“Baby, I want you to put my cock inside you. I need to feel those magical fingers around it.” I squeeze her ass. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Nodding feverishly, she unfolds one of her arms from my shoulders and lowering it, curls those long, slender fingers around my erection at the base. She applies pressure and I groan. So help me God. So fucking good. Gripping it, she puts the wide tip to her fiery clit, rubbing it against her slickness. I groan again. Then, inch by thick inch, she slides my cock inside her. I hiss again. Christ. She’s so hot. So wet. So tight. She takes me to the hilt and I curse under my breath.
She moans.
“Are you okay, baby?” I ask with concern. I’m so big I could rip her apart.
“Oh, Brandon. You feel so good.”
“The same. Your beautiful pussy was made for me.” With a grunt, I push into her and then slide my cock back down. And then I thrust my length back into her.
“Aah.” She digs her fingernails into my shoulder blades.
“My beauty, I’m going to give you a fucking you’ll never forget. I’m going to fuck you fast. I’m going to fuck you hard. So hard, you’ll be headed to the moon. If you can’t take it, let me know. Do you remember your safe word?”
Biting down on her lip, she nods.
A couple more long, slow strokes and then I pummel her.
Clutching my shoulders, she holds on for the ride of her life. I can’t believe how natural it feels to fuck her. My cock is in heaven. It’s as if it’s saying where the hell has she been your whole life? Zoey’s been in my face for what seems like forever and stupid me didn’t know the treasure I had.
She meets my powerful thrusts with her hips and clenches her muscles around my pounding length. God, she feels so good. So fucking incredible. I pick up my pace and pound her more forcefully, coming at her fast and furious with each ragged breath. My fingertips dig so deep into her ass I’m sure my nails have marred her sweet flesh. She fists my hair, the pinching pain only adding to the intense pleasure. Sweat clusters on her forehead and chest as whimpers slip out of those kissable lips.
“Oh Brandon!” she moans yet again.
“Do. You. Like. This?” I ask, deliberately slowing down my thrusts to punctuate each word. And test her.
“Please don’t stop! Harder! Faster!”
“Don’t worry, baby.” There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to stop. My cock’s been bereft for way too long. And I’ve dreamt about this moment forever. Going at her again at full force, I build toward climax. My cock feels like a rocket being launched into space. The main engine sequence has commenced. All revved up, I pump harder, faster. And I’m pretty sure by her impassioned sounds I’m stimulating her clit—her own little space capsule—each time I hammer her. I’m taking her to the edge, to the point of no return, and her, me. My breathing grows harsher, mixing with grunts that come from deep in my gut. I have the burning urge to kiss her delicious mouth, but so close to coming I don’t want to muffle the sounds or words that spill out when she falls apart.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” she cries out. “Brandon, I can’t hold on anymore.”
“Hang in there, baby! Don’t come until I tell you to.”
Nodding like an automaton, she starts sobbing again. To anyone else, her desperate sounds might be construed as those of a woman mourning a loss, but to me, they’re the song of a woman desperate to succumb to the one she loves.
I bang into her with reckless abandon. She holds onto me as if I’m a rollercoaster she’s afraid to fall off.
“Please, Brandon. Please.”
Her begging brings me to the brink. My cock’s on fire. On the next bang, my cock communicates with me. Three, two, one, we have a lift off! I cry out, “Now, baby. Now.”
On the wail of my name, her pulsing pussy combusts around my ready to explode cock. Her whole body convulses as if thrown into shock. On the next thrust, I blast into outer space, and as I pass the core of my soul to her, I cry out her name.
“ZO!!!!!!” My cock spasms for what feels like an eternity, shooting my load three times as I kiss her madly and muffle her sobs. The rest of my body goes numb while I ride out my release. I can no longer hold her up. I let go of her ass and her limp legs touch down on the ground. Still leaning against the storefront, she cradles my head in her exquisite hands. Pressing against her, I hear myself still breathing heavily as I deepen the kiss.
I don’t know how long we stay in this position when I withdraw my mouth and my tongue. Her glistening eyes meet mine, the tears far from ending.
I brush them away with my thumbs. “Why are you still blubbering? What we just had was fucking amazing.”
