Tamed: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale (Bedding the Bad Girl Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Please Enjoy This FREE Excerpt

  TAMED

  A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale

  Bedding the Bad Girl Book Two

  By Callie Wild

  About the Book

  TAMED: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale

  Bedding the Bad Girl Book Two

  The Big Bad Wolf has met his match…

  Katarina knows that Serge should be off limits. Not only is he a bad boy and a womanizer, he’s her boss. But after a hot encounter in his limo, she realizes that some things—like chemistry, biology, and the irresistible lure of Serge’s sexy accent—cannot be denied.

  Soon Serge has tamed Kat’s savage beast and claimed her heart as well, but can he build a life with a woman who has as many skeletons in the closet as he does? And what will happen if the sins of their past refuse to stay buried?

  A sexy, stand-alone continuation of Snow White with shades of Red Riding Hood. No Cliffhanger.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  TAMED c. 2015 Callie Wild

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring Dominant alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. This book was previously published as Sinfully Ever After by Anna J. Evans. It has been extensively revised and reworked before being re-released. Cover design by Bootstrap Designs.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Katarina

  Screw. You. Screw. You. Screw. You. All.

  Katarina’s high heels clicked out a message to every person who had the guts to look at her with that look in their eye, that you’re-not-fit-to-be-walking-the-streets-of-Kingdom-City-or-anywhere-else kind of look.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she whispered beneath her breath, avoiding the gaze of the grandmotherly type who had stopped to stare. Judging by the expression on the woman’s face, Kat was more repulsive than anything she had scraped off of her shoe in her entire fifty-whatever years of life.

  Kat forced a smile, trying to appear unaffected by the sensation she was causing. But in truth the experience was making her furious…and ashamed. This was probably good reality television, but it was bad actual life.

  Very, very bad.

  “Keep walking,” Matthew, the producer murmured, clearly thrilled by the scandalized reactions of the people Kat had once called her friends and neighbors.

  Kat swallowed hard, ignoring the sweat beading on her upper lip. Why had she thought this would be a good idea? The cool reception she’d received since gaining her freedom from the dungeon had been hard to stomach already, but the cameras made it so much worse.

  She felt exposed, mortified, and about as comfortable being recorded as she would be running naked through a city square at lunchtime with her hair on fire.

  “I need a break.” She turned, holding out a hand to the camera trailing her down the street.

  This was nuts. She couldn’t star in a reality show.

  It was too much, too hard, and it wouldn’t really make a difference. She had already royally screwed up her life, both personally and professionally. Kat Masterson was a woman defined by her mistakes and no amount of reality television exposure would be able to change that.

  She must have had her head up her backside to have thought otherwise.

  “We can’t do that, Ms. Masterson,” Matthew whispered from where he hovered near the cameraman.

  “Turn the camera off.” Kat narrowed her green eyes in the glare that had earned her a don’t-mess-with-that-bitch reputation during her five years in the dungeon.

  She’d scared hardened criminals and murderesses with that glare. There was no way this overly ambitious, twenty-something, reality TV slime ball would be able to keep from crumbling. Besides, did he really want to have a confrontation in the middle of a busy Kingdom City street?

  The show was Real-Life Rules to Catch a King not Watch the Ex-Con Go Ballistic in Front of all the Moms with their Three-hundred-Dollar Baby Carriages. Scaring high-society moms—or their nannies—was bad television, wasn’t it?

  “Keep rolling,” he whispered, unfazed. “Go in for a close up.”

  “Please,” Kat said, pulse leaping as the camera made a whirring noise. “I’m serious, turn the fucking camera off.”

  “You can’t say that on television,” Matthew chastised.

  “Fuck.” She crossed her arms at her chest and continued to glare.

  “Ms. Masterson, please, they won’t let us edit language anymore and I—”

  “Fuck fuck fuck,” she said, causing more heads to turn in their direction. She was embarrassed to be attracting more negative attention, but pushed the feeling aside.

  Embarrassment was a wasted emotion.

  It only made you feel shitty about things you couldn’t change.

  “Turn it off, Pete.” Matthew hugged his clipboard, his head drooping forward in disappointment.

  “Thank you.” Kat tucked her red bob behind her ears and propped her hands on the hips, trying to recover her center.

  She never thought she would be so grateful for a haircut, or the chance to wear stockings again. That was what she had to focus on, on how good it felt to have a job and to be strutting down the street on a mission. She couldn’t dwell on the fact that she might have bitten off more than she could chew.

  She would chew it—she had to—but she would do it on her own terms. That was the mistake she’d made, assuming that she needed to follow the direction of this kid who couldn’t care less how the rest of her life shook out.

