Unforgettable 2 (Hollywood Love Story #2) (21 page)

Brandon

S
he clings to me like I’m her lifeline while her tears soak my shirt. This unexpected serenade has changed everything. It’s made her vulnerable. And it’s made me vulnerable. Zoey is special and she’s fragile. I’m suddenly afraid of hurting her. The giddy flirtation we shared over dinner has dissipated into the night air. Dancing with her to this song has done things to me I’ve never experienced before. Everything I’m feeling is for real. This is not Brandon the actor. This is Brandon the man. A man I’ve never known nor can I remember. A hopeless romantic. I mapped out the evening—sharing a nice dinner, getting a little drunk, then heading back to the hotel and fucking her senseless. But now, my need to love her trumps my need to fuck her. I want to hold her. Caress her. Taste her. Get to know every bit of her. Pleasure her every way I can.

Emotionally charged, I make a quick run to the men’s room. When I return to the table, she’s gone. My eyes dart around the restaurant, but she’s nowhere in sight. Maybe she went to the ladies’ room?

Antoine ambles over to the table with the check.

“Antoine, have you seen…my friend?” I ask.
What do I call her?

“Ah, Monsieur Taylor. She ran out of
zee
restaurant. Very upset.
Eez
everything okay?”

Fuck. No. I quickly look at the bill and throw two hundred Euros on the table. Way more than the cost of the dinner, but I don’t have time to wait for the change. I thank Antoine and sprint out of the restaurant.

Shit. Which way did she go? Instinctively, I guess east, thinking she may be heading back to the hotel. She couldn’t have gotten too far in her heels.

I hop on the bike and rev it up. Without bothering to put on my helmet, which is dangling with Zoey’s from the handlebar, I charge down the sidewalk, full throttle, weaving in and out of stunned pedestrians. The motor roars in my ears right along with my apprehension.

“Attention!” I shout out in French when what I want to shout is get the fuck out of my way. Angry promenaders shout back what I believe are French expletives. I deserve every one.

Yes, I am a crazy asshole. I’m not in my right mind. But right now desperation is negating any form of sanity. I have to find her. How far could she have gotten? Cranking my head to the left to look up an alley, I face forward again and freak. Fuck. I’m going to run into a gay couple strolling hand in hand in front of me. Plugged into their iPhones, they don’t hear me behind them.

“Watch out!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I squeeze the brake lever.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy American?” shouts one of the dudes, yanking his partner to safety just in the nick of time. Losing control of the Ducati, I go flying—
Crash!
—and smash into a kiosk. My heart thudding, I drop my feet to the ground to steady the smoking bike and then hop off it. It tumbles to the pavement with a clang.

Fuck the bike. Without wasting a second, I dash down the Croisette, almost knocking down a few more people. I’m surprised I still don’t see her. Shit. Maybe she turned up one of Old Town’s winding streets. I’ll never find her.

About to give up hope, I finally spot her. She’s running barefoot about one hundred yards ahead of me. The long, flowy skirt of her dress billows like a sail.

“Zoey!” I shout out, running after her at breakneck speed.

She doesn’t stop or look back. Picking up her pace, she turns up one of the serpentine streets off the Croisette. I’m not going to lose her.

I pick up speed, running so fast my lungs and thighs are on fire. I may be a swimmer, but sprinting’s not my thing. Breathing heavily, I turn up the narrow street and see her. She’s within shouting distance.

“Zoey!” I cry out again.

“Leave me alone!” Her sobbing is gutting me.

Calling on all the muscle power I have, I jet-propel myself up the steep, winding cobblestone street. With me hot on her trail, she turns down a very narrow alley. It’s dark and deserted, lined by neighborhood grocery stores all closed till morning. She’s slowing. I’m so close I can taste her. Finally, I catch up to her and, cinching her waist, stop her in her tracks.

“Go away!” she cries, her sobs mixing with pants. She fights me off like a captured wild animal, writhing, and kicking, but even in my breathless state, she’s no match for my strength. In one swift move, I flip her around by her shoulders and walk her backward until she’s flattened against one of the storefronts. A boulangerie. I lift her arms high above her head and hold them tight against the rough stucco wall. My weight presses against her so she can’t free herself. She’s my prisoner. My prey.

“Let me go!” She squirms, angry tears streaming down her face.

“I will once you tell me why you ran away from me.” Rage fuels my voice.

“What kind of sicko game are you playing with me, Brandon?”

“What do you mean?” My voice is a little softer.

“You’re fucking engaged to Katrina, almost about to marry her, and you’re coming on to me?”

I draw in a sharp breath and let out a loud huff. “We need to talk.”

Her stormy eyes search mine for answers.

“Zoey, it’s complicated.”

“Isn’t that a convenient word?” Sniveling, she turns her head away.

“Look at me, Zoey.”

She refuses. She’s so fucking stubborn.

