Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(6)
“There’s only one way with you, my beautiful princess. You’re mine now. Totally mine. Yes, I’m your Lord. Your master. I’m going to f*ck you for eternity. Love you until forever. And give you the happily ever after you’ve always wanted and truly deserved. But tell me, I’m yours.”
“Oh my gorgeous Lord, I’m yours for forever. I’ve never stopped loving you. And will never. Even in death, you will live in my heart. You have my undying love.”
“Jesus, my little princess. You’re making me crazy with your sweet surrender. I’m going to give you an orgasm you’ll never forget. Everyone in the kingdom will hear you cry out my name. But I want you to come with me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I pant out, unsure if I can, as much as I want to please him and have that incredible experience of oneness. Waves of ecstasy sweep through my body as I gauge his own climax. He’s close, so very close because I can feel his searing length pulsate inside me.
Then, suddenly, he stops pummeling me and after a deep, feral grunt, he roars out my name. It’s more like a wail—the cry of a wild animal that’s been mortally wounded. I don’t think he’s come. I would have felt the explosion and his release. He collapses upon me, his dead weight almost knocking me over. I snap open my eyes and gasp. Hovering over us is Katrina. A wicked, triumphant smile snakes across her face.
“Say goodbye to your Prince Charming!” she snickers.
“What have you done?” A sudden wave of panic washes over me, and then reality stabs me so hard I feel my heart bleed.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!!” My six-inch glass heel is wedged deep in Brandon’s back. An inordinate amount of blood soaks through the fine fabric of his jacket. I watch in horror as she slowly withdraws the sharp, bloodied spike. I immediately put my hand to Brandon’s wound, hoping I can stop the flow of his blood. It’s futile. The warm crimson liquid seeps through my fingers, but I can feel his labored breaths. The small rise and fall of his chest. Oh my God. He’s still alive but barely.
“Oh, my Prince. My Lord. My Master! Please don’t die on me! Please!!! His cock grows limp inside me. All life is ebbing from him. Sobs wrack my body. With my free hand, I fist his silky hair and lift up his head from my breasts. His eyes are open just a sliver, allowing a glint of violet light to slip through the lids. He sees me, and the faintest of smiles curls his lush lips.
“I swore, I would kill for you…and die for you, my sweet princess. Only for you.” His voice is a mere whisper.
“No, No, No! Oh Brandon, my love! Take that back! Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me! You promised you’d love me forever!”
“I…will…love…you…” Each word is a harsh breath. “For—”
Impulsively, as he takes his last breath, I slam my lips onto his, and parting them, I breathe into his mouth. Aren’t kisses in fairy tales magical? The kisses of life?
In my ears, Katrina’s maniacal laugh reverberates. “You pathetic girl. Fairy tales don’t come true. Such stupid urban myths. There’s only an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth. You took him away from me. And now, I’ve taken him away from you.” She laughs again, more maniacally and louder.
“You wicked bitch!” I sob out. The sequins of her dress blind me.
“You know what they say. Nice girls finish last. Time to say goodbye to your life, you fat slut!”
“NOOOOOOO!!!!” A deafening scream pours out of my mouth as she aims the sharp heel dripping with blood between my eyes. Gucci barks madly, but it’s too late…
Fade to black. In a cold sweat, I blink my eyes open and try to take hold of my bearings. I’m dazed and confused. And sobbing.
“Are you okay, Ms. Hart?” comes an unfamiliar female voice before I can get a grip. How does she know my name?
Reality slaps me across the face at the realization of my real-life unhappily ever after. Still blubbering, I nod. I’m on a plane, heading back to LA. I must have fallen asleep and had a terrifying nightmare. Katrina took Brandon away from me. Destroyed my fairy tale dream. My waking life, however, is far more devastating. Brandon succumbed to her. He chose her over me. And he let me go. I’m bereft of both the job and the man I loved with all my heart and soul. Beautiful memories of Cannes do a slow, sad dance in my head until they’re abruptly curtailed by the email Brandon sent me. With my eidetic memory, I can see the cold-hearted words in my mind as if I’m reading them off a computer screen. I have no choice but to terminate your employment contract effective immediately. He even threatened me with legal action should I ever talk to the media about him. I hit delete, but the bone-crushing words are permanently etched on my brain. I wish I could forget them. And forget him. Delete him from my mind. Rip him out of my heart. My soreness prevents me. I can still feel the sting of his lashes on my ass and the throb of my * with the hum of the plane. My clit aches as much as an open wound. I know these sensations will go away, but the ache in my heart will always stay. Brandon Taylor will always be unforgettable. My shoulders heave and my wails grow louder.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” asks the flight attendant again, her eyes narrowing with concern. “Are you having some kind of episode?”
The word “episode” only upsets me further. I was supposed to be going to the red carpet screening of the last episode of Kurt Kussler, the season finale, with Brandon tonight. But now, he’ll be going with another. America’s stunning It Girl—his fiancée, Katrina. How could I have been so blind? So blind, so na?ve, so stupid? I gave myself to him—my body, my heart, and my soul. And now all that remains is a pathetic skeleton of who I am. There’s nothing left in my life that matters. I fight back the nausea that rises to my empty chest and manage two little words: “I’m fine.” I’m so very far from fine it’s a joke. I choke back sobs against the giant lump in my throat.