BAD APPLE: The Complete Series (Parts 1-5) Page 6

  “You are a wicked woman, Irina, my angel. You got me drunk and now you’re standing there staring at my cock,” he mumbles grouchily, not bothering to look at me.

  Thank God because my mouth is hanging open and I’m pretty sure there’s drool hanging out when he flicks his shaft and unhurriedly pushes it back into his briefs before washing his hands and sauntering back out.

  When I can move again I scamper to my room, throw on some old jeans and a tank, and rush back out, needing to say something, anything, to get over my shock.

  The man has a huge dick. Easily double the size of my pink nemesis.

  “You don’t have milk.”

  I pause in the kitchen doorway to see him leaning into my fridge, still in those boxers, only now I have an unobstructed view of his ass and his toned, muscular thighs. Jesus save my hymen, the man makes my vagina tremble with need with nothing more than a look and that damned ass of his.

  When I drag my eyes up it’s to see him grinning at me with a smug look that makes me blush.

  “What are you having with milk? You take your coffee black and sugarless like the ‘real man’ you are,” I gripe, studiously avoiding his eyes as I walk in and grab a pan from the cupboard.

  “Milk helps with a hangover, angel. I need milk.”

  What a load of crap.

  I snort and lean into the fridge, rummaging right into the back to grab the small carton of milk and a pack of bacon.

  “Here, ya big baby. Don’t cry to me when your stomach curdles and you’re rushing to the bathroom to puke.”

  He just grins and keeps watching me as I putter around getting a big, greasy breakfast ready.

  “Mama would whip you right now if she witnessed this Western travesty.” He murmurs when I plonk a plate down in front of him and sit across from him, digging in with gusto.

  “Your mama uses tongue to kiss perfect strangers, boy. She’s got no leg to stand on,” I retort, enjoying his snorting laugh as he spears his eggs and eats with a groan.

  “She likes you and that’s the family way. Why do you think I won’t let my brothers kiss you, angel?” He chuckles, snarling when I narrow my eyes and tap my chin contemplatively.

  “I wouldn’t mind, I think. Your brothers are hot. Especially Vadim and those wandering hands of his,” I joke, loving his filthy look and not too complimentary comments about his own flesh and blood.

  “I’d kill him if tried anything with you, angel, and the little shit knows it. Let’s hope he stays smart or Mama will be a kid light.”

  “You’re a hoot, Misha Novac. A freakin’ hoot, ya know that? So tell me, tough guy, what’s a guy like you doing wearing suits all day and making mergers?”

  Not that I don’t see him that way, but the man is an enigma. I could just as easily see him as a thrill freak, adrenaline junky. Here’s the thing about Misha that I have a hard time getting over, the thing that makes me very aware of his unsuitability as a boyfriend or even as a friend.

  He’s closed off.

  One minute he’s smiling at me, and the next I see something in him that chills my core. I like him, but he’s too much for me.

  He shrugs and continues eating as I sip my water.

  “I like money, Irina, and I always have. It’s easier to live when you don’t have to think of such trivialities, and I like winning too. My sole focus has always been my family and success, and that will never change, angel,” he says seriously.

  I take the words as a warning and shiver lightly when his eyes hit mine and I’m instantly trapped in the blue depths.

  “You know we cannot be friends.”

  I can see him overtaking me so easily, with so little effort that I’m breathless at the thought.

  “You want to know why we cannot be friends, angel?” he asks softly, bringing my eyes back to his.

  “Because you want to have sex with me?” I ask cheekily, trying to lighten the mood that’s suddenly fallen around us.

  Those blue eyes meet mine and I freeze, suddenly uncomfortable and even more afraid of his answer. Gone is the kind, funny, amused Misha, and in his place is a man I have never met before.

  His face is devoid of all expression and closed off in a way that frankly makes me itch to run. He’s looking at me in the most possessive way.

