Virgin Lucky Read online

  Virgin Lucky

  Skye Darrel

  Contents

  Stalk the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Also by Skye Darrel

  Follow the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2019 by Skye Darrel

  All rights reserved.

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  skyedarrel.com

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  First Edition

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  Stalk the Author

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  1

  Nicole

  My roommate Sarah downs her eighth shot, a sugary-sweet vodka mix that made me queasy when I tried a sip. Drinking isn’t my strong suit. I look around the crowded bar, scanning faces. Frat boys circle us like sharks, but I’m not worried about them.

  I’m worried about him—the man I saw four days ago down a side street.

  There was an alley, but it wasn't dark.

  Two men stood over a third lying on the ground. Silly me stopped to gawk. I’m a small town girl in my first year at UMass Boston. I was curious. Seconds went by before I realized the guy on the ground was dead. I should have ran, but it was like watching a horrific crash on the highway. Everyone peeks, don’t they? Curiosity and cats—that’s me.

  One man with cropped blond hair turned and saw my face in broad daylight. Our eyes met. His were blue. My legs felt like cold cement, and I couldn’t move.

  The other man held a gun. When he started to look my way, I ran. I ran all the way back to my dorm.

  The blue-eyed man has been stalking me since, I’m sure of it. I can’t get him out of my mind.

  Sarah nudges my elbow. “Loosen up, Nikki. What’s the matter with you?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Sarah’s nineteen, a year older, but most times I’m playing big sister getting her butt out of trouble. She shouldn’t even be drinking. Neither of us should be bar hopping at two in the morning. I only agreed to an hour at Flannagan’s, mostly to keep Sarah safe. That was five hours ago.

  “Can we just leave?”

  “Not yet. Check ‘em out.” Sarah nods at two boys eyeing us from across the bar. They smile and raise their beer bottles. “What’d you say, Nikki?”

  “About what?”

  “Those two.” She waves her hand at them, her words slurred. “They’re cute.”

  Cute and drunk, and I know what they’re after. I’ve never been with a guy, and I’m not starting in a bar. I’m about to give Sarah a piece of my mind when a face near the door makes my stomach lurch.

  Him, the blue-eyed man from that alley. I recognize the short bristling hair, those broad shoulders, and the blond scruff on his jaw. I could never forget him. The dangerous glint in those bright blues. He melts into the crowd, leaving my heart pounding.

  “Shit.”

  Sarah leans against the bar. “Huh?”

  “I saw him, the guy I told you about.”

  “The mafia guy?”

  “I think so.”

  Sarah shakes her head and nearly topples off her stool. “Girl you’re seeing things.”

  “I’m not!” Panic rises in my chest. “Let’s go. Now, Sarah!”

  “Okay, okay. Party pooper.”

  I could call for an escort from our campus police, but Sarah’s so tipsy they’d write her up for sure. She’d already been cited for drinking. One more citation and she’ll be suspended. We’re both from small towns in Indiana, but big bad Boston changed us in different ways. I miss home. Sarah doesn’t.

  I check my phone for Uber, but she’s stumbling toward the exit.

  “There’s no one after you!” Sarah shouts over the music, laughing like a maniac. “We’re walking back. Will you stop worrying?”

  I follow her outside to an empty street. This part of South Boston isn’t the safest place to be after dark, and it’s a long walk to our dorm. Two girls alone at night strolling through a rough neighborhood. Yeah. Totally not a recipe for disaster.

  We make it three blocks before Sarah throws up over a trash can. I pat her back, and I stay alert for trouble. A car rolls up across the street. Three men get out.

  I freeze, then sigh with relief. These men are big, but it’s not him.

  One wears a leather jacket over his massive bulk. He has muscles like an ox, and he’s leading the others. I don’t know what they want, but they’re not him. We should be safe. I keep telling myself that as they get closer, smiling nastily and rubbing their hands.

  “You ladies need some help?” Leather Jacket asks.

  “We’re fine,” I shout.

  “Your friend don’t look fine, baby doll.”

  Leather’s voice makes my skin crawl. Sarah straightens and wipes her mouth, all the joy gone from her sobering eyes. She’s wearing red pumps, a miniskirt, and a slinky little top. Her bar hopping clothes. They draw the wrong kind of attention now.

  Up close, the men have cruel faces. Leather ogles me, and I get that sick feeling when I think a man’s undressing me with his eyes. He could overpower us even without his pals. And for some reason, he looks familiar.

  “Leave us alone,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. These men are the kind my grandparents warned me about when I left for college.

  “We need to have a chat,” Leather says. “Get in the car, nice and easy. Don’t make this difficult.”

  A male voice answers, “No.” Deep and rumbling, like thunder in the distance.

  I spin around to see him, my blue-eyed stalker, stepping closer. A dim streetlamp carves shadows in his face.

  Leather grits his jaw. They know each other. “I warned you, Jamie,” Leather says. “Stay out of this.”

