Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(54)

In the background, I could vaguely hear my friends cheering and whistling. “Go, girl!” For sure, head cheerleader Chaz.

My inner voice told me to stop, but no matter how much I willed it, I couldn’t get my lips to part from his. In fact, I deepened the kiss, pulling him closer to me by the collar of his shirt. The material felt expensive, like the gazillion thread Egyptian cotton kind. Everything about this man tasted and felt divine. He squeezed my ponytail tighter. I moaned into his mouth and he moaned back. God, the throaty sound of him was sexy!

And then suddenly, as fast as he had plunged his tongue into my mouth, he withdrew it. In tandem, he let go of my hair. I gasped, desperate for more.

“Wait!” I cried out, my hands grappling for him. Instead of finding him, I found myself knocking over a chilled glass. My heightened sense of smell told me it was his champagne.

“I’m sorry,” I croaked, struggling to tear off the tight, blinding tie. “I’ll buy you another.” Finally, I undid the tie. I blinked once. He was gone, and I was painfully all alone. Where did he go? My eyes frantically searched the pulsating crowd, darting left and right, but he was nowhere to be found. Even if he was facing me somewhere, staring into my eyes, I wouldn’t know it because I didn’t know what he looked like.

My friends were now all standing and applauding me. I’d lived up to the dare. Kissed a strange man on the lips. Oh, those lips!


Dazed, I staggered back to the group and dared not tell them how much I’d enjoyed it. And wanted more.





Chapter 2

Blake


My office intercom buzzed. It was my latest secretary, Mrs. Cho. Ms. Jennifer McCoy was here for her job interview. I glanced down at my Rolex. It was only eight thirty. She was fifteen minutes early. Hmm. A punctual one. I quickly read over her impressive resumé one more time. A B.A. in English and Psychology, Magna Cum Laude from USC, and a Masters with Honors from the university’s prestigious film school. I did the math in my head: 4.0 GPA, age twenty-four.

I don’t know why I was interviewing her. My dad, Saul Bernstein, the feared and revered head of Conquest Broadcasting, had told me I had no choice; she was already a hire. Impressed by her credentials, he had promised her an entry-level job upon graduation at Peanuts, our children’s network. Unfortunately, Dad had recently decided to sell the network to a German conglomerate because it wasn’t generating enough revenue; the kids’ biz was just not what it used to be—a cash cow like Power Rangers was hard to come by. A man of his word, my father didn’t want to let her down—or lose a valuable asset. After scouring the company for an entry-level programming job, he decided she would be a good fit with SIN-TV. And a good fit with me.

“Send her back,” I told Mrs. Cho. Let’s see if Ms. Brainiac had a sense of direction and could find my corner office.

While waiting for her, I yawned. Kirstie and Kristie had both showed up at the club last night and caught me kissing that strange, blindfolded girl. Fucking my fault. I’d unknowingly made a date with both of them; sometimes I did that. Well, they didn’t seem to mind. They were identical twins—fashion models with the same agency—and were used to sharing things. So, they proposed a little ménage à trois in my private f*ck pad at the club. Usually, I enjoyed a gaggle of arms, legs, tits, and pussies, but last night I wasn’t in the mood. I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn girl who’d kissed me blindfolded. There was something about her. I don’t know if was her fearlessness or the sweet scent of her—a blend of cherries and vanilla that lingered on my collar—or those sexy little sounds that gurgled in her throat. It definitely wasn’t her looks—she was petite and brunette—not my blond supermodel type. Yet, I was instantly attracted to her, and the minute I tasted her, I wanted more. Like taking a bite of a chocolate truffle and then wanting to devour all of it because it’s so irresistibly melt-in-your-mouth good. She had no clue while I devoured her mouth, my cock was straining against my pants, yearning for more.

“What were you doing with that girl?” asked Kirstie, her voice snippy.

I explained I was just playing some kind of game with some chick I didn’t know. And would never see again. They turned to each other, did that twin telepathic thing, and then responded in tandem with one snarky word: “Right.”

I paid the price all right. Once in my f*ck pad, the dynamic duo decided they wanted to play a game with me too. Kirstie blindfolded me with my tie, and Kristie pulled down my slacks and boxers. While one got down on her knees and sucked my dick, the other mouthed my balls from behind. I got hard okay. Fast and furiously. But it wasn’t the cock-sucking blond duo that was making me hard. It was that girl. That crazy blindfolded girl. In my mind’s eye, I imagined her on her knees doing all these things to me with her lush mouth and that deft velvety tongue. Me, fondling her, pulling at her ponytail, talking dirty. Her, sucking, licking, moaning. Fuck. Why didn’t I pull off her blindfold? Why didn’t I find out who she was? I groaned. Chances were I’d never see her again. Stupid f*cking me. I’d let one get away. I’d been prey to a game, and I’d lost. I never lost. No, never in my almost thirty years on this planet. I sucked in a gulp of air. My cock was heavy and beginning to pulse, and my nuts were contracting. The telltale signs I was on the brink of a major orgasm. My body stiffened, and I arched my head back. “Oh, yeah!” I cried out, but before I could come, all mouth contact was gone.