Unforgettable 2 (Hollywood Love Story #2) (4 page)

My heart clenches at the last word. Over the last forty-eight hours, I haven’t given much thought to his upcoming marriage to Katrina.

“I wasn’t invited,” I mutter. The bitch didn’t bother sending me an invitation though unknowingly she spared me the pain of opening it.

“I want you to attend.” Brandon’s voice is a soft command.

“As your assistant?”

“No, as my guest. I want you to be there for me.”

My stomach churns at the mixed message his words send. I may wake up sick that morning. I can’t bear the thought of watching Brandon and Katrina exchange their forever vows.

He flicks my nose. “Promise me you’ll be there.”

“Promise.” My voice is so small I can barely hear myself. I refrain from asking him if my “boyfriend” can come. What’s the point?

With a wistful smile, he turns off the light, and after he leaves, I close my eyes and enter the world of happily never after.

Brandon

M
y life as Agent 007 is about to end. And it hasn’t even begun.

I blink my eyes and take in my surroundings. I’m bound in a rope from head to toe and hooked to some kind of pulley.

Agent or rather Double Agent Katrina Moore is in my face. She fooled me. Her goddess-like beauty beguiled me. She knew I was a sucker for a beautiful woman. I should have known she was as fake as her silicone boobs. Fucking her should have been a clue too. After my showdown with her boss, the nefarious Piranha, she drugged me and tied me up and then took me to his headquarters, a decrepit warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Her feline eyes glow green with evil.

“Say goodbye to your life, James,” she purrs. Wearing a skintight metallic jumpsuit and stilettos that match the color of her platinum hair, she leans into me, her jutting hipbones bruising me. The cloying smell of her cologne sickens me. I squirm as much as I can in the tight ropes.

She smiles wickedly. “I don’t think your Olympic swimming skills are going to matter much.”

My muscles tense. My eyes flit to the gigantic fifty-foot tank of water that’s filled with hundreds of hungry piranhas. In minutes, I may be their new best friend, though it’ll be a very short-lived relationship—no pun intended. Once I take the plunge and I’m bait, Katrina will rule Hollywood. Destroy every fish in the sea until she’s controlling it all and sitting on billions while sending out her propaganda messages via infomercials that “Moore is More.” Creating a society where everyone is clamoring to be a billionaire and forsaking every important value. Love. Family. Trust. Honor. Until everyone destroys each other, and she owns and controls every bank account in the world.

“Va te faire foutre,”
I say in French.

With a fling of her mane, Katrina lets out a haughty laugh. “Darling, you were always a cunning linguist. But your tongue was wasted on me.”

Was it! She was the worst Bond girl I ever had. A frigid bitch.

She turns to her evil robotic cohort Scott, who is sitting behind a console with knobs and levers. “Scotty-Botty, it’s time to do the honors.”

“Yes, ma-dame.” His words are as mechanical as the automaton he is. It sickens me to think he was created by MI6 and was once my right hand man so to speak. It’s too bad they could never figure out how to give him a heart. Katrina stole him from Her Majesty’s Secret Service and programmed him to suit her needs. To destroy me.

The psycho bitch snaps her bony fingers twice. “Chop chop!”

The bot responds. He presses down on a massive lever, instantly hoisting me into the air. In seconds, my feet no longer touch the ground.

Katrina smirks. “Your career is about to reach new heights, James.”

My eyes gaze up, then down. Already ten feet in the air, I’m headed to a dead end. It’s time to kiss my illustrious career goodbye. I’ll miss them all. M, Q, and especially Miss Moneypenny. I always had a thing for her. M’s adorable secretary. She was basically my assistant too, taking care of my every need—from booking hotel rooms with my latest hookups to getting Q to supply me with the latest hi-tech weapons and cars. An image of her flashes in my mind. She’s hardly like my Bond girls. They’re supermodel perfect like Katrina. She, on the other hand, is a girl one might call ordinary. Slightly overweight…unstylish…pretty not beautiful. Yet, it’s her big brown eyes, upturned nose, and kissable lips that fill my mind as death awaits me. My cock twitches beneath the ropes. Never having her is my only regret. I should have bent her over her desk and given her what she always wanted. At the thought of her ass in the air, my cock stiffens. At least, I’m going to die with a hard-on. As my inevitable fate awaits me, I feel stirred not shaken. If I survive this, I may change my martini of choice.

