His Vessel: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance: War Cry MC, #1
By Nicole Fox
4/5
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About this ebook
His Vessel is book 1 of the War Cry MC trilogy. Books 2 and 3, His Toy and His Plaything are available everywhere now!
I TOOK THAT NAUGHTY VIRGIN AND F**KED MY BABY INTO HER.
The police chief took something that belongs to me.
So I'm going to take what's most precious to him: his virgin daughter.
I'm gonna tease her. I'm gonna taste her.
And then I'm gonna f**k her until she's heavy with my child.
I'm not a man you should cross.
Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth?
That's amateur sh*t.
When someone wrongs me, I don't just get even.
I burn everything they love to the ground.
The pig stole a document that he never should have touched.
So I do the only thing that's fair:
Make his daughter my own.
It's not enough just to steal her, or just to seduce her.
I have to break her completely.
With every word, every touch, every command,
I turn the innocent virgin into a c**k-hungry play toy.
She's mine now, from top to bottom, inside and out.
And it won't be long before she's on all fours, begging me to put my baby inside of her.
Nicole Fox
Nicole Fox writes smart, sexy mafia romance novels. She is a crazy cat lady in her late 30s with a coffee addiction, an overactive imagination, and a husband who somehow puts up with her impulsive need to keep buying new plants for their house. Sign up for her mailing list at http://bit.ly/NicoleFoxMailingList.
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His Vessel: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance: War Cry MC, #1 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5His Toy: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance: War Cry MC, #2 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5His Plaything: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance: War Cry MC, #3 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5
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24 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Book one in a trilogy - a fast read, good characters and sexy
Book preview
His Vessel - Nicole Fox
His Vessel: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (War Cry MC) (Book 1)
By Nicole Fox
I TOOK THAT NAUGHTY VIRGIN AND F**KED MY BABY INTO HER.
THE POLICE CHIEF TOOK something that belongs to me.
So I’m going to take what’s most precious to him: his virgin daughter.
I’m gonna tease her. I’m gonna taste her.
And then I’m gonna f**k her until she’s heavy with my child.
I’m not a man you should cross.
Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth?
That’s amateur sh*t.
When someone wrongs me, I don’t just get even.
I burn everything they love to the ground.
The pig stole a document that he never should have touched.
So I do the only thing that’s fair:
Make his daughter my own.
It’s not enough just to steal her, or just to seduce her.
I have to break her completely.
With every word, every touch, every command,
I turn the innocent virgin into a c**k-hungry play toy.
She’s mine now, from top to bottom, inside and out.
And it won’t be long before she’s on all fours, begging me to put my baby inside of her.
Chapter One
Corinne
There was a particular look that my dad got on his face when he was suspicious of me. It seemed to have been on his face permanently since I turned sixteen.
What are you doing here?
he said. Which is how every daughter wants to be greeted by her father when she turns up unannounced.
That's a nice way to say hello,
I replied, instantly on the defensive.
Well,
my dad seemed to regret his rudeness and back-pedaled a bit. It's not that I'm not pleased to see you Corinne—of course I am, and your sister will be too. It's just that ... it's a bit unexpected, that's all.
I thought I'd surprise you,
I said. I didn't expect the third-degree just for coming home for a bit.
You're right. I'm sorry. It was just ...
I know. Unexpected.
And, in the past, when you have come home unexpectedly ...
Dad left the sentence dangling, but I wasn't in the mood to let him off the hook.
What?
He sighed and rolled his eyes. It's always been because you want something. Because you'd gotten yourself into trouble and needed me to bail you out. Literally on one occasion. You know how embarrassing that is for a sheriff? To have to go and get his daughter out of jail? Can you imagine?
Yes. Because you've told me how embarrassing it was once a week ever since. If I ever get married, I imagine that story will be part of your toast at my wedding.
Well...
Why do you always have to expect the worst of me?
I decided to go on the offensive.
Well ...
Why do you have to take everything I do and make it into something bad? I'm not a complete screw up, you know. I had a couple of free days, and I thought it would be nice to visit my dad and my sister, and before I even get in the door you're accusing me of stuff I didn't do.
My dad hung his head in shame, and I savored the moment. Of course, that moment wasn't going to last because dad was absolutely right. I had come home because my dumb-ass ex-boyfriend skipped town with my rent money, and I lost the apartment where we were living— which would teach me to date someone who called himself 'Logan,’ just because he'd seen X-Men too many times. Eventually, obviously, I would have to tell my dad the truth—just as soon as I'd worked out what truth I was going to tell him, because the actual one didn't appeal—but, until then, a little guilt would do him good. Just because he happened to be right this time (and I guess most other times) didn't give him the right to be forever thinking the worst of me. It wasn't fair, and it was no way for a father to treat his daughter. I was twenty-three years old, and I could look after myself, despite all evidence to the contrary.
I'm sorry,
Dad mumbled, half to himself. It was killing him to have to say it.
Maybe it was a little bit mean-spirited to keep him thinking that had he misjudged me, but given the number of times he'd managed to make me feel bad about letting him down, I decided that he had it coming. You would think that he would have been pleased that, for once, his youngest daughter hadn't done something stupid, but no. The truth was that he liked to think of me as a child in need of guidance and discipline, rather than the adult that I had become without him noticing.
I found myself wondering how long I could keep this little deception going and hoped that it would be long enough to come up with a really good excuse for losing the apartment—one that put me in a good light and avoided the necessity of mentioning assholes called Logan (whose real name was Gregory).
Just as I was thinking this, my big sister, Risa, stuck her head into the room, holding the phone with one hand over the receiver.
Hey, Cor, your landlord wants to know where you want your stuff sent.
The look of triumph on my dad's face as he turned back to me was far worse to endure than losing the apartment. Afraid of being caught enjoying the situation, he quickly switched back to disappointed, another expression I'd seen way too much of over the years. He shook his head despondently. What is it this time? Another dodgy boyfriend, or are you running a meth lab?
Dad always loved to exaggerate where I was concerned. It was never enough that my boyfriends were ill-chosen (and I would have been the first to admit that I'd made mistakes), the way he told it they were criminals, conmen, gangsters and hoodlums. The fact that I had never gotten into drugs didn't matter, 'meth lab' was still the first place his mind went. I sometimes wondered if he would have been happier if I'd gone full crack-whore just to prove him right.
Ask him to send it here,
I said to Risa, who was now wearing an expression of extreme apology as she realized what she had inadvertently done. Temporarily,
I added, for Dad's benefit. I won't be staying long.
And where will you be going?
I just need some time to earn a bit, so I can find another place to rent.
Dad shook his head once again. Maybe you'd be better off stopping here on a longer-term basis.
No!
No way was I moving back home.
But Dad went on. Just until you've matured a bit.
I'm twenty-three!
Only in years,
my dad said unhelpfully. In behavior, you're still about sixteen.
Dad!
How many apartments have you been through now? And it always ends the same way.
The first I had lost because I just ran out of money. I think it happens to a lot of people having to pay rent and bills on their own for the first time—you just lose track. The second one I lost when I held a party and a stray cigarette fell down the back of the bed.We put the fire out before it had done any real damage, but the landlord still threw me out. The third time, I moved in with a boyfriend and, a week later, found him in bed with someone else. Actually, that happened the fifth time as well. The fourth wasn't really my fault;