Naughty Bedtime Stories: First Taste

by Trixie Taylor

  “If you do that again, we’re going to be in trouble.”

  “Why?” she jolted up, her breasts bouncing. When all he could do was stare at her chest, she pulled an arm across her chest, firmly covering her nipples. “My face is up here, you know?”

  “And as beautiful as your face is, your breasts to have a certain allure. The way they wiggle and swing. So hypnotic, like a lava lamp.”

  “Ah hem! My boobs are not like lava lamps! So, why are we going to be in trouble?”

  “You’re being a tease. You know I like teeth.” He grinned flashing his own and mimed chomping on her skin.

  She giggled and slid from the bed, reaching for her panties with one hand, the other arm still covering her breasts. Thinking with her hormones instead of her brain, she bent over even more so, presenting her backside as a target. She peered over her shoulder, her soft hair falling over one shoulder, letting the panties dangle on a finger. She noticed the used condom from earlier looking forlorn on the night table beside him.

  From his position on the bed, Troy was upright against the headboard. His hand was wrapped about his cock, pumping hard and fast along the shaft. His head was glistening and his eyes were practically bulging out of his skull.

  “Troy…”

  “Just… Just don’t move. Oh Christ on a bike, you’re just… damn…”

  He squeezed himself tight and drank in the image of her before him.

  Kairi felt herself grow even wetter between the legs at the sight of her majestic boyfriend, stroking himself into oblivion.

  When she had been with Luke, sex had been bland, boring and repetitive. A fumble and a grope, which just about summed up foreplay. Then he’d plunge in, thrust a little, and then it would be over in a sticky mess. Hell, even though she had hinted and taken the initiative and spiced up their sex life, it just wasn’t right.

  She and Troy had only been together once, and she was practically begging for more. She itched to move her hand downwards and begin to rub at her clit, to make herself moan his name without him even touching her.

  “Don’t… Move…”

  Kairi’s eyes grew wide as he continued to pump. He was still against the headboard, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes shut.

  “But…”

  “I want the image of you like this in my head forever. My perfect pin up. My woman. Kairi!” he called out her name, as his member throbbed once and his seed spilled forth. It shot wildly, creating a mess all over his body, hand and the bed.

  His chest heaved as he stared hungrily at her.

  “Woman, I am addicted to you.”

  “Woman?”

  After grabbing his t-shirt and wiping himself off, he shuffled along the bed, hooked his legs around her and brought her onto his knee. He kissed along her collarbone once more, letting her shivers take over.

  “Well, my dear, you are most certainly not a girl.”

  Taking her chin in his hand, he urged her forwards and kissed her lips with such gentleness that it touched her heart. This whole day was perfect and she didn’t want it to end. This was what she wanted from life. Now. Forever. Always.

  He kissed her shoulder, nipping her in turn when she didn’t react.

  “Oh!”

  “Come on, dolly daydreamer. I owe you dinner. And a show.”

  “And afterwards?”

  “Woman, you are insatiable.”

  “But, you love me right?”

  “More than you will ever know. More than you will ever realize.”

  The Encounter – Jackie McMahon

  Bratva

  Brothers in Sin Short

  Inger Iversen

  “You want to live?” Sergei’s dark Russian voice rained down on her, along with the smoke and ash. The destroyed building crumbled around them.

  Her body burned in pain, but she forced a nod.

  “Good, then remember—you did not see shit, you did not hear shit, and you do not know shit, da?”

  Unfortunately, Jade had seen shit, heard shit, and definitely knew shit.

  The man, known as Sergei Yazov, towered above her promising hope and a new life, but at what cost?

  1. Sergei

  New Jersey

  December 15th 2013

  Sergei placed his gun on the counter. The metal hit the marble surface and echoed throughout the now silent room. He closed his eyes, breathing in and exhaling slowly. Peace and quiet.

  Many considered him a callous, vicious man, but too few knew the discord he felt at the sounds of screams—especially when he was the reason behind the pain. Silence was a beautiful thing, a treasure he couldn’t often find. Whether it was the Council arguing, bullets flying, or men screaming in pain, there was always one kind of noise or another. Except, of course, when he went home to Jade.

