Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

  “Youth group, huh?” I ask as he takes a massive bite of his pretzel and nods at me.

  “Yep. That's me. Always challenging the institution.” Zayden taps his green and black Dr. Martens on the floor with a steady rhythm. I am so in love with his fashion choices. Today, his shoes are this matte black color with a neon green skeleton foot on the side. Oh. And he's wearing black suspenders that aren't holding anything up. They're just hooked to his pants and then looped back around and reconnected to the waistband. “Did you know I was in a punk band in high school?”

  “Does not surprise me,” I say as I cross my arms over my own sad attempt at dressing up. I've got on a navy blue shirt with the world Cal scrawled across the front in gold that I got from UCB, a pair of dark skinny jeans and some fuzzy black velvet heels that I found in my sister's closet. I know, I know: I'm a total mess. I think I'm still trying to figure out exactly who it is that I am. I think all my clothes are doing is reflecting the confusion inside. Or something like that. “What instrument did you play?”

  “Instrument? Please, Smarty-Pants, you give me too much credit. I just screamed shit into the microphone. That is pretty much it. I would hardly even call it music.”

  “Well maybe you could play some for me one day?” I say as Zayden finishes off his pretzel and wads the trash up, tossing it like a basketball into the nearest can.

  “Yeah right. You already think I'm a nerd now. How much less cool would I be if I played the guttural garbage I used to spew as a kid? No, thank you.”

  “Being in a punk band totally makes you cool,” I say as Zayden tucks one leg up on the bench and gives me a look.

  “Being in a good punk band totally makes you cool. Being in a garage band with music recorded on some guy's phone back in the day. So not cool.”

  Zayden glances out toward the kids and I follow his stare, happening to catch some little kid rush up to Grace and grab hold of her pigtails as she runs. With a hard yank, my niece's head snaps back and she ends up slipping and falling to the foam floor with a scream. Before I can even react to the situation, Zayden is up on his feet and sprinting over to her.

  I grab Sadie's stroller and chase after him as quickly as I can.

  “Hey, hey,” he says as he uses his thumbs to brush away her tears. “You're okay, baby.”

  “No, I'm not!” Grace screams, clinging to his leg and ignoring me completely when I try to comfort her by rubbing her back.

  “Do you need surgery then?” Zayden asks, looking her in the eyes and getting completely serious. “Because we can go to the hospital right now.”

  Grace's eyes get huge and she shakes her head, reigning back the screaming sobs into gentle sniffles.

  “Good. Then let's tough this out and get back up on that horse.”

  “There isn't a horse,” Grace mumbles as she stands up and glares at the boy who pulled her hair. I have no idea how to handle this situation, but I'll be damned if I let some brat get away with that. I look around for an adult that could possibly be the kid's parent.

  “Hey,” Zayden says, walking right over to the boy and leaning down in front of him. “It's not okay to hurt people like that, dude. And don't ever touch a girl without her permission, buddy. So not cool.”

  The kid just stands there and glares at Zayden as a man in Levi's and a white t-shirt comes over and looms big behind the boy. His dad, maybe? I have no idea, but I decide to corral our brood before things get bad. I think our playdate here is over.

  “Don't you talk to my boy like that,” the man says as Zayden stands up straight and I'm pleased to find he's actually taller than the big man who's glaring at him. “You have a problem, you talk to me.”

  “Did you not see your kid pull my niece's hair? Knock her onto her back? That's some serious stuff, man. All I was saying was that I don't want your son to put his hands on her.”

  “Boys will be boys,” the man says and I find myself gritting my teeth as I collect the twins and make them put their hands on the stroller. They're so slippery that Zay and I have almost lost them three times since we got here a half an hour ago. The only way I can keep watch on them is to play this game where they have to touch the stroller at all times.

  “Boys will be boys? What kind of bullshit is that? So he has a right to act like a brat? Screw that. Tell your son to keep his fucking hands off my niece.”

  “My son has a right to be a boy,” the man says and I watch in horror as Zayden's colored fists tighten, his knuckles turning into sharp points of bone beneath his marked skin. “Now back your faggot ass off and let's be done with this.”