  Jaime. The guy who’s been giving me nightmares the last four days has a name. He’s easier on the eyes than I remember, not the face of a monster at all. He’s gorgeous.

  “Leave,” Jaime says to the men.

  Leather grunts. “We’re handling business.”

  “Not this one, Rourke. She’s mine.”

  My eyes dart back and forth between them. His?

  And Leather Jacket has a name too. “She’s a witness,” Rourke says. “She saw us. That makes her a liability.”

  Crap. That’s why Rourke looks familiar. He was the other man in that alley, standing with Jaime over the dead body. My stomach sinks, and I break out in cold sweat. A scream itches in my throat.

  I shut my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and I tell myself I survived worse six years ago. Tonight isn’t my first dance with danger. I do my best to hold Sarah who’s trembling against me.

  The men seem to be in a standoff, with Rourke and his two guys facing Jaime. Minutes pass.

  “The girl’s mine,” Jaime says.

  “No I’m not!” I’m sick of him saying that, but his deep voice is making me vibrate inside. My face feels warmer and warmer. His? His what?

  All four glance at me.

  I shrug sheepishly.

  Then Rourke pulls out a gun from his leather jacket. Jaime knocks it away, and his fist connects with Rourke’s jaw. The other two lunge for us. Jaime tackles one. The third guy, whose arms are laced with tattoos, snatches at my elbow.

  I take Sarah’s hand and turn to run. Tattoo drags me down by the legs. Sarah stumbles out of her high heels and lands on her rear. She struggles up, her eyes frantic. />
  Tattoo’s latched on to my legs. I kick back, but he’s strong and much bigger. I can’t get away.

  Sarah hesitates, standing on her bare feet.

  “Run!” I shout. “Go!”

  She sprints into the night. I roll on my back, struggling to kick Tattoo off. I glance at Jaime. He’s fighting the other two and winning. One of the men is sprawled out on the sidewalk with a bloody nose. Jaime has his arm around Rourke’s neck.

  I’m not winning.

  Tattoo snarls, his hands on my shorts, his weight pinning my legs. “Gonna wish you came quietly you little bitch.”

  I knee him in the groin. He raises his hand to hit me.

  “Help!”

  Jaime grabs Tattoo’s wrist. Behind him, Rourke is knocked out. Jaime hauls Tattoo off my body, throws him to the ground, and stomps on his stomach. Then he picks him up and slams him head-first against a car. Tattoo crumples in a heap.

  Jaime stands above me, a wild light in his eyes. Very slowly, his fists unfold. “You all right?” he says.

  I’m on my back staring at the strongest man I’ve ever seen. The most dangerous. My throat clogs like it’s filled with hot sand. Jaime kneels at my side.

  “I won’t hurt you, Nicole.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I’ve been following you. I’m sorry, but it had to be done. You’re safe now.”

  Safer, at least. I look at the three men groaning on the pavement. “You’re not with them?”

  “It’s complicated. We have to leave.”

  Complicated is freaking right. Despite what just happened, I feel safe and protected. My fear drains away as Jaime pulls me up and hugs me close. For a while we stare at each other, my breasts mashing against the solid wall of his chest. Something hard prods my waist, and when I realize what it is, my face flashes hot and I push him away.

  He has an erection. What the hell?

  “Don’t touch me,” I snap. And for good measure, I slap his face.

  “I deserved that.”

  “Yeah you do! What’s wrong with you?”

  “You were against me.”

  “So? Do you get a hard-on every time a girl hugs you?” I realize I just admitted to hugging him, a complete stranger, and a mafia hitman for all I know.

  “You rubbed your tits against me,” Jaime growls.

  He did not just say tits to my face. “I-I did not.”

  “You’re coming with me.” He touches my face. “Understand, little girl?”

  2

  Jaime

  She’s mine. There’s no going back. Rourke was right about one thing. Nicole is a witness to what we did on that alley down Brighton Street, and I can’t let her go. Rourke will never stop hunting her. She’s seen too damn much.

  It’s my responsibility to protect this girl.

  More than that.

  I want her in other ways. My hard cock throbs painfully, and raw desire claws through my guts. My need to claim her fogs my judgment.

  I need her.

  I want her.

  I’ll have her. She’s not getting away.

  Nicole sees the dark intention in my eyes.

  “Listen,” I say. “Four days ago, you witnessed a scene you shouldn’t have. Don’t deny it—I know you saw my face because I saw yours. Your life is in danger.”

  “I know! From you. And them.” She points at the three bodies on the ground. They’re still breathing, and it won’t be long before they get up. I oughta put them down for good, but I can’t kill. Not yet. “You’re mafia, aren’t you?” she accuses.

  “My name is Jaime Sullivan. I was born and raised in Southie.” I grunt. “That’s South Boston.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something?”

  “I’m Irish, little girl. We don’t have a mafia. We have a mob.”

  “Yeah? Well I’m from Indiana and I’m not a little girl.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “I’m going to the police.” There’s more and more sass in her tone.

