Love Unbound: A Valentine's Day Romance Anthology

by Dee, Cassandra

  “Just a sec,” I panted before dashing off into my bedroom.

  “Daisy, you better hurry,” he ground out, “because I can’t hold on for long.”

  “Don’t worry I’ll be right out,” I called, hastily digging through my luggage. And I found it. Right before I’d zipped up my suitcase, I’d added something at the last minute, a wish list item.

  Slowly, I stripped off my clothes, stepping into red heels and sensuously, with gentle strokes, worked a pair of red panties up my legs. It was a tiny sliver of nylon, held by strips of ribbon that tied at my hips. The panties were delicious, erotic, and oh so nasty because they were crotchless. Oh yeah, I’d bought the lingerie at a sexy store in town, the type of place that sold five hundred dollar bra and thong sets, items made from French lace, hand-sewn and embroidered. Crotchless panties weren’t the typical item found at L’Armoire, but I’d swept them into my bag without a second look, blushing as I paid.

  And packing them, a shiver had run down my spine. Maybe I’d just prance around my hotel room wearing the panties, enjoying the freedom, rocking out on my own. But now with an audience, oh god, my pussy began to drip.

  So slowly opening the door I tiptoed outside. Tristan was relaxed on the sofa but I saw that he’d pulled his dick out, that massive shaft leaking at the tip, hand lightly running up and down the stiff length, skimming the iron hardness.

  And when he saw me, that hard length jerked, visibly twitching in his fist.

  “Oh fuuuck baby girl,” he rasped as his eyes ate up my curvy form dressed only in the red heels and matching panties. The big hand paused momentarily on his shaft before reaching down to grab the base, encircling that girth with a tight fist. “Oh fuck, what do you do to me?” he groaned.

  “But Mr. Marks,” I giggled, “I haven’t even started yet.”

  And with that I wiggled my hips, breasts bouncing, and slowly ran my hands up my sides, emphasizing the hourglass shape. I’m curvy, I’ve got huge Double Ds set off by a tiny waist and wide, swinging hips, my silhouette an exaggerated S. Sensuously, I threw my head back and moaned, eyes closed.

  “Tristan,” I rolled his name between my lips, “Oh Tristan!” I sighed, stroking my nipples, pulling them tight, rolling, stretching and squeezing. And never breaking eye contact, I let out a breathy moan, lifting a breast to my lips, licking the tip, sucking deeply on the pink nub before popping it out, saliva running in a long loop from my breast to my mouth.

  But the show wasn’t over yet. Lasciviously swaying my hips, I tasted my other boob as well, again suckling while shimmying, entrancing Tristan with my curvy form. And the man groaned roughly, his hand a blur on his shaft now, staring at me, panting with unrequited lust.

  “Bend over,” he commanded harshly. “Show me that cunt.”

  We’d just gotten to my favorite part. Because when I sashayed into the living room, you couldn’t tell that I had crotchless panties on, the front of my pussy was covered with a thin slip of satin, everything kosher.

  But oh shit, everything changed as I bent over, precariously perched in those ridiculously high heels.

  “Daddy,” I whispered sensuously, shooting him a sly look over my shoulder while stroking my hands down my thighs. “Is this what you want?”

  As I bent over, lower, lower, my snatch came into view, that beautiful twat steaming, pink and puffy, bare to his gaze, framed by the tiniest strips of red lace. I shook my kitty at him, teasing, baiting. “You wanna fuck me with my panties on?” I cooed.

  I thought Tristan was going to lose it then, there was literally a stream of pre-cum dripping from his dick now, the entire shaft so wet you could hear his hand as it juiced up and down. But the alpha surprised me.

  “Not just yet baby girl,” he growled, his eyes on fire. “I see you brought a gift for me, and I’m going to return the favor. I have one, no two, presents for you.”

  I moaned, still bent over, lids half-closed as I held his gaze. Slowly, oh so slowly, I ran a finger up and down my cunt lips, coating the digit in cream before popping it into my mouth, tasting my own nectar. Fuck it was good, tangy and slightly musky, so utterly delicious.

  “What is it Daddy?” I cooed breathily between licks. “What could be better than this?”

