Ivy's Venom (Whitsborough Progenies) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by C.A. Rene

  Copyright © 2021 C.A. Rene

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental, the characters and story lines are created by the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to the original owner.

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  TalkNerdy2Me

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  Judge your strengths by your weaknesses.

  “Ivy,” her voice floats to me above the music. “Hold my hand.”

  “Keep both hands on the wheel.” I chastise but lean over to kiss her cheek. “Besides, you know the rules.”

  Her face falls at my words, but I need to make sure she understands what this is, and I can’t have her thinking I belong to her.

  Ivy Greene belongs to no one.

  Not even to pretty Charlotte Jones from Toronto.

  I let my legs fall open, showing him I have nothing on under my kilt, and slowly run my fingers up my thigh. He’s leaning against the chalkboard with his arms crossed and watching my face intensely. I know he wants to peek at my pussy but between the hours of eight and three, he needs to be professional.

  “Ivy,” he snarls. “Knock it off.”

  “I’m horny.” I shrug as my fingers meet the apex of my thighs. “And wet.”

  “Mrs. Greene could walk in here at any moment...”

  “Mrs. Greene can watch for all I fucking care.” I cut him off.

  He steps forward, bringing himself between my legs, and grabbing my hand just as it lands on my pussy. His rough knuckles scrape along my clit and I lift my hips to feel more.

  He yanks my hand and his out from inside my kilt and I whimper at the loss of contact.

  “I said to knock it off.” He growls and chucks my hand away.

  “Fuck,” I hop off the desk. “You are boring as fuck.”

  I grab my backpack off the floor and saunter to the classroom door, flipping my long mahogany hair over my shoulder.

  “Ivy.” His voice is low as he calls out to me. “Tomorrow you have detention here for an hour after the final bell.”

  I grin and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. “Okay, Mr. O’Connor.”

  I leave the classroom and watch as the students in the hall make their way to their lockers, getting ready to leave for the day.

  Precious Blood Academy is a catholic institute that houses immoral teenagers but prays for our souls in the process. It’s not a strict school by any means, I’ve spent the last few years in a strict school and Precious Blood is a kitten compared to that. The only thing this school is strict about is the uniform.

  “So, what is my fucked up little cousin doing tonight?” Carmelo’s deep voice rasps as he leans against the locker next to mine.

  “We were born literally three months apart, shut up.” I open my locker and pull out the textbooks I won’t be studying tonight.

  “It’s Thursday,” he chuckles. “Isn’t that race night down at the strip?”

  The strip is an old, abandoned highway that’s rarely used anymore. It was long ago replaced by a larger one and now the unruly rich kids of Whitsborough use it to drag race, until my Uncle Emmett gets wind of it and shuts it down. I used to go there with Dad’s newest vehicles and race them for fun, all without him ever finding out.

  “Tell me you’re taking the Shelby.” Cameron-might as well be a cousin-leans on my other side.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing yet.” I slam my locker shut.

  I stride out of the school and into the parking lot. I haven’t really bothered to get reacquainted with the girls I used to call friends a few years ago, they’re different from me, and honestly I’m just not interested. Who knows when I’ll be shipped off again?

  “Call me if you’re going.” Carmelo calls out. “I don’t want you to go alone.”

  He’s always been so protective of me and a lot of my family says he’s like his father-my Uncle Carm. Uncle Carm died before me or Carmelo were born and the means of his death are pretty hush hush. I did some digging around when I was in New York and found out that my mother’s side of the family ran a large mob organization back in the day. Uncle Carm was their leader for a while and whenever I got to see Trent-my mother’s business partner in New York-I tried to bleed him for information. It never worked, they are all so tight lipped about everything.

  My family being tight lipped is a fucking understatement. I grew up knowing there were secrets, secrets pertaining to our relatives that have long passed away, and secrets that would completely destroy us if anyone found out.

  “Ivy!” I hear a voice call out and I refrain from groaning out loud.

  I turn and face a girl I grew up with and at one time called my best friend. Molly is sweet and innocent, but a complete loser now. I don’t know what happened to her in the few years I’ve been gone, but now she’s one of the loners that eats their lunch in the bathrooms.

  I don’t answer her and instead watch as she huffs her way to me. She’s always been asthmatic and now that she’s added braces to the mix, she’s a bonafide weirdo.

  “When did you get back?” She asks when she finally catches up to me.

  “A few nights ago.” I unlock my M5 and throw my bag into the backseat.

