InnocenceForSale.com/Amy (Innocence For Sale Book 1)

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by Ada Scott




  InnocenceForSale.com/Amy

  Ada Scott

  Impresst Publishing

  Contents

  About the Author

  1. Amy

  2. Kris

  3. Amy

  4. Kris

  5. Amy

  6. Kris

  7. Amy

  8. Kris

  9. Amy

  10. Kris

  11. Amy

  12. Kris

  13. Amy

  14. Kris

  15. Amy

  16. Kris

  17. Amy

  18. Kris

  19. Amy

  20. Kris

  21. Amy

  22. Amy

  23. Kris

  24. Amy

  25. Kris

  26. Amy

  27. Kris

  28. Amy

  29. Amy

  30. Amy

  31. Kris

  32. Amy

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  Still a Bad Boy: A Bad Boy Romance

  1. Kendall

  2. Jace

  3. Kendall

  4. Jace

  5. Kendall

  6. Jace

  7. Kendall

  8. Kendall

  9. Jace

  10. Kendall

  11. Kendall

  12. Kendall

  13. Jace

  14. Kendall

  15. Kendall

  16. Kendall

  17. Kendall

  18. Jace

  19. Kendall

  20. Jace

  21. Jace

  22. Kendall

  23. Kendall

  24. Jace

  25. Kendall

  26. Kendall

  27. Jace

  28. Jace

  29. Jace

  30. Jace

  31. Kendall

  32. Kendall

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  About the Author

  A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I'll be there taking notes and making it even sexier :)

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  InnocenceForSale.com/Amy

  Ada Scott

  Published by Impresst Publishing

  Copyright 2017 Ada Scott

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  All characters and events are entirely fictional and any resemblances to persons living or dead and circumstances are purely coincidental.

  Amy

  February 14th 2017

  I could see my hand shaking as I cut the bread. Anybody watching might have thought I had a mild sandwich-phobia, but I had bigger things on my mind. Tonight was the night.

  Anthony was picking me up at six, taking me out for dinner, and then he thought he was dropping me off at home again, but I had a surprise for him. My mom’s friend, Agnes, was taking her out for a wild night of bingo and I’d been told not to wait up for them. Agnes was a bundle of energy for a retiree, and I was going to take the window of opportunity she’d given me to invite Anthony inside after dinner. To my room.

  We’d been dating for a couple years. He’d asked me out shortly after I started at my new school. I’d been reluctant, of course; after all, it was a relationship disaster that forced me to change schools in the first place.

  Not only that but, to look at him, any reasonable person would have classified Anthony as your stereotypical jock. That type was only interested in one thing and, traumatized as I was, I was this close to swearing off sex for life before I’d even gone all the way.

  There was no way I could ever envision letting somebody get that close to me again… but he was so sweet. I was flattered. I was swept up by hope. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eye.

  So I said yes. I figured if he couldn’t be patient, if he wasn’t as nice to me when it sunk in that I was as far from putting out on the first date as any girl could be, I could just break it off. No harm, no foul, right?

  Well, two years later, he was still waiting, and he was still being patient with me. I knew he wanted to go all the way. I’d said “no, not tonight” at least a thousand times when his hands wandered as we made out in his car.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, I did, but did I love him? Was that what I felt? I was so confused. It was a scary thing I was going to do tonight, but how much of my fear came from perfectly natural nerves, and how much from what happened with my last boyfriend?

  Through the window I saw my mom rolling her chair slowly back to the house with a pile of mail on her lap. The driveway was really too rough for it, so the simple act of collecting the post was quite a workout.

  If I was hired for any of the jobs I’d applied for, allowing me to graduate from waitress to something that paid a little better, I’d get her an electric wheelchair as soon as I could. She was getting to an age when she really needed it. Not only that, but damn it, she deserved something that would make life a little easier.

  The screen door protested weakly as she rammed it open, followed by a few metallic scrapes and finally the creak of the hinges and hiss of the gas spring as it closed behind her. I didn’t say anything about the ominous red stamp on the top letter on her lap. They were more the rule rather than the exception these days.

  “Lunch is ready,” I said.

  My mom washed her hands and returned with the post still on her lap, before setting the pile on the table next to her plate. There was time for food before she went through the ordeal of how to juggle the bills.

  We talked about anything except that while enjoying our treat. Ham and cheese between slices of bread may not have seemed like much of a treat to a lot of people, but it was for us. The Wilson family gave us a leg of ham from a pig they killed and smoked themselves. Mr. Bradley’s current hobby was cheese-making, and he was giving it away all around the area just to show off. The bread was made from flour ground from the wheat on our own farm.

