Bad Apple (Part 1) (3 page)

Irina

The house is a marvel. It’s huge, baby pink, and so…
cute.

I love living in the city, and I’d hat waking up here every morning without the smell of exhaust fumes and the sound of people arguing, but it’s perfect in that way that the rich can only pull off.

“This place looks like a pink elephant,” Nik says delightedly as I pull Delilah into the drive and pray that she doesn’t announce our arrival before I come to a stop.

I should have taken Misha up on his offer to pick us all up, but I need an escape plan in place, and as mortifying as Delilah can be at times—most of the time, actually—she’s my only backup since the three crones at my back seem to be going over to the enemy camp.

“Good God…Ri, do not freak out now, but the whole clan’s coming out.” Nik giggles, making me pray all the harder that my car can wind herself down without killing the Novacs in a cloud of angry fumes.

When I turn the key and slowly pull it out so as not to upset her with any quick movements, I almost cry when she comes to a gentle stop.

We all let out huge sighs of relief before the laughter starts and uppity Miss Nik gives the Lord a fist bump.

“Thank you, God. I knew going to church with Mama last Sunday would score me at least a few points,” she mutters as we all tumble out of the car and pause at the hood.

Mama, the men, a surly looking brunette, and a man who looks to be about sixty stand looking at us.

And, of course, that makes the giggling worse, so by the time we’re at the steps I’m freaking red as a tomato and the girls are wheezing.

“Ah, she’s a beauty, no, Svetlana?” the man croons, taking me by surprise when he grabs me in a bear hug and plants kisses on my cheeks before laying a wet one on me.

Seriously, if I didn’t know better, these people could be French with the tongue they put into every kiss.

“Papa…” Misha groans, prattling off in Russian before grabbing me to his chest and rolling his eyes.

The young brunette starts huffing and shoves her way forward.

“I’m Lena, the sister. Nice to meet you or whatever,” she says before turning on her heel and stalking away.

“Well howdy-fucking-do to you too,” Tat mutters under her breath, making us all choke before Misha places a hand way too close to my butt and steers us all inside the house.

“Don’t mind her. She’s been that way too long to know better.”

“Misha—”

He interrupts in Russian, sounding pissed as he drags me into the dining room.

The table is filled with food, dishes that my
mamen’ka
only cooks when we’re celebrating. It that smells so good that I feel my mouth water.

“Sit, angel, and I will serve you.”

We sit and eat, talking so loudly at one point that I feel my ears ring as I take a minute to stop and look around the table. Everyone’s enjoying themselves, laughing and yelling over everyone else just to be heard. I love it.

“You bake. I like blini and anything with nuts,” Kosta says at one point, making Misha choke beside me.

“I’ll, uh,” I stutter, pinching Misha’s thigh when he chuckles at my blush. “I’ll be sure to send something over tomorrow, Mr. Novac.”

“Papa! Call me Papa, dear one. Misha….” I tune out and lean back with a groan, my hands on my burgeoning stomach as they start babbling again, throwing me looks that make my spine go weak.

***

Misha

I want her. The litany keeps pumping in my mind, through my blood, and in my groin as I watch Irina move around the kitchen with Mama, loading the dishwasher and laughing softly at whatever is being said as the other girls clean counters and try to restore order.

I want her so much that I’ve been hard all night as she sat and teased Papa and spoke as if she’s been here all along. Lena hasn’t made an appearance again, thank fuck, and little Maks is in bed already so I’m relatively relaxed about how things have gone tonight.

If only I could do something about the need sweeping through me.

Irina’s not classically beautiful or anything. She’s voluptuous where modern women seem to want to die of starvation, and her hair is a flyaway mess of mahogany curls that seem to spring up at every minute.

But she’s stunning to me and I know why. I see her in my bed, her thighs spread and waiting to cradle me as I take her. I see her breasts as she holds herself up for my mouth, and God help us all I see them heavy and ripe as she feeds my children.

“Stop. You’ll scare the shit out of her if she turns and sees you,” Leo mutters, coming up beside me to watch Tatiana.

“I need her to want me.”

“Brother, I saw her shifting around in her seat all night every time you so much as breathed on her skin. Trust me, the woman wants you.”

“For sex,” I spit irately, lowering my voice when five women, one of them my mama, turn to eye us askance.

“Dude, that should make you happy. Just think of all those stick figures you screwed who wanted you for your money. At least Irina’s wants are honest.”

Yeah, honestly sexual.

“Think of this as a challenge then. If you do her right, she’ll be so into you that she won’t want to give you up the morning after.”

