Claiming Her Innocence

by Vivian Wood

  Claiming Her Innocence

  Vivian Wood

  Contents

  Author’s Copyright

  Join The Vixens

  Claiming Her Innocence

  1. Ryan

  2. Ryan

  3. Poppy

  4. Ryan

  5. Poppy

  6. Ryan

  7. Poppy

  8. Ryan

  9. Poppy

  10. Ryan

  11. Poppy

  12. Ryan

  13. Poppy

  14. Ryan

  15. Poppy

  16. Ryan

  17. Ryan

  18. Poppy

  19. Ryan

  20. Poppy

  21. Ryan

  22. Poppy

  23. Ryan

  24. Poppy

  25. Ryan

  26. Poppy

  27. Ryan

  28. Poppy

  29. Ryan

  30. Poppy

  31. Ryan

  32. Poppy

  33. Poppy

  34. Ryan

  35. Ryan

  36. Ryan

  37. Ryan

  If you loved this story...

  SEAL’s Kiss

  Author’s Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Join The Vixens

  About Vivian Wood

  Author’s Copyright

  Copyright Vivian Wood 2017

  May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. 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 return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Claiming Her Innocence

  1

  Ryan

  Nineteen years ago

  He still wasn’t used to this. Last year it had been called recess, and it happened three times each day. But now? Now it was middle school, and they were all supposed to be more grown up, so it was “break” instead of recess and the lunch hour extended a full sixty minutes.

  For the past six years, Ryan had navigated his ideal path to getting through each day. Honing how to spend the fifteen-minute recesses morning and afternoon had taken some time, and filling those thirty-minute lunches had also required some finesse. But still, he’d managed. And now this.

  Someone had figured out that sixth graders still needed some semblance of play. There was a basketball court with weathered balls they could check out. An aging tetherball pole nobody played with any gusto. The track was open during lunch, too. But none of these interested him. It was enough getting through PE without everyone laughing at him.

  Please, make the time move faster. When he checked the clock, the hands moved at an achingly slow speed.

  Everything moved slow in middle school. The two friends he’d cultivated last year were gone—placed in different schools thanks to an arbitrary divide of the city. At least lunchtime no longer required assigned seating in the cafeteria, and that was some kind of freedom. He was hellbent on eating lunch outside away from the judgmental eyes of his peers, for as long as the autumn weather remained somewhat warm.

  Who’s that? A girl with pretty, cascading dark blonde hair and striking green eyes he could make out even from a distance walked through the double doors. She carried a bright orange tray from the cafeteria and glanced around the courtyard like a new and exotic animal dumped in the local city zoo. Why’s she wearing that? With her white turtleneck and long wool pants, Ryan was hot just looking at her. His own thin T-shirt and mesh shorts still had him sweltering.

  The sun demanded he squint. It was an Indian summer, and she was completely out of place. Is she allergic to the sun? She’d circled the courtyard once already, eyed peeled for a vacant seat. He’d already moved his stack of books to the floor. It was clear she could sit next to him, but she avoided his gaze and jumped on a picnic table that opened up when a group of popular girls left. She didn’t seem to care that they’d left their mess behind.

  He sighed and picked up his sad excuse for a slice of pizza. “What you got there?” Ryan stiffened even as the shadow engulfed his plate. School had only been going for two weeks, but the voice was already familiar.

  “Pizza,” Ryan said before he even looked up.

  “Pizza, huh?” Dylan asked with a sneer as he leaned down and picked up the soggy triangle. “Looks more like your mom’s panties, don’t ya think?” Dylan hadn’t been at Ryan’s elementary school, and he was still trying to figure out how best to deflect the bully. Ryan had been used to watching all the other boys in his class shoot past him. He’d gone from average height and build in third grade to nearly the shortest by the time elementary school graduation had rolled around.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan said quietly. The phrase was usually a safe bet.

  “I don’t know,” Dylan mocked him. “I think you do. Shit, you look like the type that checks out his mom’s nasties on the regular.”

  Ryan couldn’t bring himself to look Dylan in the face. The spray of acne across Dylan's cheeks was a constant reminder of this terrifying new world. Some of the boys, Dylan included, already displayed hints of facial hair. They’d pull at the little tufts nonstop throughout every class. When Ryan ran a hand across his face, he felt nothing but soft, smooth skin.