“I know,” she snivels. “No one’s ever made me come like that. No one. I felt like we were one.”
“The same, baby. The same.” And I swear that’s the goddamn truth. I’ve never had such a mind-blowing orgasm. I left the planet with her. And a roar of her name so loud the stars heard me.
“Brandon, what are we going to do?” Her faltering voice is thick with uncertainty. Borderline despair. I can read her mind.
I cup her tear-streaked cheeks with my hands and face her squarely. “We’re going to fuck our brains out, and with whatever’s left, we’re going to figure things out.”
A glint of hope glimmers in her eyes. “My love, fuck me again.”
She called me her love. This fuck has changed everything. A foreboding cloud hangs over me. My chest tightens. How am I going to end it with goddamn Katrina?
Zoey’s sweet rasp cuts into my anxiety. “Are you alright, Brandon?”
“Yeah.” Flicking her nose, I twitch a fleeting smile. I don’t tell her I was thinking about my soon-to-be ex.
Fuck Katrina. With another bruising kiss, I banish the bitch to the furthest recesses of my mind. It’s time for another unforgettable fucking and I know just where I want to go. Brandon Taylor is back in control.
Chapter 21
Zoey
He’s kissing me again. This time it’s savage and rough. He pins my body against the stone wall while his mouth gnaws my lips and his tongue clashes with mine, thrusting and probing. The skin around my swollen lips stings beneath the brush of his stubble. The hair on the back of my neck bristles. I suck on his mouth hungrily as a tornado of swirling colors spirals from the back of my eyes, down my spine to the place I want him most. Between my thighs which are quivering with desire and dripping wet with my juices. Any worries I have are sucked into a vortex of lust. He inhabits every sense, every fiber of my being. Fuck me, Brandon! Own me! Possess me! I hitch one leg around his hips and fist him into me by the roots of his hair. I moan into his mouth when I feel his hand caress my shuddering pussy. His thumb rubs my throbbing, aching clit while he breathes into my mouth.
“Fuck, Zoey. You’re still so hot, so wet for me.”
“Please fuck me again, Brandon,” I beg hoarsely. My desperate need for him consumes me.
Taking a small step backward, he smooths my chiffon dress and stares at me with white-hot intensity. “Baby, I’m going to take you again, but not here.” With a tweak of my puckered nipples, he glances down at the cobblestones where my panties are crumpled next to my bare feet and then gives me a smug smile. “Put them back on. I don’t want you to stain your pretty dress.”
Mama always told me, “Baby girl, live as if there’s no tomorrow.” When I was a little girl, I didn’t understand what that meant, but years after her senseless murder those words rang true for me.
Despite my grave insecurities about Katrina and the future, I’ve decided to experience Brandon Taylor to the fullest. Give him a chance. Love him as if there’s no tomorrow. No risk, no gain. Even if all I end up with is pain. I banish the dark thought as I circle my arms around his taut torso on the Ducati. The poor bike isn’t in great shape after Brandon crashed it in hot pursuit of me. The front fender is dented and there are dings all over the metallic violet framework. But it’s still running. As we cruise down the Croisette, every lit
tle bump stimulates my vibrating clit, making me more eager to get to our destination. The hotel? I’m not sure where he’s taking me when we zoom past The Carlton, but am sure when I hop off the bike there’ll be a wet mark on the seat.
From crashing the Ducati, the sound system in the helmets is screwed up. I can’t hear Brandon and he can’t hear me. It’s just as well because I want to be alone with my thoughts. It’s like my head is in a bubble that’s going to burst. I still can’t believe this night’s for real, that my remotest, wildest fantasies are a reality, but the very real throbbing between my legs tells me otherwise. Leaning into him, I can’t stop re-living every minute. Brandon expressed his deep feelings toward me in heartfelt words that made me melt like a candle and gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm I ever had. Yes, I’ve had dozens and dozens of clitoral orgasms, most of which I’ve given myself, but I’ve never experience one from a man inside me, let alone that Big O I’ve read about in Cosmopolitan and my erotic romances. Truthfully, I thought they were some kind of urban myth, but now I know differently. They exist. Brandon Taylor set me off and sent me orbiting in space. I came and I came and I came. The euphoric waves must have lasted at least five minutes and I’m still feeling the aftermath. If I wasn’t wedged against that rough stucco wall which chafed my back and kept me conscious, I would have likely fainted. Somewhere in those five minutes, my infatuation with Brandon Taylor morphed into extreme love. An intense primal need to be totally possessed by him.