  Behind Sergei, Anton moved swiftly but silently, transferring bodies from the living room to the bathroom tub. Drag marks stained the floor with blood and guts, showing a clear path to the corpses’ new resting place. When Sergei had found the location of the hit men sent after Jade, he hadn’t thought clearly, leaving him disorganized and unhinged. It could have been a set up, he could have walked into a trap tonight. If he was being honest, he hadn’t cared. Luckily, this crack house was thought safe and there were only two men guarding it. Four deaths, yet Sergei was no closer to stopping the hit placed on Jade.

  “Boss,” Anton called from the other side of the room.

  Sergei strode to the faucet and placed his bloody hands under the cold water. They’d swell soon. There was no way to beat the shit out of a man and not harm your hands. It was a casualty of war. “Da,” he answered.

  Blood turned the water red, pink, then finally clear, before Anton spoke again. His heavy foot falls signaled he was near. “Next time we bring plastic, da? This blood is everywhere. It takes hours to clean.”

  Sergei turned and eyed his Enforcer. Often considered the brains of the operation, Anton was a man Sergei not only trusted with his life, but also his secrets.

  Drying his hands on a towel, he reached into his back pocket. “I call Vasily and Oleg to help, but this shit is gone in two hours.” He dialed Oleg’s number and glanced around the room. The carnage wasn’t unusual, but the anger still boiling inside definitely was. Normally, killing men who insulted him, gave him great pleasure. But now, as he looked at the blood plastered on the walls, the bullet holes and brain matter splattered throughout the room, Sergei realized he was still pissed off.

  A voice filled the line. “Oleg.”

  Sergei told him their location and gave him twenty minutes. He hung up the phone and turned to Anton, who was leisurely leaning on the counter beside him.

  Anton raised a brow and observed him. “Something wrong?”

  Sergei shook his head. At a time like this, when he was taking over the drug trade on the east, his men needed to have faith in him and not be questioning his mental state.

  Anton pulled a blade from his shoe and picked his nail with it. “Pizdobol.” He smirked at Sergei’s sharp glance. Only Anton would have the balls to call him a fucking liar—other men had died for much less.

  He had grown up in Saint Petersburg, Russia with Anton back when it was named, Leningrad. They’d fled to the states fifteen years ago, making a home in the Bronx. As a master of thievery, Sergei robbed and climbed his way through the Bratva brotherhood, landing him in New York with Anton, where they both now lived like kings. The ranks took years to ascend, and with sheer determination and ferocity, he was now Pakhan, or boss, and Anton his next in command, Sovietnik.

  He considered Anton a brother, even though he wasn’t of pure Russian blood and through Bratva rule, could never hold the title Pakhan. His Polish mother and Russian father had left him on the side of the road when he was a baby. He and Anton had this in common; both were unwanted children.

  Sergei spat on the floor. “Speak fucking English. You know Russian, it is your English that sucks.”

  Anton chuckled and stuck his m
iddle finger in the air. “Da, brat. You need fuck. Is issue, yes?” He pushed away from the counter. His clothes were soiled, his hands bruised and bleeding.

  Anton knew him well. Sergei needed a woman in his bed, but not just any woman—Jade. He’d saved her life twice, and she still wouldn’t let him fuck her. Sergei had many whores at his disposal, but his wretched dick seemed to lead him back to the one person who wouldn’t fuck him, even if he paid her.

  A knock on the door sounded and Anton left the kitchen. “That was fast.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it right below the peephole.

  Sergei’s phone rang. The caller I.D. said it was Oleg. “Fucking stop pissing around. Come in.” He hung up the phone.

  Anton took a step back, as the door slowly slid open. On the other side stood Oleg and Vasily, but Anton didn’t lower his gun.

  Glaring at the men as they just stood in the doorway, Sergei motioned for them to enter. “Come,” he commanded.

