Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus

Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus

8 Ebooks in One

Roxxy Meyer & Leigh Foxlee

Copyright © 2013 Roxxy Meyer & Leigh Foxlee

Published by Wild & Lawless Writers

http://wildlawlesswriters.blogspot.com/
 

All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be distributed, shared, resold, posted online, or reproduced in any electronic or hard copy form.

This ebook is a work of fiction. Any similarities between actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. This ebook contains adult content and is intended for a mature readership. All sexual scenarios depicted in this ebook occur between consenting adults over 18 years of age.

Cover art design by Wild & Lawless Writers.

The photo on the cover comes from a royalty free images section of a photo stock site. It is used here under a royalty-free license. The writer, publisher, and cover designer claim no rights to the original photo. Photographer and model have no affiliation with the author, cover designer, or publisher, and use of this photo does not suggest in any way that the model or photographer endorse the author’s work.

This omnibus includes:

Sleeping With Beauty (mf/ mfm)

The Ugly Duckling (mf)

Cindy Eller (mf)

Hans & Greg (mm)

Janet The Giant Lover (mmf)

The Executive’s New Clothes (mf/mmf)

Beauty Tames The Beasts (mmf)

The Little Mermaid (mmf)

Bonus Material

All fairy tales have a scorching heat level.

***

 

Sleeping With Beauty

Insomnia cured by BDSM and sexy fairies.

By Leigh Foxlee

***

Sleeping with Beauty

“
I’d like to rock your world.”

Mike set the drink down in front of me and smiled, showing dazzling white teeth. His steely grey eyes twinkled.

I grinned and played along. “We’ve been over this before. You’re too young.” I flipped a straight strand of golden blonde hair out of my eyes and sipped on the concoction, complete with pink drink umbrella, he’d given me.

He hooked a thumb at a guy toward the end of the bar. “It’s not from me, sweetheart. It’s from him.”

Rock your world
was the name of one of Mike’s specialties, and though I owned this place, I had forgotten what exactly the mixed drink contained. Mike was my head bartender, and I trusted him to take care of such recipes and all things alcohol in this place. He’d been with me three years and the kid had never let me down.

And considering he’s only ten years younger than me, I should really quit calling him a kid. How insulting. I can’t help myself. Sometimes I feel so much older than my 35 years.

“
But you don’t look old, Kat,” Mike whispered close to my ear, as if he could read my mind. “You look like a foxy 25-year-old Jennifer Aniston.”

I waved him off good-naturedly and tried to hide my shiver. How the hell did he do that? It’s like he had a direct line into my thoughts.

“
Well,” I said, pushing the drink away from me. “You can tell him thank you, but no thank you.”

Mike snickered and took away the alcohol. “Yeah, he kinda looks like a sleazy used car salesman, doesn’t he?”

I laughed. “Yeah, no offense to the guy, but he does.”

Mike moved off toward the balding gentleman, who looked like a cross between Larry David and George Bush. My head bartender looked decidedly pleased to be delivering my tactful turndown. Whether the guy really was as sleazy as he looked, I didn’t know, and I didn’t see the point in being intentionally cruel over a harmless gesture.

Although, by the spreading grin on Mike’s face as he returned, and the way the poor jilted guy slinked away from the bar, my employee may have elaborated on my polite refusal.

I shook my head and smiled. That man was incorrigible.

“
So, how you been sleeping?” Mike opened up the small dishwasher we kept to wash glasses just under the counter.

I sighed and avoided his penetrating, compassionate gaze. “Not well.”

He shook a finger at me. “I could tell the insomnia’s back. You always get extra quiet when you aren’t sleeping well. And you forgot to do the books. You never forget to do the books on Friday.”

I bristled a bit at this, but swallowed down my defensive trigger and joked, “Well, maybe I’ve suddenly got a life, and now I’m doing the books on Monday.”

He gave that deep, throaty laugh I tried to deny had an effect on me. “Sweetie, I know everything about you, and I know you haven’t gotten a life yet.” His warm, strong finger swept under my chin and tilted my head up.

Uttered by different lips, those words would’ve come off as creepy. But, from Mike, they came off as caring, concerned, sad about my lack of social outings. I knew he worried about me. Worried that I worked too much.

He didn’t know the truth, though. That was one thing Mike Stansfield did not know about Ms. Katherine J. Leonard. (Call me Kat for short.) He didn’t know the effect I had on people.

It started, or at least I became first aware of it, in elementary school. I was about nine. I liked to watch the other kids playing on the tire swing, and I’d always been an observer. But, this day, my friend Robbie Golding asked me to play tag with him and some other kids, and I gleefully joined the small group.

I caught Robbie. Tag, you’re it! But, as kids will do, we got to wrestling on the school grounds. It was harmless fun, until Robbie started to gasp for air. The official diagnosis was asthma, but I knew. I don’t know how, but somehow I knew. I stole his breath away, and it most certainly was not a good thing.

After that, more strange things happened. Kids would complain they felt drained after a sleepover at my house. Like they had no energy and they could sleep for a week. Me, on the other hand? I’d feel energized. As if I could run circles around the high school track field from dusk till dawn.

And when I had sex, it only got worse. Lucky me. My first time, I thankfully only gave the boy a panic attack. But I stopped a man’s heart once. I bought my first vibrator after that experience.

