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

by Kristina Weaver

“Tight. Christ, you’re so tight and wet. I feel you soaking my skin. Love it, angel. I want you all over me, marking me.” I grunt, thrusting harder, faster, almost blind and deaf to anything but the feel of her snug heat tightening around me, signalling her impending release.

  So good, so fucking good. I want to kiss her as I come, taste her passion and feed her mine as we both lose control and the scorching heat of her sex sucks my cum, but she does what she always does—what drives me blind with rage. She turns her lips into my neck to muffle her screams.

  I keep thrusting even when she’s whimpering, too sensitive to take more from me. I want her to feel it, know that it’s me she’s addicted to, me who can fuck her through her twitching, gasping pain and shoot her straight to the stars again.

  When I’m in this mood I can screw forever without coming, so I do. I keep thrusting, my sweat pouring, coating us both, making us slip and glide as I pound into her, taking her to her second and third orgasms before releasing my hold and jackhammering into her as I release, roaring my pleasure as I come so much, I feel it gush between us with every last thrust before I still and fall to the bed over her.

  Our breaths are harsh, choppy, and agonized for several strained minutes before I pull away and practically run from the room.

  I just came in her.

  Chapter Six

  Irina

  “I hate men!”

  The yell is satisfying as I wince and drop my throbbing head to the table before me. I’m hungover and my belly’s been roiling since I woke up this morning.

  Alone.

  Crying in my sleep.

  Men!

  “Calm down, honey. If not for you, then for us. Please. I want to die,” Nik whispers as I force myself up again and grab another cookie from the cooling sheet with a curse.

  I’m at work to get through my temper tantrum, and I realize, without much pleasure, that the only reason I’ve been set free from the mighty tower of His Royal Highness, is that he’s too damn afraid to come near me to refuse.

  “He ran out as if the hounds of hell were on his ass. I mean, seriously, I was drunk but not that drunk that I didn’t feel like a total whore when he pulled out and lit out of there,” I yell again, hating the stupid tears that keep threatening to spill down my cheeks.

  Work, for once in my life, sucks balls. I’ve never once come in and not wanted to lose myself in the monotonous heaven that is my sugar-filled studio—yes, I consider myself an artist when it comes to my job.

  It’s not working today, and not because I feel like I’m about to pass out and choke to death in a puddle of my own puke, either, but because my damned feelings are hurt.

  “Maybe he forgot to do something,” Nik offers, groaning at the sound of the bell.

  “Forgot something! The only damn thing he forgot was that I’m his wife, not some two-bit hooker,” I yell again, crushing a cookie when my fist snaps shut of its own volition.

  I’m so mad and humiliated right now. It takes me a full minute to realize that Nik’s not groaning anymore and the sounds I hear are quiet sniffles.

  “Nik?”

  The sniffling gets louder and she lifts her head—her uncharacteristically disheveled head—and her face crumples.

  “Oh, honey. What’s wrong?”

  I cringe when I hug her closer and she wipes her snot all over my shirt, the slimy mess soaking in to hit my skin.

  “I am. I’m a-a two-bit…” she wails, my wince going unnoticed when she pulls me closer and sobs more.

  “Oh, honey, no.”

  “Yes, I-I am. Vadi does that to me all the time, and I keep spreading anyway. I mean,” she sniffs loudly and pulls away, shuddering as she wipes her nose on her wrinkled sleeve, “he comes over, screws me, pulls out immediately, and showers before hotfooting it home. Every time he does it I keep swearing it will be the last, and then…”

  Oh shit. Her face scrunches before she just crumples all over the flour-strewn surface. She’s so upset, I don’t even say a darn thing about germs or the fact that we just lost a whole batch of perfectly good cookies to her snot party.

  When Stalin opens her mouth I glare her into submission before turning back to stroke Nik’s back.

  “Nik, hun, you don’t have to accept that if it’s not what you want.”

  “I love the idiot, Irina. I mean really love him. Like I let him come in me without a condom kind of love.”

  Oh hell.