  And slowly Tristan reached behind the couch, letting go of his cock for a moment. The rod sprang into the air, huge and veined, pulsing with power. I almost orgasmed right there, the thought of that pole buried in me juicing me up, arousing me to the point of no return.

  But Mr. Marks was unpredictable because when he turned back, his hands were full with a fat dildo and a mirror.

  “Wha-what is that?” I gasped, trembling on my high heels. Was I supposed to eat the dildo while watching myself in the mirror? Dance in front of the small hand mirror? It made no sense.

  But Tristan had all the answers.

  “Honey, have you ever heard of a wall-mounted dildo?” he ground out. He backtracked for as second, thoughtful. “Baby, do you even know what a dildo is?” he asked, remembering my inexperience.

  I giggled a little nervously.

  “Daddy, I was a virgin so I’ve never actually used a dildo, but yeah, I know what it is,” I tittered. “I watch porn you know,” I admitted, coloring slightly. “I’m a bad girl.”

  “I know you’re bad, that’s why I love you,” he ground out, chest tight, eyes devouring me. “And because you are, I want you to try it out, I want a newly-fucked virgin to fuck herself using a dildo and a mirror.”

  I paused, still confused.

  “But I don’t get it,” I said in a soft voice, playing with the strings of my panties, teasing him. “Don’t I just get on the couch and put the thingy in me?” It seemed simple enough.

  The big man let out a deep chuckle then, throwing his head back.

  “Sure, if this were some X-rated fantasy, then yeah I’d let you just lean back and push this into yourself,” he growled, “but honey, we’re not X-rated. We’re triple-X, you and I.”

  And I creamed a little just hearing that, delicious tingles running through my pussy. Because Mr. Marks and I were on the same level, both our minds in the gutter, willing to do anything to make the other come. So I stood up, sashaying over to him, standing between his knees, letting him look at my creamy form, bare but for the tiny strip of red lace and hooker heels.

  “What do I do then?” I whispered, running my hand up and down the rubbery toy, squeezing the material, my finger trailing over the ridges, the lifelike veins. Fuck, this thing was hard and so big, it was going to feel amazing in my tiny cunt.

  And Mr. Marks growled as if reading my mind, a gleam in those blue depths.

  “Let’s take it step by step baby,” he rumbled. “Let’s get this thing greased up for you first, get it real wet,” he said, and with that, he held the fake dick in front of his real dick and squeezed with one big hand. Sure enough, a little spurt of pre-cum came flying out, coating the rubber with sticky strands of jism. He then held out the toy to me.

  “Lick it baby, lick this fake dick, taste Daddy’s cum,” he commanded. And obediently, I bent over and ran my tongue along the rod, tracing every ridge of the toy, imagining it in my cunt, savoring the tang of Daddy’s semen at the same time. When I’d sucked it good, stuck the whole thing in my mouth and pulled it out, gasping as the long length withdrew from my throat, I looked at Tristan with big eyes.

  “What next?” I whispered. I could hardly breathe now and my cunt ran shamefully at this point, I was so turned on.

  Mr. Marks just smirked.

  “Baby, you ride of course,” he drawled, and with one big hand, slapped the dildo against the mirror. I gasped. I hadn’t noticed that the toy had a suction cup at the base, one that made it hold fast to the mirror.

  “Ride it, how?” I asked, taking the hard shaft between my fingers. I started pointing it between my legs, but Daddy’s big hand stopped me.

  “No honey,” he rumbled. “Put the mirror on the floor so that the shaft’s pointing strai
ght up. Then mount it and let Mr. Marks see that little pussy get fucked.”

  All of sudden, I understood what Tristan wanted. The mirror was so that he could see everything, absolutely everything that was about to happen. With the mirror, he’d get a comprehensive look inside, watch my reflection as the toy squelched into me, devouring the sight of the pole fucking my insides.

  And I was so turned on by the dirtiness of it all, the unbelievable raunchiness that my pussy twitched, hungry to start the show, desperate to get that massive pole into me. Crawling on my hands and knees, I moved to the center of the living room and placed the mirror-mounted dildo on the ground. Then I faced away from Tristan and crouched over the shaft, spreading my legs, teetering in my heels, and pulled my pussy lips apart.

  “Ready Daddy?” I cooed, slyly winking at him. “Ready to see your baby girl get fucked?”