Yes, I’m in love with him. Unabashedly, indisputably in love with him. While my head’s in a thick cloud, a hormonal tsunami is still raging inside me. About ten minutes into our ride, he lifts my left hand off his waist and lowers it to his crotch. I feel the pulse and heat of his enormous package beneath my palm. Something about having my hand there makes me feel so calm, so connected, protected, and loved. Arousal pulses through me, revving me up like an engine. Unexpectedly, after we fly over a bump in the road, the helmets’ sound system starts up again, and a soft, pitch-perfect hum fills my ears. The melody of “Unforgettable”…it’s coming from Brandon. The emotion that sweeps over me can’t be put into words. Our hearts, our bodies, our minds are so powerfully connected. We’re one. In every way, this incredible night and incredible man have been unforgettable. I don’t let him know I can hear him except I give a little squeeze to his irresistible manhood. Closing my eyes, I sink waist-deep into blissful ecstasy.
Fifteen dreamy minutes later, we arrive at a magnificent waterfront villa located about five miles outside the center of Cannes. While the expansive palm tree-filled garden looks perfectly maintained, the windows of the imposing pink stucco mansion are boarded up.
“Who does this house belong to?” I ask Brandon as he helps me off with my helmet.
A hint of melancholy flickers in his eyes. “A great woman who doesn’t use it anymore. My mentor, Bella Stadler.”
At the mention of her name, my heart skips a beat. My mind flashes back to that life-changing encounter with the beautiful woman at the Joshua Tree spa. Lead your dreams and land them. Her memorable words float through my head as if carried by the wings of angels. I debate whether to tell Brandon about this uncanny encounter, but his sultry voice cuts my decision-making short.
“C’mon, let’s go down to the beach,” he says, taking my hand.
A few minutes later after descending a steep terraced path, we’re walking barefoot on a deserted, breathtaking stretch of beach along the Mediterranean. The sparkling white sand is a ribbon of moonlight against the dark sea. In the distance, I can see the lit up Palais des Festivals and the myriad yachts surrounding it.
Brandon wraps his brawny arm around my shoulders while soft, lapping waves sound in my ears. He holds me close to him.
“Don’t run away from me again tonight, Zoey. I’ve done enough sprinting to last me a lifetime.”
I laugh. “I’ll try to behave.”
He squeezes me. “Don’t test me.”
“Don’t count on it.” With a burst of laughter, I break away and make a mad dash toward the water.
“Screw you, Zoey. You’re going to pay for this.”
“Try and catch me!” I shout out, running backward.
“You’re going to get it, you very naughty girl!”
I’m ready. Come and get me! On my next fired up breath, he chases after me, and in no time, he catches me. This time I don’t resist and my giddy laughter fills the warm, damp air.
He cinches my waist and then flips me around so we’re facing each other. Quieting, I gaze at his gorgeous face. It’s lit by the moonlight—the perfect contours, his strong jaw, straight manly nose, and those beautiful eyes. The orbs are like two dark purple stars that have fallen from the sky. Then, that Satanic look that I’ve seen before washes over him. Every nerve in my body is on edge.
“Zoey, I want you to undress.”
“Excuse me?” His words send a shockwave through me. I freeze. Somehow, despite how many fantasies I’ve had about him, baring myself to him has never been among them. Fear? Shame? Self-Loathing? All of the above? Yes, probably a little bit of each. Even fucking him tonight doesn’t put my brain at ease. Is this my punishment for disobeying him?
“Br—”
“Do it.” His voice is gruff and authoritative. But this is how he’s always treated me and I’ve always obliged. Sweet Jesus. I’m a natural submissive. Without losing eye contact with him, I bend my arms upward and reach for the tab of the zipper. I zip it halfway down, but with my short limbs, I can’t get it past the middle of my back. Brandon watches me struggle.
“Turn around,” he commands, not masking his displeasure.