  My cock strains against my briefs. “You’re coming with me. The police can’t protect you against Caspian Rourke. That man in the leather jacket? He’s the meanest sonofabitch in Boston. You walked in on us handling business that day. Rourke wants you dead. He never leaves witnesses alive.”

  It sinks in she’s stepped into something bigger than she thought. “And you were with him! Why should I trust you?”

  “Because—”

  Rourke is coming around, coughing and turning. So are his grunts.

  I throw her over my shoulder. Nicole shrieks when I grab her by the ass to keep her in place. Then a moan leaves her mouth, and I feel her arm wrap around my neck. She clings to me as I take her to my convertible parked down the block. By the time I set her gently into the passenger seat, her face is flushed red and she’s breathless.

  I put on her seatbelt and smell her neck. I need to be sure she understands. I need her to know that despite all my past sins, I would never harm her.

  When I saw her that day, her fate was sealed in more ways than one. Nicole is more than a witness to me. More than a woman I just met. I felt a squeeze in my chest when I laid eyes on her, and I knew I had to have her. Call it primal instinct. Call it lust. Call it love at first fucking sight.

  I’ve stroked my cock to thoughts of her in my bed, and I’m a man who always gets what he wants. No matter what.

  I tip her chin up. My eyes drift to her chest, and I notice her nipples pressing through her top. The blush in her face deepens.

  “You’re mine,” I growl. “Do you understand?”

  “Your what?” Nicole whispers.

  “Everything.” I have no control over the words that leave my mouth.

  I glare at her. My withering stare. I know grown men who would cower before me, but she doesn’t flinch. She struggles to hold my gaze, but she does. Cum leaks out of my cock as my eyes wander down her body. She looks delicate and innocent. Her shorts are dusty from the street, and I wipe them off, letting my fingers brush against her thigh.

  “What do you want from me?” she whispers. Her voice sounds almost curious. “What are you going to do?”

  “That depends whether you behave.” I lean closer so I can breathe more of her scent. Fuck, I’m losing control. My cock aches, throbbing and pulsing, my balls boiling with the need to cum. I know more about Nicole than she realizes. I’ve been tracking her the past four days, making sure Caspian Rourke can’t get to her. “Right now I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

  “What about Sarah?” she says. “The other girl.”

  “She’s not my problem.”

  Nicole frowns. “She’s my best friend. I want to call her, make sure she’s safe.”

  “Then do it.” Reluctantly I pull away and get in the driver’s side and start the engine. Nicole takes out a phone from her shorts, but the screen’s cracked. It won’t turn on.

  “Your freaking friends broke it.”

  “Rourke isn’t my friend. He’s a business associate.”

  “Oh, I see. Just like you’re not the mafia. You’re the mob.” She huffs. “Whatever, you’re probably gonna kill me anyway.”

  I glare at her, and she presses her lips together. “I’ll never hurt you,” I say. “Ever. Do you understand?”

  “Then I can leave?”

  “No.”

  “It’s called kidnapping, you know.”

  “It’s called protecting a girl in over her head.”

  I start the engine and drive down the street toward the highway that will take us out of the city. I stop at a red light and make sure we’re not being followed. Nicole sits still, watching me from under her lashes. The shape of her breasts under that snug top has me seeing red.

  The light turns green, and I floor the gas. “You’re in danger, I’m trying to help you.”

  “I never asked for your help. This is all your fault!”

  Slamming the brakes, I bring the car to a screeching halt right before the h
ighway ramp. “You want to get out?”

  Her chest rises and falls. She looks out the window then back at me. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’m in charge,” I growl. “Understand, little girl?”

  “Who do you think you are calling me that? My daddy?”

  The word hangs between us, and Nicole blushes crimson. She looks out the window again and crosses her legs.

  I drive on, my thoughts consumed by the desire to claim her for my own. When I was watching her at that dingy bar, I could tell she’s never been touched. She’s never had a hard cock between her thighs. She’s never been worshipped like she deserves, fucked like she needs, and shown the pleasures of her body. That’s good, because the thought of another man laying a finger on her has me foaming at the mouth.

  She’s mine.

  She didn’t know it, but she will.

  By the time we leave the city in the rearview mirror, my dick is smearing cum inside my briefs. I grip the steering wheel, fighting the urge to stop by the roadside and have her now. My cock jerks in my pants as I picture her spread wide under me, my mouth on her pussy making her scream.

  3

  Nicole

  It’s been a long, long hour. I can't believe the feelings roiling through me, the heat rising in my belly and the moisture between my thighs. My panties stick to my folds, and every few minutes I steal a glance at his chiseled face. He’s older than me by a decade at least. Strong and sturdy. Handsome and rugged. My heart’s beating like a hammer, and I do my best to stay still.

  The sense of danger heightens every feeling.

  I must be crazy, letting this man take me to who knows where. And letting is a stretch. Nabbed, more like. But as far as kidnappers go, you can do a lot worse.