  I was relieved that my voice wasn’t shaking as badly as my hands. If it was, then my mom may not have been distracted enough by that pile of mail, looming over us like a warden on death row supervising a final meal. As things stood, I was able to keep my nerves under the radar.

  While I was washing up, the look on her face made my heart sink as she opened each envelope. Eventually, one seemed to push her too far and I saw a tear fall down one cheek.

  “Hey… hey Mom… cheer up, it might not happen.”

  Her quivering lip made me instantly regret saying such a ham-fisted nothing-cliché. I reached for the dishtowel so I could dry my hands and give her a hug.

  “It is happening,” she said.

  “What is?”

  The way her shoulders shook under my hands drove out all th
oughts of my plans for this evening. I knelt by her chair, trying to comfort her.

  “The bank is going to foreclose on us. No more extensions, no more deferred payments, no more anything.”

  She struggled to get each word out and they sounded like nails in a coffin. I could feel the color draining from my face as it sunk in. We were losing our home.

  “It’s my fault,” she said through clenched teeth, more tears streaming down now.

  “No, Mom…”

  “It’s my fault! It was all on me and… I wasn’t enough.”

  “When? When is it happening?”

  “June.” She dropped the paper on the table and slumped in her chair.

  “June! That’s plenty of time! We’ll think of something.”

  I tried to put every ounce of fictional optimism into my voice that I could muster. She wasn’t buying it.

  “They want it repaid in full.”

  “In full? How can they do that? It wasn’t supposed to be paid off for, what? Another twelve years? Can’t we just catch up to where we’re supposed to be?”

  “No more anything,” she repeated quietly.

  I held her tighter and rested my head on her shoulder, adding my own tears to the mix. The floor creaked under me and my heart clenched.

  We couldn’t be losing this house, this land. Dad walked on these floors. How could they take it away?

  Kris

  March 2017

  “He’s fucking crazy,” said Daniel.

  I tore my eyes away from Kevin and glanced in Daniel’s direction. I almost managed to stifle a laugh. Almost. The handprint on his cheek from that apocalyptic slap he’d received was visible even in the club’s dim and dynamic lighting.

  Here I was thinking I had the wager in the bag, but if Kevin pulled this off, I’d consider it a thousand dollars well-spent. My potentially misplaced confidence came from the fact that the hostesses you get when you pay for bottle service are specifically forbidden to do anything beyond flirting with their customers. So when I had Lacey lay herself down on our table, that cute little skirt riding up to show off her panties while I did a body shot off her, I didn’t think I could be outdone.

  A thousand dollars for the most outrageous body shot of the night? Sure, it’s spare change, but you couldn’t deny it added some excitement to the evening, some thrill of competition.

  Oh, and a shitload of humor too. Holy fuck, I laughed so hard that I thought I’d done some serious internal damage.

  Shortly after I set the bar at what I thought was an impossibly high level, every eye in the room was drawn to some girl who’d just arrived. She was Cindy Johannson, a model who got her big break on one of those reality TV shows and was now really starting to take the world by storm.

  That’s who Daniel decided to try to get a body shot from. Well, she wound up a haymaker you could see coming from a mile away and slapped him so hard that you could hear it over the music. Daniel’s head spun almost full circle while Kevin and I collapsed in hysterical laughter in our booth.

  Somehow Daniel managed to negotiate his way out of an ass-kicking from all the white knights trying to impress Cindy, and came back to nurse his wounds. When I laid out the terms of the bet this evening, I was never worried about him as a threat anyway.

  Truth be told, he was kind of an asshole. A harmless asshole, but annoying nonetheless. Somehow he managed to hang around, latch on to any ideas I had, and reap the rewards.

  The only reason I knew him was because he worked at the same startup I did all those years ago, the kind of job where you get paid in stock options instead of actual money. Back then, twenty of us slept in one house while we prayed for our stock to be worth something.

  Things like that are the kind of experiences that often result in lifelong friendships and business associations, but I’d never seen Daniel come up with an original concept of his own. I’d outgrown him, but he was a relic of my past that wouldn’t seem to go away.

  It was because of that past that I didn’t tell him outright to fuck off. That and these occasional moments of comedy gold that he afforded me.

  “Just watch him,” I said and turned back to Kevin, who looked like he was getting ready to seal the deal. It was a good excuse to not have to make any more conversation with Daniel.

  Kevin couldn’t have been more different from Daniel. I didn’t meet him until I was looking for partners and investors in my own first startup. He had the right background in coding that I needed, with a natural talent for entrepreneurship, plus he had the cash to buy into my idea. It was a perfect match.

