Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

“I think men that go to strip clubs are pathetic.”

  A nod from Zayden.

  “Have you ever been to a strip club before?” I ask.

  Slight smile.

  “Yup.”

  “So then … I think you're pathetic.”

  I sit up straight and lift my chin. Zayden just keeps nodding at me.

  “More than likely, yeah.”

  “I feel like … I don't want to give monetary value to my body.” I put my hands together over my chest, my loose red peasant top ruffling with the motion. “To me, it … there is no amount of money that's worth me. I am priceless. I am … my value is more than just dollars.”

  “Exactly.” Zayden snaps his fingers and then leans forward, putting his palms against the floor, his face getting way too close to mine for comfort. My heart starts to pound and sweat trickles down my spine. “So don't think of it that way then. Stripping is a job, that's it. It doesn't define you, just like, say, working as a soulless insurance salesmen doesn't. You can either suck it up and bang it out, or you can't. Don't torture yourself, Smarty-Pants.”

  “I don't exactly have a choice, Zayden.”

  “That's a goddamn lie,” he says, dropping to his belly on the carpet and turning his face towards the baby. She giggles and reaches out a chubby hand to slap at his face. He sticks his tongue out and she smiles a goofy smile. “There's always a choice. Sometimes it's between a few shitty things—like pretty much every presidential election ever—but that doesn't we can't make up our own minds about it anyway. From what I figure, sometimes the “bad” choice is really the harder choice.”

  “I have fifty bucks. Literally. Exactly fifty, and only because I drove over to Nelly's house and threatened to beat up her boyfriend.”

  Zayden pauses, pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking up at me.

  His smile's almost as goofy as the baby's.

  “You go girl. Tougher than you look, huh?”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” I scoot away from Zayden and drop to my tummy, so that our faces are at the same level. I tell myself I'm doing it for the baby, but really I just want to look this guy in the face. “How do I look?”

  Zayden pauses and stares right at me, tilting his head to the side. I notice that today, there are stars shaved into the short side of his hair. They weren't there yesterday. Did he do that himself? Huh.

  “Soft,” he says and then lifts his palms up in surrender, elbows pressed into the carpet. “Not in a bad way. You just look … I don't know, young? But maybe like you're trying too hard not to be.”

  I pinch my brows together as Sadie moves in between us and starts heading for the small table against the wall. Zayden scoots back and picks her up, depositing her on the opposite side of the blanket and letting her have at it again.

  “Trying too hard?” I ask, doing my best not to be offended. I asked his opinion, and now I'm getting it. I can't complain if I don't like the results. “I just want to do the right thing.”

  “No such thing,” Zayden says as he puts his hands on his hips and watches Sadie in her peach and white outfit, the lavender flower headband wobbling as she starts her journey from the beginning. “The right thing, I mean. It's a myth. All we can do is try to walk our own path and not screw up anybody else's. That's life, man.”

  “According to Zayden Roth,” I say as I stand up and check the time on my phone. I have a little while before I have to get Grace, so I may as well use it to get my head together. Maybe I'll put on some music and lock myself in the upstairs bedroom? Let the sweet trill of rock music wash all my pain away. “I'm not sure how valid your opinion is, based on the music you listen to.”

  He swings a look my way and then winks at me.

  “And what do you listen to? Rap? Country? Where's your pedestal, Smarty-Pants?”

  “Rock. Metal. Punk.”

  “Ooooh, angry music. Gotcha.”

  “Well, I think the music you listen to is shallow, technically uncomplicated, and so drenched in mainstream bullshit that any message the words could've delivered is basically null and void.”

  “Shots fired,” Zayden says, slicking two fingers across the shaved side of his head. “But oh, I guess that was a miss, Smarty-Pants.” He winks at me again and I feel an unwanted warmth rush through me. Whoa. I know I'm in trouble when I start wondering what those two fingers would feel like slipping inside of me.

  Yikes.

  “I'm going to take a shower,” I say, grabbing my purse and heading up the stairs.