  Zayden closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and then opens them back up to smile at the man.

  “You might want to send your son away for this one,” he says as the man starts to turn and then shakes his head at Zayden. Zay waits for a minute as the brat boy scrambles back into the playground and then reaches out and puts his hand on the father's shoulder.

  “Fuck you,” the man says as he turns back and scowls.

  Without warning, Zay's fist explodes into the guy's face and I kid you not, the man practically topples over, falling to the foam covered floor like a board. All around the playground, I hear the adults go silent.

  Uh-oh.

  “Want to play a game?” I whisper to the kids. “Let's all race to the car. If everyone plays fairly, you'll all get a prize.”

  I start pushing Sadie's stroller, grabbing Zayden by his muscular arm and dragging him away before anybody gets it together enough to stop him.

  As soon as we hit the parking lot, we all start to run, and we don't stop until we're piling into the minivan and peeling the hell out of there.

  Maybe I should be mad at Zayden or maybe I should be explaining to the kids that violence doesn't solve problems but … that guy was a serious asshole. Screw him. I feel like I've spent a good portion of my life trying not to rock the boat.

  I glance over at Zayden as he shakes his head and smiles wryly, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Here's somebody who's definitely not afraid, who does his own thing when he wants and how he wants. Maybe he doesn't always make the right choice—punching some a-hole in the mall probably wasn't the right choice—but at least he stood up for himself, for Grace.

  I smile.

  “You are so goddamn stupid,” I say as I look down at the hole in the knee of my jeans. When I glance back over at Zayden, he's looking at the road with his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed. “But also kind of cool.”

  His lips curl into a smirk as he reaches over and playfully taps me in the shoulder.

  “Boys will be boys, right?” he jokes as I laugh my ass off, until there are tears streaming from the corners of my eyes.

  “You're the best nanny ever,” I say and he touches a hand to his chest.

  “Aww, you flatter me,” Zayden mocks, batting his lashes at me.

  I smile back at him, but I hope he knows that I'm telling the truth.

  I really am gonna miss this guy.

  I can see the change in Brooke as soon as the last of the kids falls asleep, the way she starts pacing and threading her fingers together, stretching them out in front of herself as she paces.

  I cross my own arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side as I watch her. She looks so cute and fresh in her tight, little t-shirt and jeans, those crazy heels she's wearing. I'm inclined to grab her and toss her onto the couch for a quick fuck, but I think we need to use our last few nights wisely. I have yet to go down on her, and there is no way in hell I'm going home without showing her all of my tricks.

  “You okay over there, Smarty-Pants?” I ask as she leans down to pick up Hubert in his stupid black and white striped sweater. Brooke cuddles him to her chest and he lifts that ugly pale pink head of his to rub against her chin. Friendliest I have ever seen the damn creature in my life, swear to God. “You look like you're about to shit a brick.”

  “I'm contemplating,” she says with a lift of her chin, that long dark hair tucked i
n a braid. Hubs bats at it as she strokes her hand over his sweater.

  I take a few steps closer and drop my hand to the cat's head; he hisses at me but doesn't bite me like he usually does. Score. Even my asshole cat likes this chick.

  “Contemplating … fucking me?” I ask and laugh as Brooke rolls her eyes dramatically. “Because I have a very specific little game in mind for tonight. We've checked off a lot of boxes this week, Smarty-Pants, but we've missed one of the Big Four.”

  “Big Four?” Brooke asks, that perfect arched brow of hers accented by the piercing I gave her. It looks so goddamn good on her face. I wish I was going to be around to suck on it once it heals. Damn and double damn.

  “Yep,” I say, trying to be sexy as I lift up my right hand and splay it against the wall next to Brooke's head. I lean in all sultry and shit and then feel a rapid thumping against my boot, glancing down to find that stupid hairless rat going at it with my Docs. “Whoa. No means no, Dodger, you dick.”