  “What, you don’t talk?” Dylan asked. He tossed the pizza on the concrete. “You shy?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Dyl, what’s up, man?” Brian, one of Dylan’s minions, suddenly appeared. He punched Dylan gently in the arm, a sign of brotherhood Ryan had never known.

  “What’s up? What’s up is this little bitch thinks he’s too good to talk,” Dylan said. All around him, Ryan heard the early titters of laughter.

  Enough. This is enough. Sure, it had only been two weeks, but the pattern was already established. It happened every single day. Usually Dylan started it, but sometimes it was another bully. It had felt like prison, these first few days, and it was clear he was earmarked to be the weakling. He couldn’t help it—his fists bunched up tight like they were out of his control.

  Ryan was already swinging toward Dylan as he stood up. He heard his tray hit the ground as his fist connected with nothing but air. Any momentum was already lost, and the missed target shot him off balance.

  Dylan laughed as he rocked
back on one foot. Ryan saw nothing but that balled up fist headed straight for his face. The shock of knuckle against nose was stronger than any kind of pain, but Ryan knew that wouldn’t last long. He’d caught himself with nothing but a palm and elbow when he hit the concrete, and the pain pierced through his hand like a wasp sting. A warm, coppery stream started to pour out of his nose, and he saw Dylan start to set up for another punch.

  “What the fuck?” Dylan said as the full soda can hit his temple. It connected with a dense thud, and bright red fruit juice sprayed across his face.

  “You think you’re so tough now?” The new girl was at Ryan’s side, a second soda in her hand—this one in a glass bottle. “Come on, then. Show me. I dare you.” Her voice wasn’t what he expected. It was lilting and feminine, yet cool and steady. She sounded years older than she must have been.

  “What wrong with you?” Dylan said. “You—”

  “Try me, and I’ll show you.” She tossed the glass bottle between her hands. Dylan looked down, and his beady eyes widened.

  “You’re crazy,” he whispered. He clutched his head as he turned and ran away. The crowd that had gathered, that had been egging Dylan on, dispersed as if nothing had happened. Ryan could hear some murmurings as small groups gossiped over what they’d just seen. It was like one of those prison movie scenes where everybody was trying to figure out the hierarchy.

  “Hey,” the blonde girl said to him. She offered her hand to help him up, and he took it with his good one. He didn’t want her to see how badly he’d hurt his right palm.

  “Hey, uh. Thanks,” he said as he brushed off his shorts.

  “That guy’s a real jerk, huh?” When she spoke, her full lips parted to reveal incredibly white, straight teeth, save for the smallest of gaps between her front teeth. Like she’d had braces already, but the orthodontist couldn’t bear to have her smile too perfect. It was in that so-called imperfection that Ryan got lost.

  “Yeah, well,” he said. “I’m used to it.” Shut up! Shut up!

  She cocked her head to the side, curious. “I’m Poppy, by the way,” she said.

  “Ryan,” he said. He felt like he should shake her hand, but their hands were still clasped from her helping him up. He dropped her hand quickly, suddenly aware of the heat of her palm and the softness of her skin.

  “Bullies can’t usually take their own medicine. At least that’s what I’ve discovered,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve gone to a lot of schools.”

  “How come?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to follow her answer. All he knew is he didn’t want her to go.

  She just shrugged and smiled. “Long, boring story,” she said.

  “I could use a long, boring story,” he said. “You wanna sit?”

  She laughed and exposed that perfectly imperfect smile again. When she sat next to him, automatically offering up half her lunch, it didn’t feel awkward or forced. He didn’t feel like a charity case, like he usually did when one of the more empathetic kids took temporary mercy on him. It was just natural. Poppy straddled the bench and faced him directly. He searched her face for sweat or some kind of sign the weather got to her, but found nothing. It was like she existed on a totally different plane beyond them all.

  “So you’re new here?” he asked as she popped open the soda. Stupid. We’re all new here.

  But she just nodded. “Yeah, but new new,” she said. “We moved here from the West Coast. At least this time I started a new school the same time as everyone else! Usually it’s in the middle of the year after everyone’s already made friends.”

  “Yeah,” he said. As if he had any clue. He’d been in the same elementary school his entire life, had known the same group of kids since kindergarten.

  There was some kind of security in elementary school, and even though the other kids might not have necessarily liked him, they tolerated him. There was a sense of camaraderie when you were in the same group for six years. This was all new, and not in a good way. Poppy was the first good thing he’d encountered.

