by Anthology
“Are you serious? You don't know what it is?” Much to her displeasure, I shook my head no. This only began a thirty-minute tirade over what this special genre was and just how important it had become in the movement to release women from their sexual jails.
I had two words by the end.
“Give me.”
That night after a long and grueling day on the set, I stumbled into the small confines of my portable home and grabbed my tablet from the couch. I was physically exhausted, yet my mind couldn’t stop thinking about the book Clara was reading earlier. About the woman who wrote it.
My mind had been made up hours ago; I needed more. More filthy words. More of her.
Opening my Amazon account, I entered her name in the search bar and found the very first picture of her.
“Fuck.” The very air inside my lungs had caused me to choke, to fall back on the sofa, and stare at Lucia. The simple picture was by no means scandalous or crude. It was her simple beauty on display while wearing an innocent light yellow sundress, hair blowing in the wind, while she smiled at the camera. “She’s motherfucking perfection,” I whispered low while running a single finger down her face.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the raw desire that coursed through me in that moment.
Cock hard and balls heavy, I struggled with the sudden urge to possess her that overwhelmed me. No, it was an insane lust and hunger so strong that for a moment I struggled to breathe, a dire need to covet her that caused me to ache from head to toe.
I wanted her.
Within minutes, I’d bought every single book she’d ever written.
It was with those first few paragraphs that Lucia White won me over. She’d caught my attention without lifting a single muscle.
In her book, the hero was a mobster with a wicked temper, highly possessive personality, and a desire to tame the heroine that I began to relate to. The counterpart was insanely gorgeous, but instead of the typical blonde locks most authors used to describe their female leads, she made her a saucy brunette. No weakling. She had more bite than he did and wasn’t afraid to make him see as much.
It was a change. A nice change, if I was being honest.
With each new sentence, my cock leaked and ached for some release. Images came together. Her way of describing the heroine slowly morphed into my ultimate wet dream. Long legs and an ass that was high and tight. Curvaceous in all the right places; with the way she characterized her, my imagination flew and erotic desires grew. I could see it vividly, those legs on her stunning body, my hands grabbing her ass as I plowed into her. Her juices running down my cock, soaking us both.
How she would pull me in closer with each thrust.
Lucia’s words seemed to fly right off the pages and morph into my darkest of desires. The way she described her scenes made me curious about the woman who wrote them. A need to search out this woman grew. I needed to know everything about her. Likes and dislikes; how she liked her coffee in the mornings and what turned her on.
I became obsessed.
Abused my cock at night in her name.
Three
My dilemma was this:
The profession I’d chosen ruled my life. Every second of every goddamned day was planned—scheduled, without any input from me. Movie shoots, interviews, red carpets…I always seemed to be too far away from her and on location.
It made things difficult, yet I never gave up.
Wouldn’t.
There was something about her that pulled me in; it was a foreign feeling at first, but now I craved it. The lust morphed into something much deeper with every interaction of ours. For once, I felt normal. Not a celebrity or a sought-after bachelor, just a man interested in making a woman his by any means necessary.
So many times I asked myself how I could approach Lucia, when one day I was here, and the next I was gone? In reality, it would be all too easy if I were a normal Joe. After all, the woman lived down the street from me.
Just a few houses down.
“Son of a bitch.” My assistant, Jim, hissed through his teeth while his eyes watched a tiny figure running down the street. We’d been standing outside by one of my SUVs ready to depart and head downtown for a photo shoot, when his reaction caught my attention. “Who the hell is that?”
Every goddamned head turned to follow the woman’s form. What I saw both pissed me off and made me hard all at once. I’d know that face anywhere.
Surprised would be putting it mildly the first time I caught a glimpse of her in person, running without a care in the world in the world’s tiniest pair of bright yellow shorts. The tip of her ass cheeks just barely peeked out, the flesh round and tight, and my mouth watered at the sight.
I wanted to bite her, embed my teeth into the succulent flesh.
“Fuck,” I murmured under my breath, watching as my obsession passed us by. As if she’d heard me, Lucia turned to look my way as the last syllable passed through my lips. The smirk on her tiny lips made me smile and a bead of liquid roll down my cock. “Beautiful bitch.”
She was temptation of the worst kind and seemed oblivious to the dangers that lurked near her. For once, I wished that I wasn’t wearing the obligatory baseball cap and shades. That I wasn’t being blocked from her direct line of sight by the two idiots drooling in front of me.
My eyes traveled upward and admired her toned midsection, on display by a simple black sports bra up top. Two mounds, fucking perky and excited, greeted my line of sight. There was no mistaking her hardened nipples as they pushed against the top’s material. Fuck.
“I’m moving in,” one of my bodyguards declared. He was new and young. Cocky and immature. My angry eyes flashed toward him, but he paid me no mind as his eyes were still watching, coveting what was mine. “Are all your neighbors that hot?”
They whistled, and I vibrated with pure, red-hot anger.
For as much as I cursed her for existing so out of my reach, I realized how close—how easy it would be to bump into her and strike up conversation. Break the ice. Get her familiarized with my presence, my touch. Enamor her and make her realize how good I’d be to her…for her.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled and shoved past them, determined to reach Lucia and take her away from their prying eyes. Her body was mine, and I didn’t share.
