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

  Still, she should be demanding better of herself. She didn’t want to be that woman anymore.

  Hadn’t she just been thinking about “upward spiraling?”

  “Lovely. Let me give you a ride to the location.” Serge crossed the room in a few easy strides, coming to cup her elbow in his warm hand and lead her toward the door. “We’ll be a few minutes late, but that’s no trouble.”

  He was so smooth and the feel of his hand on her body so exactly what she’d been craving, it took a second for her to realize she was being herded to the slaughter without having had the chance to speak her piece.

  “Can we talk first?” She dug her heels into the soft carpet.

  Man, this guy was good, he’d had her in the palm of his hand without breaking a sweat.

  “Katarina, don’t press me.” He sighed as she slipped her arm from his grasp. “If you fail to show up for the filming of the first meeting with the other women, you will be costing me money. I refuse to let that happen.”

  “I’m going to show up,” she said with a smile. “I just want the freedom to direct the best course for my part in this venture.”

  “Impossible.” His full lips drew into a tight line.

  “And why is that?” Kat asked. “Because you’ve already decided to paint me as a villainess to boost ratings?”

  “You are not being painted as—”

  “They made me walk down the street in my old neighborhood on the first day of filming,” she broke in. “Anywhere else in the city, I might have had the chance to interact with people who could see me as who I am, not who I was.”

  “It’s who you were that made you a candidate for this show in the first place,” Serge said, his frustration clear. “Why else would I have hired a ex-con with the stink of the dungeon still in her hair?”

  Kate flinched. “Thanks.”

  He sighed and regret flickered behind his eyes. But before either of them could speak again, one of the blonde bimbos poked her head out of the door to the bathroom. “Sergey? Do you have a blow dryer?”

  “Under the sink, in the brown basket.” Serge gifted the blonde with an easy smile, before turning back to Kat and leaning in to press an unexpected kiss to her cheek. “My apologies, beautiful. Forgive me for my rudeness and lets go make some fabulous television together.”

  “All right,” Kat said, too flustered by the sweet, sexiness of that kiss to put up a fight when he recaptured her arm.

  Damn, the kissing on the cheek thing had thrown her, but she didn’t have to give up that easily. She would have a good twenty minutes in the cab ride downtown to sort out how to change Serge’s mind.

  She had to convince him to give her a fair shot. She knew how these shows worked. There was always a person that the audience loved to hate, and she was being set up to be that unlucky gal.

  Why else would the producer spend the week filming inmates she had known in the dungeon or insist she parade down the street she had once called home? She had seen the cameraman stop to zoom in on the horrified faces of the rich and sophisticated people who had been her neighbors. They were going to show the entire Kingdom how hated she was, and that even her one-time friends had turned their backs on her.

  She had to get it together, to stop letting fear and anxiety bring out the worst in her. She had to show the people around her the decent person she was on the inside.

  That person was in there, somewhere, and desperate for a fresh start. But she had to come out of this experience with a better reputation than when she went in or she could kiss all hope of reclaiming her life goodbye. No one in her former industry, not even her best friend, Stephen, would touch her with a ten-foot pole if she were to become known as the biggest bitch in the history of reality TV.

  She’d been VP of the top public relations firm in the Kingdom before everything went to hell. It was her passion, her talent, and the only job she ever wanted. It was also an industry that wouldn’t tolerate a bad rep from anyone, especially a bad rep that had been earned. No one cared that she had served her time, that she was properly ashamed of herself, or that she had no urge to repeat the horrible mistakes that had earned her five years in the dungeon.

  An ex-con was an ex-con. She couldn’t get hired to man the cash register at Kingdom Burger, let alone offer consult on a client’s public image.

  That’s why she had taken this gig in the first place. She was out of work and out of options. The lure of earning the money she would need to start a new life—along with the opportunity to show the Kingdom she had gotten her act together—had been more than she could resist.

  She had to have faith that this could still work out, and that there was a way to salvage a working relationship that had gotten off to a rough start.

  “After you, Katarina.” Serge opened the door to the office building, revealing a stretch limo with black tinted windows waiting at the curb.

  She should have known they wouldn’t be taking a cab.

  Now they would be alone for the next fifteen to twenty minutes, depending on traffic. Plenty of time to turn lemons into lemonade…

  CHAPTER THREE

  Serge

  Katarina was a handful and strung so tight she looked as if she would snap in two. She was too tall and too thin, her breasts were barely apple-sized, and he imagined her hipbones would stab a man to death if he ever managed to convince her to let him be on top. She was also older than his usual girl—somewhere in her mid-thirties, though her tomboy figure made her appear younger. Her only real draws were her luxurious dark red hair that looked as soft as silk, and her stunning sea-green eyes.

  But who could enjoy them when she kept her sharp face narrowed in a glare half the time?

  Kat Masterson wasn’t his type, not any of them, and he was a man who appreciated a wide variety of feminine charm. She was also currently in his employ, making her off-limits. He didn’t cross that line. Sure, he had danced along it from time to time, but never crossed it.

  Work and sex mixed about as well as peanut butter and salami.

  So why was he so drawn to her?