But here’s the sadistic irony of my situation. I’m an insomniac, and the only thing that truly cures my insomnia is sex.

Universe has a really crappy sense of humor.

Mom took me to multiple specialists, doctors of all sorts, but no one has a clue what’s really wrong with me. Supposedly it’s all psychosomatic. It’s not psychosomatic when you’re in the ER, praying your boyfriend doesn’t die from having sex with you, let me tell you.

But what do I know? I’m a simple bar owner with a weak spot for cheesy 70s films and Channing Tatum. You can also see why Rogue from X-Men is my favorite superhero, I’m sure.

“
Yeah, I can’t sleep.” I asked him to make me a lime margarita. “So what?”

He shrugged, but a smirk lingered at the corners of his mouth. “The offer still stands.”

I shook my head, smiling at him as I did so. “Nope. I never mix business with pleasure.”

His eyebrow raised and he shook a finger at me while he dried a glass. “That might be part of your problem, Ms. Kat.”

“
Whatever, peanut gallery.” I waved him off, downed my sour-sweet drink, and slid off my stool. I went to gather empty glasses off tables while he gave last call.

After I locked the door behind the last straggler, I said goodbye to Mike as he went out the back exit. Then I headed up the spiral staircase that led to my apartment above the bar.

I froze when I noticed the bright red door leading into my home was already open an inch. A breath died in my throat and my heart thumped like a frightened rabbit’s foot.

Who the hell is in my place?

Mike was gone, and I thought I was completely alone. I searched the narrow hallway, looking for something I could use as a weapon, should the intruder attack me. Finding nothing, I ran back downstairs to the bar, moving as quietly as I could, and snatched up a pool cue. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Back at my apartment, I pushed the door open the rest of the way and slowly crept inside. My hand slid up the wall and I flipped the light switch up.

No one. A cheery amber glow filled the spacious living / kitchen area, revealing it was unoccupied. I breathed a sigh of relief, lowered the hand that gripped the pool cue, and went back to lock my door tight.

“
Drop the weapon, Kat,” a soft, sexy voice said from behind me. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

I whirled around to find Mike standing by my lumpy beige couch. I gasped, and fear crawled up the back of my neck. What the hell was he doing in here?

“
What the--” The pool cue clattered to the floor.

He raised his hand and made a weird gesture, like he was conjuring something. Suddenly I felt different, more relaxed. It was as if he whispered into my mind:
Trust me
.

“
What’s going on?” My voice was slow and almost slurred. I wondered if I still had a slight buzz from the margarita.

He moved closer, with such stealth it was almost spooky. “I don’t like to use glamour, but I don’t want to scare you.”

My eyelids fluttered. My head felt thick. “Glamour?”

He took my hands and looked deep into my eyes. “When you were a kid, did you ever hear fairy stories about Halflings? Kids that were part human, part fairy?”

I nodded and wondered where this was going.

“
Well, Kat.” He sighed, then ran a hand over his short, caramel brown hair. “You and I are Halflings. You’re part succubus, and I’m part incubus.”

I tried to back away from him, wanted to scream he was crazy, but my childhood came back to me--the draining of people’s energy--and it all made sense. Still, I shook my head. It was too unbelievable.

“
I know.” His voice was deep and grave as those steely eyes held mine. “I know about everything. Your childhood, the man whose heart stopped.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over my knuckles when I shuddered at his admission. “And I’m here to help you, and you can help me. What do you say, Kat?”

“
H-how can I help you?”

His grin was wide and wolfish, full of teeth. “You can’t sleep. Neither can I, and we both know what’ll cure it. How about you and I play a little game tonight? Have a sleepover?”

I took a deep breath, tried to stretch to my full five-foot-six, but I still felt short in comparison to his tall, broad self. Still, I mustered all my bravery and said, “Okay, let’s do this.”

And, like that, the towering hunk of fine masculinity produced a box of condoms from behind his back, plus a length of gleaming, braided white rope.

“
Nylon,” he said, and winked. “It’s soft, silky. Less chafing.”

As he turned me around and led me past the lumpy couch, I asked, “Exactly what’re you planning here?”

One part of me was thrilled, but another part of me was tentative and ready to run from the room.

And I had questions for him about this whole Halfling business, like why did he seem to have control over his powers when I did not?

“
I was raised in fairyland for the first half of my life,” he said, doing that mind reading thing again. “Now take your clothes off, sweetie.”

I felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers. “Excuse me?”

He waggled a finger and grinned. “You said you’d trust me.”

“
I didn’t say that. You whispered the command in my mind.” I stuck my tongue out at him, knowing I was acting like a petulant child.

His face showed exasperation as he held out his hands and shook the coiled rope at me. “Do you want to sleep or not?”

“
Yes,” I hissed.

“
Fine. Naked and on your knees in ten minutes, or I’m leaving, and I won’t tell you how to control your powers.”

“
Asshole,” I grumbled low, hoping he didn’t hear.

He sat me in my desk chair, a comfy but simple IKEA deal with padded seat and back. Then he untwined the rope slowly, watching me as his hands caressed the silky fibers before he wrapped one end around my ankle, and started binding me to the legs of the chair.