  “Most certainly yes, I want to spread you out on my bed and eat you to my heart’s content before I fuck you into the mattress,” he says quietly.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.” He smirks, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed sigh that sets my alarm bells ringing. “But mostly we cannot be friends because I refuse to be just friends with my own wife, angel.”

  I choke on my first sip of coffee and spray a dark stain all over the wooden table, coughing fitfully as I try to dispel the liquid from my lungs. Did I just hear him correctly? And why the hell am I not laughing my ass off like I should be?

  “What?”

  Misha just smiles triumphantly and raises his hand where a platinum band rests on his left finger.

  “We were married last night, angel. You are mine.”

  I don’t question him. For some reason, I know he would never lie about something this important. Instead, I let my eyes roll back as my faculties leave me.

  Oh hell, I hope when I wake up this has all been a bad dream.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Misha

  She’s out cold and not stirring as I silently pace the tiny apartment, battling back the irritation I feel at this response. It’s not great for my ego having my new wife pass out cold at the thought of being shackled to me.

  I bet Lauren Duncan wouldn’t mind being married to me. In fact, I recall just a few weeks ago when she tried to trap me with a pregnancy scare that would have been laughable if I hadn’t been so pissed at the time.

  “Oh God, please tell me it was a dream,” I hear from the sofa, my anger rising a little more when she lifts her head to look at me and promptly flops back down with a groan, her arm flung over her eyes in a dramatic pose. “What have you done?”

  “Me? If I recall, you almost ate my face off when the justice of the peace married us. I have done only what you agreed to last night,” I growl, stalking her way.

  I want her. Now. And she’s having a fit about being my wife.

  “But I don’t even remember!”

  “Too bad. I do and you most definitely said yes, angel.”

  I’m on the move with her in my arms before she can make a sound, and I’m throwing her onto the bed before she can move. And then I let go of it all—the guilt and anger and desperation I felt last night when she was all over that little punk in the club, her ass grinding into him as they moved together on the dance floor.

  “Misha—”

  “I will have you now. Do not argue. I know you want me just as much, yes?”

  She blushes and shakes her head at me, but I see the accelerated breaths she’s trying to calm and the way she keeps glancing at my cock.

  “You do, angel. I can see it in the way your blush spreads to your breasts and the way your nipples peak. Are you wet between your legs?” I growl, pushing my briefs down in a blatant display of control that has her pupils flaring brightly.

  She wants me. I can see it, scent it, taste it on the air as I stalk towards her, my control almost fracturing when she licks her lips and her thighs clench together.

  “Misha, I—”

  “Nyet, wife,” I murmur, grasping the hem of her ratty shirt and pushing up, ignoring her protests as I divest her of the offensive fabric and attack her pants.

  She’s going nuts by the time I have her naked, and I almost laugh at her embarrassment, just barely holding back when she tries to cover herself and shield what is mine.

  “No, angel, let me see what is mine,” I murmur throatily, pinning her hands to the mattress beside her head, my knees cradling her hips to keep her still.

  “Don’t…”

  I don’t listen to a word as I lower my mouth slowly and give her an
exquisitely gentle kiss before pulling back to survey the bounty beneath me.

  I have the crazy urge to wrap her up and hide her from the world, from all eyes except mine.

  “You have a wondrous body, Irina Novac,” I breathe, leaning down to run my nose from her neck to her breasts, paying attention to the scent of her skin as I flick my tongue out for a taste.

  I keep that up for a good while until she’s writhing beneath me, her breaths panting and uneven before I pull back and look up, holding her eyes as my mouth opens gently over her nipple.

  The contact is explosive, and I growl my approval when she moans long and loudly and pushes herself closer, demanding more.

  I give it immediately, loving her hard nipples over and over till she’s keening and I feel crazed for her, and then I pay homage to a belly and thighs that are soft and comforting.

  My face goes to her flesh and I revel in her silky drag over my face before venturing lower and resting my cheek at her mons, trying to regain myself.