  “Godspeed, Brooke Overland,” Zay says as he flops back down in front of the baby, lifting her up and getting her into a sitting position. Then he takes her arms in his tattooed fingers and lowers her back to the floor, helping her sit up and then putting her down again. He makes weird sounds as he does it and she giggles like crazy, like this is the best game ever.

  I watch him for a few seconds and then retreat into the bathroom—and lock the door behind me.

  It's not Zayden that I'm scared of though, it's me and what I might do if I get my hands on him again.

  As predicted, Sadie conks out about fifteen minutes after Brooke heads upstairs.

  I get her situated in the portable crib I brought over with me, making sure she's situated on her back before I pop the baby monitor on the table next to her and head over to the couch to sit down for a minute.

  Whew.

  Talk about a tough job. I've decided never to make fun of Mercedes again when she flops down into her computer chair and moans through the mic about how tired she is. Learned my lesson here, folks. Taking care of kids is fucking hard; I'd much rather pierce tits for a living.

  I check my phone and find a duck face selfie from Kitty on the Strip, her fingers raised in a peace sign, her top low-cut and enticing as hell. She's cropped the damn thing, so I can't see anything but a tantalizing line of cleavage disappearing into the frame.

  I stare at her for a minute and sigh. Now's not exactly the best time to start up a sexting session, is it? I tap my red Doc on the floor and then get up, slipping the baby monitor into my back pocket and heading up the stairs to find Brooke.

  “Hey,” I say as I knock on the door and wait for a response. “You want me to pick up all the kids?” Bella and Kinzie go to the same school, so there's not really much point in us both going all the way out there. “Brooke?”

  I tap my knuckles against the wood and then reach down for the knob.

  It's unlocked.

  I slip inside and find the room empty; the sound of the shower is audible through the bathroom door, so I sit down to wait, crossing my legs at the ankle and leaning back into the bed. Hard to believe that I had her naked underneath me the day before yesterday—and that I turned it all down.

  I dick around on my phone for a few minutes, waiting for the water of the shower to die away, for the click of the lock. When Brooke emerges, I sit up and find her in nothing but a towel, her long dark hair hanging down her back, cheeks flushed from the warmth in the bathroom.

  “You want me to pick up all the kids?” I ask and she jumps, screaming and whirling, the towel flying to the floor with the motion as she slams her body into the dresser behind her.

  The sight is fucking swag as hell. Brooke's body is a dream, this curvy slice of perfection, her chest heaving with surprise, eyes wide, dark hair hanging over her breasts like some kind of wild woman. Oh yeah. I'd sure like to show her my wild side.

  Wait. No. Nope. Didn't I, like, already decide this girl was off-limits?

  “What the … FUCK?!” she yells as she dives down and retrieves the towel, tucking it up against her breasts. The motion hides all the good stuff, but I can still see an intriguing amount of flesh on either side, including the perfectly round shape of her hip. “Are you insane? Don't you have any sense of propriety? Get the hell out of here!”

  “Propriety? Big word there, Smarty. I have no idea what it means.” I stand up and brush my shirt off while Brooke turns and hefts up a small wooden box, f
lashing me the ripe shape of her ass. When she turns back, she pulls back her arm and launches the box my direction.

  I duck, and the thing hits the wall, opening with a spray of pennies across the floor.

  “Out. Now. Leave.” She points her arm at the door, panting hard and staring at me with that intense gaze of hers. I shrug my shoulders, not sure what the big deal is here, and start out, pausing next to her to smile.

  “It's not like I even saw any of the good stuff.” I make an X across my chest as she watches me and then turn back towards the door, stepping into the hallway and cringing when the wood slams closed behind me. Damn. Guess I made a mistake right there?

  Whoops.

  I start down the hallway when Brooke opens the door in a loose tank and shorts, her nipples hard beneath the thin layer of black fabric.

  “Just because I'm stripping tonight doesn't give you the right to peep at me naked, okay?”

  “Of course it doesn't,” I say as I glance over my shoulder and wrinkle my nose. “I just didn't expect you to come charging out of there with your towel flapping. It's my bad, sorry.”

