by Anthology
The Dirty Anthology
Copyright © K.I. Lynn, N. Isabelle Blanco, Elena M. Reyes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.
Cover image licensed by Shutterstock/ © sakkmesterke
Cover design by LJ Anderson/ Mayhem Cover Creations
Editors
Vanessa Bridges – PREMA
Marti Lynch
N. Isabelle Blanco
Publication Date: July 15th 2015
Genre: FICTION/Romance/Erotica
Copyright © 2015 K.I. Lynn, N. Isabelle Blanco, Elena M. Reyes
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DIRTY WORDS BY ELENA M. REYES
SYSTEMATIC SIEGE: PROVOCATIVE TENDENCIES #1 BY N. ISABELLE BLANCO
TEMPT BY K.I. LYNN
Dirty Words
Copyright © Elena M. Reyes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.
Cover image licensed by 123rf.com/ ©CuraPhotography
Cover design by N. Isabelle Blanco/ MaE Cover Designs
Editors
Marti Lynch
Publication Date: July 15th 2015
Genre: FICTION/Romance/Erotica
Copyright © 2015 Elena M. Reyes
All rights reserved
One
My computer screen pinged inside the quiet space of my small trailer, and a shiver of excitement ran up my spine. The hours today had been brutal, long, and I was tired.
Cranky.
Fucking horny.
Reaching over, I pulled my laptop next to me on the small couch and opened the browser. I knew who it was. Not one motherfucking doubt in my mind. It was her. My girl. The woman who had, unbeknownst to her, consumed every goddamned minute of my days and nights.
Swiping my finger across the mouse pad, I opened my Facebook account—the one no one knew I kept—and smiled. Every day, at that time, she would send me the same greeting.
A simple hello.
Lucia: Hey babe!
What a dangerous greeting. Calling me that term of endearment when all I wanted—fucking yearned for—was a taste of her skin. For her to writhe beneath me while I took what her body would willingly give.
DevA: I’m up. Tired, but seeing your smiling face makes it all better.
And wasn’t that the truth; I was rock hard as I stared at her profile picture, my palm pushing down against my engorged flesh to alleviate some of the pain she’d created. Conjuring dirty thoughts of her, I released my cock and stroked my hands downward once.
Lucia: You’re too sweet!
Yeah, that’s me. One sweet motherfucker.
A bead of liquid seeped out from my tip, and my finger swiped across my slit to catch it—used it on my next downward stroke as lubrication.
“Fuck, yeah,” I grunted, tightening the hold I had on my cock while opening her pictures. There was one album I loved more than all the others. All her. No friends or family on the beach. Selfies taken of different body parts: her legs, chest…those swollen, bee-stung lips that caused me to push my hips up and fuck my hand.
I fucking abused myself for her. In her name.
DevA: Can’t wait to meet face to face. Only a few days left!
There, that should fucking hold her until I finished. My strokes became faster, angrier as I continued to flip through each picture. There’s nothing sexier to me than a woman with ink.
Lucia: You are coming, right?
“Fuck, yes.” My finger hovered over the screen. Over the picture of her tiny rabbit tattoo barely peeking out from beneath her bikini bottoms. “I’m going to fucking come all over that spot, you hot little…fuck!” I roared as spurt after spurt of hot come fell from my tip and onto my lower stomach.
Lucia: You there?
“I don’t give a fuck what you believe in, but you better pray hard. I’m going to fucking destroy you as you have done me. Not one single inch of you will remember any man before me.”
DevA: I’m here and baby girl, God himself couldn’t stop me from coming to see you.
From coming for you.
It had been exactly one year to the day since I fell for the words my girl created. A year where I’d spent numerous hours contemplating ways to make her mine. Three hundred and sixty-five days consumed by every book she wrote. With each line my need and hunger grew, my devotion running so deep that I’d lost my goddamned head over her.
Rationality was a novelty I no longer concerned myself with.
She always claimed to have the best inspirations while taking a bath or shower. Was it because she was thinking of me? Was she picturing us together under the hot stream of water? She was a fan, after all.
It was my face that my girl watched on the movie screen, and later confessed to being aroused by. I remember re-reading that one post on her wall over and over again. Discovering the effect I had on her was a high unlike any other.
I made her heart stutter.
I made her knees weak.
I caused the wetness to pool between her thighs.
Did she see those images as vividly as I did? Lucia had to have. No one could write such descriptive scenes without putting themselves within their words. My favorite, though, had to be the one time she had me fuck my counterpart in the shower.
Fuck, do I remember that scene:
“Jack, please,” Lesley begged as I continued to assault her neck with kisses, biting her hard enough to leave the imprint of my teeth embedded in her skin. I wanted—no, needed, to mark her as my own. The fucking world had to accept that she was taken. “Baby, I need you,” she whimpered, “need to feel you inside me. Goddamned delicious stretch and fullness only you can…oh, fuck!” Lesley hissed out as my long and calloused fingers found her drenched, bare lips. I’d begun a slow rhythm of in and out, my palm coming in contact with her engorged clit and rubbing twice before pulling away.