  “You are so beautiful, my angel,” I whisper, opening my mouth and breathing in the musky scent wafting from her wet folds. Irina, my angel, moans again, and I look up to meet her dazed eyes, needing that intimate contact as I lower my mouth and flick the very tip of my tongue over her core, growling at the feel and taste of her petals enveloping my tongue.

  “God, that’s….ahh”

  I breathe against her flesh, licking and sucking, drawing out her cream in a frenzy when my balls start aching and my cock is throbbing with my heartbeat.

  When she’s screaming, pulling at my hair, and so wet that I feel her thighs slide over my cheeks, I rear up and kiss her as I place my crown at her core and push in slightly, my teeth grinding.

  She feels so good, so right when I regain control and push in again. I feel my brow bead with sweat and my arms tremble. But she’s with me, I see it in her flushed face and the look of absolute adoration she gives me when I finally settle and fill her fully.

  She was pure, and just knowing that has my balls threatening to explode. I want her to love sex with me, to crave it as much as I do.

  So I do her right, pulling out slowly and going back in with care, pumping, circling, over and over till I feel, see, and taste nothing but my wife. I’m submerged in bliss when she lets go beneath me and throws her hips back at me, her cries spurring me on as I feel the fluttering deep within her go from small tremors to hard, sucking swallows.

  “Misha?”

  “Shh, my angel, let it go, feel it,” I grate through my teeth, letting myself pound into her welcoming warmth.

  It feels so good as I wrench her hips up and bang into her, seeking her climax as brutally as I seek my own.

  When she does finally tense and scream her release, her sheath squeezing my shaft, I feel that last piece click into place and I release into her, praying for all I am worth that my seed floods her womb and does what my desperate, crazy mind needs it to.

  I come for ages, more than I ever have before, my jerking thrusts sending every last drop as deep and hard as I can get it. It’s painful in its intensity, and so raw that when I finally regain my sense and find the strength to move I realize I’ve collapsed on her fully.

  “Angel, sorry, I—”

  “Don’t you dare move a muscle, Misha Novac,” she snarls breathily, her legs locking around my hips to pull me back into her. “I just had sex for the first time and I need cuddling.”

  “I should cuddle you, angel, without killing you. Let me turn.”

  But she refuses, pulling me in closer and sighing so loudly, it ruffles my hair where my face is plastered to her neck.

  “You planned this, didn’t you?” she finally says after minutes of nothing but silent intimacy, her legs unwrapping as she pushes me away.

  “Angel—”

  “Why? Why go to all this trouble for a screw—”

  “Nyet! If I had wanted just a screw or a good time in bed, you would have been under me moments after we met, Irina. Never say these things when you speak of yourself again, angel. I will not allow it,” I yell, my glow completely vanishing.

  Last night I looked at the smarmy prick touching her, her mouth curving in a friendly smile, and I felt my world crumbling at my feet. I had to do something.

  “Misha. This is crazy. We got drunk and got married in a heartbeat, though only God knows how that’s even possible.”

  How? I’ve had plan B ready and waiting since I walked into her shop and saw the world’s best ass taunting me. That damn marriage licence has been burning a hole in my pocket for days.

  “We will be good together, angel. We’re friends, yes? And we’re good in bed,” I purr, rolling into her with a growl against her pink nipple.

  Her shudder of need gratifies me, settling some of the nerves I’ve been battling all morning and I grin, holding myself over her to meet her eyes.

  “We can have a good life, angel, we can.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Irina

  Looking deep into his eyes is like seeing the sunrise from a mountaintop. I feel overwhelmed. I also feel owned as he leans over me with his beautiful, tattooed chest and melds his skin to mine, reminding me of the utter pleasure and bone-deep satisfaction still coursing through me.

  Then there is the fear and fury.

  We’re married. Married, for God’s sake! After only knowing each other a week, he’s looking at me as if I’m his forever, no arguments.

  “Stop regretting this, Irina!” he yells suddenly, pushing away with a curse that blisters my ears.

