Love Unbound: A Valentine's Day Romance Anthology

by Dee, Cassandra

  I got on all fours and he took the lead, grabbing my ass and cramming his dick back inside of my pussy. Oh shit! It felt so amazing this way, that massive cock reaching so far I thought it might pop from my throat. My huge Double Ds pressed against the mattress, mouth open as I panted desperately, accepting his all.

  But unfortunately, Mr. S’s technique suffered once he was on his knees. We’d had a lot to drink, and it was showing as the man tired. But still, it felt great to have him taking me from behind, even if he was no longer pounding as hard as before.

  Finally, the stranger stood up and slid me to the edge of the bed. He put my legs up on his shoulders, and found his way back inside of me. It felt great to be touched this way. It also helped that he began to rub his thumb against my clit while he thrust his way frantically in and out of my pulsing folds. I loved how he held my legs, the angle absolutely insane. But there had to be more.

  We climbed back onto the bed, and I began to ride him. He held onto my sides, staring up at my chest as it bounced along with my movements. His smile was wide, and he was loving the way I slid up and down his massive pole. He also didn’t mind when I touched myself during that, either. Some guys got weird whenever I touched myself during sex.

  As I began to tire, I started wondering what was wrong. I’d come, but this guy didn’t seem to be able to. For a while, I’d thought it was because he was enjoying the ride too much if that was even possible. And incredibly, the stranger began to soften up within my warm walls.

  Sadly, my new friend had a case of whiskey dick. While I’d come enough for the both of us, he didn’t get to empty his load inside of me.

  Feeling bad, I pulled off and gently stroked the condom off, caressing him with my hands. A couple strokes up and down his throbbing pole did the trick, and quickly, he was able to fill my palms with creamy, goopy ejaculate. Ooh, it was good enough to eat.

  We both relaxed then, but with the injury that had wounded his pride, Mr. S left in a hurry. He muttered something that sounded like “Bye Laura,” and then scurried away.

  That was okay by me. I was able to relax and have a better night’s sleep than I’d had in a long time. It was exactly what I needed to calm down my nerves before my big day ahead of me.

  Because I had a big shoot going on tomorrow. The popular magazine Chic-Wise was sending over one of their best photographers to do a shoot with me. I didn’t know this guy personally, but according to my agent, he was one of the top professionals in the country. So turning over, I buried my head in the pillow, body relaxed. Mr. S was forgotten … and all I wanted was for my shoot to go off without a hitch.

  Chapter 2

  Trace

  I was glad to get out of Los Angeles for a while. It was great to travel for work because traveling on someone else’s dime is the way to go. It’s all about five star hotels and eating in the best restaurants while squeezing in some work on the side.

  Not that L.A. sucks, but I was in Miami for a weekend shoot. It was nice to be back in my hometown, seeing old friends and having some fun between my busy work schedule.

  Luckily, my assistant had a brother that still lived in town, and we were crashing at his huge house near the beach. My assistant and I actually grew up together in the city, and we’ve become buddies. Emerson’s a great guy, everyone likes him. Dude’s got a weird haircut, but somehow, it worked for him. People open up to Emerson, which is important in our industry. Plus, neither of us had seen Florida for a while, so we wanted to cut loose.

  After going at it hard Friday night, we woke up early on Saturday to get to the studio that Chic-Wise had booked for us. It was key to set up the backdrops and props ahead of time so that everything would be ready to go the moment the model arrived. I’d never met this girl before, but my assistant told me that she was “exceptionally hot.” Great. All the girls I work with are “exceptionally hot,” so that didn’t really tell me anything.

  Except looking through her portfolio, this one seemed to have something about her. Hmm, she was different for sure. Instead of the usual stick thin type, Lila Grant was curvy everywhere. And a good kind of curvy with generous breasts, sassy hips and thick thighs. And those lips and face were absolute perfection, a goddess come to life.

  But when Lila arrived, I was stunned for a moment. Because none of those pictures had captured her essence. This woman was ravishingly beautiful, sexy and innocent at once. She was Aphrodite come to life.

  “Hi,” was my low growl. “Lila?”

  She smiled.

  “Yes, and you’re Trace, right?” she replied. “Nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands, the connection electric. Shit, the brunette was beautiful, like a supernova in the small studio.

  “Your guy Emerson tells me that you’re one of the top photographers in the country,” she murmured, caramel eyes lighting up. “He’s a sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, he’s an incredible assistant,” I agreed. “I was looking over some of your photos here. You’ve done some great work.”

  “Thanks, you too.” She giggled. “I looked at some pictures you took of some other girls. You really know how to bring out the best in a model.”

  “I try,” was my modest reply. “Don’t worry, I know exactly how to do lighting so that you’ll appear flawless. I’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she giggled again.

  The brunette looked around the studio, hesitating for a moment.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were told,” I said to her. “But we’ll be doing all this in two different sessions. We have this space reserved for today and Monday, so there’s plenty of time.”

  “Okay great,” she chirped. “I’m super excited about this.”