I was the one making the beautiful woman in my arms cry out in ecstasy one minute, and out in anger the next.
According to her, I was responsible for all the dirty thoughts and words that led to the ruin of her favorite panties. They were my favorites now, as well. Lacy boy shorts had ruined me for all other types. My head was filled with images of those round mounds barely covered by the flimsy fabric. How it molded onto her skin and rode high as she walked.
I wanted to tear them off with my teeth.
I’d pull them down while my tongue would come out to taste every inch of skin my mouth uncovered. I wondered what would hit my tongue as I lay between her parted thighs and lapped at her core.
She’d taste amazing too. Like an erotic mixture of fruits. Delicious.
“Don't tease me, baby. Fuck me. Make me yours.” Lesley slammed her hands on the tiled wall while I toyed with her. Broke her down. I wanted her to bend to my will, become insane with lust. When I was throug
h with her, she’d only see me. Feel me. Want me.
Every other male before, and even those stupid enough to attempt in the future, would seem insignificant and unworthy in her eyes.
“Please,” her crazed voice pled one last time. She was lost to my touch. My mission had been accomplished.
Withdrawing my fingers, I dropped to my knees before her. “Do you want me, baby? No other man but me?”
Those naughty scenes made my long days so much sweeter. They’d tease and torment. Gave my imagination and cock a jump start of their own as I pictured her playing out those scenes with me.
Those scintillating visions that drove her to find immediate purchase before her computer; to lay down those words that would entice my soul. They would call out to that inner caveman in me. That nasty and dirty part of me that wanted to reach through this portal and take what was mine for the taking.
Lesley only managed a small nod as she enjoyed the sight of my face between her thighs. My lips were so close to her dripping cunt—ready to show her my appreciation for the magnificent gift she was bestowing upon me.
“Tell me, dammit! Say it's only me you want and desire.” I buried my nose between her saturated lips and inhaled. Motherfucking ambrosia. “I will give you everything you want. Make you come so hard…leave you barely hanging on to reality. Tell me, Lesley, and I am motherfucking yours.”
It was the end of that chapter that made me react violently, fisting my cock tightly in my hand, and cursing her for torturing me so. For how hard I came as my cock fucked my fist. How the images of her, fresh faced and innocent, smiling down, helped throw me over the edge. It wasn't the hard fuck my cock ached to give her, but it would do.
For now.
Too much time had passed since that fateful day where our lives became intertwined, where they were sealed together without our permission. A desire to have her close intensified with every tick on the clock. This had to change. No more.
Today all that stops.
“She will be mine,” I groaned. Lazily, I ran the tip of my finger down the head of my cock, enjoying the soft caress and the tingles it created. It was her face I watched on the screen. Her smile, the same one I’d imagined time and time again, looking up at me while she took me in her mouth. “Your time is up.”
Lucia White, as her fans knew her, was an overnight sensation in the literary world. Her looks were deceiving. Beautiful and pure, yet the moment you read her dirty words, all that vanished and what lay before you was an alluring nymph. From the very first page she’d entranced me; I was—and still am—fucked.
“God, I want you, baby. Fucking crave your taste on my tongue.” Following her every move became the focus of my days while not on set. She had a private and very naughty group for all her fans. It was a sanctuary of sorts, where she would come in and interact with those, like me, who followed her every word as if it were law.
The only difference was that I pleasured myself to those same words.
Exquisitely mine. There was no denying that she’d owned me from the start. I devoured her exotic features like a starving man. Lucia loved to share bits and pieces of her life through photos, and I am not one fucking bit ashamed to admit that I stalked her.
Signings.
Out to dinner.
The latest was of her with friends at a BBQ.
Tight body barely covered by a tube top and a pair of indecently short shorts that made my cock weep in frustration. Her ass looked so round and high as she spiked the volleyball across the net. Whoever took that picture deserved a huge gift from me.
Each picture was more defined then the last; she was surrounded by friends in every shot. All laughing and smiling, having a great fucking time. Some were with men. They looked at her with the same admiration I held.
“Piece of shit asshole doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.” They were lucky bastards, and I seethed with jealousy. This was especially true for one overgrown, juice-pumping, dimpled smile wearing motherfucker that in one shot had her over his shoulder. Lucia laughed as the playful moment carried on in film.
I saw red.
My girl’s happiness was clear to see. Her eyes had brightened and her face was flushed. Those fucking lips of hers were set into an enticing ‘O’ shape that made my heart stop, and my dick swell with desire.
All this for him.
