Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

  I'm blushing even though I have no clue why, but I don't acknowledge it, spinning to face Zayden with a smile as I point up at my eyebrow. It really does look great on me, the perfect little accent for an otherwise plain face.

  “Based on how good this looks, if I ever do decide to bite the bullet and get my V pierced, I'll make sure to fly down to Vegas just for the privilege.” Zayden smiles at me, clasping his hands together behind his neck as he looks me over. “Maybe you could show me around the city or something sometime?”

  “I'd like that,” Zay says as he looks me over carefully, smiling when his gaze comes to rest on my eyebrow. “I bet the boys in the shop would like to meet you, too. They're all smarter than me, too. The owner, Jude, has a degree in veterinary medicine. You'd probably get along great.”

  I laugh and pull my hair back into a ponytail at the base of my neck, brushing my bangs aside so I can see my new jewelry, turning this way and that as it winks in the light. I'm so focused on my reflection that I don't notice Zay moving up behind me, sliding his hands up my thighs and under my skirt.

  The cool, waxy sensation of the gloves is so different that I gasp and fall forward, putting my hands against the sink to brace myself. When I look up, Zay's grinning mischievously at me in the mirror, sliding his fingers to my opening and using the slick wetness that's already there to tease me. Even though I can't see his hand, I can feel that glove, can imagine the darkness of it slicking over his hand as he plays with my folds.

  I watch his face as he slips a pair of fingers inside of me, sending this erotic chill through my whole body that has my skin breaking out into goose bumps. The sensation amps up when he leans his muscular body over mine and uses his other hand to pull my shirt and bra away from my left breast, cupping the sensitive flesh in one black gloved hand.

  My face fills with heat and my body rocks back into his hand, enjoying the subtle manipulation of his fingers against my core. When he introduces a third finger and slicks it across my ass, I tighten up a little.

  “Relax,” Zayden whispers as he massages my breast with one hand, my ass and pussy with the other. “I won't take it too far, I promise.”

  He teases and manipulates me, pinching my nipple and alternating between finger fucking me and playing with my clit. When he finally slips that single, wet finger into my ass, I groan and shudder as new sensations ripple over me, a completely different sort of warmth filling my body.

  It feels like there are strings from my nipples, my clit, my pussy, my ass, that all connect straight to the base of my spine, twisting energy together in an explosive orgasm.

  “Do you like that, baby?” he asks me, but I can't answer. Can barely breathe.

  Zayden's putting some gentle pressure against the wall between his fingers, that sensitive strip that connects my pussy and my ass. I almost come right then, but he stops me at the last second by pulling away and leaving me gasping.

  “Turn around,” he commands, moving his kit from the sink onto a shelf behind him. I do as he asks and let him use his left arm to take me by the waist, lifting me up onto the counter. My back leans against the mirror as Zayden steps between my legs and puts his right hand against my silken core. This time, I can look down and see the black fingers of his gloves slipping into me, teasing wetness onto the latex. That third finger slips back into my other opening and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. No way I'm letting that weird Shotgun Pot Guy hear me getting fingered.

  Zayden leans in and captures my mouth, shifting his body as close as he can get it without interrupting the motion of his hand. We kiss sharp and fierce and hungry as his left hand finds my breast again and I look down to see all of that darkness obscuring the tattoos on his arm, kneading the pale round globe, pinching the pebbled pink of my nipple.

  My hips arch up into his hand and Zayden chuckles.

  “Fuck me,” I say, wanting him to feel good, too, feeling self-conscious that I'm the only one writhing like an idiot.

  “I am,” he whispers against my ear, and then he picks up the pace, slamming his knuckles into me and sending sharp thrills into the base of my spine where all that energy's stored. I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck, trying to ride this out, to wait for him to undo his pants and push inside of me with his cock.

  But he doesn't, watching me with half-lidded eyes as I find my pleasure with his hand.

  I think his face in that moment is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.