Silently, I do as asked. He unzips my dress, and the hiss of the parting metal teeth sends goosebumps to my skin. Gripping my shoulders, he spins me around. And then takes a few steps backward. His intimidating eyes stay glued on me.
“Take it off.”
Slowly, hesitantly, I slide the chiffon dress off. Once past my hips, it glides down my legs way faster than I want it to. Before I know it, Chaz’s little black number is puddled around my feet. I step out of it, my toes digging into the cool sand. I’m standing before him in just my black strapless push-up bra and a pair of skimpy lace bikinis I have no right wearing. The matching set is a part of a mysterious boxload of sexy Gloria’s Secret lingerie that was messengered to my house after my visit to Chaz’s studio. Neither Chaz nor Jeffrey claimed responsibility, and when I asked Brandon about it, he simply said, “No clue.” I now know I shouldn’t have believed him.
He holds me fierce in his gaze. I’m as still as a statue. A chill sweeps over me. His eyes travel subtly down my body and then return to my face. Now that he’s seen my imperfect curvy body that’s so unlike Katrina’s flawless supermodel figure—and all the other “it girls” he’s fucked—he won’t want me anymore. Yes, he’s seen me in a swimsuit once before. But this is so different. I’m so exposed. And because he’s still fully clothed, I feel especially vulnerable. Maybe the night air is covering up some of my flaws. I can only hope. Mr. Taylor, I’m so not ready for my close-up.
“Zoey, stop thinking about putting the dress back on. You’re beautiful in it, but you’re even more beautiful without it.”
I gulp so loud I can hear myself. Me beautiful? In the raw?
“Now take off your bra.”
I reach my hands behind my back and undo one clasp after another. There are three of them, lined up from top to bottom. The bra falls to my feet. My full breasts quiver in the sea breeze.
“Exquisite.”
I hitch a breath. Just barely.
“Now, remove those little panties.”
Hooking the side strings with my thumbs, I silently slide the bikinis down my thighs. I squat to get them past my knees. Deeper and deeper with every inch until the skimpy lace concoctions are scrunched at my feet. With my hands matted to my ankles, knees bent, and my ass in the air, he tells me not to move. My eyes gaze up at him as he swaggers toward me.
> He’s so close to me the tip of my nose grazes his jeans. I can smell the scent of my sex on him. My senses are on high alert.
“Don’t move,” he repeats. “Not even a blink.”
I do as I’m told. Not a blink. Not a move of a muscle. My eyes still cast upward, I watch him rip open the bottom buttons of his linen shirt. He unbuckles his leather belt, and with a whoosh, slides it out of the belt loops. He coils it around his right hand like a snake. And then uncurls it until it dangles just above his knees. He circles behind me.
A smack of fear descends on my lower back. I can see the belt between my slightly parted legs. Shit. Is he going to tie me up with it in this uncomfortable position? And fuck me without mercy? Anxiety beats in my chest like a timber drum as I await his next move.
Thwack! Before I can surmise it, the belt comes down hard on my ass. I wince. My left cheek stings like it’s on fire.
“That’s for running away from me. I want you to count with me.”
I draw in a sharp breath. He’s going to whip me again.
“Say it. One.”
“One,” I repeat, my voice so unsteady.
He does it. Whips me again. Thwack!
“Two.” I groan.
And again. Thwack!
“Three.” Tears burn my eyes.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” I cry out, so turned on by the scorching pain that has my sore pussy pulsing with tremors of pleasure. Delicious warmth drips down my legs.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Four more times. A total of seven. All on the same spot. The incendiary sting is more than I can bear. Mama. My safe word is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get my quivering lips to say it. Stifling a whimper on the next crack of the leather, I fall to my knees. Supplicating, I recall the time Pops taught me how to ride a bicycle. I was a disaster. As I was about to give up, he shared an old Japanese proverb: “Fall seven times. Stand up on eight.”
“Eight,” I croak, my voice jagged from my tear-infested arousal. With my trembling hands, I push myself up, back to the semi-squatting position before Brandon’s next inevitable lash. His dominant voice resonates in my ear.
Unforgettable: The Complete Series (A Sexy Cinderella Standalone Love Story) Page 37