  I looked through my case at the variety of lenses I’d brought for the shoot. While I tested them out on the camera, I could feel Lila staring at me, just thinking.

  The curvy girl eventually made her way over, looking slightly anxious.

  “How old are you, Trace?” Lila asked.

  “Twenty-eight. Why?” I asked.

  “You live out in L.A., right?”

  “I do, but I’m from here originally.”

  “Trace Perry… I was trying to think of where I know you from.”

  I put my camera down and stared at her, really looking now. I was trying to figure it out also, but I couldn’t place her face. I knew I’d seen it before, but as a photographer, faces are our business. How could I not know her?

  “I thought you looked familiar, too,” I admitted to her.

  “Did you go to Miami Central?” she asked curiously.

  “I did go to Miami Central.”

  “You played football in high school, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “Yep, got it,” I said, smiling.

  “Holy shit.” She laughed. “Wow, you really are the Trace Perry I went to school with.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s possible you and I went to the same school. Trust me, I would’ve remembered you.”

  “Not if I looked a lot different back then,” she said ruefully.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I sort of had ugly duckling syndrome,” she said. “You know, mousy hair, bottle cap glasses, while wearing ugly sacks. I was a late bloomer.”

  “There’s no way you were ugly at all, in any context,” I growled reassuringly.

  She laughed, and I really liked of it. It felt truly sincere, especially in our looks-oriented business.

  “You’re very kind, but back then, I was into books and after school activities,” Lila said. “All I did was study and learn, and I hardly ever went out. I was even in marching band my freshman year. I would play out in the bleachers, and you were out on the field with the football team. I remember you out there. You were a really good.”

  “Oh yeah, yeah,” I said as I saw the painted picture in my head. “You played… clarinet, right?”

  “Yes, I did!” she laug
hed.

  “Wow,” I said in utter disbelief. “I didn’t even recognize you. I can’t believe you’re the same—I mean, wow. You transformed.”

  “Thanks,” she said, giggling again. “Yeah, I’ve only really been modeling for like five or six years now. It feels like a lot longer than that. College was when I really changed. I started getting noticed by a few guys, and got myself into better shape. Then a lot more guys started noticing me and trying to get my attention. And it just went on from there, a loop of positive feedback.”

  I must have been staring at her for too long because the rest of the room disappeared, leaving just me and Lila. I also couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to be transforming back into that high school girl that I’d seen occasionally from time to time.

  “What?” she asked me nervously, interrupting my reverie.

  “Oh nothing,” was my joking reply. “I was just remembering this one time when me and the quarterback chilled under those bleachers and smoked a joint. I don’t think I’ve ever been that high in my life.”

  We laughed. Emerson came over, likely to help speed things along.

  “How we doing over here, guys?” my assistant asked.

  “Great!” Lila smiled warmly.

  “We’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes,” I said to them both, returning to my lenses. “Just give me a few.”

  But then Lila paused.

  “Hey, Emerson,” she said to him. “Did you go to Miami Central, too?”

  “No, I went to Southridge,” he replied. “Why? Did you two go to school together? Yikes, that’s an incredible coincidence, but you know what? This shoot was meant to be!”

  ***

  As we worked, I found myself thinking and agreeing with Emerson’s assessment: it was meant to be.

  I really liked Lila’s confidence. The girl from high school couldn’t even maintain eye contact with anyone, yet here she was, looking directly into the camera and owning everyone and everything in the room. The curvy brunette was exceptional. I was turned on by how sexy she was naturally, living through my lens in a way that no other woman had before her.

  And as I worked, my mind spun. What was I going to say to Lila after the shoot? I wanted to see if she’d want to get drinks or go do something fun, but it seemed a little creepy. So how to manage this?

  Once our Saturday session had concluded and she’d gotten fully dressed again, I called her over casually.

  “Hey, some buddies of mine and I were all going to hang out, have some drinks, play some video games, chilling,” I told her. “Would you be interested in joining us tonight?”

  “Video games?” she asked wryly. “Do I look like a video game person?”

  I stopped short. No, in fact she didn’t. But Lila saw my consternation and laughed lightly again.

  “Just kidding, I would love to,” she said. “Text me the address. What time should I come over?”

  “Let’s say eight-thirty,” I growled.

  “Awesome.” She smiled sassily. “Well, bye now. I’ll see you tonight!”

  And with that, the brunette sashayed out. Man, this woman had me by the balls, and it was only day one. I was also instantly annoyed, knowing that if I did actually invite over other friends for drinks, I would likely either get no time with her, or someone would try to cock-block me. Fuck. But one thing was clear even this early on … Lila was mine.

  Chapter 3

  Lila

  As I drove to Trace’s place later that night, every nerve in my being felt alive. Because this was the Trace Perry. The hot one. The football player that every girl dreamed about. And now, he’d invited me to a party with his friends.

  In fact, Trace was someone that I had a secret crush on for a while in my freshman year. Too bad, he never even blinked when looking in my direction. Back then, I was mousy Lila, the one who was overweight but not in a good way. So I don’t blame him. Back then, I wouldn’t have looked at me.