  “So, what’s your story?” she asked as she tore into a peanut butter sandwich. She didn’t eat like the other girls, all tiny careful bites and hyperawareness someone might be watching. Poppy ate like she enjoyed it.

  “Not much of a story,” he said as she handed him half her sandwich.

  “I don’t believe that,” she said with a smile. A tiny spot of strawberry jam clung to the corner of her mouth.

  Somehow, he just knew. They’d be friends for keeps.

  2

  Ryan

  Present day

  Poppy’s eyes commanded his as she pulled down her shorts in one fluid movement. Beneath that threadbare denim, just as he knew it would be, there was nothing—save for that strip of dark blonde hair. She reached behind her back and unhooked the white lace bra. As the strappy material fell away from her chest, she smiled.

  “You like what you see?” It was Sarah, Poppy’s friend with the long, layered dark brown shaggy hair. Sarah’s olive skin complemented Poppy’s creamy complexion perfectly. Ryan felt his hardness pressed against his jeans. But when he tried to stand up from the straight back chair, Poppy and Sarah both pushed him down. Sarah’s touch was soft and gentle. Poppy’s was a little more demanding.

  “No, no, no,” Poppy said with a laugh. “It’s called a striptease. You’re not allowed to take any of the tease out of it.”

  “At least not yet,” Sarah said. “Help me?” she asked Poppy as she turned her back to Poppy and flipped her hair forward. Poppy maintained eye contact with Ryan as she unzipped Sarah’s floral dress that barely covered her ass.

  Poppy slowly peeled Sarah’s dress down her shoulders. Her fingers grazed across her friend’s bare breasts and made the nipples harden instantly. The flimsy material fell to the floor, and Sarah stepped out of it. She left her black heels on. “Sarah!” Poppy said. “You could have left something more for me to take off.”

  Sarah shrugged, smiled at Ryan, and ran her fingers through her own triangle of dark hair. “I didn’t want to frustrate the poor guy more than you’ve been managing for the past twenty years,” she said.

  He kept his eyes on Poppy even as Sarah moved onto his lap and faced him. His body responded naturally to having a pretty girl on his thighs, and her hair tickled his neck as she kissed his jaw. Poppy stood behind her friend. Her long golden hair covered her breasts. “Show me,” he told Poppy, and it was as if she understood him completely. She grasped her hair in one hand and lifted it up, exposing her breasts for him with those perfect pink nipples.

  “Switch,” Poppy told Sarah as she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Sarah got up without a word, and Poppy took her place. She straddled Ryan, her breasts touching his chest. Without another word, her lips found his. They kissed deeply, and his eyes closed. It may as well just have been the two of them. He felt Poppy start to grind against the fly of his jeans.

  “Sharing is caring.” Sarah’s voice broke the trance. When Ryan opened his eyes, Sarah was right there, cheek pressed against Poppy’s. He was just inches away from them as their tongues intertwined. Still, even as Poppy got lost in her friend’s mouth, her hands continue to roam across Ryan’s chest. Her hard nipples were impossible to resist. He lowered his mouth to them.

  Poppy responded instantly. “That feels good,” she said. “Harder.” He nibbled on her breasts and rolled her nipples between his lips. Poppy’s eyes rolled back in her head and Sarah moved behind him. Right as he went to slide a finger through Poppy’s wetness, Sarah grabbed his hands and held them behind his back.

  “No touching,” Sarah whispered. “Not unless we tell you to.”

  Ryan awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat. What the fuck was that?

  He grabbed the towel off the chair next to the bed and started wiping himself down. The ache between his legs was almost unbearable. Since when do I dream about Poppy like that? And her friends? Especially Sarah, Jesus.

  Ryan glanced around the ro
om, disoriented. It took him a few seconds to figure out his location. Stateside. You’re stateside. The obnoxiously loud clock clicked from 3:01 to 3:02. It felt like the middle of the night, but the glaring sun streaming through the windows meant it had to be afternoon.

  He pushed himself up in bed even as the jet lag clung tight. It was his new apartment, that was all. He was still getting used to all the angles and shadows.

  All around him, boxes reminded him of his new life. Is this it? A handful of boxes and a mattress without a sheet? He looked down at his new mattress and could make out sweat stains already. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

  As he moved into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he shook his head at the dream. Poppy was his best friend, and had been for two decades. And as far as Sarah went? He’d only met her a few times. She was pretty enough, but annoying as hell. Either he was hot for her and didn’t know it, or it had been a lot longer since he’d gotten any action than he realized.