As I continue to ascend, Katrina keeps her eyes on my crotch. She scoffs. “There’s nothing like being hung over a tank of hungry piranhas.”

At least my cock will be hard to bite into. A small piece of solace.

“Do you like the view?”

“It’s killer.”

“Say goodbye, James.”

Another voice…

“Say goodbye, Kuntrina!”

Miss Moneypenny! Sometimes you shouldn’t be too careful for what you wish for. Dressed to kill in a little black dress that hugs all her luscious curves, she looks ravishing.

Katrina spins around. “What are you doing here, you sloth?”

Miss Moneypenny’s eyes clash with Katrina’s. “Not wasting my time talking to you.”

“I don’t waste
my
time talking to peons.”

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.” On her next breath, Miss Moneypenny charges at Katrina, tackling and knocking her to the ground. She tears at her metallic jumpsuit.

“You bitch! You’re ruining my outfit! It’s Versace! You’re going to pay a pretty penny to replace it!”

“I’m not even going to take it to a tailor,” retorts Moneypenny, straddling Katrina and holding her down while she screams and writhes.

My eyes stay riveted on her full, heart-shape arse, and I have the burning desire to spread those huggable cheeks apart. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, M always preached. Scott the Bot meanwhile hoists me higher. I’m now about twenty-five feet in the air. In a few minutes, I’m going to be fish food.

Katrina and Moneypenny continue to go at each other madly, exchanging every expletive in the dictionary. They roll about on the floor. Hissing. Gnawing. Scratching. Fisting. Clumps of hair go flying. It looks like Katrina has the upper hand, stabbing her adversary with the spiky heel of her killer stiletto. Again and again and again.

“Die, you fat bitch!” she screams.

“You die first!” rasps back Moneypenny after another blow. To my utter astonishment, she reaches into her impressive cleavage and yanks out a shiny six-inch knife. She holds it over Katrina. Katrina’s eyes flicker with terror.

“Don’t you dare kill me!” she shrieks. “I’ll give you anything you want! All the money in the world!”

Moneypenny slowly lowers the knife. “There’s only one thing I want, and it’s not your money. And besides, my name comes with it.”

The knife is millimeters from Katrina. Her face is frozen with fear. Moneypenny holds her fierce in her gaze.

“Rot in hell, bitch!”

“Noooooo!”

Katrina’s mouth never closes as Moneypenny plunges the blade into her chest.
Splat!
My nemesis lets out a deep groan as her right breast deflates and jelled liquid seeps out from the three-inch tear in her jumpsuit.

“Ha! I always new they were fake!” Moneypenny smiles with smug victory and then looks up at me. “Hang on, James!”

My eyes stay on her as she dashes over to the pulley that’s hoisting me. With a whoosh, she slices the cord like a swashbuckler. I fall thirty feet to the ground, but it’s a hell of a lot better than falling into a tank full of man-eating piranhas. I’ve always preferred hard surfaces.

“James, are you okay?” asks a concerned Moneypenny, squatting down beside me. Wasting no time, she cuts though the binding rope and sets me free.

Slowly, I sit up, facing her. I give her nose an affectionate flick. “I like a girl with a knife.”

She grins. But not for long. The smile on her face falls off and her eyes grow wide with terror. “James, watch out!”

I spin around like a top. Fuck. Scott the Bot, who’s programmed to kill me, is coming at me at breakneck speed.

“Die, Bond.” Two monotone syllables. A lethal laser shoots out of one arm, but I move out of harm’s way just in the nick of time. On my next breath, I reach into the breast pocket of my tuxedo and pull out my Beretta. I aim it and fire.
Bang!
I get the automaton right between the eyes, leaving a bullet-sized hole. And then I fire the gun two more times, aiming for his eyes.
Bang!
Bang!
Double bullseye! His eyes pop out of their sockets, hanging on by mere springs. Deprogrammed, the bot spins around in crazy circles until he collapses onto the floor with a clang.

