Stolen Virgin

by Viv Phoenix

  Contents

  Teaser

  Stolen Virgin ~ White Trash 1 & 2

  Copyright

  Dedication

  White Trash 1 ~ Taking the Billionaire's Daughter

  Sy

  Callum

  Sy

  White Trash 2 ~ Bride Training

  Callum

  Sy

  Sy

  Sy

  Callum

  Preview: Ranch Dad Next Door

  Preview: Towed ~ Curvy Virgin & Bad Boy

  About the Author

  Teaser

  Sy

  I thought about it being done to me, the needle taking my skin for the first time, like cherry-popping my tender flesh over and over. So hot. I wanted it. But I had no doubt Dad would cut off my allowance, if not disown me. I settled for watching, late into the night, with the city roaring around me like a beast.

  The tattoo artist had dark, gleaming eyes like the undead, rock-star black hair, and magic hands, but he was willow-thin. What turned me on was a strong-looking man. A man like Callum could pick me up like I weighed nothing. He could manhandle me with no effort at all. My size wouldn’t be any challenge to a man with big guns like those inked arms so close I could lick the nearest one. Might happen by accident, the way his truck jolted along the road.

  Callum had old-fashioned ink like you’d see on a sailor, not trendy tats. My greedy eyes searched him. The patterns on his body made thick murals, like he’d been getting tats for years, the designs building up like cave art that became richer over time. I found the first rose on his shoulder, the second one on his arm. Were there more, hidden by his clothes? I had to stop thinking about having a treasure hunt on his naked body. The man looked dangerous for real. My mother might have been right.

  Callum

  You belong to me.

  Stolen Virgin

  Curvy Bride & Bad Boy's Baby

  White Trash 1 & 2

  by Viv Phoenix

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  Copyright

  Do not post any of our stories on any site.

  Copyright ©2017 Hughes Empire. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover photo ©Deposit Photos and the photographer, all rights reserved. The use of the photo doesn’t suggest endorsement by the photographer nor the model, nor does it imply anything about the model.

  Electronic book publication: June 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual businesses, entities or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. The content within is used in a satirical manner and is in no way intended to represent reality. The author and publisher do not condone criminal behavior nor any harmful acts. The distributors of this book bear no responsibility for the content. All characters are over 18. This work is for mature readers 18+.

  Dedication

  To T, for his wisdom, kindness and generosity,

  and to D, who inspires me with her spirit and discipline.

  And to my readers. I treasure your reviews.

  Author’s Note:

  Please read this description to make sure this book is for you.

  Beware: This is a dark captive woman romance with crime, domination, and punishment.

  Stolen Bride is a 30,000 word novella. If you want a longer book, go get one. ;)

  Down in the hollow, Callum devours women’s naughty books. Now he’s ready to break the uppity heiress who needs him to be her alpha. Sy just doesn’t know what’s good for her. Yet.

  Sy

  Callum looked dangerous-hot, like he might be wanted for something, something real bad.

  He scares me when I catch him staring at me. His pale eyes show his dirty, dirty thoughts. Tattoos writhe on his thick muscles as he loads his big truck.

  He’s the kind of man my mother warns me about, a bad man. I know about bad boys. He’s worse.

  A man like Callum Blake, he won’t take no for an answer.

  Callum

  A shadow crossed her face. She bit her lip and nodded, like she was thinking something real sad.

  “Good girl. Just be good. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Yes, Callum.”

  I raised her chin and ran my thumb over her lower lip. She shook. I looked down her blouse at her deep creamy cleavage. What the hell was I meaning to say?

  I crushed her to me. Damn it. I might be going to spend the rest of my life losing my thoughts every time I looked at this woman.

  I closed my eyes and kissed her.

  Better. Her lips opened to me. When she stayed quiet, when her heart beat with mine, I had all I could ever want in this world.

  Stolen Virgin is a high-heat romance rated 18+ for mature content, language, and criminal violence. It's a dark and disturbing curvy & bad boy love story, and may be triggering for some readers.

  Readers who find thrills in the dark, enjoy.

  Callum

  My truck wasn’t handling the best, and I’d had enough beers not to mind the rough ride and the weaving.

  That round ass poking out of skimpy cut-offs looked like it had to be a mirage, but it was there, bouncing along the side of the road on sexy legs. The long, dark waves falling down her back all the way to those peeking ass cheeks made me pull ahead of her and block her way.

  That make-you-want-to-grab-it hair had me throbbing. It was Sy Thompson from the mansion up the hill. Her front side was as fine as her backside, with breasts big enough to bulge between my fingers and a hot, so-refined face with lips painted like porno.

  Nothing more natural in the world than to get her in my truck and take her back to the house. I wanted to show Sy her place.

  Hell, I had plenty of room now that Pa was gone.

  If she was the type didn’t know what a woman was for, I’d be happy to teach her.

  I hopped out and got in her path. She backed away from me.