  Between the two of us, plus Daniel as a minority shareholder purely by virtue of being there when I came up with the idea and being willing to stump up some money, we built our company from zero to a multi-million dollar valuation. Three years later, when we sold it, we made a killing.

  The waitress carried a tray with everything you need for a body shot in the direction of Kevin and Cindy. The pretty young model who had nearly knocked Daniel out looked appropriately scandalized when the shotglass, the salt and lemon were set down on the table. Kevin leaned over to whisper in her ear, and even from this distance I could tell she was faking it to keep up appearances.

  The protest would be over qui… there! She nodded and rolled her eyes with a boys-will-be-boys smile.

  “No fucking way!” said Daniel.

  He could deny it all he wanted, but Cindy, the high-class supermodel, had just licked her own chest and was pouring salt on it. She took a deep breath, then put a wedge of lemon in her mouth and tilted her head to wait. The ball was in Kevin’s court.

  He leaned in, and whispered in Cindy’s ear again. Her eyes went wide, but at least she didn’t slap him when he cupped her salted breast and squeezed it hard enough that her firm flesh swelled at the top, while he made sure not a single grain of salt was left behind.

  Never in my life had I seen a body shot take so long. I couldn’t tell from here, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if his tongue had slipped inside her top to find her nipple. He was practically sucking her tit right there in front of everybody.

  Finally, when he couldn’t handle the intense saltiness any longer, he downed his shot and locked lips with her around the lemon wedge, pushing her back on the bench seat with the force of his, let’s call a spade a spade, kiss.

  When they straightened themselves out again, Kevin pulled the lemon rind from his mouth in what could only be described as triumph. The well-groomed model looked like she’d just been fucked, judging by her panting and the way she was fanning herself. Even her perfect hair looked a little mussed up.

  “Son of a bitch. Hey, you got like, a spare couple hundred? I’m a little short.”

  I turned back to our own table and picked up my beer, looking sideways at Daniel. “What the fuck do you mean you’re short? Why get in on the bet if you couldn’t afford to lose?”

  “Hey, chill out. You know I’m good for it, I just don’t carry that kind of cash around for no reason.”

  I rolled my eyes when he said he was good for it. That was contrary to previous experience. Still, it wasn’t my problem.

  “No deal, you can check with Kevin when he gets back and see if you can owe him. I don’t think even I can spin this one into a win for me.”

  “Alright. Oh, speaking of wins, there’s some rumors going around the office that you’re considering a few offers on the business. Is that right?”

  My eyes narrowed. “It may be right.”

  “Well, as one of the partners, I want to be kept informed of this kind of thing.”

  I bit my tongue for a second, willing my blood back from boiling point. The way his sense of entitlement crept into the tone of his voice set my teeth on edge like few other things. The nuisance of having him around was fast starting to outweigh the history we had.

  “I’ve known you a long time now, but you’re an employee with shares. Kevin and I are the founders and we’ll let you all know when we have anything relevant to t
ell you.”

  Daniel, the ‘partner’ who wanted to be kept informed looked like he was ready to argue the point. I wondered if he’d like to be closely informed about his face hitting the table at top speed.

  Thankfully, Kevin came back. He smothered the beginnings of an argument with a king’s ransom worth of swagger. He slid into his seat and leaned back with his fingers interlaced behind his head.

  I started the negotiations. “So, I think your effort fell a little short. I mean, I actually drank the tequila out of Lacey’s belly button…”

  “Fuck off,” said Kevin.

  He had a point. I sighed and pulled out my wallet to count out a thousand bucks. Daniel did the same. Well, almost the same, I supposed.

  Kevin fanned himself with about seventeen hundred dollars before putting most of it away, leaving a couple notes out to wave at Lacey with. The hostess took an order for another round, with a special twinkle in her eye for me.

  “What are you going to do with your ill-gotten gains?” I asked.

  “I’m going to order a giant cake in the shape of a cock and balls to be delivered to your office.”

  “How much cock and balls cake can you get for a couple grand?” I asked.

  “We’re talking a few hundred pounds of cock and balls cake,” said Kevin.

  “You knew the answer to that suspiciously quickly,” I said.

  We all laughed, and the tension melted away as swiftly as it had built. Daniel asked Kevin how he’d managed to break the ice and Kevin told us all about it.

  The music thumped and I surveyed the girls on the dancefloor who moved along with it. It was a good time to be alive and at the top of my game, but the same old girls around here were starting to bore me.

  Lacey brought our drinks and slipped me her phone number on an otherwise blank card. She’d be good for a little fun later on, but nothing more.

 

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