucked so many women during my marriage that I’m ashamed to even look in the mirror most days. Or I was till I looked over that counter and saw you. I knew you were it for me the moment you looked at me and sneered.”

I chuckle as I remember that day.

“But I was still married and I knew that I could never have you fully because I had nothing to offer you. I should have stayed away, I know it, but the lure of all that warmth and the love I could see within reach was too great. I selfishly seduced you and made you crave me, love me, need me on an emotional level that most would say is unhealthy. I wanted to own you in all ways physical and emotional, because I knew that I would never get the chance to have you as mine completely. I took you over and fucked you but kept myself as separate from you emotionally as possibly while reeling you in further because I am selfish and needy.”

“You could have talked to me and told me the truth, Vadim. I may have been pissed to know that I was your mistress, but I would have at least understood better. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count because you made me feel like an object with your instant withdrawals after sex.”

I felt dirty sometimes and so alone that it was hard to understand why I would keep doing it to myself. When I finally realized I loved him, it was the hardest blow of all.

“I didn’t want you to see me that way, Nikita. I wanted to always be strong and worthy of the love you so freely gave me. I was shamed and guilty and heartbroken at the thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage while I lied to you.

Then when you found out, I spent that one night at home, drinking in the dark while Ashley raged at me and expressed her hatred, and I just snapped. I yelled back, I insulted, I hurt her and broke her down until she finally started sobbing and told me the whole sordid tale. Long story short, she and I came to an understanding and she set me free.”

And now I have to make a choice. I need to decide if forgiveness will extend to committing myself again.

“You want it all now?” I ask, cupping his cheek and bringing his eyes to mine. “You’re ready to be mine fully?”

“Please. It is all I have ever wanted, Nikita. I do not deserve you and I know it, but I need you. I love you so much that being without you is a physical agony that makes it hard to breathe. I had planned after Ashley agreed to a divorce to buy a ring and propose to you, but I decided not to even try yet, not until the divorce is final and I have the right to touch you again.”