Naughty Fairy Tales Volume II E-Book

AJ Tipton

• Herausgeber: AJ Tipton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Beauty & the Beast, Snow White, and Rapunzel as you've never seen them before. 

In a magical kingdom far away, there lived cursed princes, warrior women, and powerful heroes. This three-book collection features sexy gender swapped retellings of the classic fairy tales: Beauty & the Beast, Snow White, and Rapunzel. The heroes have become heroines, the heroines have become heroes, and nothing is as it seems. 

Handsome and the Beast: This gender swapped fairy tale for adults features sexy FFM threesomes, beastly makeovers, and a tale that’s older than time.

Snow Truer Love: This mature romance features sexy adventures, feisty dwarves, and the most beautiful love of all. 

Hair Apparent: This sexy novella for adults includes high-risk hijinks, dangerous creatures who pun, and a love that even magic can’t predict. 

These STANDALONE novellas can be read in any order. There are no cliffhangers, and each short ends as it should: happily ever after.

Leseprobe

Naughty Fairy Tales Volume II

A Three Book Collection

AJ Tipton

Copyright © AJ Tipton 2015 The right of AJ Tipton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (or other similar law, depending on your country). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except in cases of brief quotations embodied in reviews or articles. It may not be edited, amended, lent, resold, hired out, distributed or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s written permission. Permission can be obtained from [email protected]

This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Cover art photos provided by BigStock.com, Morgue Files, Flickr.com, and Upsplash.com. Graphic design by LydiaChai.

Contents

Handsome and the Beast

Snow Truer Love

Hair Apparent

Letter from the Authors

Meet AJ Tipton

Handsome and the Beast

A rain-soaked figure kicked its way through the door, sending a spray of splinters and water across the newly-mopped floorboards.

“Welcome home, Mom,” Quinn said, not glancing up as he prepared a rabbit for dinner. He resisted the urge to sigh despondently at the now-dirty floor he’d have to wash again. Mother’s already riled up; there’s no need to set off her temper by complaining.

The home he shared with his mother was modest: only one main room that served as kitchen, living room and foyer with a small bedroom off the side. Quinn was proud he was able to keep it spotless, despite his mother’s constant efforts to be as abusive and inconsiderate as possible.

Quinn’s mother, Beatrice, was not to be trifled with. She was short and advanced in years, but had a mean streak and a way with a belt that had served her well as a widow with two children. She also had a history of selling off her kids when her bill at the pub went too high. Quinn barely remembered his sister, only a vague memory of angry, raised voices from the other room. But the day fifteen years ago when his mother left with his sister and came back with four goats and a victorious smile was always branded on his memory. He got a postcard from his sister every year or so, telling him she was all right, but she never answered Quinn’s pleas to take him in. After a few years, he stopped asking and instead concentrated on making himself so invaluable that his mother could never afford to sell him.

“Quinn, get that supper finished!” Beatrice growled through yellow teeth. She dropped her muddy shawl to the floor in a heap. “Listen while you cook. I’ve got some good news for you.” She turned her head to the side, wringing out her long grey hair. The puddle forming at her feet was muddy with a greasy sheen.

Shit. Quinn’s blood ran cold. The last time his mother used the phrase ‘good news’ was when he lost his sister. I can only hope she got at least six goats for me.

“Your old mother has come across an opportunity for you, my boy. I was having a lovely walk in the woods when that terrible storm struck.”

Quinn tried to keep his face neutral. Beatrice was a notoriously-frequent customer of the town pub. Her ‘walks in the woods’ weren’t so much a bit of fresh air and exercise as a misdirected drunken stumble and everybody knew it. Quinn knew correcting the point would only enrage her.

“I found an abandoned castle and took shelter until the worst of the storm passed.” She looked at the mud, the puddle, and the soaked cloak in the entryway and pointed with a gnarled finger. “Clean this up!”

Quinn jumped to action, mopping up the mess. “I’m glad you found shelter. That storm was beastly.”

“I’m sure you were worried sick.” Beatrice spat. “You didn’t even think to come find your own mother in such a thunderstorm. I was thinking of you!” She sat down at the small wooden table in the middle of the room and gestured for Quinn to bring her meal. “There was this top-notch bow mounted on the wall next to a full quiver of arrows.” Beatrice picked at her teeth with a dirty fingernail. “Can you imagine? Like some kind of useless decoration! Clearly it would be better used to put food on my table.”

Oh shit, she stole it. Quinn handed his mother a plate of rabbit and cooked vegetables, turning to wipe down the kitchen counters behind him. An impressive new bow would be amazing, but Quinn’s shoulders tensed. Beatrice was a wily old hag, but there must have been consequences to looting a stranger’s home.

