Текст книги "Unforgettable"

Автор книги: Nelle L'Amour

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Brandon

Flash! My eyes flutter madly. My head hurts. I’m having a memory breakthrough. I remember something and silently curse. I hate this shit. It’s a goddamn circus. A media frenzy. The part of being a megastar that I despise. Our limo pulls up to the entrance of the Beverly Hilton, and even before we step out of the car, paparazzi storm us. Click! Click! Click! The never-ending flashes blind my eyes and clog my eardrums. I fake a megawatt Hollywood smile when really what I want to do is smash each and every one of these assholes’ cameras. Wearing Katrina on my arm like a clunky piece of jewelry, the walk of fame down the red carpet feels like an eternity. That’s because my fiancée insists on talking to every E! Entertainment reporter who accosts her and mugging for the paparazzi and glamcams. While zealous fans gathered outside the hotel are roaring “We love you, Bratrina!” and hoping to get a shot of us with their phones, I seriously feel like Mr. Katrina Moore.

A fashion blogger runs up to Katrina. “I love your dress. Who are you wearing?”

“Monique Hervé. She’s also designing my wedding gown.”

“When are the two of you getting married?”

Looking straight into a camera, she spews the date. “Saturday, May twenty-third, six p.m. Pacific Standard Time. Check your local listings and be sure to tune into Celebrity-TV for the special edition of America’s It Girl.”

Flashing a big smile and her ring, she sounds like a walking commercial for our wedding. I want to vomit.

Another female reporter runs up to us. “Bratrina, so glad to have you here. Tell me, Brandon, with your recent accident, did you ever think you’d not see this night?”

“Well—”

Katrina cuts me off. “We always knew this moment would come. I prayed for it every minute while I sat by his bedside in the hospital.”

The reporter’s face turns to mush. “That’s so beautiful I could cry. Oh, and congratulations on your engagement. The best of luck to the both of you.”

We’re stopped yet another time. The bubbly Asian reporter shoves a mike into my face. “Congratulations on your nomination, Brandon. Do you think you’re going to win tonight?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m wearing my father’s lucky cufflinks. So there’s a chance.”

Katrina: “Darling, of course you’re going to win.”

“Is there anyone at home you want to say hello to?” the reporter asks.

Katrina grabs the mike. “Hi, Mommy.” She waves. “And Daddy, if you’re watching this from prison, just know I love you.”

I have to say I’m a little touched. The reporter takes the mike and angles it back at me. “And what about you, Brandon?”

Just one person. “Yo, Zoey.” I blow her a kiss. I hope she’s watching and catches it wherever she is.

Katrina shoots me a dirty look. Make that a look that can kill.

Is everyone and their mother nominated for an award? The Emmy’s, now that I remember, are bad enough, but the Golden Globes go on ad nauseam because they cover both motion pictures and television. Oh, and now they even give awards to online shows produced by Amazon and Netflix among others.

The only thing that makes these awards bearable is that you get to eat and drink during the show. Unlike the Emmy’s where you’re trapped for hours in a stadium-sized auditorium downtown, at the Globes, you’re served a full-course gourmet dinner in the expansive but more intimate Beverly Hilton ballroom. The place looks spectacular with dazzling arrangements of flowers on every table and is overflowing with Hollywood glitterati dressed to the hilt. If I had to guess, there must be over two thousand attendees and that’s not counting the press.

Everyone looks like they’re having a blast. A chumminess saturates the room—reminiscent of a camp reunion. Hugs and kisses abound. As we make our way to our table, I’m both astounded and humbled by the number of people who stop to congratulate me and express their relief that I’m okay. Wow! Even De Niro and Scorsese give me man hugs and Glenn Close gives me a big kiss on the cheek. But most I don’t recognize on account of my amnesia. Especially those nominated for all these cable series and movies I can’t recall. Zoey’s briefing only went so far. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never catch up.

Our table consists of the Conquest Broadcasting nominees. In addition to me, there are several other stars, directors, and producers nominated, including Kurt Kussler director, Niall Davies. Also at our table is CBC production chief, Blake Burns and his lovely wife Jennifer, the head of MY-SIN TV, the women’s erotica channel that’s part of Conquest Broadcasting. We chat and I learn that several of her series are up for awards.

