Read Online Bad Apple (Part 1) by Kristina Weaver - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kristina Weaver
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out on my bed and eat you to my heart’s content before I fuck you into the mattress,” he says quietly.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” He smirks, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed sigh that sets my alarm bells ringing. “But mostly we cannot be friends because I refuse to be just friends with my own wife, angel.”
I choke on my first sip of coffee and spray a dark stain all over the wooden table, coughing fitfully as I try to dispel the liquid from my lungs. Did I just hear him correctly? And why the hell am I not laughing my ass off like I should be?
“What?”
Misha just smiles triumphantly and raises his hand where a platinum band rests on his left finger.
“We were married last night, angel. You are mine.”
I don’t question him. For some reason, I know he would never lie about something this important. Instead, I let my eyes roll back as my faculties leave me.
Oh hell, I hope when I wake up this has all been a bad dream.
Chapter Thirteen
Misha
She’s out cold and not stirring as I silently pace the tiny apartment, battling back the irritation I feel at this response. It’s not great for my ego having my new wife pass out cold at the thought of being shackled to me.
I bet Lauren Duncan wouldn’t mind being married to me. In fact, I recall just a few weeks ago when she tried to trap me with a pregnancy scare that would have been laughable if I hadn’t been so pissed at the time.
“Oh God, please tell me it was a dream,” I hear from the sofa, my anger rising a little more when she lifts her head to look at me and promptly flops back down with a groan, her arm flung over her eyes in a dramatic pose. “What have you done?”
“Me? If I recall, you almost ate my face off when the justice of the peace married us. I have done only what you agreed to last night,” I growl, stalking her way.
I want her. Now. And she’s having a fit about being my wife.
“But I don’t even remember!”
“Too bad. I do and you most definitely said yes, angel.”
I’m on the move with her in my arms before she can make a sound, and I’m throwing her onto the bed before she can move. And then I let go of it all—the guilt and anger and desperation I felt last night when she was all over that little punk in the club, her ass grinding into him as they moved together on the dance floor.
“Misha—”
“I will have you now. Do not argue. I know you want me just as much, yes?”
She blushes and shakes her head at me, but I see the accelerated breaths she’s trying to calm and the way she keeps glancing at my cock.
“You do, angel. I can see it in the way your blush spreads to your breasts and the way your nipples peak. Are you wet between your legs?” I growl, pushing my briefs down in a blatant display of control that has her pupils flaring brightly.
She wants me. I can see it, scent it, taste it on the air as I stalk towards her, my control almost fracturing when she licks her lips and her thighs clench together.
“Misha, I—”
“ Nyet, wife,” I murmur, grasping the hem of her ratty shirt and pushing up, ignoring her protests as I divest her of the offensive fabric and attack her pants.
She’s going nuts by the time I have her naked, and I almost laugh at her embarrassment, just barely holding back when she tries to cover herself and shield what is mine.
“No, angel, let me see what is mine,” I murmur throatily, pinning her hands to the mattress beside her head, my knees cradling her hips to keep her still.
“Don’t…”
I don’t listen to a word as I lower my mouth slowly and give her an exquisitely gentle kiss before pulling back to survey the bounty beneath me.
I have the crazy urge to wrap her up and hide her from the world, from all eyes except mine.
“You have a wondrous body, Irina Novac,” I breathe, leaning down to run my nose from her neck to her breasts, paying attention to the scent of her skin as I flick my tongue out for a taste.
I keep that up for a good
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” He smirks, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed sigh that sets my alarm bells ringing. “But mostly we cannot be friends because I refuse to be just friends with my own wife, angel.”
I choke on my first sip of coffee and spray a dark stain all over the wooden table, coughing fitfully as I try to dispel the liquid from my lungs. Did I just hear him correctly? And why the hell am I not laughing my ass off like I should be?
“What?”
Misha just smiles triumphantly and raises his hand where a platinum band rests on his left finger.
“We were married last night, angel. You are mine.”
I don’t question him. For some reason, I know he would never lie about something this important. Instead, I let my eyes roll back as my faculties leave me.
Oh hell, I hope when I wake up this has all been a bad dream.
Chapter Thirteen
Misha
She’s out cold and not stirring as I silently pace the tiny apartment, battling back the irritation I feel at this response. It’s not great for my ego having my new wife pass out cold at the thought of being shackled to me.
I bet Lauren Duncan wouldn’t mind being married to me. In fact, I recall just a few weeks ago when she tried to trap me with a pregnancy scare that would have been laughable if I hadn’t been so pissed at the time.
“Oh God, please tell me it was a dream,” I hear from the sofa, my anger rising a little more when she lifts her head to look at me and promptly flops back down with a groan, her arm flung over her eyes in a dramatic pose. “What have you done?”
“Me? If I recall, you almost ate my face off when the justice of the peace married us. I have done only what you agreed to last night,” I growl, stalking her way.
I want her. Now. And she’s having a fit about being my wife.
“But I don’t even remember!”
“Too bad. I do and you most definitely said yes, angel.”
I’m on the move with her in my arms before she can make a sound, and I’m throwing her onto the bed before she can move. And then I let go of it all—the guilt and anger and desperation I felt last night when she was all over that little punk in the club, her ass grinding into him as they moved together on the dance floor.
“Misha—”
“I will have you now. Do not argue. I know you want me just as much, yes?”
She blushes and shakes her head at me, but I see the accelerated breaths she’s trying to calm and the way she keeps glancing at my cock.
“You do, angel. I can see it in the way your blush spreads to your breasts and the way your nipples peak. Are you wet between your legs?” I growl, pushing my briefs down in a blatant display of control that has her pupils flaring brightly.
She wants me. I can see it, scent it, taste it on the air as I stalk towards her, my control almost fracturing when she licks her lips and her thighs clench together.
“Misha, I—”
“ Nyet, wife,” I murmur, grasping the hem of her ratty shirt and pushing up, ignoring her protests as I divest her of the offensive fabric and attack her pants.
She’s going nuts by the time I have her naked, and I almost laugh at her embarrassment, just barely holding back when she tries to cover herself and shield what is mine.
“No, angel, let me see what is mine,” I murmur throatily, pinning her hands to the mattress beside her head, my knees cradling her hips to keep her still.
“Don’t…”
I don’t listen to a word as I lower my mouth slowly and give her an exquisitely gentle kiss before pulling back to survey the bounty beneath me.
I have the crazy urge to wrap her up and hide her from the world, from all eyes except mine.
“You have a wondrous body, Irina Novac,” I breathe, leaning down to run my nose from her neck to her breasts, paying attention to the scent of her skin as I flick my tongue out for a taste.
I keep that up for a good
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