“The storm settled down and I was done having my rest so I figured I’d just take the bow and go.” She shoveled food into her mouth as she spoke, sending bits flying across the table. “These people arrive out of nowhere. Some fancy broad with an insane temper...”

Look who’s talking. Quinn grimaced.

“...and that weirdo who’s always coming to town. Mira?”

“Mirror?” Hope rose in Quinn’s chest. Mirror lived somewhere out in the forest surrounding their town, occasionally visiting to shop for supplies. She was enough of a regular to be a familiar face, but enough of an outsider for the townsfolk to give her a hard time. Quinn always admired how kind and patient she was in the face of some of the more idiotic comments that came her way. The fact that Mirror was an absolute knockout certainly didn’t hurt.

“Whatever. Silly name, silly girl.” Beatrice stood and poured herself a glass of something brown and so strong it made Quinn’s eyes water from across the room. “Apparently the castle was not as abandoned as I thought, and the owner was unreasonably angry at my presence. Bitch.” She took a quick sip of her drink, her face contorting at the taste. “The Mirror girl said something about you and her mistress being a good match, so I figured, that was that.”

“What was what?” Quinn’s sense of foreboding grew with every word.

“You get to keep that fancy bow I wanted for you, but you just have to use it at the castle.” Another sip disappeared down Beatrice’s throat. “The castle where you will be living.” The brown liquid vanished in a gulp. “Forever.”

“You sold me for a bow?” Quinn wished he was surprised.

“No!” Beatrice smiled warmly. “No, my boy, of course not. I sold you for this!” She lifted a large pouch, heavy with shining gold coins.

That’s worth way more than four goats. It was a strange and sad victory, but Quinn was ready to take it. After twenty-five years of neglect and abuse, a change—even indentured servitude to a stranger—sounded like blissful relief.

“Fuck it,” he finally spoke, throwing down the dirty rag in his hand. “I’ll go.”

Sophie pulled the magnifying mirror close to her face and grabbed her tweezers like a weapon to pluck at the stubborn black hairs; they never disappeared, no matter how many times she grasped at them.

Fucking curse. Fucking wizard.

A lady didn’t speak such obscenities out loud, but she could think them plenty inside her head. Sophie’s mother had aggressively coached her in what a lady should be: beautiful, aloof, demure, honed. Like a knife. “A lady is like a scalpel: sharp, yet beautiful.” Not exactly the advice that every little girl expects to learn at her mother’s knee, but with her family long gone, all she had was the memories of guidance from long ago.

Nothing had prepared Sophie for the curse ten years ago.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The words felt good inside Sophie’s head, the hard consonants punctuating her pulls at the last three hairs. She smoothed her fingertips under her chin, smiling at her reflection. Her brunette hair was piled in stylish layers on her head, her eyebrows twin sickle moons, and her bright red mouth looked petite and feminine rather than the maw of a drooling beast. Thank you, makeup gods. She sighed and put the mirror down. She had less than two hours to appreciate the feeling of being beautiful until the curse caught up and turned her beastly again.

“He’s riding up to the gate,” Mirror said, opening the door without knocking. Nobody else in the castle would dare to open her door, but Mirror was an exception to just about every rule.

“Are you sure about all this?” Mirror asked, pulling the door closed so nobody else would hear. “When I vouched he was a decent guy, I didn’t really think you’d make a deal with that horrible woman to buy him. Come on, do you think he could really break the curse? There have been so many suitors. They’ve all failed. Have you ever considered that maybe—”

Sophie raised a hand, cutting Mirror off before she started on the same old rant about how Sophie was misinterpreting the curse. Mirror hadn’t been there. Mirror could never understand what it felt like to live with powerful magic affecting every moment of her life.

“I know you mean well, Mirror, but please shut up about your theories.” Sophie took one last critical look at her reflection and stood, straightening the skirts of her dress so they fell in graceful silken waves. “This one is Number Thirteen. Isn’t thirteen a lucky number?”

“No, it’s not,” Mirror said, sighing deeply and crossing her arms as she frowned at her mistress. Sophie raised an eyebrow at her, an invitation for Mirror to speak her mind. The woman would be insufferable until she had the chance to say her piece.

“I just think this whole thing is a little barbaric. You seriously have to date these guys by having them imprisoned here? Wouldn’t it just be simpler to go into town, hang out at a few bars, or go to some harvest festivals?” She walked forward to massage Sophie’s shoulders, her fingers feeling amazingly persuasive, and Sophie let out a small moan as she leaned into Mirror’s hands. “You know, just meet people the normal way? Do you really have to keep up with this incarceration-until-love deal?”

