Naughty Bedtime Stories: First Taste Read online

  “I’m sorry. Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

  “That was some girl I met on the road. She wanted to hang out tonight. I was just trying to get my point across to her and, for that matter, you.”

  “So now you’re the one trying to prove a point?” I inhale and take another sip.

  He is now playing with the asparagus on his plate. He bites his lip.

  “Fine. We try this whole get to know each other thing out and see what happens. Maybe if you’re a good boy. I’ll let you be my boyfriend. I have to warn you though. You do have some stiff competition. There is this guy at work who has been pursuing me pretty damn hard.”

  “Who the fuck is this guy?” He rolls his neck around, and snaps his asparagus. I almost laugh.

  “Your brother.”

  “Mark? You have a thing for Mark? He has no game. Are you serious? That man has probably never even touched a woman. I mean he’s my brother, but he’s a dork. Come on.”

  “He’s hot.” I try to lie. I can’t keep a straight face, and bust out laughing.

  He stands up and walks over. “Liar. I knew you were full of shit.” He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and carries me up stairs.

  “What about dinner?” I yell.

  “We’re skipping dinner and going straight to desert,” he says and smacks my ass.

  Good god I hope this works out because this man is about to ruin me. I can’t believe that Raven fucking Black is mine.

  Before the Fall

  Aurelia Fray

  One

  “Miss Bentham, come here please.”

  Oliver Waldron, owner of the Amaria Hotel and my boss, called me over to him. He lounged on his large sprawling, brown leather sofa in his private apartment. The air around him smelled rich; a heady combination of cologne and masculinity.

  I was in trouble.

  "This is not what I would call a thorough job, Miss Bentham."

  As hotel staff, my duty had been to clean his personal apartment whilst he vacationed. I scrubbed and polished every inch of the luxurious penthouse apartment, taking the extra time and effort to make his homecoming a welcome one. However, upon his return, I was summoned to his rooms. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have arranged the chocolates on his pillow in the delicate scroll of his name?

  "I am sorry, Mr. Waldron. Is there something in particular you are dissatisfied with?" I asked. My nerves were jangling. This man always had the ability to leave me a quivering mess. Despite only taking over the running of the hotel at twenty-five, he was still an intimidating and stern man. Also, it didn't help that I fancied the pants off him.

  Oliver ran his eyes up and down me. Appraising me. I tried not to squirm under his hot gaze. It was difficult enough to stay focused around him at the best of times. I had to refrain from sneaking glances at him, but it was an impossible feat of self-control, especially when his chest was bare and the shirt he had been wearing was now draped over the arm of the sofa. His blonde curls were swept back off his face revealing his intense blue eyes. The shadow of newly developing stubble made him seem bedraggled. Rough. Dangerous.

  “You seem to have forgotten my laundry, Miss Bentham,” he said flicking his hand in the direction of the shirt. Despite my nerves, I was immediately furious. The ire that bubbled up inside me came out of nowhere, but reacted to the unjustness. Was that it? Was that all? There was nothing wrong with my work at all - he just needed me to pick up the shirt he had only just now taken off?

  “Yes, sir,” I hissed out angrily, regaining enough sense to remember my job hinged on my reactions.

  “Is there something wrong, Miss Bentham?”

  “No, sir,” I ground out, feeling indignant.

  “Lower your tone then, girl,” he demanded hotly, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to provoke me. He had a nerve calling me girl, when he was only a couple of years older than me. His privileged position obviously gave him airs.

  “Is there anything else, sir?” I asked as politely as I dared. I wasn’t one to hide my feelings. They were always written across my face and etched into my voice.

  “Yes,” he said darkly, “Take off your dress.”

  “What?”

  “Take off your clothes, Anna, and get down on your knees. I want to watch as your pussy soaks under my gaze.”

  “What… I … but, sir…”

  “It’s Oliver, Anna. How many times do I have to ask you to call me Oliver?” He stood and stalked toward me. Taking my hand in his, he pressed it to the rigid bulge in his pants.