  “I’m sorry we got off to a rough start. I’m just really nervous.” The flush across the bridge of her nose highlighted freckles he hadn’t noticed before. “It brings out the bitch in me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” That was exactly what he would have said, but she was clearly trying to make a fresh start and the freckles were cute. They softened her a bit, allowing him see the woman she might have been if her life had taken a different direction.

  “You’re nice. A liar, but nice.” Her tongue slipped out to dampen her lips. “So listen, I know giving me any kind of artistic control is off limits. I get that. I just want a fair shot and a chance to show my good side as well as my bitchy one. Is that something we might be able to agree on?”

  Serge nodded, still feeling bad for hurting her feelings back at the office. “Yes. I want this to be a fair competition. I’ll speak to Matthew and let him know I expect as much. Backstory is acceptable, forcing a narrative is not.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile was stunning, transforming her thin face into a thing of beauty. “Seriously, thank you so much. I really appreciate it, Serge.”

  With a soft sigh of relief, she leaned back against the seat to look out the window, clearly content to take the rest of the ride in silence. If only she’d chosen to cross her legs, as well. Maybe then he would have been able to look out the window, too.

  As it was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the long, toned lines of her calves, or the creamy insides of her thighs. He could just glimpse where her thigh-high pantyhose ended and her slightly paler flesh began, and it was enough to succeed where Sally’s teasing hand on his thigh had failed.

  The swelling against his fly was so surprising it made his heart skip a beat. He had been having a hard time getting aroused for almost a year. He’d even made a visit to his doctor in hopes of discovering what was the matter with him. He loved women, he loved making love to them,
and he’d never had a hard time getting it up before, even four or five times in a single night.

  He had feared a circulatory problem or that his compulsive protective measures might have failed him. But even a venereal disease seemed preferable to the even more horrific culprit of “old age.” He was only forty-one; he should have at least a decade or two left in him before he was forced out to pasture.

  He had submitted to what seemed like a million tests only to discover that there was nothing physically wrong with him. It was something else, something twisted up in his mind that was taking its toll below the belt. It was frustrating, embarrassing, and at times flat out enraging.

  Sergei Sokolnokov was the master of all he surveyed. The fact that his own cock was rebelling against his control was enough to drive him insane. The only thing crazier was that this woman, this woman, was the one who had managed to arouse his interest.

  Thank God she wasn’t looking at him or she would see the shock on his face and the furious erection tenting his pants.

  But she was still looking out the window, her features soft and relaxed and her lips parted as if she were thinking something that made her slightly breathless. She’d unbuttoned her suit coat when they’d settled into the car and the pale green shirt underneath was doing little to conceal the budded peaks of her nipples.

  Was she chilly or was it something more?

  Could she possibly be feeling the same bizarre attraction that he was?

  She turned to face him and he quickly tossed his coat across his lap. She might see the hunger in his eyes, but she wouldn’t see anything else if he could help it.

  “Yes?” he asked with what he hoped was a casual, open smile.

  She blinked, as if surprised, but eventually spoke in a soft voice, “You said before that you knew what I wanted, and that you were going to make sure I got it. What did you mean by that?” The look in her eyes was innocent, but as she shifted on the seat her legs parted a fraction of an inch.

  Or was it his imagination?

  Either way, he had a painfully arousing vision of those wide green eyes looking down at him as he spread her thighs and claimed her pussy with his mouth. He’d find out if she was a true redhead and then make her come until she tore at the leather seats with her fingernails and begged for her turn to take him into her mouth.

  His cock twitched as he imagined her on her knees, breathless as she unzipped his fly, eagerly teasing the tip of his shaft with her sharp little tongue.

  “You need a fresh start.” He forced himself to speak before his imagination could get the better of him. “You need a chance to reinvent yourself, and you will get it. What you make of the chance is up to you.”

  He met her searching gaze, hoping she could see that he was telling the truth. She would have as good a chance to win the contest and the public’s affection as any of the other women. He didn’t believe in rigging the game. It would be on her own shoulders if she reacted badly to the challenges staged for each episode.

  She studied him for a long moment—seeming to debate something—before she leaned in, propping her angular elbows on her knees, an action that brought her face no more than six inches from his own. “Are you sure that’s all you meant?”

  “What else?” he asked, fighting the urge to lean in and taste her lips, or to press her back against the seats and run his hand up her businesslike skirt.

  “I don’t know…” Her tongue swept over her lower lip again. “Maybe something a little more personal. Assuming that’s for me and not the idiot triplets.”

  “They’re not sisters, not even related,” he said dryly, as he realized she’d evidently noticed how aroused he’d become. His coat must have done a poor job of concealing the unexpected way she affected him.

  “Well, I guess that makes it less creepy when you’re rolling around in bed with them. But you didn’t answer my question.” Her self-satisfied glance down at his crotch convinced him he had to call her bluff. “Is that for me?”

  “I don’t know.” He reached out, smoothing his hand up the inside of her thigh to cup her mound, smiling as he came into contact with the drenched fabric of her silk panties. “Is this all for me?”

