Bedtime Stories Customer Service Read online

  Bedtime Stories: Customer Service

  Celia Kyle

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2010 Celia Kyle

  ISBN: 978-1-60521-320-0

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Chrissie Henderson

  Cover Artist: Reneé George

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Bedtime Stories: Customer Service

  Celia Kyle

  Cilla lost a scale to the big bad Troll under the bridge. Without it, she can’t turn into a dragon. She’s stuck in human form. Five years, Troll said. Five years as a Customer Service Rep for Bedtime Stories Press and then she’ll be free. But instead of having her scale returned as promised, she’s handed over to Djimon, a vampire. She has to spend one day with him, twenty-four hours of sexual servitude, and then she’ll finally be free. Except… what if she doesn’t want to leave?

  Chapter One

  Prim and proper Cilla scanned her email, searching for the most important messages first. Those emails usually contained all capitals in their subject lines. Irate customers used capitals. Ingrates. Okay, ingrates wasn’t a very nice thing to say about Bedtime Stories Press readers. She was just so… mad.

  Cilla pushed her sliding glasses further up her nose and blew the falling tendrils of hair out of her face. She’d have to fix her bun sooner or later, but she still had over a hundred emails to look through.

  On the plus side, half of the emails were praise for Bedtime Stories Press and its authors, especially Celia K. Yle. It was the other half she dreaded. If only…

  If only she hadn’t fallen for the Troll’s tricks. Toll collector by night, she was the whip-wielding General Manager of the publishing house by day. And she’d duped Cilla like she was a hatchling just getting her wings under her. Geesh.

  “Shift for me, dear Cilla. Let me see those lovely, lovely scales of yours,” she’d cooed.

  One. One tiny little scale from the tip of her tiny little tail and now Cilla was stuck working for the Troll forever and ever, amen (Or five years, whichever came first). Even God couldn’t save her now. She wasn’t sure if anyone could save her.

  The thing about it was… Cilla’s powers were tied to her scales. They lived just beneath her skin, waiting for the moment when she’d set them free and then whamo! Dragon. Except… nothing happens when one of her scales goes missing. If it sheds naturally she can shift just as soon as a new one grows in. But if it’s plucked from her like a feather, no amount of wishing will force the scale to return. She had to have that pesky missing piece handed back to her safe and sound. The Troll wasn’t likely to do that any time soon. Hell, it’d been nearly five years and still the scale was nowhere in sight.

  “Cilla!” the Troll bellowed through the intercom system. “Silly Cilla!”

  With a sigh she pushed away from her desk and padded toward the Troll’s domain. The General Manager’s office had been decorated to resemble her favorite place… the underside of a bridge.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Must act submissive. Must. Five years the Troll had said. Five years and she’d be free. Of course, each time Cilla pissed her off, the sentence was changed. Hell, sometimes it changed at her whim.

  “Come in, come in.”

  Cilla stepped across the threshold and froze. Holy fire and water be merciful.

  The most gorgeous man Cilla had ever seen stood before the Troll’s desk. She stared at the ruggedly handsome man. His hair was dark, almost midnight-black, and held the tiniest hint of a curl like a calm day at sea. The man’s forehead was wide, but not high -- strong. Those eyes… amber like a cat’s, but they held a hunger she couldn’t identify and she wondered if this was another of the Troll’s lovers. His nose wasn’t too large, but matched his face, a small bump along the bridge showing that it’d been broken at one time over the years. But it was his lips she wanted, needed, desired. She imagined them to be soft, so kissably soft and sweet. Something about this man drew her to him and for the first time in her long life, she didn’t want to resist.

  His shoulders were broad, encased in a polo shirt just loose enough not to be considered indecent, but showing off his pectorals and tapered waist. He wore loose-fitting khaki pants, and she cursed the cotton fabric, wishing she could see if the rest of him was as well muscled as his torso. That, and she wanted a good look at the size of his package.

  This stranger, this smiling man with his rakish smile and strong body… he made her want. Bad.

  “Sit, Cilla, sit,” the Troll ordered, and Cilla wondered if she’d get a doggy or dragon treat for listening. Not likely.

  Not waiting to find out, she settled into one of the chairs before the woman’s desk, staring just over the Troll’s shoulder, while the man took the other. Even after four years, eleven months and fifteen days, Cilla had a hard time looking the woman in the eye. She should be used to her appearance by now. Sure, the Troll had curves on top of curves and legs for miles. Cilla just had issues with the blue skin… and burgundy hair… and the tusks. Definitely the tusks.

  Cilla was a tenth generation dragon. She either spent her time in her human flesh where she could mingle with other multi-colored two-legs, or she was a dragon and she danced in the sky with her brethren. She was not some blue-skinned freakazoid on a power trip. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The Troll leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly stroking the top of her breast. Cilla looked out of the corner of her eye to gauge the stranger’s reaction. He wasn’t admiring the Troll, but staring at her instead. She blushed, her face and neck heating while blood rushed to her head, and she wondered if she had something on her face.