And while she looked more beautiful than words could describe, I wanted to kill him. Take those same fingers he’d wrapped around her upper thigh to keep her in place and break them. Lucia shouldn’t have let him touch her.
I’d give anything for it to be me that held her like that. To carry her away from those who wanted what was never theirs, and teach her that only I could give her what she needed.
Two
The first time I laid eyes on her beautiful face, the world and all its bullshit faded away. I wasn’t ready for her. Not even close. My life—my job—didn’t have space for the emotions and other crap relationships seemed to come with. Then again, Lucia never asked.
She barged in to my life and took over my every thought. Every twitch my cock gave was for her.
Most days, it was a game of sorts as my schedule kept me with odd hours. She had a way of popping in and out, greeting her fans, and teasing the fuck out of me with those sensual pictures of her looking all rumpled from sleep. No makeup. Natural and sweet.
Sometimes, I’d be lucky enough to have my phone with me while on the set. I didn’t want to miss her quirky post about all the new ‘bunnies’ she kept getting hit with. How they would mind fuck her during all hours of the day.
Bunnies. That brought on more racy thoughts than anything else did.
Did she have one?
What color?
Was she a screamer or did she whimper?
I was not a small man by any means, and I craved the feel of her wrapped around me. Stretching her. Making her feel every ridge of my cock against the walls of her pussy as I took out my frustrations—fucking hunger—out on her.
“What’s up with the scowl?” Clara Knowles, one of my closest friends and co-star in my latest project, said while taking a seat next to me. We’d been called down to the makeup trailer thirty minutes ago, and while I was nearly done, she was late. As usual. Nothing out of the norm for her. “You look constipated.”
“Too early,” I grumbled and took a sip of my lukewarm coffee. It tasted like shit, but with it being so early, I needed the caffeine. Whoever said that movie stars lived the perfect life was full of it. Three a.m. wake-up calls sucked, no matter whom the fuck you were. “Keep quiet and let them tame the hot mess you are.”
“Kiss it,” she deadpanned and then proceeded to ignore me, focusing instead on the item in her lap. Her ever faithful e-reader, turned on, and with the latest craze within the female population on display. Fucking horny women and their books.
Her eyes were glued to the screen, devouring each line while fidgeting in her seat. What the fuck?
I was curious and leaned toward her. “What’re you reading?”
“Huh?” she answered, yet her eyes remained on the device. Clara was far into the story, more than halfway, but what caught my attention was her flushed face, the labored breaths she took in, and how she bit into her cheek.
“The trailer’s on fire,” I yelled out and got nothing. Not a damn thing. “There’s a spider on your shirt.” Not even a glance my way. My hand reached out to pull the reader away. Wrong move.
“Don’t,” Clara growled before slapping my hand with force. It hurt. Stung.
Holding my hand up to my chest, I glared at her. “Let me see.”
“Fine,” she hissed while jabbing me in the chest with one of her long acrylic nails. “But lose my page, and I kick your ass!”
“Fuck this. Keep it.” Was she for real? What a bitch.
“Don’t be such a baby. Read.” Clara pushed the small tablet into my hands; she eyed me like a hawk, flinching as my finger stroked the page. This was the crap I
got for trying with her. My mood all week had been foul due to our over-packed schedule. I’d holed myself up in my trailer, avoiding my co-stars and crew the moment they called a break for the night.
This had been the first time in days that I’d put in any effort.
“Fuck you, Clara,” I snapped, pushing the tablet back into her hands. It was time to leave; I was more than done with her. Standing from my chair, I made a move to toss my coffee and leave, when her hand on my arm stopped me. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry, Devin. Please, just read it.” Best friend or not, she was being a bitch. However, I cared for the girl, and that saved her from the biting words that sat on my tongue. My glare didn’t deter her in the least; instead, she smiled and pulled me down to sit. “I think you might need this more than I do. Maybe, it’ll even help take the stick, firmly implanted in your ass, out. Bring back the chilled guy I signed up to do this movie with.”
I wanted to rant—knock her little ass out of the chair she sat in—but how could I do that to her when we’d been friends for a few years now? She'd always been my solid, my sister, essentially. Even if our jobs made us act differently, she would always be family to me.
“You’re being an asshole, but I'll bite. What’s it about?”
“Erotica,” she simply stated, an annoyed expression marring her features as I raised a brow. She seemed upset that the word “erotica” meant nothing to me. What did she expect? I lived on set most days and was usually too exhausted to breathe, let alone read or watch TV. Clara sat there, shaking her head at me in disappointment. “Unbelievable.”
Wait a minute. Was she talking about porn? My interest was definitely piqued.
“Okay, let's try this one more time.” Annoyance with a slight hint of excitement dripped from my tone. “What’s this ‘erotica’ that has you acting like a raging lunatic?”