“I am not taking advantage of the woman before I have my ring on her finger, you pig.”

I want to, though. I have never been this hard for a woman in my life, and just the thought of opening her up and testing my theory about what she’ll taste like is making me sweat.

“So don’t. Foreplay is a good start to any sexual relationship, and I’d wager my Diablo that little Ri won’t know what hit her if you use some of that Novac skill on her,” he muses, his eyes going molten when Tatiana bends at the waist to store a clean pot.

His words give me hope because he’s right. I know how to do all forms of great sex—hot, sweet, slow, and even dirty. And I know how to get what I want. I just have to play it right.

If I can keep myself in check till I have what I want.

It takes another half hour before the ladies are satisfied that Mama won’t be in the kitchen cleaning all night. I’m on the verge of yelling my dissatisfaction when they’re all flitting to the front door, calling out cheery good-byes. Looks like I’ve been outmaneuvered by little Ri.

House call it is, then.

Irina

The arousal I’ve been fighting all night is at breaking point by the time I’ve dropped everyone off and I run through my apartment door, suddenly desperate to unwrap the vibrator Tat gave me for my birthday last year as a gag gift.

I don’t use those things, mostly because I am terrified of breaking myself, but I’ve just had to spend two hours having a crotch meltdown while a man so sexy as to fry my lips stroked my shoulder and kept looking at me like he wanted to rip my clothes off.

I’m not familiar with these feelings, despite having been in more than one relationship and fooling around with those guys, a little. I have never felt this swift, painful need grip me.

I’m not sure I like it, I think as I rush through a shower and throw myself at my chest of drawers, tripping in my haste just as freaking Kamikaze wannabe flings himself at me with a screech.

His little claws land and penetrate my backside just as I’m going down, and I reach back to rip him off, giving no thought to my position. Or the fact that I’m falling headlong into my dresser.

“Ahhh!”

Goddammit, Sweetie, you miserable fucking brat.

I hurt everywhere as my head connects with the wood and His Highness, the little shit, sinks his teeth into my butt, screeching like a maniac when I collapse, so befuddled I can’t even swipe back to get him off me.

How long I lie here after my ass is finally free is a mystery, but I can’t bring myself to move a damn muscle at this point. My head’s throbbing, my shoulder feels like a truck ran over it because I landed badly, and my heinie is burning as I start howling, feeling so sorry for myself that I can’t find a scrap of decency to cover my naked ass.

“You miserable little asshole! You’re so lucky I love you or I’d feed you to the dog downstairs, you little brat! Why! Why can’t you stop biting me, Sweetie? You know I love you and it hurts me when you hurt Mama.”

The little ass just meows now that he’s happy and plops down at the doorway to lick his little cat paw regally.

I can’t move, not an inch, and I almost whine my thanks when my phone goes off beside me playing Britney’s “Hit Me Baby, One More Time.”

Oh thank you, God, one of my girls.

“You need to help me. The freaking cat bit my ass again and I fell headfirst into the dresser. I think I hurt my arm, my skull, and my pride.” I sob, crying out in pain when shuffling around makes my head spin and my shoulder scream in agony. “Don’t come in eyes blazing though, cause my ass is in the air.”

I keep crying like the drama queen I am, only realizing after two minutes that there’s no cackling on the other end. The phone is silent.

“Hello?”

The silence has me wailing again and I thoroughly curse the bastard licking his paw and eyeing my butt cheek when the ramifications of my situation hit my mind.

Stop being such a baby and get up, idiot. You don’t want one of those hags coming up behind you with a phone camera and the view you’re giving.

I’ll be on the web in ten seconds flat, caption and arrows included, I think, blinking my eyes rapidly and rolling onto my back with a moan.

My ass curses me and my head just about screams when I’m prone and raise a hand to poke at my forehead. The sight of blood when my hand comes away has me screaming bloody murder and threatening Sweetie with all manner of harm when suddenly I hear a loud crash and the sound of running feet.

I hear a man’s voice speaking in Russian and open my eyes to see Misha Novac crouching beside me as my head throbs and my nose starts running. I look and feel pathetic when he reaches down to touch my head, his blue eyes turning to the cat in accusation.

“You, I will deal with later, kot,” he mutters before gently lifting me into his arms and carrying me over to the bed.

Naked.

“Oh my God, turn around,” I hiss belatedly, making a grab for the sheet as my boobs start dancing, my entire body going up in flames of pain when my shoulder screams at me.