  “Come on, let me give you a lift.” I took a step back, so she wouldn’t bolt. There was a big old mirage across the road like a black flood. It was that hot. As much fun as she’d be to catch, I was in no mood to chase her.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She frowned, didn’t meet my eyes.

  “I’m just being neighborly. Come on, it’s too hot a day for walking. I got ice water in the truck.” I did my best to sound casual.

  “I like to walk.” Her eyes flicked, and she moistened her lips.

  “You’ll get heat stroke, and then where will you be? Nothing out here for miles. Let me give you a ride, save that pretty skin of yours from a burn.” I knew how to wheedle. Mama used to say Pa could talk the paint off a barn.

  “People know where I am. I have my phone.” She reached for her back pocket.

  Cracked me up, uppity girls city carrying around phones half big as their butts. I kept my face under control, friendly, but not too friendly.

  “Of course. Nothing to worry about. I’m just a neighbor being nice, way I was raised. Call somebody right now and give them my license plate number.” I pointed to the mud-spattered plate on Betsy’s rear.

  I didn’t think she’d do it, and I didn’t care if she did. She was going to like what I had in mind for her. One night of the right kind of treatment, and even if the boys in blue showed up at the door, she’d beg me to let her stay. Nothing to worry about.

  She eyed me up and down. I’m a lot to eye. Six-foot-four and size 13 boots, everything in proportion. I’d unbuttoned my work shirt to my waist to catch what breeze I
could through the window. The wing was broken, so I got a draft right to the heart year round.

  She nodded like she finally made up her mind to do the sensible thing and get out of the hot sun. Her waves slid on her headlights as she moved.

  I opened the door for her, careful not to get too close. Didn’t want to spook her.

  With a lot of jiggle, she wriggled her way up toward the seat, so short and rounded she had to work to get up there. Her legs gleamed, pale and smooth from her ankles to her full ass cheeks.

  Didn’t look like she wore panties. Whoever cut and fringed those jeans right to the crotch did me a favor. I was damned tempted to give her a boost on her full, heart-shaped behind, but I kept my hands to myself. I could be a gentleman until the time was right. Once we got out to my place, there’d be nothing she could do but see things my way. Until then, I wanted her calm.

  Sy got herself settled on Betsy’s big bench seat, eying the dash like she was looking out for a rattle snake or something.

  I gave her a minute to get comfortable.

  “All set? This is going to be loud. Always sounds like I’m slamming it, but it’s just an old door.” I gave her my aw shucks grin.

  “Yes, thanks.” Her smile looked forced.

  I shut the door. She jumped. I swung up into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m Callum Blake, and this is Betsy.”

  “Betsy?” She smiled at me, finally, first smile ever right at me.

  “Yes, Betsy.” I patted the dash. “She’s not feeling too well today, but she’ll get us down the road faster than your feet can carry you, and with a breeze to boot. Crank on the handle if you want more wind.” I reached into the cooler and handed her an ice-cold water. “Here. Cool off.”

  Her fingers brushed mine when she accepted the icy bottle. An appreciative shiver went all through her in a most attractive way.

  I pulled onto the road before she could notice my keen interest and change her mind.

  Watching her glug the water down, her pale throat working, made it challenging to drive. Her pretty mouth and long throat got me thinking about the first place I’d stick my cock. I held steady on the steering wheel, easy on the gas. Wanted Sy to feel easy, real easy, for the whole ride. Tough enough to drive, without her giving me any trouble. In a few minutes, I’d have her home. Then I’d get my turn at what I needed.

  “I’m Sy. I live up the hill.”

  I stopped myself from saying I knew. I got the idea from TV some girls didn’t like it if you seemed like you knew things about them. She might worry if she knew what I knew about her. You can find out a powerful lot about anyone on the Internet, especially about a girl who writes all about herself on Facebook and posts pictures to boot. I knew what books she read, what movies she watched, the names of her friends, her favorite outfits, the faces and poses she liked to make for her selfies. I had a treasure store of Sy pictures, bikini shots, too. Her curves were real, and her pussy was either trimmed or bald.

  “Good place up there, you get more breezes than we get down here.” I glanced at her soft, creamy thighs, got my eyes back on the road.

  “Yes, I guess that’s one good thing about it.” She sighed and drank more water.

  I recognized a lot of places she photographed, their mansion and sites on the walks she took all over town. Her mean comments about The Hollow bothered me, but I forgave her. One look at her parents, and I could tell she weren’t raised to know better.

  Her pictures on Facebook gave me a map of every place she went. It was easy to make my own Sy map, and that made it easy to guess where to find her. Like today, when I knew it would get too hot to walk. I kept notes on her likes and dislikes, too: foods, colors, music, everything. Girl liked meat. I’m a good hunter, and I bet she never tasted kill as fresh as what I’d bring her. We’d get along.

  I smiled and kept my steering straight. No reason for her to know I knew anything at all.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Sy. Thanks for accepting my offer. I would have felt terrible if you got sunburned or heat stroked.” I stopped myself from saying ran over. People told me I had too many bad thoughts. Might come from being alone too much since Pa passed. Pretty Sy didn’t need to know about my bad thoughts.

