Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

  That's when I know she's ready for me.

  I withdraw my hand slowly and cup her bare pussy tight before I draw back and stand up, shoving my jeans to the floor and then bending down to fish the condom out of my back pocket. Yeah, I'm a dickhead; I always keep one with me for emergencies. Never know when the ballsy blues are gonna strike, right?

  “This is so fucking crazy,” Brooke mumbles as she shoves her shorts down and tosses them aside, sitting up and curling her legs to the side. Her long hair drapes down and pools in her lap. “You do this thing all the time? Sleep with strangers?”

  I shrug my shoulders as I stand up and let her get a good, long look at me.

  “They're only strangers until you sleep with them,” I joke with a wiggle of my brows. “And then you're just lovers.” I lean forward and put my hands on the side of the bed. “You ready for me to be your lover, baby?”

  “Is your … are your balls pierced?” I stand back up and let Brooke have a good, long look. I've got quite the collection down there: tattoos all around my hips, my inner thighs, my cock, my balls. I've got a Prince Albert—a silver ring through the head—and a frenum piercing which goes through the tissue on the underside of my shaft. Can't be a body piercer without displaying my craft, right? “Oh my God.” Brooke points out the two silver metal pieces on my cock. “My favorite drummer ever has one of those. Or maybe both. Can't remember which.”

  She looks up at me and then bites the inside of her cheek.

  “Am I going to feel those? Will they hurt?”

  “Oh, you'll feel 'em, babe, but in a good way.” I grin and flash the condom in my fingers. “Ready for this?” I ask and Brooke nods, her mouth slightly parted, eyes flickering with desire. She watches me as I climb onto the bed on my knees, tearing open the condom and slicking the lubed up latex down my shaft.

  Brooke puts her hands on my chest and opens her legs for me, letting me kneel between her perfect, white thighs.

  Oh, yeah. This is gonna be great.

  Brooke and I make eye contact as I slide my tongue along my lower lip and then kiss her, enjoying the warm feel of her hands on my chest as we relax back into the pillows, warm sunshine leaking through the peach colored curtains above the bed.

  My right hand cups Brooke's left breast, kneading the flesh as she makes more of those crazy sexy small sounds against my mouth, breath coming frantic and wild as I tease her folds with my cock, giving her a taste of what's to come. She spreads her knees wide for me, putting her palms on either one of my cheeks. For whatever reason, that particular move makes me crazy horny.

  I can't wait anymore; I think we both need this.

  The head of my cock pushes up against the tight heat of Brooke's body as she sucks in a massive breath, and I thrust my hips forward, filling her up with a wild groan. Whoa, baby. I feel like I'm getting the tightest, warmest, best goddamn hug around my cock.

  “Holy sweet baby Jesus,” I whisper as she gasps and squeezes my face between her hands. “Aw, Brooke.” I lay there for a moment to let her get settled, get used to the feel of my body inside of hers. This is so my favorite part of sex, watching a woman's face as she takes me in, gets off on the hard pressure of my cock. This is my reason for living right here, to give chicks pleasure like this. “No pain?”

  “I said I was a virgin, not that I didn't masturbate,” she whispers, still carrying some of that attitude hiding behind her fresh-face. “I have dildos bigger than you.”

  “Bullshit.” I thrust my hips and her cheeks flush warm, head tilting back and pelvis rising to meet mine. I thought I was going to have to move slow, but I guess maybe she's alright. Not that she isn't tight, but clearly, there's nothing stopping me from giving this my all. I move back, pulling myself almost completely out of her and watching as her mouth pinches tight, hips straining to take me in.

  Brooke yanks my nipple rings as punishment and I hiss under my breath, thrusting my shaft deep and hard, bumping our bodies together. She puts her soft mouth up to the side of my face and kisses my jaw, her breath like honey and fucking clovers and shit.

  I'm in goddamn heaven right now.

  Our mouths meet again, Brooke's straying to the side to snag one of my lip piercings in her teeth, taking the tiny piece of metal and swirling her tongue around it. When her fingers slide up my neck and start playing with my hair, I am so done for.