“Zoey, did you hear me? Look at me!”

Slowly, she turns her head. Our eyes lock.

“I’m having second thoughts about Katrina.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, repeating my earlier words.

“I don’t love her. I don’t even like her.”

Her teary eyes flutter, and I can feel her heart pounding against my chest as I rattle on.

“I still can’t remember shit about our relationship. Whatever I had with her before my accident, I have no longer. I can’t even stand fucking her.”

Zoey’s eyes narrow as her lips purse. “If my memory serves me correctly, you sure seemed to be getting off on her when I caught you with your dick down her throat.”

I snicker. “Well, your precious memory is wrong. She seduced me; it wasn’t by choice. And I was groaning because she bit me. I couldn’t even get it up.”

A little smile curls on Zoey’s kissable lips. Good. A turning point. Because the hard part is coming. Again, no pun intended. I’ve got to talk about my feelings. Something I’ve never done with anyone, with the exception of my mentor.

“Zoey.” I take a long pause after saying her name. “I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh, some other actress? Or ‘it girl’?”

“Jesus, Zoey. Don’t you know?”

She’s making it so fucking hard for me. Literally, in more ways than one. My aching cock is straining against my fly, about to burst through at any moment. I want her so badly.

One word: “You.”

Her jaw drops open. One word back: “Oh.”

Okay. I’ve said it. The words get easier for me. “I brought you here to spend time with you. Away from LA. Away from Katrina. I want to know if the connection I feel with you is real. You’ve aroused sensations and emotions I’ve never felt before.”

“How can you be sure with your amnesia?” she challenges, looking deep into my eyes.

“I’m sure. I remember everything about the last ten years except the accident and the month leading up to it. And I remember you touched something inside me the minute I met you. You were adorable. I wanted to spread your legs and take you on my driveway in the pouring rain.”

“Really?” Her voice is so small she might as well be speechless.

Here goes. Maybe I should have written a soliloquy and rehearsed it. I suck at ad-libbing. I always have.

“Zo, my memory’s come back, but I’ve been losing my mind over you. That night you went out with your brother, I went berserk with fear and jealousy. I thought I was going to lose you…that you were the one he was getting engaged to. That’s why I followed you to Fig & Olive. I was going to stop him even if I had to do something I’d later regret doing. You brought something out in me that my amnesia suppressed. Perhaps something I’ve
always
suppressed. My need for you. My need to dominate you. My need to possess you. My need to protect you. When I found out about your little charade, I totally lost control. Then, after I spanked you, I couldn’t get you out of my system. All I could think about was making you mine. But you ran away from me. I thought I’d lost you forever. Those seven…ten…twelve…whatever days were the darkest, most unbearable days of my life.”

Zoey’s big brown eyes stay riveted on me. They hardly blink. The words pour out of me as if I’m thinking out loud.

“Zoey, all of me wants all of you. I can have any woman I want, but I only want you. You understand me. Accept me for who I am. You make me laugh and feel alive. When you’re with me, I’m whole. When you’re away from me, I lose control. I fall apart. I don’t function. All I do is fantasize about you. You’re a fucking pain in my ass, but you fucking turn me on. Drive me crazy. And don’t tell me you don’t feel something toward me. Actions speak louder than words. I’m an actor. An observer. I’ve watched you carefully over the last few months. Make that few years. You’ve wanted me as much as I’ve wanted you. When I kissed you tonight, you deepened it, totally succumbed with your body and soul.”

“B-but—”

I cut her off. “My beautiful Zoey, I know this is all wrong. And in the back of my mind, know that cheating on the woman I’m engaged to will come back to bite me in the ass, but I want you so badly I’d chase you around the world. I’d even kill for you.”

Soft whimpers escape her quivering lips. Her chest heaves against mine.

“What’s the matter, my beauty?” I ask softly as another round of tears pours down her face. I kiss them away.

“Oh, Brandon. I know this is wrong too. So crazy wrong. But I want you to take me. Right now. Right here. Please. I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t know
how
much I want you.” I’m going to lose my mind again if I can’t have her on my next breath. I smother her mouth with mine to suppress her sobs. Releasing her hands, I yank open my belt buckle, fumble with my jeans button, and then unzip my fly. My cock is rock-hard, aching to be inside her. I dip my hand into my jeans pocket.

“Put this on me,” I command, handing her the foiled condom package.

With trembling fingers, she rips it open and rolls the latex along the thick length of my throbbing shaft. I hiss at her touch. Condom in place, I shove up her little dress and yank down her scanty lace panties. Damn. I should have just ripped them off I think as she wastes time stepping out of them.

Panties off, I reward her with another hot kiss. With our mouths connected and our tongues entwined, I lift her up against the wall by her haunches. Instinctively, she folds her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips. My hands grip her delicious ass. We’re perfectly lined up. Face to face. Heart to Heart. Organ to Organ. I break the long kiss.

“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.