  When I come, I can't help it, I tilt my head back and let out the loudest, deepest, most embarrassing sound of my entire life, shuddering and bucking against Zayden as I come hard and fast around his fingers.

  He waits there as I gasp and struggle for breath, his left arm circling my waist and holding me close, the sound of his beating heart thundering in my ears. Then Zay steps back and I watch with a heavy-lidded languorous expression as he strips off his gloves and tosses them in the trash can. His eyes look almost emerald when they take me in, sitting with my butt half in the sink and my legs spread wide. From the bulge in his jeans, I can tell he wants to keep going, but he holds back, reaching out his hand for mine and helping me up.

  “Do you think your aunt's floundering under all those kids yet?” he asks me, and I smile, glancing over my shoulder one more time to look in the mirror. My piercing, it looks amazing—and so does the expression on my face. I have this womanly sense of satisfaction curling my lips that I've never seen before.

  It looks nice. Really nice actually.

  I turn back to Zayden and wrinkle my nose.

  “I think she was floundering before she ever got started.”

  He laughs and then pauses when a fist slams into the wall next to us, gritting his teeth as he curls his hands into fists.

  “That motherfucker better be out of there by the time my brother gets back, or I swear to God …” I grin and reach up to take Zayden's face between my hands, pressing a quick kiss to his lips that shuts him up almost instantly before he grins back at me. Then I reach down and take his hand, leading him outside and over to his sister-in-law's minivan.

  I don't look at his beat up old Geo because I really, really don't want to think about him driving back to Las Vegas in it.

  Monica looks like she's halfway to the grave when we get home that night, already waiting on the porch with her coat on by the time we get out of the van. When she sees the piercing in my eyebrow, hers shoot up to her hairline.

  “They're all asleep,” she says and then breezes past us to get back to the sleek black sexiness of her car, zooming into the night without so much as a wave good-bye.

  “Stupid bitch,” I snap and Zay laughs, lifting up his hand for a high five. I smack him palm to palm and feel my toes curl when he wraps his fingers around mine and brings them to his lips for a kiss.

  “Exactly. Fuck her,” Zayden says, pulling me inside to the quiet, easy sounds of Sadie's breathing. The other kids must be upstairs because I don't see them. From my spot near the front door, I have a clear shot at the back and can see the dogs waiting eagerly at the glass.

  I head over there to let them in, suddenly nervous about what's going to happen. Zayden and I just did it—twice. Are we going to go upstairs and do it again? Are we going to sleep in the same bed for the rest of his time here? Can I handle that?

  I bend down and pick up Dodger, dislodging a few small twigs that are wrapped in the thin fluff of white hair around his head and neck. It's literally like, all of the hair he has and he manages to get stuff stuck in it. Figures.

  “Want some leftover casserole?” Zayden asks as he spins his way into the kitchen and grabs a hold of his iPod. It's covered in a questionable sticky substance no doubt left by one of the children, but he doesn't care, just wipes it off on his shirt and picks a song, turning it to a low volume so he won't wake Sadie.

  I groan.

  “No,” I say as I skip over and look for something that could be considered a compromise. “I hate Tove Lo,” I say and Zayden
drops his jaw like I've just insulted the Virgin Mary or something. “And I really hate that “Talking Body” song.”

  “Seriously? I think it's adorable,” he says as he grooves to it in his too cute black and red Converse with the little skeletons on the sides. Yet another pair of knee-high wins in my book. Paired with the skinny jeans and the silly video game shirt, well, it's just precious. He's this naughty mixture of bad and nerdy with all those tats and piercings. I could stare at this guy for hours and not get bored.

  Zayden ruffles the hair on the left side of his head as he pulls the casserole from the fridge and starts spooning it into a pair of white bowls.

  I look through Spotify for a minute and decide that he might actually like “Game Over” by Falling in Reverse. I feel like it's pop-y enough that Zay could get into it.

  “Check this out,” I say as I start the music and Zayden starts bobbing his head, tossing the bowls into the microwave and pressing start. He dances his way over to me and puts his arm around my waist, dragging me into yet another impromptu dance session.