  She watches me for a minute and then sweeps her fingers through the tousled wet hair on top of her head. With a deep breath, Brooke moves down the hallway with softly padding steps as I turn to look at her. She pauses in front of me for a moment and then lifts her arms up and puts them around my neck, lifting her mouth to mine and sliding her tongue between my lips.

  I have, like, literally no idea what's happening.

  But I also suck at turning down pretty girls.

  “You do this a lot, right?” Brooke asks as she pulls back a fraction. I cock a pierced brow.

  “Huh?” I know I should push her away, demand an explanation or something, but … I only have so much self-control. “What do you mean?”

  “Casual sex. You do this a lot, don't you? So you should be good at it.”

  “Uh, this is kind of my thing. I don't mean to brag or anything, but … I'm hella boss at sex.”

  “Good.”

  Brooke pushes her lips against mine, searing heat into my mouth as we stumble back and I push her into the wall, dropping my palms to the boring beige walls on either side of her head. Wet hair tickles my face as we slant our mouths together, tongues slick and hot, chasing the ember of heat in my blood into a fucking bonfire.

  Oh, hell yes.

  This is wrong on so many levels, but she came onto me. I'm pretty much helpless to resist.

  Brooke's nails dig into my skin and I feel the sharp bite of pain morph into pleasure, channeling a line straight down into my cock. I got diamond in my jeans, baby. Holy Christ.

  I push my body harder into Brooke's and she groans, opening up to me, letting me slip a leg between her thighs. Without any prompting, I feel her grind her body against the leg of my jeans, pressing hard as she rocks her hips in a frantic rhythm.

  In the back of my mind, I wonder where the hell this came from, but I don't really give two craps. I haven't had sex in a week, haven't even gotten the chance to touch myself. My balls are tight and they hurt, and fuck, this girl is smokin' hot.

  “Bedroom?” I mouth against her lips. There's no way I'm taking some chick's virginity up against a wall like this. No way. That's too messed up. If I'm going to run with this, I'm going to do a good job at it.

  “Mmm,” Brooke moans, gasping as I pull my leg away and cup her heat with my hand, feeling a dampness in the crotch of her shorts that has nothing to do with the shower she just took.

  “You absolutely positive you want to do this?” I ask and she nods, letting me cup the side of her face with my hand. “This isn't just a moment of panic that you'll regret in the morning?”

  “I think if I don't do this, I'll regret it in the morning.” Brooke takes a deep breath and sweeps long hair back over her shoulders. “Listen, I was with this one guy for three years. He said that … well, he wanted us to save our virginities for our wedding night.”

  I cock a brow at that one. Huh. I saved my virginity for my best friend's older sister, waited until I was fifteen years old. Pretty proud of myself for that one.

  “Anyway, my point is, I've been holding off on this for all the right reasons.” A pause as she looks down the hallway and then back at my face. If she's thinking what I'm thinking, then she knows we have just about an hour before we have to start picking up kiddies.

  A tight timeline to ease someone out of their virginity, but I'll manage.

  “So why not do this for the wrong ones? Please. I know you don't know me, but that doesn't even really matter, does it?” Brooke makes eye contact with me and holds my gaze. I can see her, but it's like everything is hazy, like there's a film over my vision that's obscured by lust. I want her so bad, I can barely breathe. “Please.”

  Come on. Those big brown Bambi eyes, those hot swollen lips (both sets), the way her chest is rising and falling with a strained need.

  I just can't say no to any of that.

  “Come on.” I reach down and take Brooke's wrist, pulling her into the bedroom and popping the baby monitor out of my pocket, setting it on a dresser so I'll be able to hear if Sadie wakes up. God, I hope not.

  I kick off my shoes and peel my socks away, tossing them aside while Brooke watches and crosses her arms over her belly. When I stand back up, I drag her onto the bed next to me and lay so that we're facing each other.

  One of my hands reaches out and takes her gently by the back of the neck, encouraging her to move in closer, press our bodies together. When our mouths meet this time, it's like there's an uptick in the fervor, a frantic swelling of need. I tell myself that's because I've been tromping through the Sahara Desert of sex here, but who the hell knows.