Sophie pulled away from Mirror. “You forget, I’m not normal. I would be a revolting beast by the time I got to town, you know that. What man would possibly fall for something so hideous? I do what I have to do.”

Sophie could hear the sharp clop of horseshoes on the cobblestones leading to the castle. He was here. She clamped down on the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach every time a new potential curse-breaker arrived. None of the first twelve had broken her curse through acts of true love, and this one would probably be no different. Still, Sophie couldn’t stop the small ball of hope that grew in her chest as she dreamed about finally living free.

“You never know,” Sophie said, as much to herself as to Mirror. “He might just be the one. What’s this one’s name again?”

“Quinn,” Mirror said.

“I like it. Sounds like gin. I’ll remember that one.” Sophie couldn’t have another repeat of the debacle of Number Nine, when she screamed out Number Eight’s name in bed. So embarrassing. “Go open the front door, I’m ready.” Sophie said, heading out to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, right. I forgot your dramatic entrance. Just don’t trip over your feet this time,” Mirror said, smiling slightly.

“I only did that once,” Sophie hissed. Number Five; she was never going to live it down.

“Twice,” Mirror said, skipping down the stairs on her practical flats before Sophie could pull Mirror’s hair in retribution.

Sophie ducked behind a column, listening to the sound of Number Thirteen—Quinn, like gin, she reminded herself—knocking on the door and Mirror ushering him in. Sophie waited a moment so her guest could take in the richly decorated entryway with the large portraits of her family, the lush imported carpets, the golden molding around the door frames, the silver candlesticks, and the ornate grandfather clock. Then she glided out from behind the column and descended the stairs.

Sophie opened her arms wide, aware of how the movement pressed her breasts higher in her corset and made each of her arms look delicate and feminine under her draping sleeves.

“Welcome to my humble abode. I hope you will enjoy your time here,” she said, dipping her voice to a husky purr. Men loved a husky purr. It was in all the books on seduction. “Mr. Quinn, I am honored you have come to stay here.” Men also liked being complimented.

As Sophie got a closer look at Number Thirteen, she felt her forced grin broadening into a more genuine smile. This one was gorgeous, the most beautiful by far of all the suitors who had failed to break the curse: tall, curling brown hair, a strong chin, muscles for days, and eyes bluer than a sky in spring.

Hello there, pretty.

“My dear friend, Mirror, tells me you are as kind as you are handsome,” Sophie said, stifling a flinch. Too much, too desperate. Oh god. Trying to cover, she held out her hand for him to kiss.

Quinn glanced at Mirror for a second before planting a kiss on Sophie’s fingertips that made delightful tingles shoot up her arm and down to her core.

“Thank you, my lady. I hope to be a helpful addition to your household,” Quinn said, his voice low and curling like a forest stream.

“Please, sir, I am Lady Sophia Chase. But I hope you will call me Sophie,” Sophie said, linking her arm through his and marveling at the hard muscle under his jacket. “Let me give you a tour.” She gave Mirror a hard look. “Alone.”

Mirror shrugged and gave Quinn an encouraging thumbs up that, from his confused look, he didn’t know how to interpret. Sophie patted his arm.

“Don’t worry about her. I have so much to show you.”

Quinn didn’t seem very impressed with the three-story high library, or the size of the kitchens, or the gardens, or any of the other lavish sections of her castle. There had been one guy who loved the library so much he had no time for Sophie and she sent him away with a novel still pasted to his face. Another fawned over her enormous gardens and planted an entire section of colorful roses. She’d hoped at the time it was a sign he wanted to stay. A foolish hope, of course. They never stayed.

The only thing the new guy seemed to be interested in was the servants’ looping arguments. The sounds of another row drifted through the castle and he stopped mid-step, a strained expression on his face.

“Do they always scream at each other like that?” Number Thirteen—Quinn, I need to remember his name is Quinn—said.

“What are you talking about?” Sophie said, looking around. The only other people in the hallway were the housekeeper and the cook standing at the top of the main stairs. The housekeeper, Mrs. Ladium, was ancient and her family had served the house forever; her son worked in the stables. The cook, Macy, was a pretty flirt, the kind of perky cute that Sophie knew she’d never be even with her intense daily beauty regimen. Sophie hated Macy a little bit for her flawless skin, but it was hard to hold onto the emotion when Macy was caught in the crossfire of Sophie’s curse.

“I’m always cleaning up after you!” the old woman screamed, loud enough that the crystal in the chandeliers clinked together.