  “Cilla, this is Djimon. Djimon, Cilla.”

  She scrunched her face, willing the blood to leave her be, and then turned her head to look at Djimon. Cilla smiled, a tiny tilt of the corners of her mouth, and his lips spread into a wide smile revealing… fangs.

  No wonder she was attracted to him. Carnivores tended to stick together. And there was this little fact about them wanting to bump uglies pretty often too.

  He turned toward her and held out his hand, palm up. Not wanting to be rude, she placed her hand in his, and he brought it to his mouth, his lips brushing against her skin.

  Soft, just as soft and silky as she’d imagined, and the touch shot a bolt of awareness straight to her sex. Her pus
sy clenched and grew damp with the subtle touch of skin against skin. Then… then he flicked his tongue out, and she imagined him to be like a snake, his tongue flicking this way and that, tasting. Her sex clenched again, harder this time, and she hoped he’d end his assault before she embarrassed herself by coming from nothing more than a kiss on the hand. Okay, a little more than a simple kiss, but not much.

  “Miss Cilla.” His voice rumbled over her, through her and zeroed in on her pussy. Damn, but the man had way too much control over her already.

  “Cilla?” The Troll’s voice broke into Cilla’s pending orgasm, her shot of heat.

  “Hmm?” She hadn’t let her gaze wander from Djimon’s.

  “I release you.”

  Wait. “What?”

  “I release you… into the care of Djimon.”

  Cilla snatched her hand back, breaking their contact, and turned her fury on the Troll. “You fucking what?” Now was not the time for subtlety.

  “I have released you to Djimon. He holds your scale now as well as control over you. I have searched --”

  “You fucking bitch.” She took a deep breath and let her fiery fury erupt into the room. “You hold me captive for nearly five years. Five. Years. And now, so close to being released, you give me to this man? This vampire.” She spat the title, the breed of this stranger. Cilla rose and stared down at the vamp. “I didn’t submit to her and I sure as fire won’t submit to you, vampire. If you expect a sex slave, try me. You’ll be burned so badly it’ll take you a century to recover. I may not be able to shift, but I can handle a can of lighter fluid with the best of them.”

  “I have no intention --”

  Yeah, right. She saw the look, the bulge in his pants that even the baggy fabric couldn’t hide.

  Djimon held a necklace aloft that Cilla recognized immediately. A thin titanium chain, spelled against all but the owner, with a single sparkling green scale captured on the string. “Twenty-four hours and then I’ll release you. Give me twenty-four hours to show you why the Troll sought me out for you specifically, and then you can fly to the farthest corner of the Earth. I won’t bother you again.”

  What choice did she have? “Fine. But the lighter fluid threat stands, blood-boy.”

  Chapter Two

  The vamp’s “lair” was decadent with rich velvet curtains in the color of the deepest of wines and nineteenth century Regency furniture. Ornately hand carved settees and chairs were scattered throughout the room, but the main attraction lay in the center of the room. It seemed that Djimon had whisked her away directly to his bedroom. The bed, cherry wood with intricately engraved bedposts, dominated the room. It had sheer swaths of fabric gathered at the posts and the most beautifully woven bedspread Cilla had ever seen.

  A fire crackled in the fireplace, lending soothing warmth to the room. Large carpets that appeared to be authentic, not reproduction Regency workmanship, covered parts of the marble tile floor.

  “Come, my Cilla.” His voice beckoned her and he held out his hand, almost demanding that she take it. “Come and let me show you what it will be like to be mine.”

  “What if I don’t want to be yours? What if I just want to do my time for my stupid crime and then be let free?” She turned away from him and stared into the mesmerizing flames dancing in the fireplace. “I just want to go home.”

  She felt his heat at her back and was surprised that she could feel anything but a chill from him. He rested his hands on her shoulders, warmth seeping through her top and deep into her skin, scorching her.

  “Cilla, I will release you come morning. Regardless of what happens this night, you shall have your scale and be free. I swear on my maker.”

  She nibbled her lip, wondering if she could truly trust this man.

  He nuzzled her neck and she bit back the moan growing in her chest. “I was chosen by the Troll because she thought we would suit. Nothing more, nothing less. At the end of your term, she wished for your happiness. She grew… fond of you over the years. I can make you happy, Cilla. Just give me the chance.”

  She didn’t believe him for a moment, but the prospect of being free come morning tugged at her. She wanted to return to her family more than anything, to see her sisters Talia and Lara.

  “What…” She cleared her throat, unable to believe what she was about to do. She was selling herself for her freedom, but after five years it seemed worth it. She would whore for her scale. “What do I have to do?”