  I go with it, letting him press our bodies together in a warm embrace that makes my thighs clench tight with need. It's a bouncy song, so our dance isn't exactly a romantic waltz, but it still makes me laugh when Zay twirls me in a circle and catches me again.

  “This song's all about video game metaphors, I see?”

  “Thought you might like it,” I say as his grin gets huge.

  “Tomorrow,” he says, like that's super important for some reason. Zayden claps his hands together and I can't help but lock my eyes onto his tattoos, on the open book on one hand and the sword and shield on the other. The more I look, the more little things I see buried in there, like the cluster of balloons with skulls and crossbones on them, the smiling pit bull face, and the tiny hairless cat with a … sweater?

  I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

  “Tomorrow,” I mumble as Zayden pulls the bowls from the microwave and curses at how hot they are. “What about tomorrow?”

  “No school, no work. You want to stay up all night and play a game with me?” Zayden pauses and gives me a theatrical wink. “And not just a sex game, although we'll get to that eventually. You want to play something stupid and shitty and ridiculously fun?”

  “Why the hell not?” I ask, hating the way my heart flutters and dances when Zayden does a fist pump and scoops up half of his casserole in one bite. I like the way he eats, with his bowl up close to his chin and his entire fist gripping the handle of the spoon. He scoops food into his mouth with a methodical sort of purpose. I don't know if I've ever actually noticed the way someone eats before. Is that a weird thing to notice?

  “Come on,” Zay says, tilting his head to the side and leading me into the living room. He's done with his food before we even sit down, putting himself up against the arm opposite the TV and dragging me into his lap. With Zayden's chin on my shoulder and his arms wrapped around me, I feel that shifting, sliding thing happen inside my chest and try to fight it back.

  I'm not going to fall in love with a guy just because I lost my virginity to him.

  No fucking way.

  “Okay, here's your controller,” he says, handing me a black remote from the coffee table. “Now, are you ready for me to beat your ass at this? I'm not holding back just because you've got a sexy mouth and a curvy little body.”

  “Hah.” I set the food aside and take my controller in hand. “I'm ready for this. Bring it on, bitch.”

  “Oooh, gettin' all aggressive, I see. I like it.” Zay licks the back of my ear and then turns on the TV as I shiver and fight back yet another rush of hormones and sex. We'll get to that eventually, he says. Hmm. We'll see. “Now pick a character and let's do this thing.”

  I smile and lean into Zay's warm body, loving the strength of his arms around me and the patter of his heart. It's something I could get used to, if I were looking for love that is. But I have enough to worry about without adding one more thing to my plate.

  No matter how much I don't want to, when it comes time to let Zayden go, I'll do it with grace and poise.

  It's the best thing for both of us.

  When I wake up on the couch, still wrapped in Zayden's arms, I almost have a panic attack.

  We only have five days, four nights left. Four. And I just wasted one. I sit up suddenly and try to breathe through the irrational feeling in my chest. This is so dumb, I think as I look at his adorable sleeping face. He's sexy as hell, but like this, with his eyes closed and those full lips gently parted, he's kind of … sweet, too. When I reach up and run my fingers across the shaved side of his head, Zayden stirs, yawning and lifting his arms in a stretch.

  I don't remember when, but sometime during the night he took his shirt off. I didn't realize it until now, but the jewelry in his nipples, they're miniature swords. I reach out and tug on one, making him groan at the same time Sadie starts to fuss.

  “I'll get her,” I say as I stand up and Zayden yawns again, scratching loosely at his abs with those sexy fingers of his. The way his ink is done, it just draws the eye in an easy arc from fingertips to shoulder, across the chest, down the other side. I can never seem to just glance at it and then look away; I always have to stare.