  “We should totally catch up.” She grins wide and I cringe as the sun reflects off
all the metal in her fucking mouth.

  “Listen Molly,” I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re just not my type.”

  “What?” She looks horrified and her face turns the colour of a beetroot. “Not like that.”

  “Like what? You aren’t down to eat my pussy?”

  “Ivy!” She shrieks and begins to back away. “I meant like the old days, like friends.” She’s stumbling over her words.

  “I’m not looking for any friends.” I shrug. “How’s your brother?”

  “What?” Her eyes widen and I become increasingly annoyed at her stupidity.

  “Nevermind.” I roll my eyes and get into my car. “Get lost, Molly.”

  I close the car door on her stunned facial expression and flip down the visor, I have a date. I check my makeup and see my bright blue-green eyes looking back at me, their depths reflecting my inner turmoil. No matter how tough the exterior is, your eyes are the windows to your soul.

  And that’s about as deep as I’ll get on that shit. I open the center console and pull out the already rolled joint waiting there. Time to drive and forget where the fuck I am.

  I roll into the hotel lot and throw my keys to the valet. This better be worth the drive here, Toronto is a forty-five minute trek, and if this man’s dick is subpar, I’m going to snap. I walk into the lobby and head straight for the elevator, I already know his room number.

  He has two hours to make me come and then I need to head back, because regardless of what I said to Carmelo, I will be racing tonight.

  The elevator doors slide open and I see the bellhop standing inside. He has his hat pulled down low on his face but he fucking fills out the uniform perfectly. His face is stuck in his phone, so he doesn’t pay attention as I get in.

  “Eleven please.”

  I keep my eyes on the door and I can see his head snap up in my peripheral. He reaches his finger out and presses a floor, the whole time his eyes are on my face. I fucking hope he hit the right one.

  “Ivy Greene.” His voice is deep and slightly familiar.

  I turn and look into a set of light brown eyes, framed by thick black lashes, and skin the colour of terra-cotta, warm and golden. His lips are turned down into a frown but they are the sexiest set of lips I have ever seen, moist and full.

  “You don’t remember me.” His tongue comes out to run along the plump bottom lip.

  “I don’t.” I admit.

  I can’t control this immense attraction I’m feeling, like he’s pulling me in, and I can’t stop myself from falling.

  “Why would you?” His voice becomes mean and snarky. “Why would you remember the family of the girl you killed?”

  Everything stops in that moment. My lungs stall, my heart falters, and my mouth drops. What the fuck did he just say?

  “But Mommy and Daddy were there to make sure it was swept away.” He shoots his hand out and presses the stop button. “I wanted to kill you, too.”

  He steps towards me and I wish I could get my body to work so I could move or scream but I’m stuck, just staring at him with my mouth agape.

  It finally hits me exactly who this guy is and now I am the one fearing for my life, because if the tables were turned, I would’ve already killed him.

  “Neil.” My voice is hoarse and dry.

  “So, you do remember me.” Something close to curiosity flashes through his eyes.

  Of course I would remember him. His sister and I were best friends and he was my first fucking crush. Neil Jones and Charlotte Jones were my first real friends outside of family. Neil being a few years older than us, stopped coming around as often when he hit thirteen, but Charlotte and I remained close.

  Until I killed her.

  “Yes,” my voice cracks and I want to punch myself in the face for sounding so weak. “Your family and mine are close.”

  “No,” he steps in closer, our chests bumping. “My father and your family are close. He’s a fucking traitor for not having you charged with murder and your family as accessories.”

  He’s not wrong.

  I shake my head and tip my head back, looking up to the ceiling of the elevator. Did you do this to punish me, Char?

  “You’re not going to fight me on any of this?” He asks and his voice pitches with disappointment.

  I take a deep breath and steel my fucking spine, I’m a fucking Greene.

  “No, I’m not fighting you, Neil.” I reach around him and release the stop button. “I’m late for a date and I get grumpy when I’m late.”

  His brows rise towards the peak of his hat and he steps back to the elevator wall. He’s put as much space as he can between us in this confined place.

  “You a prostitute or something?” He sounds disgusted.

  “Or something.” I shrug and the elevator dings, announcing my floor.

  “Don’t fucking come back here again, Greene.” He snarls as I step out of the elevator.

  Even in anger, even with his features saturated in hate, he’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts, and I know it’s karma kicking me in the ass.

  “See you around, Jones.” I wink and walk down the corridor.

  As soon as I hear the metallic drag of the doors shutting, I let myself 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 my mouth. Looks like I just might have to get myself started.