“What did we do?” Jim asked, his face showing concern over my anger and reaction. “You’ve never had a problem before when we—”
“Shut it and get in the fuckin’ car, Jim. She’s off limits to everyone, and I don’t want to hear another goddamned word about it.” They followed my instructions, looking at me with worry-filled faces before getting into the car. Assholes knew better than to piss me off.
When it came to her, everyone was dispensable.
Since that day, I kept an eye out for her when home. Even while away, I kept up with her through our online friendship and the few cameras I’d placed around the front of my property.
Insatiable.
The need grew with each day to be closer, to show up on her doorstep, and offer her the kind of hard—passionate love, most women only read and fantasized about. Make her see past the Hollywood bullshit and desire the simple man I truly was.
Would I ever be anything more than Devin Andrews, the actor, to Lucia? The man she daydreamed of while writing her erotic novels. The same man who fucked his hand in order to maintain some semblance of control when it came to her.
Especially since her pussy lived just down the street from me.
It never mattered in the grand scheme of things, though; I’d make her fall in love with me. Use every trick in the goddamned book if that’s what it came to. It was my mission to put a claim on her. No matter what I would have to do—kidnap, lie, or cheat—it would all end the same.
Her body pinned beneath mine, begging me for more of my fingers, tongue…my cock.
“Soon, baby.” Her face looked back at me from across the screen of my laptop. Inside my empty production trailer, I imm
ersed myself in her presence. She was running again, down my street. Just like the last two times, Lucia paused outside my properties gate and smiled. Hand on hip she stood, her tanned, lithe body pushing, taunting me with every curve my lips yearned to taste.
She was smiling while perusing the small rosebush I had my gardener put in for her. They were her favorite flowers. All white, with just the smallest hint of a blush in the center. They’d gone in as soon as she mentioned receiving a beautiful bouquet from her parents for her birthday.
“God-motherfucking-damn,” I grunted in appreciation of the view before me. Lucia was leaning forward, giving me a close-up of her face and chest. “So beautiful.” Her skin glistened with sweat; she was flushed and wearing a small mischievous smile on her face. Those fucking perky tits she loved to display looked delectable inside the ridiculously small sports bra she wore.
With the hand not controlling the camera angles, I cupped my balls and gave a tug. It felt good, but nowhere near good enough to get me to come.
Enough to take the pressure off, because the next time I came, it would be inside my sweet girl’s pussy.
“Wonder who lives here?” Lucia whispered low, her chest close to the small hidden lens I’d placed there just for this purpose. I was hoping the flowers would draw her in. “House’s always empty, yet has an immaculate garden.”
Turning around, she took a few steps away from the outside bush and searched around for something.
“I swear to God, baby…” The sight of her ass so close, right fucking there, made me whimper out in pain and tug harshly on my engorged flesh. Yoga pants had suddenly become the bane of my existence. Another step forward and the flesh jiggled just the tiniest of bits. Once, twice, I pumped my cock in time with each step closer she took, and then released. “I’m going to enjoy coming all over those cheeks…spread them wide apart and paint that tight little hole with my very essence.”
Right, then left—across the street and back toward the driveway, Lucia searched for something but came up empty. Shrugging, she turned back to face me and walked over with determination written all over her face.
“They won’t miss one,” she argued with herself before grabbing a single long-stem rose and taking it from the bush. I’d let her take every flower if she smiled like that every time. “I’ll bake them some cookies to make up for the theft.”
With that, she turned around and sashayed that sweet body of hers down the driveway and out of my sight. I had to smile at her audacity; I had a little kleptomaniac on my hands. I’d make her pay for her offense; a kiss to the tip of my dick and maybe a lick down to my balls would appease me.
Sitting back, I closed my laptop and then my eyes for a moment. “Soon can’t come fast enough. I’m going to enjoy you, baby. Every inch.”
A sudden knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I was ready for this last day of shooting to be over, needed to get out of here and go after my girl.
“Open up, fucker,” Clara yelled, the harsh sound reverberating throughout every square inch of my sad excuse of a temporary home. “They need us on set, and quite frankly, I’m not in the mood to end the day at three in the morning…again!”
“Hold on, bitch.” Of course I mumbled the last part. I wasn’t about to piss off the woman I would be fake fucking within the next hour. I loved my cock too much to put him in such a dangerous position. It wouldn’t be the first time she kneed me.
“Heard that!” Of course she would. It would be just my luck. “Come on,” Clara whined next, “I have a date and don’t want to postpone. I’d never do that to you. Don’t you want me to be happy?”
Gotta love a good dose of guilt trip.
Nevertheless, in a sense she was right. The faster we started, the sooner I’d be on my way.
“Give me five, babe. I’ll meet you in makeup.” With one more harsh knock on the door, she stomped off and left me alone to my thoughts. As of yesterday, my plan had been put in motion. This little show had just solidified the end of my bachelor days.