  Have I mentioned that Nik is the epitome of perfect at all times? Well she is. Never a hair out of place, perfect makeup, clothes looking like they just came off the hanger.

  And the woman has a serious dislike for sharing bodily fluids. She once told me that a man complained about going down on her and only getting to do her.

  She remedied that by giving him a blowjob that made his eyes cross. With a condom on.

  The fact that Nik lets Vadi…come in her?

  “I’m…shit, what the heck am I supposed to say here, babe? I’m in the same freaking boat. The only difference is I’ve got a rock and you don’t,” I mutter, throwing the cookie crumbs at the table with a snarl.

  They miss completely, instead falling to the floor in the exact spot I was stabbed, the reminder making my blood go cold.

  “But you’re not. That’s the problem. Misha may be a total ass sometimes, and I get that, don’t think I don’t, but he wants more with you, Ri. You talk, you spend time together, and you laugh together. All I get when we’re not in the safety of company is a hard fuck and the brushoff. He never stays, never once held me. I feel…”

  “Cheap. I get it, Nik. My advice, what I don’t have the strength to do, is tell him to take a hike. Now I know it sucks ‘cause I am so not following my own advice, either, but it’s the right advice. The next time he calls you or comes at you, tell him you want more or nothing.”

  I should know. I want more, too, and all I get is a man who smothers me one minute and leaves me cold the next. And here I thought his refusal to share was the worst thing he could ever do to me.

  Huh! I was wrong, I think, as Nik sits silently while I attack a ball of dough with my fists and pent-up rage. What the hell is wrong with the Novac men?

  That’s not fair, though, is it? I mean look at Leo. The guy is crazy for Tat, a woman carrying another man’s child. All he has left to do at this point is marry the woman.

  He loves her, wants her, and is willing to kill Luka to get him out of the way.

  “God, I feel like hell.”

  “You should. You’re carrying demon spawn,” I mutter, still not in the least impressed with Luka as Tat trudges in while a chirpy Eliza chats with a customer, laughing her head off.

  “Shut your filthy mouth, you sexy slag. My baby isn’t spawn. And you two look like hell. What did they do?”

  “Vadim screws Nik, pulls out, showers and leaves.”

  “Misha almost broke his ass running out of the bedroom after he tried to hose down Ri’s insides with his big, thick—”

  Stalin snorts and chokes out a laugh before howling and dropping her head to peer at us. With that smile on her face, she’s smoking hot and we all gasp.

  “Jesus, Stalin, you’re a fox.”

  Oh, Tatiana, you have a gift for understatement.

  “My name is Angelica. And I know.” She smirks, leaning over to close my mouth with one delicate finger.

  “But you’re supposed to be ugly. Meanies are ugly,” I squeak, just barely stopping myself from going over to hump her leg like an animal.

  Her eyes are the most startling dark shade of blue I have ever seen, making them appear almost purple, and her coal-black hair is rich and glossy, even in a matronly bun.

  Add to that the fact that her lips are Angelina pout worthy and her face could make angels weep. And I’m pretty sure I just came out of the closet.

  “Wow, okay, just wow,” I say when she rolls her eyes and starts cleaning up the cookies with a frown before dragging the others closer.

  “Where the�
��how the…why are you so hot?!” Tat yells.

  “Thank my daddy’s nuts and my mama’s old coochie, ladies. Now, I’ve been listening to you all commiserate about alcohol, men, and the lack of good batteries all freaking morning, and quite frankly I am sick and tired of that shit. If you’re tired of being treated like you’re garbage, don’t wallow in the dumpster, ladies.”

  Okay, that makes sense. Except…

  “You calling my husband a dumpster, hottie? Because if you are, I am seriously rethinking seducing you and giving you the night of your life.”

  They all laugh at me as if I’m not half serious, and Angelica shakes her head.

  “No, I’m saying you all have allowed your lives to become garbage. Garbage. The smelly stuff. Men are pretty simple. They require so little, really. Food, a good home, laughter, and a freak in the bedroom. All that aside, they need security. Now don’t shake your heads at me, I’m married to a man who owns a freaking bondage club and I know this shit.”

