Love Unbound: A Valentine's Day Romance Anthology

by Dee, Cassandra

  Xander’s brows lifted again.

  “Really? Then what the fuck is wrong with you? You on pills or something? Cocaine?”

  I shook my head furiously.

  “Naw, gave her the boot because I wanna go back on-line to find other girls to fuck. Anonymously,” I punctuated with a rasp.

  Xander just shook his head.

  “Why don’t you just fuck the girls here? No one gives a shit and there’s more than plenty,” he said, gesturing to the curvaceous, busty female servers lingering in the shadows. “We pay a pretty penny for it, what else is the Billionaires Club for?”

  That was true, the BC is a place where anything goes, we source the best, most beautiful women to work here, to give it up night after night to whichever member wants a taste of pretty pussy. But with Rachel, things were different. Absolutely different.

  “I need danger,” I said flatly. “Even if I drill the ladies here, there’s no danger anymore, they’re put through so much screening, they practically have to run a gauntlet to work here.”

  That was true. Everyone at the Club took blood tests and passed extensive background checks, not to mention the psychological profiling and personality questionnaires. But hey, billionaires can’t afford to take chances, there’s an ocean of money at stake and we don’t cut corners. So yeah, every single server, every single pool girl, every single laundress, has been vetted up and down, all around, there were thick dossiers on each individual.

  “Naw,” I ground out again. “Like I said, I need danger.”

  “So? What’s wrong with your chickie?” asked Xander carelessly. “I thought you met her on Discreet Encounters, that doesn’t make her dangerous enough?” He sounded casual but dude is a smart guy, he was listening with all ears.

  I shook my head frustrated.

  “Rachel is a good girl,” I ground out, chest tight. “She’s a librarian for crying out loud. And a virgin too. I fucked a virgin, I fucked her pussy hole and anal hole on consecutive nights. Can you believe that? I fucked both her holes like a mofo, completely disrespecting her.”

  Xander was silent for a second.

  “Yeah, but did she want it?” he asked. “If she wanted it, it doesn’t matter.”

  That made me pause. Of course Rachel wanted it. My best girl’s got a slutty cunt and a slutty ass, those orifices open wide for me, the girl prying apart her cheeks, her labia, creaming heavily as I drilled her. Of course she wanted it, but that didn’t mean it was dangerous.

  “Yeah,” was all I said shortly. “She wanted it.”

  Xander chuckled.

  “Well, sounds like it’s good to go then,” he remarked mildly. “I mean, you’re drilling a girl in the ass and pussy, and probably fucking her mouth too. So what the hell is wrong?”

  “There’s no danger,” I ground out, shooting him the evil eye. “Do you not get it? I like my fucks anonymous, pummeling wet twats without knowing their names. And with this girl,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s all about coming again and again as she screams, jetting my jizz into that wet cunt.”

  “Well as long as she’s on the pill, then you’re all good,” said Xander mildly, studying his nails like this was no big deal. “Who cares?”

  “Naw dude, no pill,” I growled. “Girl didn’t want it.”

  Xander leaned forward then, gaze intense.

  “IUD? Condom? Yo dude, condoms aren’t the most comfortable, but teen twat requires it. They’re too fertile, it takes nothing to knock ‘em up.”

  I shook my head again.

  “Naw, bareback,” I ground out. “She wanted it that way.”

  Silence for a moment before Xander leaned back and started laughing heartily, like he’d just heard a funny joke.

  “What the fuck?” I rasped. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  My friend couldn’t even answer, he was laughing so hard.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he retorted through chuckles. “You’re talking about danger and you’ve been fucking an eighteen year old with no protection? Are you shitting me? Are you a fucking idiot? I mean, shit, Donovan, talk about playing with fire.”

  I shook my head, frustrated.

  “Rachel wanted it that way.”

  “Fuck what she wants, you’re the one who’s fucked,” chortled the big man. “I mean, what is she? Nineteen max? How many times have you come in her? A hundred? Big boy, the female’s probably pregnant already. You talk about danger, and you got it, Daddy-O. You’ve already fucked up, you’re gonna be a Daddy.”