All work-related appointments, schedules, or meetings had been postponed. I was following her to an intimate signing in Miami. I’d bide my time. Watching—waiting, never too far away, until the night she was expected to show up for a special VIP event.
An event orchestrated by me with the sole purpose of getting her alone. She would be so close all night inside that packed club. At my mercy.
“You have no idea the kind of trouble your smut filled books have gotten you into. That ass is mine the moment I have you within my grasp. Pray, baby. Pray for help.”
Four
It was too much.
Not enough.
And absolute perfection all at once.
I couldn't put her books down. Each word was the sweetest of tortures. If I had a minute to spare during the day, I’d be reading her creations. Yearning and hungry for the more her characters found in each other. The passion that ignited within me at every touch—kiss.
More than once, I saw myself as the hero in her books. It was so easy to envision the way her breath would hitch as I pressed my body against hers. How she would tremble if I kissed my way up her neck and toward her mouth, taking possession of what fucking belonged to me.
It was with those first few lines that Clara pushed me to read, that I became a fan. Her biggest motherfucking fan. It was as I devoured every word, every book, that the plans began to formulate in my head. There was never a choice for me; she’d taken that away without any clue as to what she’d done. I had to meet the woman that ignited such primal responses from me.
Months of torture, of seeing her from afar, drove me insane. My desperation grew, and I yearned to ravish her with each interaction online. With each line she wrote. Tonight all that stopped—ceased.
Now was the time to act.
I’d make myself known to her and take that which belonged to me.
Grabbing my phone from the seat beside me, I pulled up the club’s information and pressed dial. It rang two times before my dear friend—and accomplice—answered.
“Hello,” Clifton, the owner, spoke with a cheery tone. I’d known this fucker for a few years now, he owned a few other bars around the U.S., and they all catered to the rich and trashy. I’d met him through an ex co-star that loved the atmosphere and the attention she garnered the moment she stepped through the door. He was manning the bar that night and struck up conversation. We’d been friends ever since. “Are you in town?”
“Yeah, I just picked up the rental. Thanks for handling that, by the way, but couldn’t you have picked out something normal? This flashy, bright orange Charger has everyone looking my way.”
“You’re in Miami, slick. That is normal around here.” Motherfucker knew I hated that nickname, and his laughter told me as much. Pulling the car out of the rental’s lot, I joined the crazy traffic of the city and merged onto the I-95 expressway heading toward the beaches.
“Fuck you,” I deadpanned.
“You’re not my type,” Clifton reiterated with amusement coloring his tone. “Plus, I like my men wild and Latino. You, sir, are neither.”
“Again, fuck you.”
“Devin, I like you, bro, but—”
“Shut it,” I growled low. Now was not the time for games. I needed him to focus and make sure everything was taken care of. That my plan wouldn’t be hindered by anyone’s stupidity. “Are we set up?” Looking through my side mirror, I made my way over to the last lane on the left and pressed the accelerator. With traffic lightening up the further we got from the airport, I enjoyed the speed.
It handled like a dream—fast and smooth. I was buying one of these the moment I got back home.
“I should be insulted that you’re even asking,” Clifton huffed out. “Everything’s been set up since ten this morning, right down to the special bottles of liquor, hors d'oeuvres, and the booth you wanted close to hers. Not visible by their party, but you’ll have the perfect view.”
“And Antonio?” Taki
ng the next exit, I drove toward Collins Ave. and my hotel. The same hotel I’d booked for my girl, her room next to mine.
“Done. The reservation’s made, and he was very happy to help. Her group of fans will be treated like royalty tonight, and your favorite bottle of tequila and dishes have been promised to make this the perfect evening. Relax. Everything has been taken care of.”
Lucia had a love affair with the south-of-the-border cuisine and always managed to find a restaurant or hole-in-the-wall joint in her travels. This would please her, and that was all that mattered. Her joy was my aphrodisiac.
Pulling the car into the hotel’s entrance, I parked in the reserved section and got out. It was midday and the Miami sunshine was beating down on me with force. A few beads of sweat rolled down my brow.
Wiping them away, I popped the trunk open and pulled out my carry-on. There was no need for more; clothing wasn’t a priority here. Getting her naked was.
“Thanks, asshole.” I smiled into the phone at his laughter. That was one of the things I liked about Clifton—he never took shit too serious. He gave as well as he got.
“My pleasure, ass face.” With that, he hung up, and I walked straight to the reception desk. Lucia was due to arrive within the next two hours, and I wanted to be inside my room and away from her line of sight.
She’d see me soon enough.
My nerves were shot while I waited and paced the length of my room. Knowing that she was so close, yet so far, was torture. She was here with just a mere fucking wall separating us. I could hear her moving around, more than likely walking around in next to nothing.
Or she could be headed toward the shower. Fuck.
These thoughts of my Lucia were driving me to the point of no return. If I wasn’t careful, I’d unleash myself upon her before the night had even begun. My ears could faintly hear music—an upbeat rhythm coming from the direction her room was in.
The music Lucia had playing was loud and harsh. Drums and congas could be heard from within her room, carrying over into mine. I walked over to the wall that separated us and pressed my ear tightly against it, hoping to catch a small wisp of her voice.