  My body moves of its own accord, the long length of Brooke's rubbing against me every which where, teasing every nerve in my body with her soft, round curves, drawing me into her orbit. Did I say I hated Eureka? Fuck that. I was lying. I love it here.

  Maybe being this chick's pro bono nanny won't be so bad?

  Brooke's fingers trace the stars I shaved into the right side of my head, her other hand tangling in my hair as she encourages me to pay special attention to her neck, nibbling my way along the smooth flesh and breathing in her fruity scent. I still have no idea how or why we ended up in here doing this, but I'm pretty fucking grateful for it.

  The soft creak of the bed, the little nook where our bodies fit together in the dip of the mattress, the sunshine on my back. It's sweaty and warm and weirdly intimate (not usually my thing), but I don't let that freak me out. I embrace it, dropping a hand to Brooke's ass and encouraging her to lift one of her legs up to give me deeper access.

  When she gasps and flutters around me, I know there's not a dildo in the world that can match my movements. Hot, long strokes, diving deep and drawing all the way out. That's my style, at least until I feel Brooke's heartbeat start to pick up. That's when I drop our pelvises back together and grind up and forward, making sure her clit is moving along with me.

  Brooke's voice raises up in a lilting whimper, her hips frantically churning to meet mine, her nails digging into my skin. She's too far gone to kiss me now, her lips parted and her head tilted back into the mound of pillows. When I'm afraid she's going to outlast me, I reach down and slip two fingers in with my cock, stretching her just enough that she loses it, thrashes, comes hard all around me, squeezing me so tight that I don't have to work to finish myself. I just slow and relax into her, coming hard and lowering my body against hers as we both try to breathe past the pleasure and the swirl of happy hormones clogging our brains.

  It's always in this moment that I feel like I can really see everything clearly, when the world is crisp and sharp and unclouded.

  I look down at Brooke and I'm not sure exactly what it is I'm seeing right now.

  Who … who is this chick I just nailed into the mattress? A twenty-two year old virgin with two kids? What am I doing? This isn't a woman I picked up at the shop, some girl who's clearly on vacation with her friends that wants a what happens in Vegas story.

  No.

  This is something else completely.

  I grab the base of the condom and roll off of Brooke, laying there with my arm across my forehead, my eyes focused on the ceiling above the bed. The sex was awesome, and wow, Brooke feels good. But … didn't I tell myself no on this one?

  I glance over at her, looking for any sign of tears or disappointment or frustration. Instead, she's also looking at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

  “Thanks,” she says, turning her head to look at me with a small smile. “That was great.”

  I smile back and feel a small amount of relief wash over me.

  “Good. Wouldn't want to disappointment you on your first time.”

  Brooke stares at me for a moment, her lips twitching.

  “So … can you get out now?”

  I blink at her several times before raising both brows. Is this chick kicking me out again?

  “Time for you to pick up the kids,” she says, sitting up and sliding off the bed.

  I watch her disappear into the bathroom, that perfect ass flashing as she moves, before I groan and reach down to pull the condom off my dick.

  Right. Kids.

  So much for my after sex glow.

  Whoa.

&nb
sp; I wait until I hear the sound of an engine before sneaking out of the room and into the hallway. I slide along the wall like some kind of hero in an action flick, peeking past the curtains until Zayden pulls the minivan out of the driveway.

  My entire body is on fire right now, tingling from my toes to the crown of my head. The sensations running through me are hard to explain, like the pleasure I get from masturbating … but different. I feel alive, vibrant, like I can do fucking anything right now.

  In the back of my mind, I know all I'm feeling are residual shots of oxytocin from the orgasm, but I don't care. I feel too good to care. I just let some guy I met four days ago take my V-card on a shopping spree.

  Remaining balance … zero.

  I put my fingers up to my temples and press hard, breathing out as I shuffle back to my sister's—now my—room. When I came upstairs to shower, I couldn't stop thinking about Zayden or the way he played with that baby like it was his own. I think some girly hormones are at fault here because … he's just so goddamn cute with that kid. Maybe it's some basic biological instinct telling me that he'd make a good dad or something?