  My hand drops to Brooke's hip, fingers dipping under her shorts to find that natural handle that all chicks have, that curve of the pelvis bone that feels like it was made to be grabbed. Brooke groans when I squeeze her there, tugging her even closer. I let her drape a leg over mine, putting my thigh up against the hot heat of her pussy again. This time, I encourage her to move against me, guiding her with my hand, pushing my leg up tight so she has enough resistance to get off.

  Her chest pushes into mine, nipples taut and perky, scraping me through the fabric of my shirt. Time for that shit to go. Buh-bye. I break our mouths apart for a split second to strip down my upper half. Brooke follows suit without any prompting, exposing the full ripeness of her breasts to me.

  I can't help it; I am a boob connoisseur, baby.

  My hands cup each one of the full mounds, thumbs teasing the pink nipples into a red rosy blush, tightening them up to fine points as she moans and lets her head fall back. I don't think I've ever been with a girl whose hair is this long. It's exciting, the way it drapes down her back, curls against the pillows in a chocolate swirl.

  My lips quirk into a smile as I slide a hand around to Brooke's back and pull her close, dropping my mouth to her breasts and tasting the sweet warmth of her skin. She smells like soap and fruit, and her body is unbelievably soft. God, yes. I seriously don't understand why all women aren't gay. Why would anyone in their right mind want to be with a guy? I mean, eww. Chicks are so much hotter.

  I kiss my way up between her breasts, making my way to Brooke's throat and tasting her pulse with my tongue. It's beating so frantically, it's a wonder she's not passing out from the rush.

  When my right hand sneaks down her belly and dips into her shorts, Brooke tenses a little. I make sure to kiss her, drag her mind back to her lips while I slide my middle finger between the scalding warmth of her folds.

  She makes a small noise against my mouth, scooting closer, her body leaning against mine.

  I grin against Brooke's mouth as I slick my finger up to her clit and circle around it while she gasps in these hiccupy little breaths that I've never seen from a chick before. It's beyond fucking cute.

  “Oh, I like that,” I say as I lean into her, pushing her gently back into the pillows as I position myself abov
e her and gasp when she grabs onto my nipple rings and pulls. “Look at you, Smarty-Pants.”

  I pause for a moment as Brooke explores my chest with her hands, rubbing her palms over the silver piercings as I run my tongue along my lower lip.

  “Be as rough as you want with 'em,” I say as I drop my mouth to her ear and bite gently on the lobe. “Do whatever you want.” Brooke takes my words to heart, yanking hard on my nipple rings as I grunt and shove a single finger into her.

  There's a ragged burst of breath as her hands grip my biceps and she thrusts her hips up against me.

  “You are so fucking tight,” I whisper as I work that single finger in and out, teasing Brooke's slickness as I struggle to breathe against the tightness in my balls and cock. I haven't even put it in the girl yet and I feel like I'm ready to burst. “And your clit's swollen as hell. What were you up to in that shower of yours?”

  I'm just talking dirty for fun, but I guess Brooke's one step ahead of me.

  “I was touching myself,” she whispers and I groan, dropping my forehead down and adjusting my hand, so I can get a second finger inside of her. She accepts it easily enough, but her breath flickers and flutters as she digs her nails into the tattoos on my upper arms.

  My thumb slicks up to her clit and I give her the signature Zayden Roth treatment, guaranteed to make any woman come in record time. My fingers press tight against the upper walls of her pussy, teasing that special warm spot right at the opening. They call it the G-spot, but personally, I like to call it the Z-spot. It sounds lame, I know, but if you were in Brooke's place, you wouldn't think so.

  With shaking hands, Brooke slides her fingers down my belly and struggles with my belt, working my pants open so she can get her hand back to the spot it was in two days ago. This time, her touch is a little less frantic, but just as unsure.

  “Grip harder,” I whisper against her ear and she groans, biting her lip as I push my fingers in to the knuckle. I close my eyes as she works my shaft, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, tasting the soft flutter of her pulse until the tightening down below matches up.