Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(49)
“Look for yourself.”
I loosen the string of the pouch and reach inside. The contents feel like some form of jewelry. A necklace? My eyes grow wide as I remove it. It’s a thick ten-inch long platinum chain with two diamond and amethyst-studded clasps at the end.
I hold it up and admire it. “Oh, Brandon. It’s beautiful! Help me put it around my neck.”
He chuckles. “Baby, you can wear it as a necklace tonight at dinner. I had it custom-made. It’s very versatile. But right now you’re going to wear this unique piece of jewelry a different way.”
His hand slides under the front opening of my sheer baby doll and he tweaks my nipples until they’re hard peaks. His violet eyes darken with lust.
“Are you ready, baby?”
“Oh yeah,” I moan, still not sure what he has in mind.
A devilish smile curls on his lips. “Good. It’s playtime.”
He takes the necklace from me, and in a few heated breaths, the jeweled clasps are pinching my erect nipples. I wince with delicious pain as his nimble fingers move straight to my sex. Two fingers plunge inside my * while his thumb rubs my clit. I curse under my breath. The erogenous sensation of the extreme pain and pleasure makes me want to burst out of my skin.
“Oh, baby, you’re so hot and juicy. I’m going to feast on my breakfast.”
“Oh yes, baby. Please do!”
After a sharp parting of my legs, Brandon repositions himself between them, leaning back on his heels. Planting his palms firmly on my upper thighs, he buries his head in my *. His hungry mouth sucks and gnaws at my slick folds and then his talented tongue licks my clit the way a little kid might lick the gravy off a plate. He brings new meaning to breakfast in bed.
He moans. “Mmm, baby, you smell so good. You taste even better. I could eat you morning, noon, and night.” The tip of his tongue teases my entrance and then it moves back to my clit…flicking and licking, driving me crazy, while two fingers slide up and down my wet chasm.
I’ve always had über sensitive nipples, but the nipple clamps seem to be intensifying the sensations I’m feeling down below exponentially. And the more I heave my chest, the tighter they get and the closer I get to the point of no return. A mix of sighs, groans, and whimpers fill the back of my throat and escape through my lips. The clamps give new meaning to the lyrics of that John Mellencamp song, “It Hurts So Good.” Oh God, does it! I’m reduced to whimpers and begging to let me come.
Brandon owns all of me. And that includes my orgasms. When they come; where they come; how they come. And that’s the way I love him. I can’t come until he says I can. Or I’ll face the sometimes painful (in a good way!) consequences of disobeying him. I bite down hard on my lip, thinking this will prolong the onset of my orgasm and quell my hunger for him. Wishful thinking! The pain I give myself only adds to the erotic cocktail that’s spilling from my core and saturating every cell of my body.
“Please baby, either let me come or f*ck me!” Mama taught me that patience had its virtues. But she’d never taught me that patience had its rewards. That’s something I’ve learned from Brandon.
I’m not sure if he’s heard my plea. He doesn’t respond. His ravenous mouth is too busy devouring me, and the truth is I’m so close to coming he’d deprive me if he stopped. All I can do is cry, “Please, please, please.” As far as Brandon’s concerned, there’s nothing like begging. He loves Mama’s magic word. I just have to wait for permission.
My clit is vibrating against his tongue, and inside my belly, the pressure is building, an orgasmic time bomb that will go off when he flicks the switch. And then just when I think I may explode prematurely, he kisses my clit and an orgasm crashes through me. I detonate, shrapnel of bliss spraying me from head to toe as I cry out his name. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. I’m falling apart cell by cell. He’s given me an orgasm of epic proportions. An orgasm I will never forget.
He smacks a hot kiss on my lips. “Happy anniversary, baby.”
Happy, happy anniversary.
Brandon
She may not be beautiful by Hollywood standards, but to me she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. I love her every imperfection, her luscious curves, her little unexpected dimples. And in the bedroom, she gives me what I need. Many women in the world are in love with me, but not one understands me. Or loves—and reveres—me as much as my Zoey does. Our love has no boundaries. She’s insatiable.
She deepens my kiss, cradling my face between her long-fingered hands. The hands that have blown me to pieces innumerable times. Her mouth gnaws mine as our tongues entwine like two dancers, swirling and twirling. She tastes so delicious. And those little gurgling sounds at the base of her throat are such a turn-on. I’m so hard I may burst through my pajama bottom. My hand reaches down to her *.
“Brandon,” she moans, “you’re killing me.”
Breathing heavily, I kiss her neck and shoulders, nipping her from time to time. “No, baby, you’re going to be the death of me.” As I continue to massage her drenched *, I place one of her hands on my hard as nails cock. She strokes the length of it.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.
“Brandon, f*ck me. Please!” she breathes against my neck between succulent wet kisses that are driving me insane. I so f*cking love when she begs. But she’s going to have to wait. I call the shots here.