  Floor, meet jaw.

  “Bondage club?” I say.

  “Yup. He’s not, like, into it or anything, don’t go looking at me as if you think I’d let that man collar me. It’s just business, but my guy is very….in tune with his emotions and he told me three things when we got married. ‘Never play with my dick without finishing,’ self- explanatory. ‘Never touch the remote when I’m watching football,’ and last but definitely not least, ‘Never make me feel like I’m not a man.’ Simply put, he told me that while he enjoys and loves my independence, he also really just needs to be the man in our marriage. He wants to care for me when I’m sick, take care of the bills, and be the one who protects me. It’s not quite that basic, but you get the idea. Now, Ri, you got attacked and almost died recently—sorry by the way, that really bummed me out. Word is your guy held your dying ass in his arms?”

  I nod silently and blink when she grimaces.

  “That must have killed him. Not only could he not protect you, he also had to watch you dying, helpless to do a thing. That’s gotta have really fucked him up. Big time. When I told John, he tried to get me to quit working here.”

  “No!” I gasp. “I only just found you. Don’t break up with me when I have my first lesbian crush.”

  “Honey,” she laughs, her eyes twinkling. “I love my husband too much to ever cheat on him, no matter how fine your bubble butt is. Back on point, though. John was pretty vocal about you insisting on coming back here. Apparently Misha will feel threatened, irrationally protective, and downright murderous. See, he feels like he’ll lose you again, and men, they do not deal well with emotional overload apparently. John explains it better, but he said you need to make Misha feel secure.”

  I know exactly why the man feels adrift and with all the guns he has on my ass, protecting me twenty-four seven, it’s not just about me returning to work.

  It’s about the damn kissing.

  “Er, I don’t think it’s the whole safety thing that’s got his dick in a twist,” I finally admit, looking anywhere but at her as guilt sets in.

  Misha is one of those true hedonists, and I mean real, dirty hedonism when I say that. The man has no boundaries when it comes to sex.

  H touches, licks, sucks, and bangs every part of me he can get to, and don’t even get me started on his excitement about my period. I think it’s pretty gross, but the man says true intimacy allows for everything, without embarrassment or hang-ups.

  “Spill.”

  “Ahem, I think it may be because I won’t let him…”

  “Screw you.”

  “Please do not tell me you’re one of those women who don’t like oral sex.”

  “Tap your back hole? Don’t sweat it, sister. I find that ewskie too.”

  “Kiss me,” I grit out, blushing at the naughtiness of some of my memories.

  They all stare at me before Tatiana gasps and starts huffing.

  “Why the heck not?”

  “You remember he kissed his ex skank, right?”

  “Uh yeah, you won’t let a day go by without mentioning it, Ri.”

  She’s right. I guess I am still kind of bitter about that.

  “That’s harsh. You went back to him, Ri. You’re supposed to forgive him and get over it, not use it against him like some sort of weapon. Either let it go or move on, but don’t punish him forever. A man is territorial. He’ll want everything or he’ll start resenting you,” Angelica says softly.

  “Easy for you to say! You did not walk in on your husband Frenching a sea hag.”

  “Nope, I walked in on my husband whipping some woman in his club one night when they were doing a scene. Trust me, that’s worse. It took me a while to stop hating him, but I made the choice to do it because I love him and he swore to me it meant nothing. I let it go and made him swear never to do anything like that again. He did, and I trust him because I need to. Did Misha say anything?”

  “Just that she kissed him and he had a brief moment of ‘error,’” I sneer.

  “Error.” What a douche.

  “It’s up to you to let it go or move on. Make a choice, but you know you can’t keep this up. As for the whole vaulting out of bed after sex thing, I heard you and Tat on speakerphone a few days ago. I thought you guys were using protection?”

  “Bingo.” They all trill as my eyes widen and I look down at my belly in horror.