  And without waiting for an answer, I dropped my hips onto the toy, letting the big rubber shaft just kiss my lips at first, probe slightly between my labia, rubbing it up and down my clit. But I needed penetration, needed it deep, hard, and with a long sigh, sat down all the way, throwing my head back, brown curls draped over my back. Oh fuck! It was so good, the thick rubber filling me up, sliding into my depths, my slick pussy spread so wide, so deep that I gasped, feeling it probe against my cervix, tickling me within.

  “Oooh,” I gasped, my face flushed, hardly able to breathe as my pussy stretched. “Ooh!”

  And slowly, oh so slowly, I began bumping my hips up and down the dildo, letting the hard rubber slide in and out, the glossy shaft running in and out of my cunt. It wasn’t easy that’s for sure, I had to go slow, my pussy had just been de-virginized and I was still unbearably tight, my twat so fresh, still taut and new.

  But I wanted to make sure I was doing it right, that the audience was getting a good performance. So as I worked my hips, I swiveled around to look at the big man, winking over my shoulder.

  “Tristan, Tristan, Tristan,” I whispered. “You like?”

  And the big man couldn’t answer, he was so turned on, eyes glued to my cunt as the dildo ran in and out, cream dripping wetly from my snatch.

  The view in the mirror must have been amazing, my little pink hole fucked so hard, penetrated so fully by the rubber, seen clearly in the mirror. And the harsh rasping sounds from Tristan’s chest, his hand flying on his cock, the fact that his balls were high and raised indicated that everything was going just as planned, that the big man was about to let fly at any moment.

  But I didn’t want him to shoot without performing the finale, playing out a little fantasy I’d just crafted in my mind. So lifting up again, I let the dildo slip out, inch after inch of slick rubber dropping out of my cunt. With a clever twist of my hand, I wrenched my panties to the side so that my asshole was exposed and backed up a few inches. Without further ado, I began sinking down again, letting the rubber probe my anus, the brown pucker tensing and winking as the hard shaft sought to make entrance.

  “Oh!” I squealed. “Oh oh oh!” Even though I’d been an ass virgin up until last night, I was so turned on that I was sure I could do it, I could impale myself on this huge rubber dong coated in pussy cream. And so I worked my hips, jiggled them a little, squealing and whining as the rubber probed again, shoving my butt down, forcing the toy up my ass. And after some twisting and turning, wriggling and humping, the dong finally made its way inside with a pop, my sphincter giving it up.

  With a sigh, I slid down all the way, burying the shaft in my behind, my anus on fire, achy and sore at once, the tight rim burning so good.

  “Oh god,” I moaned, on my knees leaning forward, pausing for a moment, boobs heavy and pendulous, swaying rhythmically as I caught my breath. “Oh god.”

  But there was no rest for the weary.

  “Move,” ground out the big man, his eyes fixed to my butt cheeks, eyeing the part where the rubber disappeared into my anus. “Assfuck yourself,” he commanded.

  And as if in a trance, I lifted my hips again, letting the pole slide out of my butt, burning like fire before dropping down again, humping it, the friction so delicious, so sexy. And soon enough I was going at it full-steam, banging the dong, gyrating, wheeling, twisting, fucking my rectum again and again, gasping, shrieking as it reached up into my GI tract, the fit so tight, so dry.

  “Shit!” I screamed, throwing my head back. “Shee-it!”

  Because I couldn’t take it anymore, the dirtiness of everything, the red crotchless panties mixed with the mirror-mounted dildo, the pussy-fucking, the ass-fucking, the fact that I was putting a show on for my guardian. Sensations overwhelmed me and I came hard. My body pulsed and shook, earthquakes running through my frame, all of it centering around my quivering clit, ass and pussy clenching and clamping with orgasm, shaking so hard that I thought I might yank the dildo right off the mirror altogether with my vibrations.

  And Tristan was having a field day too. The big man’s hand was a blur on his cock now, chest and abs tight, that massive form on fire, eyes gleaming as he stared at the ass slide. With a roar, he slipped one hand down to his balls and squeezed them tight as he came, penis erupting with lash after lash of semen, drenching my back, my butt, my skin splattered with splashes of hot cum. Holy shit, jizz was even running down into my buttcrack, dripping into my asshole.