  I ignore those feelings and try to let myself just enjoy this moment. I got what I wanted, didn't I? Going to the club and stripping tonight … I'm still not excited about it, but I feel better. Zayden saw me first; Zayden slept with me first. He might be a stranger, but he's a nice guy and at least I get to know that I made the choice to sleep with him.

  Oh. And did I mention it was great? Beyond great.

  It was exactly what I was hoping it would be, all this time. Makes me not feel so bad about waiting it out like this. Suddenly I wish I was back in Berkeley and Zay was some guy from one of my classes. Maybe we could date for a while or something? I could hit a party with my roommate and tell her all about my encounter with Zay's perfect inked flesh.

  But instead, I have to do my hair and paint my face and get ready for tonight.

  This time, I'm not going to be late. I'm going to show up on time, and I'm going to do what I have to do to make money. I'm not going to take crap from anybody, I'm not going to get fired, and I sure as hell am not going to let anybody touch me.

  It's going to be okay. Everything is.

  Because I'm going to make sure it turns out that way.

  My night at the strip club is weird. That's the only way to describe it. Or maybe I feel weird because of what happened with Zayden and me. It's like there's this secret surprise waiting inside of me that I want to tell everyone about except that there's no one around that cares or wants to listen. I shoot some texts to my friends back in Berkeley, but it's just not the same without being there in person.

  The manager of the club tells me to do exactly what I did during the audition. According to my friends, some places in So Cal were willing to hire girls on the spot based on looks alone, but I had to actually try out for a job here at the Top Hat. It's the only club in town and most of the girls look like they've actually taken dance lessons before. At least it's clean inside, and the bouncers look big and brutal.

  The crowd is pretty much nonexistent, and some of the other dancers complain, but I feel myself breathe a sigh of relief, dressing up in my black teddy, matching thong, and the towering heels I bought for a Halloween party once. Oddly enough, my roommate back in Berkeley thought it would be super awesome to take pole dancing classes, so in a freak turn of luck, I know exactly what I'm doing.

  Afterwards, I don't feel as bad as I thought I would. I mean, it's not great and it's definitely not my dream job, but at least bullshit and harassment aren't tolerated by the bouncers or the management. I can tell customers to fuck off if they get too rowdy and not worry about being fired. Honestly, in another job, it might be worse having to deal with subtle misogynistic crap all the time.

  I think I can do this—at least until I get my degree. Then I'll be able to get a job as a biostatistician and make a cool hundred grand a year to start. I might have to move the girls at that point, but at least things should be more stable then.

  As I'm driving home after, I let the radio play and listen to some stupid pop songs instead of my usual hardcore stuff. I have no idea why, probably because of Zayden or something, but I'm definitely not in a place to psychoanalyze that right now.

  I pull into the driveway next to his minivan and take a deep breath.

  Please don't let this be weird, I think as I climb out and make my way to the front door. I let myself in with my key, finding the baby asleep in the portable crib, baby monitor sitting nearby. I don't see Zayden at first, but then I notice that the back door is cracked and move over to peek outside.

  He's sitting on the tire swing that's strung up in the back, hunched over the glowing screen of his phone. As soon as he hears my heels on the damp wood of the deck, he glances up and gives a little wave, hopping off and jogging across the yard.

  “Well.” Zayden claps his hands together in a prayer position and puts the tips of his fingers against his lips, eyes wide as he looks up at me. “How was it?”

  I pause and swing my keys in a circle on my finger, trying to figure out how to put my night into words … and then direct those words at the guy standing in front of me. I never thought I would be in the position of having slept with the nanny. Isn't that spot usually reserved for old guys smack dab in the center of a midlife crisis?

  “It didn't break me the way I thought it would,” I say as Zayden drops his hands and comes up the steps. The guy has a serious personal space issue, getting way too close for comfort. When he pauses in front of me, I realize he's got either blood or ketchup splattered across his shirt. I hope it's the latter, but knowing how kids are, it could go either way. “Everyone okay?” I ask as I point at the stain and Zay glances down, wrinkling his nose. The silver ring through his nostril winks at me in the moonlight.