  She knew what needed to be done, and it was about time she started doing it.

  “I’ll have to report this to Mr. Sokol.” Matthew sighed.

  “I’ll make the report myself. I think things will go more smoothly if Mr. Sokol and I work this out between the two of us.” Kat walked to the edge of the street, intent on flagging down a cab, ending this farce, and getting her life back on track.

  “Where are you going?” Matthew asked, his voice rife with tension. The kid was going to have to relax or he’d have a coronary before he was thirty. “We’re supposed to meet up with the rest of the contestants in an hour.”

  “I’ll be there, don’
t worry.” Kat waved over her shoulder as a cab pulled to the curb.

  “You can’t do this!” he shouted again, running toward her, cameraman in tow.

  Kat smiled as she disappeared into the backseat of the cab.

  Now the dodge ball was in her hands and Mr. Sokol wasn’t going to know what hit him. He would never expect her to show up on his doorstep. The man had gone to great lengths to conceal his real name—and the scandalous reputation attached to it—from the Catch a King contestants. But Kat had discovered his true identity long before she put her pen to her contract. No woman in her right mind would go to work for a mystery man, especially someone with her entire future riding on the outcome of his venture.

  Some people assumed Kat was crazy, but she had always been in her right mind, even when she had made her ugliest mistakes. It was a fact her lawyer hadn’t appreciated and she certainly wasn’t proud of, but it was the truth and she valued the truth. It could be a priceless commodity, especially when it was something someone else didn’t want to be revealed.

  She knew the truth about Mr. Sokol. She knew all of his dirty secrets and everything he was trying to hide, and she planned to use that knowledge to get what she wanted.

  From now on, she wasn’t spiraling anywhere but up, and the sooner Mr. Sokol and his people got the memo, the better.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Katarina

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Kat’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of Mr. Sokol and the three nearly naked bimbos rolling around in his bed.

  She had heard that he was a “bad boy”—if a forty-year-old man could still be considered a boy—but this was ridiculous.

  The girls jumped at the sound of her voice, giggling hysterically. The high-pitched squeaks reminded Kat of the time she had stepped on her little brother’s hamster. The women seemed surprised by the interruption, but not one of them made a move to cover her gravity-defying boobs or to scramble off of the giant bed.

  For his part, Mr. Sokol seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the thong-clad asses of the giggle triplets or to reposition the hand of the blonde woman that had found its way to his upper thigh.

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon, for God’s sake. Didn’t he have the decency to get a room?

  Well, technically this was a room. But it was supposed to be an office, not a makeshift bordello. It was not supposed to have dark red velvet walls, to be lit by enormous candles, or to be dominated by possibly the largest bed in existence.

  “Katarina,” Sokol said with a smile, waving at her from his position at the head of the bed. “I’ve been wondering when you would find the time to stop by. Would you care to join us?”

  “Join you?” Kat sputtered, unable to believe the man had shocked her into repeating a question. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t clarify; she responded.

  “I think there’s room for one more. Don’t you, girls?” His green eyes twinkled above a smile that made too many promises for one man to keep.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t share.” Kat offered him a wink and a slow smile, recovering fairly quickly if she did say so herself. “And even if I did, I think I’d prefer to be the one outnumbered.”

  “Touché,” the pervert replied with a laugh as he crawled to the edge of the bed. “We’re done for today, girls. All of you more than passed the final test.”

  The girls squealed and began jumping up and down on the bed, setting their mammoth breasts to jiggling. Kat’s stomach churned. There was something vaguely nauseating about all those fake boobs bobbing up and down, looking like water balloons on the verge of bursting.

  “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I have some other business to attend to.” Sokol’s eyes flicked to Kat with a look that was anything but businesslike. “You’ll be getting your contracts in the mail.”

  The women thanked him profusely before bouncing off of the bed and disappearing into the enormous bathroom.

  Kat leaned in for a peek, wrinkling her nose.

  Sure enough, even the bathroom was orgy-sized.

  “Now what can I do for you?” Sokol rubbed his hands together as he walked toward her, grinning as if they were long-lost friends.

  “Already planning for the second season?” She would be the one to set the tone of this conversation, thank you very much. “That’s fairly premature, isn’t it? Considering you haven’t wrapped the first week of preproduction on season one.”

  “I don’t do anything prematurely, Katarina,” he said in his deep, resonant voice, the kind of voice that brought to mind furs spread before a fire and naked bodies entwined on top of them.

  “Innuendo?” She kept her tone bored, ignoring the part of her that kept noticing how his accent made everything he said sound sexy as hell.