This only seems to piss him off more before I find one of Luka’s old college jerseys gently yanked over my head before he shoves yoga pants up my legs and swiftly picks me up again.

“I believe that horse has left the barn, angel. Now stop struggling before you hurt yourself,” he barks, falling against the dresser with a curse when I try and fail to flop to my feet.

Of course God can’t spare me my humiliation and I watch in horror as the top drawer tips the last remaining inch and crashes to the ground, dumping panties and bras all over the floor before the bright pink, very lifelike
piѐce de résistance
flops onto the wood and rolls slowly into the tip of his shoe.

I don’t look up as my face flames. My mind screams at me not to look, even as my guilty eyes peek up to see him blinking down at me in shock.

“It’s not mine.”

His shoulders shake even as I look down at the offensive plastic phallus, and I swear to everything holy that I’m never seeing him again.
Never.

“That’s too bad, angel, we could have a lot of fun with it.”

***

“The cat goes!” he rages an hour later as the doctor plops a bandage over the three stitches on my head and comes at me with a sling.

I feel nothing but tranquil right now as the painkillers swim through my blood. Turns out I also twisted my ankle, badly, though Lord knows I couldn’t assess all the damage with my wailing and flopping around. And let’s not forget I almost died when my vibrator made an appearance.

Misha is pacing the hospital room looking furious as the doctor finishes up and I lie on my ass in total bliss. Man, whatever they gave me sure is making me feel groovy.

“Did you hear what I said, Irina? That little bastard is gone!”

“Not Sweetie. He’s m’pal…got an un’standing,” I mumble, giggling for no good reason when he turns to me, his eyes blazing.

“That little bastard hurt you, Irina. He goes,” he fumes, making me blink in confusion before coming to sit beside me. “I almost kicked his furry little ass.” He leans in to kiss my poor throbbing head with a sigh.

“He didn’t mean it.”

“He goes or he goes missing in the middle of the night,” he whispers, dragging his mouth to my ear.

I’m high as a kite but not so out of it that my nipples don’t peak and send shudders of delight right through me. The man is lethal as he continues to plant little kisses over my cheek and finally stops at my mouth, his breath brushing my lips.

I want to reach up and eradicate those last remaining inches. I want it so bad I can almost feel the softness of his mouth on mine, but not even my drug-induced euphoria can overcome my natural shyness.

Not after the dildo incident.

“How’d you get to me so fast?” I ask only when the silence and that intense stare become too much and he pulls back with a shrug, running a hand down his neck.

“I was already on my way to you.”

“Why? And how do you know where I live?”

***

Misha

She’s gorgeous. And so freaking adorable, I’m having the hardest time not laughing my ass off at her. I know exactly what happened tonight and how my poor girl ended up headfirst in that dresser and the knowledge makes me hard and furious all at the same time.

When I’m not on the verge of laughing my ass off.

She’s asleep now, having asked her question and dozed off immediately after, her light snores piercing the quiet room with her every breath.

My first instinct is to call my brothers and her friends, but I know she’d die of embarrassment should anyone know she was felled by a crazy-ass cat while trying to get to her sex toy.

The thought makes me huff out an incredulous laugh again and I lean back in the uncomfortable chair, settling in for a night of no sleep and worry as the nurses start coming in every hour on the hour due to the concussion my girl did not escape.

By hour five, Ri is so surly and combative that I have to apologize to the nurse.

“You’re too gorgeous, ya know,” she mutters, licking her dry lips. “I shoulda known when I saw you you’d be trouble.”

I grin at her grumpy mumblings and lean closer to hear her sleepy tirade.

“The one time I wanna just screw a guy, he introduces me to his mama. Unfair…cause I like them, ya know, and I like you, but you’re looking for commitment.”

“And you’re not?”

“Nah, I went with this guy…got no name…was so close to banging him but he dipped his wick somewhere else and…cause I’m fat.”

Fat? She thinks she’s fat? For God’s sake I saw every inch of her when I ran into her bedroom and this woman is nowhere near fat. She’s lush and curvy with a flat stomach and hips that make me want to stroke my dick.

“You’re perfect. And I want more than sex, angel.”

“Can’t, every guy I go with ends up messed up. Feliks will never allow it, and I don’t wanna love anymore,” she mumbles, batting at my hand when I stroke her hair for the hundredth time.

“Why?” I ask, desperately needing an answer.

A project I saw as business has now become so personal as to hold the very future of my unborn children in its slippery grasp. I need to find a way to get my girl, and I need to do it before she comes back to reality.