  Both men entered the room, loaded down with clean-up kits. Anton kicked the door shut, but his aim stayed on the door for a few more moments before he placed his gun back in his belt and pointed to the living room.

  The apartment belonged to Giovanni Gela, and was in the process of being developed into exclusive high rises. At the moment, they were rat-infested, crack-head headquarters and Alexei was using them to hide his gunmen from Jade’s shooting. The open concept area left nothing unseen. The blood splatter was even on the ceiling.

  Sergei chuckled. He remembered when he was on clean-up duty. It’d been long ago, but he never forgot the obstacles he faced mounting the Bratva’s throne. He listened as Anton gave orders in Russian. He thought to tell him to use English, but he needed the clean-up finished in less than two hours, and Anton’s English was almost non-existent.

  Sergei left the men and headed into the bathroom. He felt something was wrong—that they’d missed something. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Inside, the two bodies were stacked on one another. Anton had managed to get some information out of the youngest one. His fists were referred to as “truth serums” and tonight they hadn’t failed. He’d repay Anton in some well-deserved time off, but that wouldn’t happen until after they found Alexei and his men.

  They were still after Jade, and Sergei couldn’t help but feel a bit helpless in the situation. Jade’s death was necessary, she’d witnessed the murder of Vladimir. If Sergei were in Alexei’s position, he’d have her killed as well.

  Leaning forward he pushed the dead man’s collar back from the neck. A dark line crested just above the man’s collarbone and Sergei cursed under his breath. He pushed the collar back completely, revealing the familiar scrollwork of the Armenian Power group. What the fuck were they doing all the way on the east coast?

  Sergei stood and kicked the tub. “Anton,” he bellowed.

  His head popped around the corner. “Da, brat?” A cigarette bobbled in his mouth.

  Sergei motioned for one. He’d promised Jade he’d quit, but tonight was just a cluster fuck. Anton pulled a pack from his pocket and started to pull a cigarette from the pack, but Sergei snatched the whole thing from him. Anton grunted his disapproval.

  “You see anything odd?” He pointed to the bodies.

  Anton handed him a lighter and walked over to the pile. “What the fuck is this?”

  Sergei followed the finger pointing to the tattoo he’d discovered. He took a long draw from the cigarette, and the shit tasted so fucking good. He inhaled and took another drag. “It means Alexei is pulling strings with lower bosses in Russia.” It was like spitting in Sergei’s face, as he was Pakhan. “I will not let him kill his mark, so he has declared war.”

  Anton leaned against the door jam. “Fuck.” He chuckled. “Pussy runs to Papa for help, da?”

  Sergei smirked. Pussy was right, but with that, came problems. His control didn’t reach Russia in the ways it should. He was considered a street rat, undeserving of the title Pakhan, and even some of the Council seemed to eye him with unbridled disdain. Even as Pakhan, Sergei had rules he couldn’t break.

  Now, with Alexei paying in blood to Russia, Jade’s life was destined to end. The Council would convene and ask Sergei to find her and hand her over. No one knew Sergei held Jade in his home. At this point, it seemed there was little he could do. The shitty feeling in his stomach worsened. Sergei snuffed out his cigarette and left the bathroom. He needed Jade—now.

  2. Jade

  She leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes. Viktor insisted it was necessary to stand outside the bathroom until she was finished. The protection Sergei offered was appreciated, yet annoying all in one. She’d practically needed to cuss this one out, just to convince him she wasn’t leaving the bathroom door open as she bathed.

  She missed Anton protecting her. He was quiet as hell, and left her to herself. Warm water settled around her neck and her eyes closed. Just as she was starting to relax, the sound of boots thundered through the suite, jolting her up and nearly out of the tub. She reached for a towel, hoping to cover herself up, but Sergei’s words stilled her hand.

  “Why was door shut?” His voice was hard, and his eyes weren’t anywhere near her face.

  Lowering herself back into the water to cover her breasts with the bubbles, Sergei’s eyes finally moved to hers. He looked a mess. Blood stained his clothes, his normally sleek and parted hair was disheveled, and his fists were bruised.