  “You’re a ballsy bastard,” she whispered, but she didn’t seem insulted.

  He watched her gaze darken with lust as he pushed her skirt up around her hips, baring her thigh-highs, garter belt and panties to his gaze. Even as his hands moved, bunching the fabric, spreading her legs wider with a nudge of his knee, he knew he was playing with fire.

  He had already won this round and proven that she was as hot for him as he was for her. He should quit while he was ahead.

  Too bad he’d never been good at behaving as he should, especially not when a beautiful woman was involved.

  “To answer your question, yes.” He moved both hands to her hips, pulling her onto his lap to straddle him. “For some strange reason, you do it for me, Kat.”

  “Strange?” She lifted one narrow brow. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry, sweet, but I don’t usually go for the bitchy type.”

  “I don’t usually go for the sleazy type.”

  “Seems your pussy likes a bit of sleaze.” He urged her hips into closer contact with his cock.

  “That’s not for you,” she protested, even as her eyes fluttered closed.

  He leaned forward, nipping at her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples through her gauzy shirt, drawing a moan from low in her throat.

  “Really? Then what is it that made you so hot?” He pulled her panties aside, easing one thick finger into her pussy. She sighed and pressed against him, nails digging into his shoulders through his suit jacket.

  Serge fought the urge to groan as she rocked against him, fucking the finger inside her with slow, sensuous thrusts. She sucked in a shaky breath and her hands moved to tangle in his hair, gently urging his mouth back toward her breasts.

  “You want me to kiss you here, Kat? To bite you?” He dropped his mouth to her breasts, taking turns sucking her nipples, then biting down on her tips hard enough to draw a cry from her throat.

  Her hips bucked faster and he slid another finger inside her, coaxing more cream from her body. He fucked her with his fingers as he deftly thumbed her clit, fighting the urge to rip away her blouse and panties and bare her to him completely.

  She had to get out of the car in a few minutes. He couldn’t risk her emerging from the limo with the front of her shirt open.

  Even if the thought of it made him impossibly harder.

  “Please,” she whispered, arms trembling around his neck as her tension grew to the critical point.

  Serge abandoned her breasts, tilting his head back to claim her lips. She pressed her mouth to his with an immediate passion, her lips, teeth and tongue ravaging him with an intensity that drove him wild. The kiss was an erotic battle, a meeting of two similar forces that left little doubt that they would be amazing in bed together.

  “Please, Serge, please…”

  “Please what?” he groaned, wishing he could signal the driver to circle the block and prolong this little ride. But they were already late. He couldn’t delay filming any longer.

  “I need you.” The vulnerability in her tone was haunting, touching him in places other than his cock.

  “It’s not me that you need, sweet.” He kissed her throat, urging her on with his fingers even as he moved his mouth back to her breasts.

  “But I do.” Her moan become a soft sob. “Oh god, I do.”

  “No, you just need to come. So come for me.” He worked her pussy with both hands, teasing her until she shook in his arms. “Come for me now.”

  “Yes, oh yes!” Her back arched, her muscles tightening as she neared the edge.

  “Come, Katarina. You are safe with me.”

  Her hips pressed into even deeper contact with his hand as she came, head thrown back, pussy clamping down around his fingers with a force that made Serge’s imagination run wild.

 
; God, how he wanted to feel that tight cunt on his cock, to feel her take her pleasure as he lost himself in her body. He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw to keep from joining her and coming in his pants like some teenaged kid getting a lap dance at one of his clubs.

  “Yes, beautiful,” he mumbled against her breasts, unable to keep himself from kissing one of the nipples that lifted toward his mouth. She felt so good in his arms, her kisses tasted of cinnamon, and her smell was an intoxicating mix of flowers and cooking spice, a combination that for some reason turned him on like nothing else.

  “Wow.” She blushed a bright fuchsia that only a redhead could manage. “You’re fuckingly talented with those hands. You know that, right?”

  “Fuckingly.” He grinned. “Thank you, but you might want to censor yourself a bit during filming. Not all people appreciate a foul mouth on a woman as much as I do.” He reluctantly pulled away from her, resisting the urge to clean her cream from his fingers with his tongue.

  Instead he reached for a napkin from the limo bar.

  She smoothed a shaking hand over her hair. “I’ll do my best. I can behave nicely when I want to.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” He caught her eye and an erotic charge leapt between them.

  Damn, he had to get this woman off of his lap before he did something even more foolish. She was an employee, after all, and more trouble than one man could handle. It would be insane to encourage her any further. The best thing for the both of them would be to keep their mutual attraction at arm’s length…at least until filming was over.

  “I’m sure Matthew will be happy to see ‘fuck’ vanish from your vocabulary.”

  “Anything for the boss.” She smiled and eased off his lap, back to her own side of the limo. She adjusted her skirt and blazer until her kiss-swollen lips were the only clue as to how they had been occupying their time.

  “I’m not your boss, Katarina.” He spoke the words gently, but firmly. “What we’ve done here has nothing to do with the show. That’s why I had hoped to keep my identity a secret. I didn’t want any of the women to think they had to behave in inappropriate ways to earn my favor.”