  “I, well what do you want me to do?” I yell back, coming to my feet in a rush, my hand movements jerky as I wrap the sheets around me and stand gaping as he paces naked in front of the bed. “Yesterday I had my whole life turned upside down, and today I wake up to find out I’m married to a Russian billionaire who has no qualms about trampling all over me to get what he wants!”

  What does he want form me? I don’t understand any of this—why he looked at me and wanted me. Why he couldn’t just be my friend.

  Nik and Tatiana surfed the web for hours showing me pictures of his exes, or should I say bed partners, and I have no idea how he can go from being attracted to blonde, skinny socialites to wanting me.

  Liza, my only true friend in the caring department, poured milk all over Nik’s laptop at one point and threatened to beat them to death with her cleaver.

  The point is, I know what his type is and I am so not it.

  “Because you make it so difficult to do it any other way, Irina.” He charges back, stopping an arm’s length away from me.

  His chest is rising and falling and I’m almost distracted by the tattoo glaring at me from his left pec.

  “You put up walls the moment I talked to you and made up your mind that you wouldn’t even give me a chance. You’ve done nothing but shove your friendship in my face all week, and then you go and drape yourself all over another man, offering him what is mine,” he rages, pacing away again, this time pulling at the long hair on his head.

  His is completely unkempt and adorably messy as he keeps pacing and throwing Russian growls my way, stopping only to give me an odd look before continuing.

  “Misha, this is ridiculous. We can’t be married to each other. We’re not at all suited,” I try again.

  Gone is my glow and any feelings of tenderness when all the man does is sneer and fall into the chair in the corner, his disregard for his nakedness and the erection I have been trying not to look at setting my teeth on edge.

  “We are, and we suit just fine, Irina. We are very alike, you and I. We love our family and friends and we work hard to make a good life for those around us.”

  Yes, but at what cost?

  “Is this because your mama likes me?”

  That gets me a laugh and I stamp my foot until he shakes his head and looks up at me.

  “No. This is because you have what I want, Irina, and I always get what I want. Ask anyone who has ever done business with m
e. Now stop trying to annoy me with nonsense and let’s talk about how we’re going to fix your business. Vadim has found two decent locations, my preferred one just down the block on the corner of our street.”

  “What?”

  “I have found you a new shop—”

  “I don’t need a new shop. I like the old one just fine and—”

  “And Vadim called earlier when you were comatose and let me know that the place is overrun. If you wish to salvage your dreams, you will have to relocate,” he cuts in impatiently.

  I know the place he’s talking about. Heck, I looked at it first and every day since I’ve opened shop. It’s great, but totally out of my price range. Add to that the fact that I have all my money tied up in a building I have only just paid off and I am screwed.

  The news deflates my sails and I fall to the side of the bed with a moan. What the hell has happened to my life? A week ago I was riding high on family, success, and thoughts of spending my time with a bottle of wine and ice cream.

  I need a pity party right now. One that’ll blow my socks off.

  What I get instead is a man who refuses to listen as he sweeps me up and carries me to the bathroom, his lips twitching when I complain about putting his back out.

  “Angel, you are a feather compared to some of the things I lifted when I worked construction to earn starting capital. And your body is fucking sexy, never doubt that. Or should I demonstrate again how hard you make me?”

  “No, we need to talk—” I start, squeaking when he just lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me hard, his wet, hot tongue spearing into my mouth without pause—licking, sucking, and devouring till I melt all over him and cling to his neck, my nails digging into his scalp.

  “Talk is so overrated, angel. Now we take a bath to relieve the ache, and then I take you to fix things, huh?”

  I find myself unable to argue when he lowers me to the tiled floor in my tiny bathroom and flips the water on, his lazy stretch afterward making my eyes zero in on his erection.

  God, the man is huge. And sexy with that V at his hips. I allow myself a look now that I’ve been outvoted, and I want to cream myself when my eyes hit his chest and the ink on his left pec and shoulder.