  “Anna, I am going to pour champagne all over us and then fuck you, whilst you lick it off my skin.” Oliver’s cock twitched beneath me. The twitch turned into a steady buzz – it thrummed unnaturally against my hand.

  “Oliver, you are vibrating!” I shrieked in horror.

  “Well fuck it. You’d better answer that,” he said, as reality set in and I began to awaken.

  * * *

  The bright afternoon light drenched my small room. Blinking rapidly at the sudden discomfort, I remembered I was supposed to be downstairs for the big announcement. All the hotel staff was expected to attend. Whatever the Waldron's had to say would be big news. As usual, I had allowed myself to nap between shifts knowing that I would dream of all the wicked things I wanted Oliver to do to me. Stupidly, I had slept in and was consequently running late. I picked up my phone, which was buzzing its way across my bedside table, and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Anna, did you fall asleep again? Good lord, child, get your backside downstairs. The speeches are about to begin.”

  “I’m on my way, Doreen,” I responded reluctantly. As much as I would rather spend all my free time asleep, with my dream version of Oliver Waldron to keep me entertained, I had to work. After all, I wanted the job almost as much as I wanted the man that gave it to me.

  Two

  "...And so it is with a heavy heart that I have to say, this Friday will be our last. The Amaria is officially closing. I know you have all been preparing for this for some time now, and I am grateful to see so many familiar faces here with us right to the last. That you would continue to stand by us, means more to us than you will ever know. You have been our family and we will always keep you in our hearts. Thank you."

  There was a moment of silence, as people let the news sink in and then someone to the right of me began to applaud. It seemed like the right thing to do and before you could blink, the room had burst out into a cacophony of clapping.

  Tears streamed down my face.

  I had only worked here for a short time and I was of a low status on the employee scale, being only a simple cleaner, but I had fallen in love with the old Victorian building and its surrounding parklands. It had been my home since I ran away from my piss-poor excuse for parents – actually, they weren’t great human beings, period.

  Doreen, the Amaria’s housekeeper took me in, despite knowing I was only sixteen at the time. She housed me with the live-in beauty therapists; a crazy bunch of people who placed way too much weight on being impeccably presented. I was an outcast among them and I preferred it that way too – fitting in with them would be too much hard work.

  I had been at the family run hotel for four years and, if a multinational chain hadn’t just forced them out, I would have stayed here til they dragged me out by my shrivelled bones and wrinkled skin. Who would have thought that I wouldn’t last that long?

  Andrina, self-elected leader of the beauty-school-drop-outs, caught a glimpse of my crying face and sashayed over to me on her five-inch heels.

  "Oh little darling, whatever will you do now?"

  "Same as everyone else, I guess ...get another job." I tried to sound nonchalant, but my sentimental sobbing made me sound entirely too sorry for myself. Not that I wasn't of course, I just didn’t want Andrina knowing it.

  "Yes, sweetie, but you are the Amaria's very own pet...Our little orphan Annie."

  I always wanted to punch her right in her
huge boobs whenever she said that. Other than my red hair and my name being Anna, there was no similarity between the precocious singing child and me. Andrina just had a habit of being a bit of a bitch.

  "Oh? Then what will you do without your sweet little fantasy to keep you warm at night?"

  "I have no idea what you are talking about," I growled. The tears were drying pretty quickly thanks to the angry red heat flaring at my cheeks. Andrina knew how to get me every time.

  "Everyone knows you love our fearless leader. You blush every time he even sneezes in your direction...No more daily dose of Oliver Waldron for you after Friday... How will you cope?" Andrina gave me a fake sympathetic smirk and traipsed off to bemoan her unemployed status to anyone sycophantic enough to listen to her.