  A moment of silence passed as she stamped down her concern and replaced it with annoyance. “Why do you look and smell as if you came from a butcher?”

  He didn’t speak.

  Jade leaned back into the tub and kept eye contact with him. Sergei pushed away from the door and removed his coat. She couldn’t believe he’d dirtied his suit. The silk, three-piece martini suit cost at least three grand, and he’d worn it to a bloodbath.

  “Is that smoke I smell?” Her voice held disgust, and she closed her eyes. “You always ask me to kiss you. To let you taste me.” She paused. “You say that, and then you suck on those damn cancer sticks.”

  The only sound she heard was a rustling of clothes. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Sergei’s suit was now crumpled on the ground, and his tall, muscular male frame stood at the edge of the tub.

  Jade’s words dried in her mouth.

  She watched as Sergei lifted his leg and placed it in the water, his soft cock dangled teasingly between his legs. He brought the other leg in, and sat down. Bubbles hid her body, but his long legs laid on either side of her, trapping her in the tub.

  He picked up a bar of soap and brushed it over his tanned skin. She eyed his massive chest.

  “Wha—” she croaked. Clearing her throat and tried again. “What are you doing?” His legs were warm against hers, the water sloshed over the tub as he moved, but Jade couldn’t take her eyes off his slick, soapy body.

  Sergei raised a brow. “You complain I stink and you are in my tub. I get in and clean myself, as to not offend her highness,” he answered, with a haughty smirk. His accent often deepened when he spoke suggestively, and Jade couldn’t deny how it turned her on.

  No.

  There was absolutely no way her first time was going to be with some soaped up criminal—no matter how sexy he looked rubbing said soap over his pecs.

  “You have like four tubs in this place.” Jade drew her legs up and hoped it did well to cover her chest.

  Sergei smiled. “This one is favorite.” That dead sexy smile widened. “And you are naked.” He licked his lips and eyed her. If Jade didn’t know better, she’d swear he could see through the bubbles and her arms. “Soaking that beautiful body in my tub.”

  She swallowed hard. “So you come in and wash the blood off in the tub?” Eww… She was getting out. She placed a hand on the rim and started to stand, when he reached out to her. Grabbing her hips, he gently turned her and pulled her back down. She was now nestled between his legs.

  “No, only my hands were sullied, and I
washed them before I came to you.” He ran his wet, warm hands up and down her arms.

  She did everything in her power not to tremble at the warm sensation creeping up her spine, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own and quaked beneath his hands.

  How did he have this power over her? She fought it constantly, but the warm feeling in her chest always overpowered her. She settled backwards and relaxed into his body, her hands rested on his knees.

  Sergei’s warm breath caressed her ear. “I’m washing the smoke off me so we can taste each other. Would you like to help?”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Huh?” Jade sat up, creating space between their bodies, turning to get out once again.

  Sergei’s rumbling laugh echoed through the room. “Jade, I don’t know why you deny me.” He reached under the water and grabbed her hands. His gentle touch had Jade turning to look at him. He guided her hands to his torso. “You wash me, then I wash you, da?”

  Jade couldn’t lie, she wanted to feel his body. While Sergei looked extremely sexy in his tailored suits, his naked form was an overwhelmingly erotic sight. Taut tan skin and hard, coiling muscles graced his body, and here he was, offering her to touch as she pleased.

  She moved her hands away from his and spread them across his chest. He handed her the soap and she rubbed the bar over his shoulders and down his arms. Putting the soap down, she used her skin along his, leaving a trail of bubbles.

  The tops of her breasts were above the suds and Sergei’s eyes had locked on them once again. His hold on the side of the tub was tight, his knuckles white. It gave her courage to see how bad he wanted her.

  Brazen and unashamed, Jade exaggerated her heavy breathing, letting her nipples play peek-a-boo with him through the bubbles.

  Sergei released his grip off the tub and tapped her chin. “My turn,” he said, with a gravelly voice. Scooting her around, he grabbed the soap and she laid against him once more.