  I pulled up to the house. Since Trace actually lived in Los Angeles, he was staying with his assistant’s brother during the shoot. That made me a little nervous because I wasn’t sure who Trace had invited over.

  But okay, this was it. You go girl, the voice in my head spoke. You’re going to be fine.

  I’d dressed casually, wearing tight jeans that really showed off my butt and a nice blouse that revealed all of my upper back. Sexy but not over the top.

  I knocked on the door, and Trace opened it. He looked like he’d been careful in his clothing choices too. The man was wearing a tight black shirt that showed off his impressive arms and casual jeans that draped over strong legs.

  Oh god, yes. This man was tall and handsome, even better than when we were in high school. Deep black hair swept over one eye, with a discerning blue gaze to top it all off. During the session, he was always professional and polite, but with every look he gave me, I shivered. There was something about the man in his commanding gaze that made me weak in the knees.

  “Hey,” I said shyly.

  “Hey, yourself,” he growled.

  Suddenly, Emerson came rushing out the door, throwing his coat on.

  “Hey, Lila!” Emerson called. “I really wish I could stay and drink, but I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

  “Oh okay,” I murmured, perplexed.

  “Lila, good to see you again,” Emerson said. “Trace? You remember that advice I gave you.”

  Trace rumbled with laughter.

  “Yeah, got it. You have a good time too.”

  And with that, Emerson disappeared into his car, quickly starting it and driving off.

  “Is he okay?” I asked tentatively.

  “Yeah, don’t even think about him,” Trace reassured.

  “What advice did he give you?” I asked as we walked into the foyer.

  “Him?” Trace grunted. “Emerson tries to give me advice on everything, but honestly, sometimes he doesn’t know when to shut up.”

  I laughed good-naturedly then.

  “Don’t worry, I think that’s all of us sometimes.”

  Trace nodded, a smile quirking the edge of his lips before growing serious again.

  “In all seriousness though, he gives really good advice,” the photographer said.

  We stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, just looking at one another. My body temp went up about a hundred degrees.

  “So, who’s coming over?” I asked, my voice a little breathy.

  “Well, that’s where it really sucks,” he drawled. “Trace’s brother isn’t even here. I invited over my pals Jesse and Brandon, but neither of them could make it over.”

  “Brandon Yates?” I asked. “The tight end? Are you guys still friends?”

  “Sure are.” He laughed. “He’s engaged now, so I don’t see him all that much. But he’s a good dude. He can’t make it unfortunately.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “So your friends can’t make it ….”

  Trace nodded, blue eyes gleaming.

  “I don’t wanna, like, creep you out or anything,” he drawled. “But I’d still be down to hang with you if you are. Just saying.”

  My smile was shy but immediate.

  “Sure, why not?” was my reply. “We’ll have fun.”

  Slowly, we walked further into the house. It was a spacious home with lots of furnishings and pictures strewn about. I pretended to look around, complimenting the interior décor, but my mind was only on Trace.

  Because back in high school, I would have loved to date Trace Perry. But back then, I hadn’t found myself yet. I was too shy, was afraid guys wouldn’t like me, and to top it off, I was a virgin for all four years. Meanwhile, he was always kind of a player, going from girl to girl, sowing wild oats like crazy. It would never have worked out with us back then.

  But this time, it was all different, and I was ready to see what would come of it.

  “Your photos all came out beautifully,” Trace called from the kitchen as he got out two wine glasses.
>
  “That’s good to hear,” was my murmur. “I still can’t believe you’re this big, fancy photographer now. Have you shot any celebrities?”

  He grinned, serving two generous pours of red wine. “A few. I don’t like to brag.”

  “You can brag a little, I’m giving you permission,” I teased.

  “Ah, maybe I’ll tell you who a little later.”

  He handed me my glass, and we clinked, our eye contact electric.

  “I mostly shoot other models,” he finally said. “Fashion is what pays the bills well.”

  I nodded. That made sense. You can’t make a living by art alone, there’s definitely a commercial aspect to this business.

  “So are you happy to be here from LA? Where do you live in LA actually?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s good to be back and see all my old buddies. I have a house in Culver City,” he told me. “It’s pretty nice. It’s only about three miles away from the beach. It’s a good location.”

  I laughed again.

  “You know, back in high school, I was so sure that you were going to go off and become a football star,” was my confession as I sipped on my wine.

  “Yeah, I think everyone was,” he said wryly. “Especially my parents. They had it all figured out. High school football, college football, and then the N.F.L. And yet, I didn’t play at all after high school. Sometimes, I still wonder what would’ve happened if I’d actually gone that route.”

  My nod was quick.

  “So photography turned out to be your passion?”

  “It did,” he said. But then he turned the tables on me. “I have to say, I would never have pegged you to become a model when I knew you in school. No offense.”

  “None taken,” was my sincere reply. “No one told me to consider modeling until college. That’s when I started being completely me.”

  There was a pregnant silence.