  I sat back then, forcing myself to inhale and exhale slowly, to concentrate on Xander’s words. Was he right? I crave dangerous sex, I crave the not-knowing, the excitement that goes with an anonymous fuck. But had I been playing with fire all along? By pounding Rachel again and again, spewing repeatedly into that fertile pussy, had I been flirting with hazard all along, seeding a breeding female? Was she the answer, right before my eyes, and I’d been such a dumbfuck that I’d missed it?

  Suddenly, a fire roared in the pit of my belly, making me sit up straight, jerking with energy.

  “Aw shit,” I grunted, shaking my head, staring hard at the table in front of me. “Aw shit.”

  “Aw shit is right,” tossed off Xander. “I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You’re looking for danger and you’ve got it right in your own backyard. Shit man, you haven’t been thinking straight, it’s like you’re drugged by the taste of sweet pussy and a tight asshole, your judgment’s way off.”

  I shook my head again, thoughts whirling. Because Xander was right, fuck that dipshit. Aw fuck. Rachel was the epitome of everything, everything that meant anything to me. My beautiful girl was exactly what I was looking for all along, she was danger epitomized. Sure, I’d met the brunette the usual way, off some anonymous website, giving her a finger drill without even knowing her name, feeling that puss pulse around me with no inhibitions.

  But danger comes in many forms, and not only had it swarmed me like Xander described, but it was so much more virulent, so much more powerful this time around. Because not only had I seeded Rachel, forcing her to take my cum, drenching that fertile twat again and again with semen, but yeah, I’d fallen for her totally, completely, with no looking back. Me, Mr. Alpha Male who fucks strange all the time, has been downed by a sweet teen who knew nothing, innocent and pure until I came along.

  And the worst part was that I knew that I loved her in the back of my mind all along. My subconscious self always knew that this was what I wanted, that Rachel was the one for me, the right for my wrong, the pure to my evil. The brunette is my balance, my other half, the light to my dark, my only salvation. And fuck, but I’d treated her shitty. I’d literally deserted the girl with no goodbye, letting her come back to an empty suite, like I’d never been there, like we’d never shared hot kisses in the shower, like she’d never pulsed around my cock, begging for more.

  So I ground out another curse, suddenly rising to full height, towering in the dark bar. There was only one solution. I had to see her, I had to correct what I could, I had to make her take me back, even if she hated my guts. Oh fuck, I fucked up and the thought that Rachel might want nothing from me, that I was dust beneath her feet was absolutely deserved. The girl had every right to reject my advances. But I had to try. There was so much at stake that I had to give it a go, even if it was futile. Because it was my heart, my mind, and my life at stake … and the beautiful brunette held it all in her tiny hands.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rachel

  Life has been utterly painful. One moment, Donovan and I were in love. Or at least I thought we were in love. The big man and I were always in bed, his muscular hands stroking my curves, kissing my private parts, making me come again and again. So when I decided to pop by the pool for a quick dip, it seemed like no big deal, a welcome break to our non-stop sex fest.

  “Bye now,” I smiled from the door. I was in nothing but the tiniest bikini, one that barely covered my boobs and saucy twat. In fac
t, as my tips stiffened, it was like the material shrunk, the hardness thrusting out obscenely, begging for a lick.

  Donovan growled, eyes glued to my chest, how the bottom and side curves hung out, pendulous and creamy.

  “You better not look at another man,” he ground out threateningly, cock jutting out. The big man was lounging on the bed after a hot session, hammer still wet with my fluids and I laughed throatily, winking again. How could he think I’d even be interested in looking at another male? But I like to tease and shot him a coy smile.

  “Come with me then?” I cooed, waggling my fingers. “Come play in the water?”

  And like a Jezebel, I leaned over and trailed a finger along my g-string before pulling it to the side, showing off my steaming pussy.

  “Get yourself wet?” I moaned breathily. “Get yourself wet in my holes at the pool?”

  Donovan’s penis literally jerked then, spewing a bit onto the covers, but the big man remained resolutely where he was, although it couldn’t have been easy. The strain in his chest was evident, the look of desire in those dark blue eyes. But he’s a man with amazing self-control, and fixed me with a burning gaze.