  “Thanks. It was kind of you to stop.” She didn’t look none too sure even yet, but she rubbed the water bottle across her face. I had a good view down her blouse, the lace cups in there holding her the way I wanted to hold her. I made myself do multiplication tables to keep from getting a complete boner. Being big, I got woozy when I got hard. If she caught sight of it growing down my leg, she might get scared. I had to keep from scaring her for a couple more miles.

  “My pleasure. Just relax and cool down. How’d you come to be here?”

  “Oh, it was my dad’s big idea. Guess he thinks its wholesome to live in the country, away from everything I like to do. Then he takes away my car. Nothing against this place, but I am not having a good time here.”

  “Fathers can be so wrong that way.” I chuckled. My Pa was right about everything, even things I didn’t know until he died, but I wanted her to know I was on her side.

  She gifted me with another smile.

  Damn, she looked shy with her cheeks going all pink.

  “There’s nothing I can say to him to get my car back, so I’m stuck walking in this blast furnace, unless I want to stay at the house all the time. I can’t do that. I can’t stand his big old, antique-crammed house. It smells like the shit of the ages. He’s got animal heads hanging on the walls and says he’s thinking of taking up taxidermy. It’s crazy. Why can’t he have a normal-ass midlife crisis like his friends, and go get a sports car and a mistress my age?”

  That made me laugh full out. Saw it all the time, the old guy in a red convertible breezing through with the daughter who wasn’t his daughter.

  “Sorry for your troubles. The way to manage around here this time of year, until the dog days are over, you walk in the morning and in the evening. Spare yourself from getting broiled.”

  “Good idea.” Her gleaming hair slid forward, hid her blushing face and sweet cleavage.

  I liked having her in my truck. She smelled sweet. Good to have her close enough to touch, even though I couldn’t do it yet.

  Good to get her talking about moving to the town. One thing I knew about girls, they liked to talk. Figured it would take her mind off any worries if she kept jawing. Books I been reading, books she liked, taught me a lot about Sy Thompson.

  Reading’s how I learned she likes a strong man who’s mysterious. She wouldn’t want to know about all the generations of the Blake family that lived in The Hollow and how our family spread out for miles. She wouldn’t care about how I spent my days or nights, or the work I had planned on old Betsy to get her ready for winter. Better to just keep my trap shut.

  Those books she liked were another reason I knew better than to let her know I read all her Facebook posts. A key thing for the women in the books to fall in love: The man had to be a mind reader. He had to be confident and do just what she liked, so she could tell he was the one. That’s why I knew courtship would be a waste of time with Sy. She didn’t need to get to know me. She needed me to grab her and fulfill her fantasy, so she’d know I was her alpha claiming her. That’s what it took for her to be mine, and I was happy to oblige. I suspected men of my family got their brides this way going way back.

  Sy hummed and watched out the window.

  The scarecrow at the Griffin place tilted sideways. They both had arthritis, couldn’t care for their place they way they used to. I’d fix it up for them next time I came out this way.

  Not a soul around, in the field, in the woods on the other side, nor on the road itself. It was like me and Sy were all alone in the world, the last ones left alive. I liked those movies where you know they got to repopulate.

  Pretty Sy was going to get her dream come true, and it would be like I was one of those mind-reading heroes of her favorite books. I had everything ready
at the house, and we were almost there. I fought the urge to speed up old Betsy. I could hardly wait to get my hands all over Sy.

  She got spooked when I took the fork to the house. Let out a squeal and fumbled with the door. Her panicked panting filled the truck when she found out there was no inside door handle.

  “Easy now. I’ll stop and let you out, Sy. I can open the door from the outside, if you want.” I slowed up like I was ready to leave her on the side of the road. “What you want to get out here miles from home for, I don’t know. The handle’s just missing. I didn’t do it on purpose. Betsy’s just an old truck and things fall off.” I locked eyes with her and smiled, telling the full truth.

  “You’ll let me out if I want?”

  “Sure I will.” I pulled over right there. “Look, I know there’s bad things in the news all the time. I don’t blame you being careful. Sy, you got nothing to be scared of with me.” I spread my hands palm up. “We’re neighbors. We’ll have some ice tea at my place a couple minutes from here, and then I’ll take you up the fire road to your place. That road connects my place and yours, and I’ll have you home in minutes, safe and sound. I was raised this way. You offer neighbors your hospitality. All these weeks in town, and you haven’t been to my house. I feel like finding you all overheated on the road was meant to be, and this is my chance to welcome you right. I’ve lived here all my life. Everyone knows me. If there was anyone walking by to ask, they’d tell you I go to church every Sunday, and you are A-okay and completely safe with me.” I gestured out the road, and peered around like someone might come by to testify about my character any minute. My mugging it up worked.

  She giggled.

  Relieved that I got Sy calmed down, I got Betsy in gear and took my soon-to-be-bride to the house for ice tea. She didn’t seem too keen on it, but there’s nothing wrong with being neighborly.