  “Define okay. I think Kinzie's going to be the fucking death of me. But this … to be straight-up honest with you, I haven't got a goddamn clue what it is.” Zayden lifts his shirt up, sniffs it, then shrugs his broad shoulders loosely, twisting the fabric up to glance at his bare chest underneath. The sight of all that skin brings back thought obliterating memories. “Ah, okay. Cat scratch.” I notice a dark red gash between Zay's pecs. “Well that explains the hell outta that, huh?”

  “The kids were okay for you?” I ask, hoping to God that he'll drop his shirt back into place. The whole sex thing is awkward enough as it is without him flashing me like that.

  “Your kids?” he asks as he finally folds his white t-shirt over the wound and raises his pierced eyebrow. “Your two are, like, fucking seraphic compared to those other ones.” Zayden pauses and nibbles his lip for a moment. “Except for the baby. I like the baby.”

  “Good, good.” I stop swinging my keys and clutch them in the heat of my palm, remembering suddenly how good Zayden's nipples felt when I was teasing them with my fingers. Damn. My body feels addicted to his, like I could go another round or two or seven.

  “So,” he says gesturing as he moves over to the back door and leans against it to open it for me. “Tell me about your big night. I want all the deets.”

  “Deets?” I raise my brows but slip past Zayden into the kitchen. The most logical, rational part of me wants to tell him to go home again, but that's not fair to the kids. He's doing me a huge favor here and he shouldn't have to wake up a six month old, two four year olds, and a seven year old just because I'm having trouble controlling my hormones.

  “Yup. Deets. The down and dirty. The skinny. I want it all.” Zayden gestures at me with his tattooed fingers in a come on gesture, the word EASY flashing upside down at me from his knuckles. I watch him as he turns and opens the fridge, grabbing a plate of premade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He plops them down on the table between us as I stare, not entirely sure what's happening right now. “Milk?” he asks as he lifts up a jug. I nod slowly and pull out a seat as Zay brings two glasses over and sets them down, yanking out a chair and spinning it around so h
e can lean forward and cross his arms over the back.

  Zay stares at me from his pale green eyes for a long, quiet moment before reaching forward and peeling the plastic wrap off the plate. He grabs a sandwich with the crust cut off and hands it to me. I take it gingerly and look down, wondering when the last time I had a PB&J was.

  “There weren't that many people in the club,” I say as I realize there's light music trickling into the room. It's some Avril Lavigne song that makes me wrinkle my nose. “The other girls were complaining the whole time, but honestly, it was a huge relief.”

  “They teach you to dance or did you just shake your shit?” Zay asks with a smile that clearly says his words are a joke. I take a tentative bite of my sandwich and chew it carefully. Perfect jelly to peanut butter ratio. Nice.

  “Believe it or not, when I lived in So Cal, my friends thought it'd be hot to take pole dancing classes.” I shrug my shoulders. “Guess it's coming in handy.”

  “Oooh. Well, I'd pay to see that.” He winks at me and grabs a sandwich, shoving half of it in his mouth before he starts chewing. One more bite and that sucker's gone completely. I nibble at mine as he drains the entire glass of milk in one go. “So … it went well then?”

  “It went okay. I would never want my nieces to have to go through anything like this, but yeah. It was fine. I can do this—for a little while anyway.” I keep chewing on my sandwich as Zay taps his fingers in time to the shitty pop music that's playing. I guess we're not going to mention the sex which is good because I have no idea how to bring it up or if I even should bring it up. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, not because I'm trying to be rude. I just don't get it. This guy, he doesn't owe me anything at all.

  Zay tilts his head at me and then runs the fingers of his right hand over the shaved side of his head.

  “Why wouldn't I be? You want me to act like a dick?”

  “No, I was just curious.” Zayden shrugs and then laces his fingers together behind his head.

  “I know girls say they like assholes and all that, but really, ya get more flies with honey, Miss Overland.” Another wicked slow smile and a wink. “I've never had any trouble getting women by being friendly, you know? But since we had sex this afternoon, I can be a prick if you want.”