The Dirty Anthology Read Online Free

The Dirty Anthology
Book: The Dirty Anthology Read Online Free
Author: Anthology
Pages:
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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
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