I rotate on my arse again and face Moneypenny. A seductive smile lights up her face. “And I like a man with a gun.”

“Miss Moneypenny—”

“My name is Zoey.”

“Zoey.” I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. All these years together and I never knew her first name. It’s as beautiful as she is. My cock rises to full attention.

Then, her face grows serious again. “Oh, James. If you died, I’d—”

Tilting up her chin, I silence her with a fierce kiss. She melts into me. It’s as if her soft lips have always belonged on mine. Her tongue finds my tongue and they dance together, swirling and twirling, as if they’ve done this forever. She fists my hair, and her supple breasts press against my chest. I can feel her nipples harden like bullets beneath the fabric of my tux. She moans into my mouth. I want to fuck her more than I want to serve Her Majesty. I want her to be mine. She
will
be mine. I’ve never failed at a mission.

I break the kiss and reach for a handful of the rope.

“James, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to properly thank you for saving my life.” Q always told me actions speak louder than words. On my next heated breath, I twist the rope around her wrists, binding them together, and then attach them to a floor-to-ceiling metal pipe. Seeing her tied up like this makes my cock crazy with want. Without wasting a second, I scrunch up her little dress to her hips and rip off her scanty lace panties. I take whiff before tossing them. It’s like I’ve inhaled a drug. I can’t wait to get more. Sitting back on my calves, I spread her legs and bury my head between her thighs. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Her pussy so pink and glistening. I can’t wait to taste her. My talented tongue darts out of my hungry mouth and dips into her carnal lips. Jesus. She’s more delicious than I even imagined. I greedily lick and flick her sweet slickness.

Arching back, she moans. “Oh, Sir James.”

Her calling me sir only gets me more excited. None of my Bond girls ever called me that though I was knighted. Such respect and submission.

“How does it feel, Zoey?”

“Oh, James, I can’t find the words.”

“Well, then, let me try to enlarge your vocabulary.” My tongue moves to her clit. It licks and flicks until I feel a hard throbbing nub at the tip. Her breathing grows harsh. A symphony of pants and moans plays in my ears.

“Now, tell me, Zoey. How does that feel?”

“Oh please don’t stop! I need more!”

I love that she’s begging for me. And so polite. “Zoey, I need more specific words.” I nip her.

She gasps. “So good.”

“Please say: ‘So good, sir.’”

She does as asked and I go back to my ministrations, loving every minute of her tantalizing pussy and responsive clit. She’s dripping with want. I plunge a finger into her slit and pump her. God, she’s so wet and tight. I can’t wait to fuck her.

Her breathing grows more ragged. She begins to writhe, trying desperately to free herself from the pole. The moans become whimpers. And the whimpers become sobs. I love a damsel in distress.

“What do you want, Zoey?”

“I want to come, sir! Please!”

“You’ll come when I say you can. From now on, you’re mine. Only mine. Say it—”

“I’m yours. Only yours!”

“I own your orgasms, do you understand?”

She nods feverishly.

“Zoey, I need words.”

“Yes, I understand.”

The passion in her voice—and her submission—are all I need. I give her pussy a nice slap, and as she yelps, I kiss her clit and suck away the sting.

“Oh, James!”

“Come for me, Zoey. Don’t hold back.” I press my lips back on her divine pussy, and with the next flick of my tongue, she explodes in my face with a gush of wetness. Best of all, she screams my name. The way it’s spoken stirs me to the core. It’s time for her to get to know my other big gun.

“Lie down. Hands above your head. Then bend your knees and spread them wide.”

Silently, she does as told, and at the sight of her, I feel my cock swell, as if bigger is possible. She’s truly exceptional. Her pussy so ready, her nub a crimson rosebud and the delicate wet petals of her cleft an exquisite shade of pink. Her thighs quiver.

Our eyes connect.

“James, you’ve never even taken me to dinner.”