  I shove him away with my foot as Brooke laughs and spins out of my embrace, moving to the opposite side of the coffee table as she continues to stroke and cuddle my cat. I turn and watch her with a smirk building on my lips.

  “I'd so much rather you were stroking and cuddling me,” I say as she nuzzles the stupid creature and he glares at me from his weird white-green eyes. I should take him down to the shelter and trade him in for a cute little orange tabby or something. But naw, I love the little fuck too much.

  “What are the Big Four?” Brooke repeats as I sigh and tuck a hand into the back pocket of my pants, using the other to twirl my loose black suspender strap in a circle.

  “Hand jobs, vaginal penetration, blow jobs, and VJs.”

  “What's a VJ?” Brooke asks as I shake my head and laugh.

  “A vagina job. You know, like a BJ, only with a vagina? Come on, don't make me say cunnilingus. It sounds like a type of foot fungus.”

  “Oh my God! Add that to your list of things to never say again. It's getting kind of long, Zayden.”

  “Yeah, well, call it whatever you want, but we're still missing the last of the Big Four.”

  “You made that up, too, didn't you? Big Four and VJ are not terms I heard on campus like, ever.”

  “Because young people while sexually rampant are woefully ignorant. How many of those douchers still think the pullout method is a hundred percent effective, hmm?”

  Brooke sets Hubert down on the floor and the stupid cat immediately starts arching his back and rubbing against her legs. Traitor.

  “Don't say young people either. You're not that old.”

  I put a hand to my chest as Brooke comes around the back of the sofa and pauses there like there's a shield between us, a magical barrier that can block sex hormones and pheromones. Hah. Fat chance. I can practically smell her sweet fruity vanilla scent from here. It'd take a fortress to keep me away.

  “Not that old? That sounds like one of those compliments that's not really a compliment at all. I'm still in my twenties, okay Smarty-Pants.”

  “Maybe I should go upstairs and sleep alone tonight?” Brooke says as she challenges me with a look, running her tongue over her lower lip. “Not sure I want to hang out with some guy who decked a daddy at the playground.”

  “Oh? Come on. You told me I was a badass.”

  I start towards her and she ducks away, making me chase her around the couch.

  “I never said badass,” Brooke says, watching me as I go stone still and then hop the couch in one quick motion. She screams and starts for the stairs as I scoop her up into my arms, bride style.

  Bride style.

  Um.

  Nope. I'm not carrying anybody over a threshold, let alone some twenty-two year old with the whole world ahead of her. Gross.

  I set Brooke down again and drop my hands to her hips, yanking her close for a kiss as I fumble around with my right hand and jerk the curtains closed over the bay window.

  “So, where do you want your first VJ? In the bed? On the couch? Sitting on the edge of the kitchen table?”

  “Let's go upstairs,” Brooke whispers against my mouth, dragging me up the steps and into her borrowed bedroom. Before I can even get the door closed, she's tearing her top off and kicking her heels aside.

  I watch with hungry eyes as she shoves her jeans down her hips and climbs onto the bed with an eagerness that makes me grin.

  Oh yes.

  I reach back and tear my own tee over my head, leaving my boots and suspenders on as I move onto the edge of the bed and grab hold of Brooke's plain gray cotton panties. Yet another pair with kind of a saggy ass. Yet another thing that I shouldn't find sexy yet … surprisingly do.

  “Turn the light off?” she pleads and I pause, rubbing a hand over the shaved side of my head.

  “Why?” I ask as I take her knees and slowly push them apart. She offers a little resistance at first but finally gives in. “I want to see all of you, Brooke Overland. Every little bit.”

  “Some of my bits aren't so beautiful,” she says with a slight shrug of her shoulders, but I'm already shaking my head.

  “Every one of your bits is perfect.”

  “Says who?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “Says me.”

  Brooke groans and drops her head back into the pillows, putting her hands over her face as I slide my fingers down the soft white insides of her thighs. Her body is warm, breath already coming in harsh pants, even though we haven't gotten started yet. When I glance down, I see the shimmery dance of liquid on her pussy.

  Oh yeah.

  She's excited as hell for this.

