BAD APPLE: The Complete Series (Parts 1-5) (4 page)

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.

Irina

This shit hurts.

And to make matters worse, I banged myself up pretty good after waking in the hospital and realizing I had one chance to get the hell out before Misha returned.

How anyone got him to leave in the first place is beyond me, since the man was quite adamant about staying, but I am eternally grateful. I need to get the hell out of here and get to work.

Which was painful since I hit my bandaged ankle on the cab door and almost passed out on my apartment stairs when the freaking banister hit my shoulder. Or I hit the bannister. The fact remains I almost killed myself getting up there, and if not for the cabbie I’d be in a hospital bed right now.

But I am finally at work. Barely in one piece.

“Ya take it easy now, sweet’eart, ya hear? Ya need to get anywhere, he’se my numba and ole Joe’ll be right ovah. Don’t go callin’ anothah cabbie. I don’t trust them assholes to help ya right.”

“Aww, Joey, you’re such a peach. Thanks, doll,” I titter, struggling out of the cab with one crutch just before the three evils in my life come streaming out of the shop and almost kill me while looking me over.

“Oh my God! What the hell happened?”

“Are you okay?”

“Is this a sex injury?!” Tat yells at the top of her lungs, causing people to turn and gawk at my ankle, wrist, and head in astonishment.

“No! What the hell’s wrong with you?” I yell, almost falling in my haste to get inside and into the back.

The customers there all gape and start sweating as I hop in, practically collapsing when I hit the counter near the register and bang my foot.

“Sonofagun! Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry.”

“Not you, Alfie. I was talking to myself,” I mutter, sweat pouring as I fall into the stool at the register and bite my lip to stop an anguished cry.

I can’t do anything like this! I’m trussed up with a buggered left ankle, a buggered left shoulder, a pounding head, and an ass that’s howling for mercy.

How am I gonna bake and mix and do my job?

I sit for several minutes lost in self-pity and feeling sorry for myself when a brave soul finally sidles up to the counter and gives me a sad look.

“Do we have to leave without our orders, Ri?”

“Sorry, Alfie, so sorry,” I titter, taking his order and ringing him up as Nik starts filling boxes.

We go this way for a good twenty minutes, making people happy, cracking jokes and smiling just for the sake of it, before I look up to see a fuming Russian standing over me, breathing fire.

“You…you have much explaining to do, woman,” he barks, vibrating with an emotion that looks a lot like anger but also like complete panic.

Here I am, plain little Irina Velnicova, being stalked by a god of a man who just happens to know exactly how I injured myself while a pack of cackling crones advance on us looking ready to draw blood.

“How’d she get hurt?”

“I thought it was a sex injury at first, but now I’m just stumped.”

“Was it the cat again? I hate that little fucker.”

“Nik!”

“Remember when he pretended to be affectionate and you pulled him onto your lap? He almost bit your—”

“STOP!”

“Well he did and that woulda been cannibalism,” she mumbles cheekily, totally ruining my bitter mood when she deposits a cup of strawberry-flavored cappuccino in front of me.

Clever ass.

The ribbing has distracted Misha and I look up to see his lips twitching, my eyes narrowing in warning when Tatiana sidles closer and looks at him expectantly.

“My lips will remain sealed as soon as you agree to come home with me and rest.”

“I have to work.”

The door to the bakery opens, the bell ringing merrily, and I almost groan when Leo and Vadim sidle in, their faces going white when they see me.

“Ri, my sweet temptress, what the heck happened to you?” Vadim demands, coming over to inspect me thoroughly before laying a wet one on my lips.

“Nothing that anyone needs to know about,” I mumble, looking pointedly at Misha who’s fighting not to laugh.

Leo just frowns and gives me a wave before looking at my shoulder and my head.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ri.”

No, what I should be doing right now is making a three-tiered cupcake tower complete with caramel filling and chocolate and strawberry icing for a bachelorette party tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, I’m taking her home for some rest and those pain pills her doctor gave me earlier,” Misha growls.

“No—”

“Fine, you won’t listen to me, angel? I’ll just call Mama. She’ll be all over you with soup and wet kisses in no time.”

I know Russian mamas. They smother you and feed you nonstop till your body heals in self-defence just to stop you from gaining twenty pounds in three days!

They also have this terrible habit of over-exaggerating an injury and calling any and all people in their phone books to commiserate about the poor invalid.

My mama once called an entire phone tree when I had my appendix out, swearing I almost died on the operating table when, in fact, I made it through in an hour and spent less time in the hospital than I do in the bath.

And there’s my biggest problem right there. If she starts calling people, my mom will be in the know in under an hour and I’ll be overrun by three Velnicovas, to be precise.

“Fine! But we’re going to my place and I am not taking those pills,” I mutter, shoving the order book at Tatiana with a warning.

“You will take pills,” he says slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, his accent going deep with every enunciated word. “You will rest, and you will do so in my bed.”

The silence around us is deafening, shattered only by the wild and altogether frenzied screaming of my hormones when he calmly leans in, slides his arms under me, and neatly hoists me over the counter and into his arms.

              He barks an order to Leo while I am shocked, enthralled, and totally taken with the way he’s cradling me as if I weigh nothing. Total ego boost. And then I do something I shouldn’t do.

I give in.