“If you don’t like how I run my kitchen, then don’t go in there!” the younger woman bellowed back. Normally, Macy had a lovely voice like a bell, but when she was upset—which was nearly all the time since the curse struck—her voice had the scratching caterwaul of a cat in heat. All of the servants except Mirror were trapped in an endless cycle of repeated fights, hashing over the same arguments again and again.

“If you spent a little less time rolling around in there with every man you see, I’d have less of disaster to clean up every day!” Mrs. Ladium shook a filthy rag in the younger woman’s face.

Quinn touched Sophie’s arm gently and she jumped. Her suitors were almost never gentle.

“Shouldn’t you do something about that?” he said, gesturing at the two women. “They look really upset.”

Sophie shrugged. “They’re always yelling about something.” Now wasn’t the time to explain the curse to him. The timing for those explanations had to be perfect. Number Two was nearly running for the door before she finished telling him what happened all those years ago when time stopped moving forward in this blasted castle.

“And the gardener and the stable boy?” Quinn said. “When we were out at the gardens, they were screaming and punching each other. You didn’t even notice.”

A clatter rang out from the other room, and Quinn ran toward it. Sophie sighed and followed after, just as the silver platter Mrs. Ladium hurled at Macy flew down the stairs.

“Why can’t you just admit it?” a woman’s voice screamed from the other room, followed by a second crash. Sophie paused in the doorway to straighten her dress while Quinn wasn’t looking.

Hillary, Sophie’s beautician, stood with her arms raised, holding a candlestick, ready to throw it at the man huddled in a corner of the ballroom with his hands protecting his head.

“I swear I didn’t take your fucking hair dye! I’m a groundskeeper; why the hell would I want hair dye?” he squeaked.

Great. Hillary and Aaron are looping again, Sophie sighed.

“Do you expect me to believe your hair is that shade of black normally? You think you can just steal from me, Aaron?” Hillary threw the candlestick and it pinged off of the wall, leaving a new dent in the wall already pock-marked with hundreds of indentations from Hillary and Aaron’s senseless, stupid loop.

“Please! Please stop!” Quinn yelled, running between them. “This is madness. What do you think this young man did?” He put up his arms between them, but Hillary was looping so she couldn’t see him.

“Why can’t you just admit it?” Hillary screamed, grabbing an identical candlestick that had reappeared in the place where the first one she’d thrown had first rested. Sophie felt a second to be grateful the curse’s magic replaced all of her possessions broken during the curse loops. She wouldn’t have anything left, the way the servants argued all day.

“I swear I didn’t take your fucking hair dye! I’m a groundskeeper; why the hell would I want hair dye?” Aaron said again.

“What’s happening to them?” Quinn said, ducking out of the way when Hillary threw the candlestick.

Sophie sighed. “They’re looping. It happens.”

“Can’t you stop them?” Quinn said, looking between Hillary and Aaron. The crash of the platter falling down the stairs again in the other room made him jump. “Are the two on the stairs looping too?”

“Why can’t you just admit it?” Hillary screamed again, grabbing the regenerated candlestick.

“I swear I didn’t take your fucking hair dye! I’m a groundskeeper; why the hell would I want hair dye?”

Quinn kept looking between the beautician and groundskeeper in horror.

“Fine, if this is upsetting you…” Sophie sighed and walked further into the room until she could catch Hillary’s eye. Hillary looked confused for a second, and then lowered the candlestick. Sophie maintained her eye contact and said in a firm voice, “Hillary, go upstairs and start preparing a new batch of eye cream. We’re running low.”

Hillary nodded and curtsied, smiling like everything was fine with the world. “Absolutely, my lady, I will get started on it right away.”

Sophie nodded to Aaron. “And you too, get back to work.” She fluttered her hand and Aaron scrambled to his feet, bowing low before sprinting out the door. She just hoped Aaron didn’t catch sight of the stable boy, Chad, before he got back to work. Their loop was loud.

Sophie wiped her hands together and turned back to Quinn. “Well, now that we have that nasty business out of the way, I want to show you the final stop on our tour.” She walked out the room, peeking a glance over her shoulder to make sure Quinn was still following. He wasn’t paying attention to her. He ran his fingers over the ruined section of the wall where the wallpaper was cut and the wood paneling bruised from repeated impacts of a candlestick being thrown with all Hillary’s might.

“Come along, Quinn,” Sophie said, trying to keep the impatience from her voice.

She had meant to take him up the main stairway. It was by far the most impressive route to their destination, but she could still hear Mrs. Ladium and Macy starting up again.

Life is so unfair. She sighed, and held out a hand for Quinn to take. He hesitated for a second, and then put his hand in hers. She waited for the little zing of warmth she’d felt when he kissed her hand, but it wasn’t there. He was still looking back at the dented wall.

