Squirm: virgin captive of the billionaire biker tentacle monster (The Squirm Files)

by Cari Silverwood

  by

  Cari Silverwood

  Copyright 2014 Cari Silverwood

  Published by Cari Silverwood

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  About Squirm

  A parody of everything great and weird in erotic romance that could be stuffed into one book without it exploding.

  For some girls, one tentacle isn’t enough.

  Having a bad day isn’t good but when Virginia Chaste has a bad day, she gets felt up by a tentacle monster. If it simply has to happen, let it at least be a billionaire and a hot biker.

  Virginity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and her search for the Holy Grail of Erotic Romance, the ten inch, purple-headed schlong, may have finally borne fruit.

  Yeehaw! Playing hide the tentacle has never been so much fun.

  Chapter 1

  Virginia swept back her long, blonde hair and smiled as enticingly as she could at the man on the other side of the chain mesh gate. Her little, black dress was fine but the six inch, red stilettos were going to kill her any second. He grinned back, anchoring his fingers high in the mesh, leaning on the gate, and exuding eau de biker. The muscle of his flexed and tattooed bicep shone under the florescent light.

  “C’mon in. We don’t bite much. Name’s Jace.”

  She breathed in again, swooned, then swiftly recovered and slipped past Jace into the garage.

  Eau de Biker. Mmm. Oil, leather, and beer smells always did it to her. Her panties had wet through in an instant.

  But, she had a job to do.

  The garage was dark, dingy and filled with testosterone-hyped, tatted-up bikers. They roamed across the concrete floor checking out the chromed bikes like a pack of thirsty, hungry snakes let loose on a Sunday picnic of virginal, squeaky mice.

  She shook her head, knowing she’d imagined that with way too many adjectives. Sometimes her imagination went a little ga ga.

  Past the knowledge that she was here to look for Cyndie, she wondered, ever so hopefully, if among these men she would find her holy grail – what she’d been saving herself for from the day she opened the pages of her first romance novel – the man with the ten inch purple-headed schlong.

  Fabio with his flowing locks could take a hike.

  “Whatcha want, beautiful?” Jace didn’t move from his gate propping position and the space on the floor left over from men, machines, and crates was barely wide enough for both of them. She craned her head back.

  Tallish. Check. Built like a bull. Check. Were there tingles in her downstairs department? Mmhmm. Check. Her pearly gates had gone into override and the doors were ready to burst open.

  His crotch? Over the years she’d developed a package bulge versus true schlong-length chart. The holes she’d had to drill in men’s toilet doors... But at least her carpentry skills were maxed out and she could now construct a bookshelf all by herself. Should she look?

  Tongue on lip, her gaze strayed down his sculpted body over the oil stains on his T-shirt, past the splatters from spilled pizza, lower. Chest. Hips. She licked her lips but braked, restraining herself from venturing further. She didn’t want to seem too eager.

  The gleam in his eyes said he’d noticed.

  “I’m looking for my friend, Cyndie.”

  “Don’t know the name. She’s probably not here.” He leaned in even closer until she could count the bristles on his poorly shaven chin. “But you’re pretty. You can stay. Turn around and spread your legs so I can fuck you up against the wire. I’ll get my cock in you so deep it’ll need a directory to find its way out.”

  “That sounds...dangerous.”

  “I am,” he rumbled sexily, like a waterfall that’s had a dam collapse upstream and is about to flood and destroy the village of peasants further downstream...many of whom are poor and in desperate need of medical attention.

  She inhaled his delicious male scent again. “Why do you smell so good?”

  “This.” He held up a small bottle. Eau de biker.

  “Fuck. I knew it,” she whispered. “What’s the pay?”

  “For wall fucking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Zero. But you get to be mine and we can have ten kids and though I may die early from multiple gunshot wounds we’ll never regret a single moment of our existence.”

  “I see. Tempting.” She sucked on her lip, thinking. Cut to the chase. “Schlong size?”

  His brows shot up. “Oh baby. Nine inches.”

  An inch short. Her heart sank and she sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Jace. Ask me again tomorrow.”

  The garage door wound up, creaking like an armored tank in the throes of having a baby tank by painful cesarean section. Jace ignored it. The burst of light through the door, from glaring headlights, made most of the men rise to their feet.

  “Cyndie left this.” Virginia handed over the card.

  Jace frowned as he read the back of the business card. He flipped it to read the front where a logo with a red octopus gripping a ship’s wheel was embossed on the luxurious cream.

  “Says she went to the club house of the Sea Wolves. Not us. You got the wrong place, Snookums.”

  Snookums? “I thought you were the Sea Wolves?”

  “Nope.”

  Car doors slammed and two men walked in, ducking under the mostly open door, shoving it up higher. Though both were tall, one was a head higher than the other, and wider too. His boots were... They were... Virginia peered. The concrete seemed to sink around the boots.