  "Alright! Listen up!” Doreen bellowed over the chattering din. “As you know, you will be paid severance plus a bonus each – depending on your years of service. We will also hold exit interviews with each of you, so that we can write up your references and so on. Some of you may get picked up by the replacement chain, so be sure to come prepared. You will be given your interviewer and a time this afternoon after clocking out. Everyone be sure to pass by my office on your way out."

  I couldn't hang around to listen to anything more. For everyone else it was just a case of polishing up his or her resume and getting a new job, but for me it was the end of my life as I knew it. I had to begin all over again. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared because I was totally petrified.

  I had an hour before my next shift and there was only one thing I wanted to do. I stole down the hallway and up the back staircase. I was running to the one place I felt was my own: The small roof terrace. No one came up here, because you had to sneak past the Waldron’s private accommodation and into the attic to get to it. From there, you had to navigate your way through the junk and ancient dust-coated boxes, to find the little wooden door which led out to the best view in the county.

  The August air was still warm.

  The light faded out to dusk so close to midnight; the days felt eternal.

  I lay back on the cushions I'd put out here for days like these, and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I drifted in my mind trying to find some kind of solution. Perhaps I could stay on with the new owners. I would lose Oliver, but I might be able to stay here at the hotel. My thoughts spun around and around and, as usual, I lost track of time. I stayed far too long. A chill wound up my arms and forced me to open my eyes, only to find that the sun had gone down, coating the roof in swelling shadows.

  I was late – I needed to get back downstairs before Doreen had a hissy fit. Being late twice in one day would only jeopardise my chances of a recommendation.

  "I wondered when you'd wake up," a cool voice called out from somewhere near the door.

  I looked over toward the sound uncertainly. I didn’t think anyone else knew this place existed.

  "Sorry, I was just leaving now," I mumbled trying to pick myself up off the cushion gracefully.

  I sucked at grace.

  A warm hand reached out and yanked me up. The force of his pull had me colliding with a warm chest in an expensive shirt. I didn't dare move.

  "You’re Annie, right?" he asked. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol. Whisky or bourbon? He still held the glass in his left hand; the ice chinked against the sides as the amber liquid sloshed over the rim.

  "My name is Anna... not Annie or Ann or orphan Annie. Anna," I ground out, lifting my head to berate this man to his face. My eyes met his grin first and my stomach churned uncomfortably. By the time they got to his bright, cerulean eyes, I wished I could take back my words.

  "Oliver!" I breathed his name.

  "Are we friends yet?" he asked, the grin reaching his eyes now.

  "Oh god! I am so sorry, Mr. Waldron. I just... I um... I should get back downstairs."

  "Or you could stay here and keep me company. I hate drinking alone," he offered, but there was another meaning in his eyes, something that made my chest heave and my knees weak. It wasn't a drinking partner he wanted.

  I almost squeaked when his hand snaked down my back and dipped beneath the hitched fabric of my skirt - it must have happened when he pulled me to my feet. His fingertips traced the underside of my ass, causing me to jerk involuntarily closer to him in a bid to escape his touch. He chuckled darkly and pulled the hem of my skirt back down.

  “Stay, Anna,” he said, his voice like silk and honey: A snare to keep me there.

  I panicked.

  I had crushed on this man since I arrived, and still, I was going to run away. Even though I knew it was likely my only opportunity to make him mine: To live my dreams.

  "Have to go...Doreen mental. Getting ready for interviews. Thankyounight," I stuttered out stupidly as I pushed away from him and stumbled for the door. I was back downstairs before I could say, "what the fuck are you thinking?"

  Doreen sat on my bed waiting for me. Her face was like thunder, until she noticed my anxious state.

  "What happened?" she quizzed, with concern.

  "I fell asleep on the roof again," I lied.

  "Is that all? Then, missy, you have some work to catch up on. You do realise you were on late shift tonight? Well, when you didn’t show, I gave Tina your shift, so you can take hers."

  "The private apartments? No. I can't do them... I never do them," I stammered. There was no way I could go up there after what had just happened.