  I lift up one leg and start kissing at her knee, enjoying the way her body jerks and thrashes from even that small touch. I rub my stubbled cheek against her thigh and then drop down to press my lips to the bare expanse of space between Brooke's belly button and her clit.

  My right hand traces down her left thigh as I kiss my way slowly from one hip to the other.

  “You really do have a beautiful body, baby,” I tell her as I trace a single finger down the wetness of her folds and watch as she bucks her hips in response. Brooke is definitely an animated lover. Might have to use some extra tricks to get her to sit still for this.

  My finger slides up and plays lightly over her clit.

  “The perfect anatomy for a VCH piercing, if you ever decide you want one.” It turns me on to think about marking Brooke with my jewelry, stamping her with my art. Honestly, the piercing I'm talking about doesn't hurt at all—even less than your typical earlobe. A ring goes right through the thin tissue above the clit, and gently swings against it during sex. It's nothing short of amazing, or so I've heard from girls before. So I've seen with girls before.

  I slip my fingers inside of Brooke and watch her bite her lower lip and grab the pillow on either side of her head. She is living for this, thrashing around and making those cute small sounds in the back of her throat. I fuck her swollen flesh with my fingers, loving the way the V and the E tattooed on my knuckles disappears inside of her with each movement.

  When her moans devolve into a more guttural sound, I slide my fingers out and lean down, putting myself on my elbows and hooking my arms under her thighs, hands gripping tight to her hips. This way, when Brooke starts bucking, I'll be ready for it.

  My tongue slicks down her bare flesh to the hot slit between her legs, dipping down to her opening and swirling a quick circle against all of that heat. She tastes as sweet as she smells, like flowers and vanilla, fresh and clean and aroused as fuck.

  My lips trail hot kisses back up and around her clit, putting pressure against the hooded flesh before I try taking this any further. I want to rush, suck the hardened nub into my mouth and fuck her opening with my tongue, but I need this to be memorable. I want this moment ingrained into Brooke's history with a hammer and chisel. Normally, I don't give a shit if girls forget me later. I mean, I always aim to please, but if they leave our night together back in Vegas whe
n they fly home to wherever-the-hell-they-came-from, I don't care.

  With Brooke, I really, really do. I need her to remember this.

  I tease and savor her with my mouth, using the sound of her breathing to plan my movements, keeping her locked in place with the strength of my arms.

  When Brooke drops a hand to my hair and twists it around her fingers, shoving my face into her cunt, I grin and let myself go a little deeper, a little harder. She strains to thrust against me, ride my face as I finally give in and take her clit gently into my mouth, sucking on it and lightly grazing my teeth across it.

  The sounds she makes are fucking killer.

  I let go of Brooke's hip with my right hand and slip it inside her for a moment, getting myself nice and wet and slick. Then I shove it down to my jeans, tearing the button open and sliding my fingers down my shaft, using Brooke's lube to stroke my cock with smooth, slippery fingers.

  I moan against her pussy as I bring us both to the edge of an orgasm, stopping myself short, so I can enjoy hers fully. My hand comes back up and locks that hip into place so that when Brooke starts to fight the orgasm, I can keep going, taking her over the edge as she slaps a hand on her mouth and screams against it.

  I release her suddenly, sitting up and tearing one of my trusty condoms from the pocket of my jeans and slipping it on. While Brooke's still panting and shaking, I climb on top of her, put my lips to her throat and thrust hard and deep, the headboard slamming into the wall with each movement. I'll probably wake a damn kid again, but I can't stop.

  I need this; we both do.

  Brooke throws her arms around my neck and slides her fingers into my hair, squeezing me tight to her shoulder as I nuzzle against her throat, nibbling the smooth flesh with my teeth. Our voices draw into a crescendo, this loud, messy sound that I've heard a million times before … yet never like this.

  I grab Brooke's hips and drive into her until she comes again, massaging my body with her own, encouraging me to finish inside her. I fight it for a few thrusts before I give in and let her drag me down into a groaning whimper, my face pressed close to hers, her body held up against mine, as close as I can get it.