  Light streamed in past them like it had a contract to announce the arrival of a pair of avenging archangels. Except they didn’t have wings and one of them, the biggest one, looked as if he’d fallen off the back of a truck, face first. And then someone had stapled a new wire-brush hairstyle on his scalp. If they were archangels, Heaven needed a new personnel department.

  “Who the fuck are you?” someone yelled over the sound of the truck engine. “Rude fuckers. Ever heard of knocking?”

  “I am Karl Thulhu,” the first, shorter one, drawled in bass mode, his voice assertive yet relaxed. “This is my helper, Dangerous Bob.”

  Though he didn’t in any way gesture at the big man beside him, she knew who he meant since Dangerous Bob had growled, low and menacing, and not at all like he meant to sell cookies or break into song about daisies or tulips...or anything to do with being happy.

  “Dangerous Bob?” someone jeered.

  “You don’t want to know. He tones it down so he can fit into polite society.” Karl smiled.

  With the brightness of the light, she couldn’t see his eyes but the smile was awesomely nasty. His voice was suave and educated but with a hard edge – he’d cut you without hesitation with an antique silver knife.

  Dangerous Bob growled again, patently agreeing.

  “So. You’re such nice people. I can see that. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, it’s your turn.”

  The bikers’ hands
tightened on the baseball bats and wrenches they clutched. A few drew knives.

  “Twats.” Jace chuckled, drawing Virginia’s attention back to him. “You said Sea Wolves. You see any ocean round here? A motor cycle club called that?”

  “Not interested in playing nice? Listen, Furry Wolves!” Karl Thulhu said, just loud enough to be heard over the idling engine. “You’ve stolen my merchandise! And if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s steal from me.”

  “You’re the Furry Wolves?” Virginia couldn’t help sniggering.

  Jace bent and picked a tire lever off the floor, the metal scraping on the concrete. Then he rose to stare at the two men. “You better go, girl. Things are about to get fucked up. Ain’t no one claims off the Wolves.”

  A fight was going down.

  “You want some?” A Furry Wolf member challenged, tapping a piece of lead pipe in his hand.

  “Some what?” Karl Thulhu asked.

  The entire garage full of Furry Wolves surged toward him and Dangerous Bob.

  Chapter 2

  The headlights went out, the engine stopped, then the garage lights also died. Blackness reigned. Screams and thuds proliferated. Feet scuffled. Metal clanged.

  Quiet, except for the ticking of a cooling engine. Moans. Then lightning flashed from a storm that hadn’t been in the vicinity a moment before. In the eerie and very convenient light, she caught a glimpse of a tableau – a monstrous beast towered above the bodies of the bikers, flailing at them with its terrible long arm things. The room darkened again.

  What was the name of those long arm thingies?

  Started with T.

  Virginia tsked. Nope, she couldn’t remember.

  After a few more thuds and cracks that echoed off the concrete, the moaning ceased.

  Dark. Quiet. It was black as midnight at the bottom of a very black hole in the ground, after someone has filled it in. Heavy, slapping footsteps came her way. Was a scuba diver loose in here?

  “Jace?” she ventured. “Where are you? Are you alri –”

  Something firm, moist, and oddly squishy grabbed her around the waist and flung her up against the metal gate. While she wriggled and screamed another squishy blunt something prodded at her cheek, slapped her lightly, then paused a moment. She heard distant sniffing and couldn’t help shuddering.

  Escape! But she was stuck there, feet dangling above the concrete, her arms pinned to her sides.

  “Let me go?” she squeaked out.

  Someone went hmm. The odd fleshy something slid down her body, probing her as it went. Over breast, into her belly button, drawing a teeny tiny circle...why had she worn such a thin dress? Then it went down her belly, poking at her hips before slithering around her back above the curve of her butt to squeeze her whole body once, then it retraced its path to her front. Onward, downward, on its sliding, slipping trail. Next, it found her mons. She held her breath as the long thing cruised between her legs and forced her to part them.

  No panties! Why had she forgotten to put them on today? It wasn’t as if she’d been told not to. Considering she’d planned to visit a biker club house, she should have put some on. Now, horror of horrors, this unknown thing that reminded her of a tentacle, but of course it wasn’t one, it was about to violate her.

  “Stop! Please?”

  No answer.

  Suddenly, very suddenly, with all the suddenness of a man eyeing a nude sunbather having his eye poked out by an umbrella, the thing probed her entrance. It shifted aside her lips. It was so gentle yet horribly disturbing, in a hot, nice way. Virginia gasped and clamped her legs onto the thing that also pressed upon her clit, but not because she wanted it to remain there, of course. That would be dirty. She felt herself dampen.

  The thing quivered.

  Oh my. She stared, eyes wide, out into the room. That was new.

  It quivered again.

  Was this what vibrators did?

  Her thoughts derailed, and went chugging off on a whole amazing train track she hadn’t known existed. Toot toot.

  Quiver. Then it slid, back and forth, in her wetness.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ohhh crap. She was never blinking again. Her throat tightened. Her groin grew heavy and pulsed with every heartbeat. Her nipples joined in, poking out into the dress. She’d forgotten her bra too. How forgetful.

