Ivy's Venom (Whitsborough Progenies) C.A. Rene (easy readers .TXT) 📖

crash against the wall and suck in a lungful of air. I place my hand over my chest, feeling my heart beat rapidly, and try to slow it down. What were the fucking odds of this happening? I’ve been back for a few days and already shit has hit the fan.

I won’t be surprised when I get shipped off again and this time someplace further away. Mom is too busy to see what’s going on with me and Dad likes to believe I can do no wrong. Then, when I do fuck up, Mom can’t handle it and Dad sides with her, no matter what. I know it makes them sound like awful parents but really they’re not, my brother Saxon is the weird child and they focus a lot of attention on him, my sister Dahlia has a charm that captures everyone’s heart, and then there’s me, temperamental with issues for days, so I get why they are the way they are.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I push myself off the wall and look towards the hotel room I’m supposed to be in, it doesn’t hold its same appeal after all that but I need it, nonetheless. One of my many issues is needing my legs open and screaming with orgasms. I need it to clear the constant fog in my head and I’d rather it be this than hardcore drugs. Besides, it’s all I’ve known for three years, thanks to him.

I shake the tall, dark figure from my mind and proceed to room eleven ten. I knock brusquely and the door opens wide to another tall dark figure, only this one slightly handsomer.

“You’re late.” His voice is deep and it resonates between my legs.

“You’re grumpy.” I push past him and saunter into the room. I made sure to hike my kilt up a bit more today, knowing it showcased my long legs, and hoping it drove him crazy. Most men liked a naughty girl in a school uniform, at least most of the men I knew, and I was hoping this one would be no different.

I stand in front of the large window, the blinds are down but the slats are open, and I see the Toronto Harbourfront skyline next to the CN Tower. He comes up behind me, his gold badge twinkling in the late afternoon sun filtering in, and his large hands land on my shoulders.

Last night I decided to take the Shelby out for a spin while sucking back on a bottle of whiskey and caught the attention of Officer Van Dyke. He pulled me over and could smell the whiskey pouring out of my very pores. I was resigned to the fact that I was caught, even fucking anticipated it, and was about to give him my wrists to seal in cuffs.

But then he recognized me.

Not hard to do when you look a lot like the woman who is acclaimed for cleaning a town up and donating millions. Or when you’re part of a family that literally holds the town pillars on their backs, a real social monarchy, and watched through a magnifying glass.

Hence why I’m here, Officer Van Dyke recognized me immediately and told me the repercussions of my actions. My chief of police uncle would be scrutinized and thrown under the bus, my mother and father would be criticized for raising such a deadbeat daughter, and finally I would shine a negative light on a family that works so fucking hard to be perfect.

Then he put forth an offer, I meet him here, today, and let him fuck me, then he would let everything go. I agreed because for one, it’s an easy lay, and two, I really don’t want to fuck up my family any more than I already have.

I watch the reflection in the window, his hands rubbing into my shoulders, and his wedding band prominent against his pale skin. Adam Van Dyke is married with children and a prominent man in Whitsborough. I know him very well too, his daughter Molly and I used to be best friends.

I begin to undo my kilt, letting it drop to the floor, my bare pussy on display, and begin to undo the buttons of my uniform top. I pull the white dress shirt off and toss it to the couch as I hear him undoing the belt looped in his slacks. I have that initial rush of panic, seizing my chest, and making it hard to breathe.

It lasts for about a minute and then I relish in the high of being wanted, being revered. My body is my fucking temple and as chaotic as my life is, I make sure to take care of it. I’m toned, lean, tall for a girl, standing at a few inches below six foot, and I have the curves along with it. I know the feelings my body and looks elicit from men and I work it to my fucking advantage.

I pull apart the clasp on my bra, watching as my tits bounce against my chest, my nipples hardening in anticipation, and I toss it to the growing pile.

“You’ve really filled out these last few years, Ivy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Adam.” I turn around to face him and roll my eyes when I see his cock.

Nothing amazing about it, less than average, and I’m regretting my decision not to bring my vibrator.

“That’s not going to do much for me.” I point at his dick in his hand. “I hope you eat like a madman.”

“Get on the bed,” he grins. “Sometimes it isn’t about the size but how a man works it.”

He’s naked in a matter of seconds and I give his body a once over as I scoot up the bed. He’s fit for an old guy, his abs are still visible, and he at least shaves his hair. Not too bad.

I open my legs wide on the stark white bed set, my deep olive skin a contrast to the purity, and stick two fingers in