  “Naw baby, I’m gonna do some work while you’re gone, I haven’t done shit since you arrived. But enjoy, baby girl, Daddy’s gonna pound that butt when you get back. Oh yeah, your little anus is gonna ride my joystick until it’s sore,” he added lasciviously. “And then Daddy’s gonna lick it up.”

  Oh god, but the dirty words made my pussy juice, sweet spot already going soft and wet with anticipation. I love it when my man talks nasty, I love how the big man is so relentless about fucking me, owning my insides every which way. So a quick inhale and flirtatious giggle, I waggled my fingers again.

  “I want it Daddy,” I murmured as the door slid shut. “Save that butt ride for me.”

  Donovan’s answering growl was the only thing I heard in return, muffled but virile all the same, promising the world.

  And I didn’t think anything more of it. Skipping off to the pool, life was great. I was in love and wanted nothing more but a life together, a future spreading before us, glorious and colorful. Because I’ve been living with Donovan at the club, we’re together 24/7, dining al fresco, chatting animatedly, and of course, making love non-stop, our couplings hot and wild. So I figured a small dip in the pool would be some much-needed time apart, a breather after the relentless togetherness.

  But when I got back to the suite, it was dark inside. Hmm, that was weird. Maybe Daddy was in the other room, or maybe he was at the Club’s gym working out. But when I flicked on the lights, the enormity of the situation hit like a ton of bricks.

  Because Donovan was no longer here. Ghosted, vanished, absolutely gone, no trace of the big man, every memento disappeared. I gaped, looking around, but the suite held no clues, silent and still. The bed was made, everything spic and span, almost threatening because it was so immaculate. What the hell? My head hurt, a thrum banging insistently behind my eyes.

  Slowly, I picked up the phone by the side of the bed.

  “Hello?” I swallowed thickly. “This is Donovan Jones’s room, and I’m Rachel? Do you know where he is?”

  A voice came on-line immediately.

  “Ms. Smith,” it replied courteously. “Thank you for calling. Unfortunately, Mr. Jones was called away on emergency business and has asked that you be escorted from the Club.”

  My mind whirled, confused and hazy. What emergency business? And even if Donovan had business, why had all his stuff disappeared?

  “I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “But he made no mention of a business trip to me. Can you tell me more?”

  The voice on the other end paused before answering, smooth and effortless.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” it replied in a courteous monotone. “But Mr. Jones asked you to be escorted from the Club immediately.”

  What? How could this be happening? Just an hour ago, I’d been riding his dick, pussy juices dripping down that thick shaft as the alpha groaned beneath me, chest and abs tight. How could he spurt into my cunt, seeding me like a geyser, and then just disappear? What the hell was going on?

  “I’m sorry,” I said again firmly. “But I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where Donovan is.”

  The voice was silent a moment before replying.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but that information is not known,” it said in a monotone. “And I’m sorry, but Mr. Jones gave specific instructions that you depart the Club immediately. Your things have already been packed and a car is waiting upstairs. Please gather your personal effects, and a handler will be there shortly to escort you to the surface.”

  At that moment, the door hissed open and a short, slight man dressed all in black, bowed.

  “Madame,” he intoned in a voice just as bland, just as professional as the phone operator. “Please come with me.”

  With numb fingers, the receiver dropped out of my hands. Because the handler was here now, I didn’t even have five minutes to collect my thoughts, to get a hold of what was going on. Instead, I was being tossed out like a stinking piece of trash, services no longer needed.

  But what could I do? What choice did I have? I’d literally been abandoned with no warning, ghosted in the worst way. How could Donovan do this to me? I’d spent the last two weeks with the man, loving him again and again, and this is the best I deserved?

  Swallowing painfully, I bowed my head, acknowledging defeat. The billionaire didn’t want me anymore, and it was his right to ask me to leave. I just didn’t think it would be like this, shameful and unwanted. But seeing no other options, with the handler waiting impatiently at the door, I swung my small bag onto my shoulder and with slow steps, left the suite.