  I move over to the opposite side of the living room and pick Sadie up, setting her up on the carpet and changing her diaper. I haven't done this in, like, forever but I used to babysit in high school so I figure it out pretty quickly. Admittedly, it's kind of gross, but manageable. As I squeeze Sadie's chubby foot, I find that I can't stop myself from fantasizing about what Zayden's babies might look like.

  And here we go again with the damn hormones.

  I finish changing the kid, standing up and balancing her on my hip as Zayden lays on the couch with a satisfied, sleepy expression on his face.

  “Since it's monsoon fucking pourin' out there,” he says as he points toward the expanse of the bay window with his inked hand, “I was thinking: mall first. 'cause then we can get those big ass pretzels with the cinnamon and sugar on them and let the kids burn energy at the indoor play place. Then—and check this brilliance right here—we pick up hot wings and burgers and veg out right in front of the TV.”

  Zayden turns on his side to stare at me, propping his head up with his hand.

  “What do you think?” he asks when I just get caught there staring at him. There's this surreal moment where it almost feels like the eight of us are a family or something … and it feels kind of … good?

  “I—” I should probably tell Zay I have homework and use his free babysitting skills to get some studying done. But then I look into his eyes, into that pale color that burns so bright with playful energy that I can't say no. I just can't. Not going to happen. “Okay.”

  When he smiles at me, I feel almost dizzy.

  How stupid is that?

  “Here,” I say, coming over to stand next to the couch. “You feed the baby, and I'll get the kids up.” As I hand Sadie to Zayden, I feel his fingers slide across my skin, hot as coals, and pull away as quickly as I can. It's like, when our skin's touching, I don't think with a clear head.

  “Don't make me give you another lecture about piercing hygiene,” Zayden shouts as I start up the stairs and feel my lips break into a smile. “If you don't clean it properly, I'll know about it.”

  I grin and shake my head as I slip into Grace's room to wake her and Kinzie up.

  I have a feeling that today, today is going to be a good day.

  The play place at the mall isn't exactly the most exciting destination, but then, Eureka isn't the most exciting town in the world. The only things we have in spades here are outdoor beauty … and rain. Sort of a frustrating dichotomy if you think about it.

  Zayden buys the kids whatever treats they want from the food court and then sets 'em loose on the playground as we take a seat on one of the benches. I haven't been here since I got back in town and wow, it brings some old memories crashing to the forefront of m
y mind.

  “The first boy I ever kissed, I kissed right here,” I tell Zay, pointing at the hideous faux granite linoleum beneath our feet. It hasn't changed at all in the last ten years. The only thing that's different about this place are the stores. When I was younger, there used to be an interesting mix of local shops. Now, one whole wing of the mall is empty, advertising storefronts for rent, and the rest of it's been turned into outward facing big box stores like Petco and Kohl's.

  Kind of depressing.

  “For real?” Zayden says, turning to look at me with his pretzel clutched in one hand. His hair looks extra perfect today, spiked up on one side into a Mohawk, the other shaved with fresh stars. He's even put on the tiniest smidge of liner and changed out his piercings. They're all black today, all matching. His lip piercings are actual rings today instead of the studs he's been wearing since he got here. So hot. I want to grab 'em with my teeth and pull. Kind of like I did with the piercings in his cock.

  I choke and glance away, back towards the kids, watching as Kinzie and Bella chase each other up the faux rock wall.

  “Right on this very bench?” Zayden asks with a playful lilt to his voice. I glance back at him just in time for Zay to lean forward and press his mouth to mine. His tongue flicks out hard and fast and I'm left sitting there with the faint taste of cinnamon on my lips. “I'm giving you new memories,” he explains as I shake my head with a laugh.

  “Not on this exact bench,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Just here, in the mall. Where'd you have your first kiss?”

  “Mmm,” Zayden leans his head back and stares up at the skylights in the ceiling. I use the term skylights loosely because there's definitely not much light leaking through the glass; it's gray and dark and stormy as hell. “With my friend's older sister, in the bathroom of her church during a youth group meeting.”

  I raise my slightly sore brow as Zayden lifts his head back up and grins at me again.