  And I couldn’t take it. I wanted it so bad that I ran a finger to the site and scooped up some of the semen, tasting it first, licking my lips before reaching back down to massage it into my pussy, working the sweet jism into my tight space.

  “Mr. Marks,” I breathed, seizing his eyes. “I need more,” I whispered, and with a roar Tristan was on me again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Daisy

  I wish I could say that everything was a happily ever after, but it didn’t turn out that way. Life isn’t a fairy tale, and things with my guardian didn’t work out, unfortunately.

  Oh sure, things were fine for the rest of the weekend. After I performed my little dildo show, I was floating on air, feeling nothing less than spectacular. The big man wouldn’t let me out of his arms, carrying me into the shower with him, making me bend over and take it, this time with his dick instead of the dildo all the while whispering raunchy promises in my ear.

  “You got that, baby girl?” he rasped into my ear. “Only Mr. Marks touches you, only Daddy’s cock goes in that sweet pussy. You belong to me.”

  And what could I do but gasp and nod breathlessly, my insides quivering, cunt fucked so good. Because there was nothing for me except Daddy, nothing for me except Tristan, my nights and days were filled with him, my thoughts complete, whirling with sensations, the power and glory that was being with this man.

  But once we got home, things ground to a halt. And I mean everything stopped - the sweet nights in bed, the dirty playtime, the intimate confessions, the emotional admissions. On the one hand, I hadn’t been completely sure that Tristan loved me because there were no words. But it sure as hell seemed like it. There was every indication that he wanted me, that it was more than just a one-time thing, that I meant more to him than a velvety, nubile body available for his desires. After all, there’d been the time in the chapel, the library, the multiple times he’d looked at me with emotion in his eyes, words on the tip of his tongue.

  But that’s the thing. Tristan never actually said, “I want to see where this goes,” “Let’s keep seeing each other after this weekend,” or even a measly, “I like you a lot.” I can’t say what I expected exactly but certainly not what happened next.

  Because when we got to the doorstep of his mansion, the big man drew me close to him, pulling me in for a deep kiss, gazing into my eyes, those blue eyes penetrating, so knowing, before swatting me on the butt.

  I’d giggled deliciously, figuring that this was the foreplay to another round of steamy sex, that we were just teasing, heating things up before taking them to the next level. And Tristan seemed to be in a good mood.

  “You’re cute,
baby girl, so delicious,” he growled and I tittered, stepping into the foyer, our luggage a pile behind us. Oh, where was that sexy thong and the dildo? Packed in my bags and ready to be used again, pulled out in a flash.

  But oddly, I didn’t see Mr. Marks that night. I wasn’t sure where he was, maybe buried in work too busy to eat, and so I sat alone at the dinner table in my babydoll dress, feeling idiotic as I swung my heels like a child. Back down, I scolded myself. Tristan’s a busy man and took time out from his schedule to chauffeur me upstate, show me around his alma mater. He needs to catch up, to see to his empire. Besides, there’s tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.

  But the big man was a no show the next day as well. Tristan didn’t come to dinner, didn’t knock on my bedroom door, didn’t intrude unexpectedly, didn’t even seem to eat anymore. In fact, it wasn’t clear he was in the house, it was so quiet, the mansion dim and gloomy, just my lonely steps echoing on the marbled stairs. Where was he? Where was my guardian? Why wasn’t he making an appearance? Didn’t we have a connection of some sort?

  But evidently Tristan could turn emotions on and off in the blink of an eye, his iron control and steely will making the impossible possible. And so I shook, shoulders heaving, my heart slowly folding in on itself, crumpling underneath the realization that I’d been nothing more than a fling. On the outside I looked okay, going to class as always, smiling and laughing as part of the cool crowd at school, cooing at cute boys, pretending that I was interested in a million things. But it was a mirage. I was a ghost floating among tumbleweeds, hollow, soulless, eyes hot from crying myself to sleep each night.

  And even my last hope collapsed. I thought for sure Mr. Marks would show up to my high school graduation. As I sat there under the sun, mortarboard perched on my curls, my breast fluttered, heart leaping in my throat. Was Mr. Marks here somewhere? My eyes scanned the crowd reflexively, pulse jumping. Was he here? Had my guardian come to see me on this big day, to usher me into the next phase of life?