  The journey was silently unremarkable as we made our way through a series of winding passages, elevators that whisked us upwards, escalators that ascended for miles at a time. But I was numb to it all, absolutely expressionless, eyes seeing nothing as my feet moved forward in a trance. Because this was it. Donovan had dumped me unceremoniously, waiting until I was at the pool to vacate in a hurry. I was nothing but an anonymous pussy to fuck, another tiny asshole to own, a notch on his bedpost. Two notches, for taking my v-card and a-card, a double-header if there ever was one. Oh god! And once he was done, once I was no longer an innocent virgin, the big man lost interest and I was tossed onto the trash heap. Realizing this made the lump in my throat grow bigger, eyes seeing nothing as I got into the black town car, numb with shock.

  But after driving for an hour, I realized that we weren’t headed to my apartment. God, I’d barely noticed the passing landscape, instead my mind filled with demonic screams even if on the outside, I was completely silent. Straightening on the seat, I snapped at the driver.

  “Where are we going? What’s going on?”

  Holy shit, was I being abducted? Was I being sold to another Billionaires Club, passed around rich men like a commodity to be used, another voluptuous female to fuck and be done with? Oh god, oh god, my soul curdled at the thought. Was that even possible? The depravity was mind-boggling.

  But the kindly driver merely shook his head, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

  “We’re going to your apartment, Miss,” he said cheerily. “Where else?”

  I jerked my head in a no.

  “This isn’t the way,” I said tightly. “I live on the other side of town, this is the wrong direction.”

  The elderly man shook his head.

  “No, not according to the instructions I have,” he said. “And GPS can’t be wrong,” he added, indicating the console at his right hand. “These machines are incredible, they work using a satellite in the sky,” he said, brow creasing for a moment as he stared downwards. “Nope, it’s right!” he confirmed cheerily, looking at me again. “Ah, here we are!”

  Stupefied, I looked out the window. Because we were in front of a towering apartment complex, an imposing glass and steel complex with windows that look like mir
rors. No, this was wrong. My apartment building was a crumbling block of concrete, with sad-eyed windows and peeling pink paint. This definitely wasn’t it.

  “No, I’m sorry, wrong place,” I said shortly. Damnit, but the saddest day of my life was only getting worse. Now we were going to have to drive forty minutes in traffic, a fitting end to this tragedy. “I’m sorry, we’re in the wrong place, turn around and I’ll show you how to get to where I live.”

  Hopefully, my key would still work since I’d missed rent on the first, but they can’t kick you out for being a week late, right? The lump in my throat grew again, eyes watering, but this was my fate. I’d given everything to Donovan for two weeks, and he’d promised nothing. I only prayed I had an apartment to come back to.

  But it was too late because the chauffeur had already jumped out and swung my door open.

  “Here you are!” he said, dangling a shiny key in his hand. “Penthouse 1, someone must like you!” he added brightly. And to my astonishment, a doorman came rushing over as well, sprightly in a red and gold embellished uniform.

  “Ms. Smith!” he exclaimed. “I’m Jonas, head concierge at the Avalon. We’ve been expecting you, we’ve got your place ready, it’s just waiting for your lovely presence,” he added with a sweeping bow.

  At that, I stepped out numbly, shaking my head.

  “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person,” I mumbled, but it was like no one heard. Instead, the concierge and driver bustled busily, escorting me into an imposing lobby and pressing the button to a discreet elevator on the side.

  “You’ve got your own entrance,” winked Jonas, tipping his hat. “It’s one of the benefits of the penthouse,” he whispered, like he was letting me on a secret.

  And in a daze, I got into the gleaming cube, blinking silently as we were whisked up a dozen stories. Because what could I say? I’d already told them that they had the wrong girl, but my protests had fallen on deaf ears. Both men seemed utterly convinced that I was the Rachel Smith, a princess who lived in a sumptuous aerie in the sky, and not a ramshackle one-bedroom on the other side of the tracks. I shrugged tiredly. Frankly, I was too exhausted to fight, too wrung out and emotionally drained to protest again.