  "You’ve done them before and they are no different to our guest suites."

  "On the holidays and off season, maybe, but never when the family are in residence."

  “It’s only young mister Waldron in residence now. The rest of the family left this afternoon, but you’d know that already if you hadn’t been skiving."

  "I wasn’t skiving...Well I was… but not because I didn't want to work!"

  "I know, my lovely, this is whole situation is much worse for you. In fact, only Mr. Waldron himself would know how you feel right now. He has lived here most of his young life. If I recall, he was the one that walked you into my office that day; all tears and dirt stains."

  I remembered it too.

  It was the moment I had fallen for the handsome young man, with cherubim blonde curls that bobbed over his blue eyes. He had caught me walking along the road with only my rucksack and worn out boots, and told me he knew of a place where I could get a warm bed, hot meal and a job - if I wanted the work. He introduced himself as Oliver, but told me all his friends called him Ollie. He made me so nervous that I couldn’t even find my tongue to say thank you for his help and kindness. Unfortunately, after that, I was so busy trying to learn the ropes that I didn't see him around. When I eventually found out that he was the owner’s son, it just made the already widening gap between us, an insurmountable chasm. I would never get to call him Ollie. I had been a fool to even call him Oliver.

  "When do I have to do the shift?" I asked pulling myself back from self-pitying thoughts.

  "You start at half seven in the morning. Mr. Waldron will be out. He has meetings all day so it will be quiet for you." Doreen's tone of sympathy was genuine. She knew I was besotted with the man and always did her best to make things easier on me, where he was concerned.

  “Thanks, I appreciate the heads-up,” I offered. With nothing left to say, Doreen left me alone in my little room. I would have only a few hours’ sleep before I had to get up, so I settled into bed and stared at the ceiling until my subconscious swept me up.

  I dreamed of strong arms, big hands and liquor.

  Three

  I awoke late, my face puffy from lack of sleep and my usual explicit dreams of Oliver.

  I climbed the stairs to the Waldron's private apartments and turned the key in the door. The place was silent. This was the way I knew it. I had only dared to clean up here during off-season when the family retired to their home in France. Moving through the rooms always felt like I was a burglar, a silent thief, rooting through their di
rty linens and stealing all their dust. I knew my way around intimately and always avoided Oliver's room until last, for fear I got stuck in one of my moments.

  I tended to do that with Oliver - get lost in private moments in my head, only to realise that an hour had passed with me frozen and useless. I often wondered whether drifting like that was a direct consequence of the beatings my parents subjected me to: After all, there are only so many times someone can punch you in the head, before they did some long term damage, right?

  I got to work before thinking about them pissed me off.

  The place was actually spotless. A breakfast plate sat in the sink and some of Oliver's clothes were strewn across the hallway. The shirt, I had been pressed against, lay with them. I threw them in with the other laundry, fighting the creepy urge to hug his shirt, and made my way to the last room: Oliver’s.

  I opened the door and walked in backwards, pulling my cleaning trolley in behind me. However, a rustle and a groan from somewhere in the room made me stop in my tracks and stiffen like a board.

  He was supposed to be out.

  I spun my head around anxiously; feeling sure I looked like something out of the exorcist. Oliver was sprawled across his bed. He had kicked the sheets to the base of the bed, where they wrapped, like wraith white fingers, around his feet and ankles. His eyes were closed and his head thrust back into the pillow. I could see every line, crease, crevice and curve of his sleek torso. Evidently he slept naked.

  He wasn’t sleeping now. Oh no. His left knee was pulled up. I could see the strain in both his calf and thigh muscles as he pushed his heel into the mattress. His left leg lay flat to the bed, giving me an unrestricted view of the masterful way he pumped his hand up and down his stiff cock. His hips writhed and jerked, his hand slid effortlessly up and down in twisting glides along his shaft. It was a beautiful thing to behold and then I realised just what the hell I was doing.