  If she didn’t stop this quivering from continuing, she was certain the world would do something weird.

  What and who was this creature, doing this horrible wriggling on top of her clit? Mouth open, she squirmed again, and could hear them breathing before her, hard, rough, staccato. A little gurgly also maybe, but she wasn’t dwelling on that part. Shiver.

  Scream again, the little voice in her head whispered. Time to scream. Scream?

  Go away! she whispered urgently back at her voice.

  Fine! her internal voice replied. If you want me again, I’ll be sulking in the corner.

  She didn’t care. The quivery, slidey thing was dabbling in her moisture. She was aroused, embarrassed, blushing hot.

  “I’m a virgin!” she blurted, struggling against the implacable hold around her waist, but it still held her arms to her sides.

  She was keeping herself for that ten inch schlong, remember? Remember! Inspiration arrived. “I recently had a bear trap installed...in my inside womanly parts.”

  The thing stopped probing her.

  A strange questioning grunt encouraged her to go on.

  “Yes. I did. And there’s big metal teeth too. Anything that goes in me gets chomped on.”

  The reply sounded like a man pretending to be a puzzled dog.

  “It’s true.”

  She was let down from the wall, released.

  Her lie had worked. Damn.

  As she pressed back into the gate, shaking a little, with the metal mesh springing under her palms, there were crackling noises before her.

  The lights flickered on.

  Exasperated and horny, Virginia scowled and thought of the author, all snug at her desk. She recalled the previous pages, with their overflowery similes and the almost deflowering by a tentacle thingummy of an innocent maiden, her, Virginia Chaste, and she sighed. Perhaps today was not the best day to be in an erotic story.

  Chapter 3

  Karl Thulhu stood before her, his head tilted to the side. “Hello.”

  “Um.” She made herself step away from the gate, terribly aware that only moments before she’d been imminently about to do something unusual – something that was because a creature had been probing her pussy lips.

  She’d been about to come, she realized. Surreal. Perhaps Jace had slipped her a drug and she hadn’t noticed? Beneath the dress, her thighs were slippery.

  “Hello,” she said, and her gaze lowered until she encountered Jace lying a few feet away to the left. He was snoring. As were all the many men lying on the garage floor. Only her, Karl, and Dangerous Bob were standing. And she was shaking. There were odd pinkish circles all over Jace’s neck and arms.

  They reminded her of something a big suction cup would leave on skin, like perhaps from a...

  Puzzled, she cast her gaze about the garage, wondering nervously if there was a violent plumber running amok with one of those pipe unblocking plungers. There was no one, only Karl Thulhu, with Dangerous Bob a few feet behind him, and a lot of knocked-out bikers with pink blotchy circles on them.

  “What’s happened to them?”

  “I think Dangerous Bob may have hit them a little,” Karl replied. Some knuckle cracking followed from his henchman.

  “You’d better not have hurt them permanently!” She scowled. “I liked that one. Jace.”

  “He’ll be perfectly okay when he wakes up.” Karl studied her, as if bemused by her concern. His navy T-shirt, jeans and black leather jacket contrasted with his posh accent, and his black boots looked as if a butler had shone them. But that, or the breadth of his shoulders, did not keep her attention.

  The crotch bulge was momentous
. Ten plus! screamed her early warning schlong alert.

  No. Impossible. He might be a sock stuffer. She rolled her tongue back in and shook her head. “So all those blows to their skulls won’t cause any neurological problems like concussion, bruising of the brain, blood clots, residual memory loss, or seizures in years to come?”

  As if bewildered, he scrubbed his hand through his short blond locks. Virginia admired the orange streaks running across his hair. That same orange she’d seen on the monster when lightning had flashed into the room, searing her mind with that incredible scene of violence and long arm thingies.

  What gorgeous hair.

  “Absolutely not. They’ll wake up with mild headaches.” He smiled at her while Dangerous Bob sidled away to use a piece of four by two to pummel a biker who was up on his elbows. “Come. You have a dinner date with me at my mansion.”

  “I do?” Virginia frowned. “I’m sure it’s not in my planner.” He could be right, though. She’d already forgotten her panties, her bra, and what to call long arm thingies on monsters.

  “Tentacles!” she blurted.

  “What?” He flinched and looked taken aback and his brows creased as if some terrible thought had crossed his mind, such as murdering her on the spot.

  “Nothing. I just remembered something. A word that might be important.”

  “Hmm.” He cocked an amused eyebrow. “Tentacles? Yes. You could be right.”

  What a doofus she’d been. Now he’d wonder if she was an idiot. She scrambled for a way to redeem herself.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something too? You said they stole merchandise from you.”

  “Of course!” He turned. “Dangerous Bob. The crates. Bring in the rest of the Sea Wolves.”

  So these were the Sea Wolves? Now she had a good reason to stick close to this Karl.

  At a whistle from Dangerous Bob, twenty or thirty hulking men ran in through the garage door and began carting away the crates.