  Chapter Seven

  Irina

  “Okay, fine. What about Nik?” I ask, desperately needing to change the subject as Eliza strolls in and plants coffee in my grateful hands before skipping out.

  Angelica’s eyes go softer and I want to kiss her just to get her to shut up when she turns to Nik and shakes her head.

  “He’s lying to you about something, honey. Whatever it is will not be good, so be prepared for it. Ri is right, though. You give him your ultimatum, and if he doesn’t want to try for more then cut him loose. I know men like him. My first husband was like that, too, and I found out later that he had a whole secret life and family that he was hiding from me while I supported them all. It’s time to stop thinking with your heart and make him see you.”

  “See me? I don’t get it. He sees me. Hell he’s seen every part of me, even the parts I should have introduced to exercise.” She mutters morosely, making me smirk in agreement.

  “No dummy, you. I’m talking about him seeing the vulnerable Nikita, the woman who loves him and aches with every desertion.”

  “No…”

  I get her horror and the bone-deep fear she feels at exposing herself so much. I feel the same way, because I know that I have to do it, too. I need to explain myself and my love to Misha before I can forgive him.

  “Yep. See, men aren’t like us emotional hags. They get mad and deal with it and move on. They’re basic. We, on the other hand, have this habit of torturing ourselves with bottled-up feelings and pride. Pride has no place in love. It’s love’s enemy. Drop that mantle and deal, or prepare to be burned, honey. Now if you all will excuse me, I gotta do Ri’s job to keep this dump open.”

  ***

  Misha

  The feeling of bone shattering under my knuckles is so familiar and sweet, I feel my heart go a little loopy as the scum before me whimpers and starts coughing on his own blood.

  I’ve taken two of his teeth already, and one eye that I know won’t be working well after that. If he lives. And he’s still not talking.

  “Who the fuck keeps ordering hits on my fucking wife!” I roar again, my legendary cool slipping fast as memories of last night and the sounds of Irina sniffling in the shower bombard me.

  I’m teetering here and more than willing to take out every ounce of my frustration at my inability to make her happy on this guy. I’m feeling stalked, trapped, cornered, and it’s making me twitchy—something that’s starting to bleed into my personal life, and I don’t like it.

  They’re messing with my control, messing with the order of my world and the plans I had in place.

  “I don�
��t know! Please, I got a family—a wife and kids, Misha.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about what you have, you piece of shit. I have a wife—an innocent, smiling, kind angel of a woman, and some piece of garbage took a knife to her. You remember me, brother? You remember how seriously I take personal threats to those I love?” I ask sinisterly.

  “Please.”

  “I’m giving you one last chance here, one chance only to tell me who it was. I want the man and I want his boss. You know something. Tell me and you live. Don’t and I will be very displeased.”

  This part of me has been long dead for years, squashed beneath my will and need for stability and control. Killed when my little girl was born and the need to be better and safer became about more than just me.

  “I don’t know much. Shit, I just heard a rumor that the Chenkos were spooked by some girl from the past and Gideon wanted her taken care of. They’d have sent The Knife to take care of it if they were serious. He never fails.”

  Ah, I should have thought. Each family has its own enforcers, runners, and so on, almost like a company that worked like a well-oiled machine. Each piece is necessary, vital, and needs to run smoothly, performing its function for the company to survive.

  When we were younger Leo was the accountant while I was the muscle. I enforced the law as we all saw it, along with a few friends who still work for my father.

  So, the Chenkos have their very own killer in house. Not surprising since most families do, but what does surprise me is that they would use him for this instead of contracting out to avoid a trail I can follow.

  “Why would they use one of their own instead of a free agent? Seems stupid considering they must know she is my wife and that I will retaliate.”

  “Dude, they’re falling. Don’t you know? They lost standing with the council and have lost territory. They’re on their last legs, man. They can’t afford to look outside their own, and besides, no one will deal with them since they’ve been made an example of.”

  If they’re being pushed out and scrambling for a saving grace, it would fuck them up totally to have Maximillian coming for them.