  He scraped her neck with his fangs and she shivered in response, goose bumps rising along her neck and shoulders, her nipples hardening. “Let me love you, dearest Cilla. Just let me love you.”

  “You want me to whore for you? Just you?”

  “Just me. And if you must think of it that way, I cannot stop you, but I assure you that you’ll enjoy every moment of our time together.” Djimon held out a hand for her and she placed her palm on his. “Come, lover.”

  She allowed him to lead her toward the bed, her nerves churning and burning in her stomach. Could she do this? Would she do this? It wasn’t too late to say no, but the prospect of seeing her family… She’d go through with it. She’d let him do as he wished and damn the consequences. If this scarred her for the rest of her life… well, there was always therapy.

  Standing beside the imposing piece of furniture, he turned and stared at her, and she focused on the magic of his eyes. They shifted and the color danced and morphed between breaths. The color went from the brightest of ambers to the deepest, darkest red until they were almost black. Hungry eyes, the stories said. Hungry for what? Blood or sex, the myths echoed. Blood or sex.

  A shudder wracked through her, starting at her toes and traveling through each and every muscle to her head. Fear and arousal warred within. Her pussy ached for him, wanted him regardless of the circumstances. And yet her mind detested his very being, his method of seduction.

  Long, slim, nimble fingers reached for the buttons of her blouse and unbuttoned the top with what appeared to be practiced ease. One button after another succumbed to his ministrations, revealing the pale skin of her chest, the lace of her bra and the roundness of her stomach.

  Cilla knew he could see her pudge, and cringed when he paused after opening her shirt. Would he stop now that he’d seen a part of her imperfect body?

  “Beautiful. Your breasts, your skin, all of you. Let me see more, bella.”

  She swallowed her self-deprecating chuckle and let him continue his unveiling. Soon enough he’d realize that he’d gotten the short end of the stick in this situation.

  Those cool fingers brushed her waist, skimming and sliding over her skin until they just touched the outer edges of her breasts, his palms cupping the fullness of her chest. The coolness of his touch didn’t douse her ardor, but intensified it instead. Her nipples pebbled against his hands, the lace of her bra chafing the tender, aroused skin, and she cursed the barrier between them.

  “So responsive, lover. So needy.” He shifted his hands ever so slightly and her blouse dropped from her shoulders, leaving her in just her bra and slacks. He kneaded her breasts, playing her, teasing and tempting her so that her pussy clenched and released with his every move. She wanted him and didn’t care what brought them together. She just didn’t want them to part. Not yet.

  He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his hands stroking her back. Chest to chest, she licked her lips, her mouth salivating at the prospect of tasting the cool pale skin touching hers.

  “Should I give you what you need, ma belle?” He brushed her lips with his, and her knees went weak, turning to jelly with the first electric touch of their mouths. He returned again, lingering longer, keeping the touch through one breath and the next. The third time the kiss came, his tongue snaked into her mouth and she opened for him, anxious to be controlled and loved by this man.

  His tongue slithered into her mouth and she did the same to him, tasting and discovering the nooks and crannies. Becoming daring, sh
e laved one of his fangs and changed position so she could suck on the protruding piece of enamel. His response was instantaneous.

  Djimon jerked away from her with a roar and threw her onto the bed, following her down before she had the opportunity to even bounce on the soft mattress. “Tease.” He growled and yet smiled. “Beautiful, gorgeous, tease.”

  He nuzzled her neck and she tilted her head to the side, anxious to have his kisses and caresses wherever he desired. He licked and nipped her neck, kissing a scorching path along her body, from one shoulder to the next. He tugged and pulled on the straps of her bra with a growing growl, and then from one thought to the next, the piece of clothing disappeared.

  “Wha --”

  “Shh… Bella. Magic of being a vampire.”

  Oh, she liked that magic right now. Liked it a lot. Bra gone, his lips and teeth renewed their travels over her. With each kiss and bite her pussy grew heavier, hotter, wanting more. Her sex lips unfurled and became damp with her desire for him, the scent of her musk filling the room, filling the air with her arousal.

  He circled her left nipple with his tongue, sensitizing and awakening the tiny bud of flesh. She arched into his ministrations, pressing into his mouth, and he chuckled against her breast. “Easy, Cilla, I’ll give you what you want.”

  This time when he latched onto her, he sucked and nibbled just exactly as she needed. Each pull and tug and bite went straight to her pussy, her cunt clenching and tightening in conjunction with his mouth. Harder and softer and then somewhere in between, she felt as if she could come from him sucking on her breasts alone. “Please…” She wanted to come and didn’t care how.

  Djimon released her and nuzzled the space between her breasts. “Not yet, lover. Not yet.”

  He continued his journey south, laving and tasting her as he went. Then his warm breath fanned over her pussy, and she shuddered, aching and open for him.