  “No innuendo, just the truth.” He offered another easy smile. Did nothing irk this man? “This audition was for a different project starting production in a few months.”

  “Don’t tell me, it’s called, Real-Life Ways to Bed a Bimbo,’” she replied dryly.

  “The girls aren’t bimbos.”

  “Right.” Kat rolled her eyes.

  “And I would never be so derivative.” He smiled and his eyes did a sexy squinty thing that made her stomach flutter.

  Focus, Kat! Fewer sexy thoughts, more ball-busting ones!

  “So what’s it about?” Kat had to know what kind of reality show “audition” ended with three mostly naked girls in the executive producer’s bed.

  “If I told you,” he said, with a wink. “I’d have to kill you.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a joke!”

  “I don’t do jokes,” she said, cheeks heating.

  “Oh please, Kat—”

  “You can call me Ms. Masterson.” That was good, keep the exchange formal, businesslike.

  “You can call me Sergei, or Serge if you prefer.”

  “I don’t prefer either, Mr. Sokolnokov. I’m here to talk business, and I think you’ll find it in your best interests to listen closely to what I have to say.” Kat forced her tone to remain even and firm, though this man wasn’t at all what she’d expected.

  Sergei Sokolnokov was—in a word—magnetic. Though not much taller than her own five foot eight, he had the kind of thick, barrel-chested build and strong, muscled arms that made her thighs tingle inside her sensible black skirt. His eyes were a darker, more piercing shade of green than her own, and his salt-and-pepper hair was thick and short enough to be sensible, but long enough to be sexy.

  All in all, he was her dream guy…if he weren’t a total sleaze.

  But sleaze or not, Kat couldn’t keep from imagining what it would feel like to thread her fingers through his hair, to feel his thick arms around her as he hitched her up around his waist and screwed her senseless against the nearest wall.

  “Katarina?” A smile danced in his fantastic kelp-green eyes.

  “Y-yes?” She flushed, unable to believe that she had missed whatever he’d just said. She didn’t have the luxury of letting her thoughts drift off into a lust-induced fantasyland, especially when the man she was fantasizing about was the definition of Mr. Wrong.

  “I asked if you’d like something to drink.” He stepped close enough for her to smell the musky scent of his aftershave and to realize that her nose was level with his lips. She would be able to meet his mouth with only the slightest tilt of her head.

  “No thank you.” Kat swallowed hard, fighting to keep her wayward thoughts on track. “Now why don’t we talk about what I came for? And what it will take to convince me to keep quiet about your real identity and all those strip clubs you own.”

  “I know what you came for. And I promise you, you’re going to get it.” He stepped even closer, until her breasts were inches away from his chest and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. “But I won’t be bullied or manipulated. Do you understand?”

  She shivered, her body suddenly awash in a potent cocktail of her own horm
ones. Her lips parted as she struggled to put aside the rush of mental images that flooded her mind—Serge with his lips at her throat, his hands ripping at the buttons of her blazer, her nails raking over the bulge in his impeccably tailored pants before she dragged his zipper down.

  Good god, what was he going to do? Was he going to kiss her? Or just talk very sternly to her in that sexy voice of his? The uncertainty was terrifying and terribly, terribly exciting. Her sex grew slicker, her body voicing its appreciation for everything Serge had to offer.

  She wanted him so badly it was shocking.

  A case of all-consuming lust was the last thing she had expected to put a wrench in her plans. She had to get some distance, to liberate herself from the mind-muddying effects of pheromone overdose before she pulled up her skirt and begged him to feel how wet she was through her silk bikini panties.

  “I, um. Yes, I understand,” she whispered as she backed away.

  Katarina never backed down or fled the scene. But when compared to the shame of launching herself at the man in front of her and kissing him breathless, stepping back was the less pride-destroying option.

  “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand that you’ve had a hard time and are anxious about the project. You’re a smart woman and I’m sure you realize how much is riding on your performance in this game.” He crossed the room to grab a coat the same seal gray as his suit pants from the back of his desk chair. “But while I appreciate that, I believe we can come to a meeting of the minds without resorting to base tactics.”

  “Of course,” Kat said, her throat tight. “I agree.”

  He was right, but she didn’t have to like it, or to enjoy the reminder of what a rough, classless piece of work she’d become. When had blackmail become such an easy thing to consider?

  She used to be a queen, for god’s sake. What had happened to her?

  But she already knew the answer to that question. The dungeon had happened to her, and the drugs and the lies and the betrayal and all the rest of it. It was surprising that she wasn’t even more jaded and rough around the edges.