Sophie could hear her mother’s voice in her head scolding her. A man is like a spoon: he only has so much capacity, so make sure you fill him with thoughts of you. While his head was turned, she quickly yanked on the bottom of her dress so it pulled down lower across her breasts.

“I told you, I saved the best for last,” she said.

“Um, right. You know your castle is a little weird, right?” he said, his voice distant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re so strong. Do you work out?” She rubbed the side of his arm.

“I never thought about it,” he said, his voice tight with some emotion Sophie couldn’t diagnose. Anger? Annoyance?

This one has to be different. I can make this time different, she told herself as she opened up her bedroom door and stepped aside for him to follow her through.

Her bedroom was decorated in the style of a painting she once saw depicting the inside of a genie’s bottle: a worthy set for an opulent romantic fantasy. The room was draped in blue, green, and purple silks with a wide sofa that ran the length of one wall and a large canopied bed that took up most of the rest of the room. Large enough to fit four adults, a dozen velvet pillows covered its silken surface, arranged to match the drapes.

“What do you think?” Sophie said, already unlacing the sides of her dress and pulling down the draping sleeves so she could walk out of it without missing a step. She stripped quickly down to a lacy shift that barely covered the skin around her breasts and didn’t go further down than the top of her thighs. She kept on her high-heeled shoes and put an extra sway into her walk.

This has to work. She grit her teeth.

Quinn walked further into the room without looking behind at her. He barely glanced at the opulence around him and moved straight to the large window overlooking the forest.

“This place is very different from where I grew up. But the forest always looks the same.” His voice trailed away as he turned around and took in her nearly-naked body. His eyes traveled up her smooth legs—Sophie kept her face neutral as she remembered all the waxing it took to get her legs so smooth an hour ago—her firm stomach—after exercising nearly three hours a day, it should be firm—and up to her perfectly-painted face.

Sophie walked toward him slowly, a cat stalking a mouse, as she peeled off the shift and lifted it above her head, giving him a nice, long look at her body as she raised her arms above her head and then let the flimsy fabric fall to the floor.

“I hope you know, although I am the mistress here, I want you to feel free to make this place your home. And make use of my”—she reached up to run a fingernail down the side of his cheek—”attentions.”

“Uhhh,” Quinn said, his eyes wide. “I’m not really sure what you want from me, my lady.”

“Oh, I think it’s very obvious what I want from you,” Sophie said, running her hands down his chest to his belt. She started to undo the buckle when he stepped back, his hands raised defensively.

“I’m really sorry, but I just met you about fifteen minutes ago and, I have to admit, so far I don’t think you’re my type,” he stammered, backing up another step.

Not again, not again, not again. This wasn’t happening for a thirteenth time.

“Not your type?” Sophie screamed.

What was wrong with all these men? She was giving them exactly what they wanted! She spent half her day making herself beautiful! What else did she have to give?

“I’m sorry!” Quinn said. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”

She grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and chucked it at his head. It bounced off as he backed up towards the door.

“How can I not be your type?” She let out an enormous roar that shook half the pictures off the wall and made the silken drapes flutter. Quinn clapped his hands over his ears.

The bedroom doors banged open and Mirror rushed in, her face red and her chest heaving like she’d come running from another part of the castle.

“Sophie! You have to calm down!” Mirror said, gesturing for Quinn to get behind her.

“I’m not going to fucking calm down!” Sophie bellowed. “He is another failure! Send him to the dungeon until I find a way to get rid of him!”

Mirror hesitated, like she was about to say something else, but Sophie grabbed pillows in both hands and started pelting them at Mirror until she grabbed Quinn and moved to leave.

“Get out! Get out! Get out! Everybody get the fuck away from me!” Sophie screamed.

Mirror nodded her head slowly and closed the door behind her.

Sophie listened intently to the sounds of their footsteps moving away down the hall. As soon as it was silent, Sophie collapsed into tears.

Mirror snuck glances at Quinn as she led him through the castle’s twisting hallways. He didn’t seem too shaken by Sophie’s outburst, but he could simply be in shock over everything he’d seen today. It was a lot to take in.

Mirror had high hopes for Quinn. He’d actually turned down Sophie’s seduction. Nobody ever turned Sophie down. He was only here a short while and Quinn was already breaking the pattern.

He might be the one after all.

She opened the door to the guest suite and stepped aside for him to enter, closing the door behind them.

“This doesn’t look like a dungeon to me,” Quinn said suspiciously. His voice echoed off the far walls of the enormous suite.

“Can’t get a thing past you,” Mirror teased, grabbing Quinn by the hand and pulling him deeper into the room. I just l [...]