“When you have the time, you really must do one of our telenovelas,” she tells me over the salad course. “We’re putting Shards of Glass, another one of Arianne Richmonde’s erotic romances into development, and you’d be perfect to play the lead, Daniel Glass. Women love you. Oh, and by the way, I love Kurt Kussler. I so hope you win tonight.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “I’d love to be considered for the role if my production schedule allows.” So far, except for a short hiatus over the summer, the chances aren’t good.

She takes a sip of her champagne. “Oh, and I suppose I should congratulate you on your engagement. I’m glad it’s working out between you and Kat. More than you’ll ever know.”

Just like Blake, she calls my fiancée Kat. She’s a little bit more supportive of our nuptials though hardly what I’d call enthusiastic. There’s something unspoken. Do I really know the whole story? Maybe there’s more to learn, but tonight’s not the night.

Katrina is seated on the other side of me. After a very cold but cordial hello to both Jennifer and Blake, she’s been on good behavior. Thank God. Most of the time, to be honest, she’s been working the room, hobnobbing with every A-list celebrity, talking to reporters, and posing for photographers. And when she’s not up and about, she’s been tweeting non-stop, snapping photos, and taking selfies with her iPhone.

Comediennes Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are co-hosting this year’s awards, and they’ve had the audience roaring with laughter. Though they’re not on my memory radar, they’re two funny chicks. While their opening jibe about Bratrina becoming a popular baby name and their ensuing Kurt Kussler “Get it. Got it? Good.” spoof had me flushing with embarrassment, the audience was in stitches as was Katrina. The presenters, however, haven’t been as entertaining, and now they’re going through a phase of documentary film awards that I could care less about. Naturally, they leave all the big awards like mine to the end so viewers will stay tuned. I’m getting restless, plus Katrina is bugging me to take selfies with her that she can post on Instagram. No thank you. During a commercial break, I take a run to the little boys’ room.

There are a couple of men taking leaks in the bathroom, none of whom I recognize. I find an empty stall and sit down on the toilet seat. I don’t really need to take a dump. I just need a quiet place where no one will fawn all over me. I mean, it’s nice to feel the love, but it can get to be too much. And besides, there’s only one person I want to talk to. I pull out my phone from my trouser pocket and text Zoey.

Are u watching?

I hit send and wait impatiently for a reply. Finally.

Yes. I saw u on the red carpet.

:) Are u alone?

For some reason, I’m sorry I asked that question after I hit send. My pulse accelerates waiting for her reply.

No.

My stomach twists.

Who are u with?

It’d better be a girlfriend. Or her mother.

Someone really cute.

My blood runs cold. It’s her fucking boyfriend.

We’re cuddling in bed.

My blood sizzles.

WHO?

Teddy.

Jesus. A new boyfriend?

Teddy who?

Bear. LOL! We’re sharing a quart of Häagen-Dazs.

Relieved, I smile.

What flavor?

Coffee chip.

My fave. :)

I know. I stole it from your freezer.

I laugh.

U better replace it.

I will.

What do u think of the show?

Boooring! But Tina and Amy are funny.

Agree. What’s going on now?

They’re giving the Best Actress in a TV Drama award.

Who won?

Julianna Margulies for The Good Wife.

Oh.

BTW, where are u?

Men’s room.

Taking a dump?

No. Just texting u.

No shit! LOL!

:-D

Shit!

What’s wrong?

They’re about to announce the Best Actor in a Television Series…Drama!!!! They mentioned ur name!

Fuck!

I leap up from the toilet seat and dash out of the bathroom.

Jet-propelling myself back to the ballroom, I dig my hand into my breast pocket to retrieve my acceptance speech should I win. Except it isn’t there. I fucking forgot it!

My heart beats into a frenzy as I speed dial Zoey. Panicked, I shout into the phone. “Email me my speech!”

Silence.

“Zoey, what’s going on?”

“Hmm…can’t find it.”

“What?”

“It must not have saved. Just wing it.”

“Balls!”

“Oh my God! You just won. They’re looking for you! Hurry!”

“I’m almost there!” I end the call and slip the phone back into the pocket.

My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I race into the ballroom and sprint up to the stage. Applause and cheers boom in my ears. I can’t believe it. I won the Golden Globe!

Breathless, I accept the award from my presenter, Kevin Spacey. All eyes are on me. I take a deep, calming breath, but my heart’s still beating a hundred miles a minute. Clutching my award, I manage to get my brain to communicate with my mouth.

“WOW! This is amazing and so unexpected. Thank you members of the Hollywood Foreign Press. Um…uh, I also want to thank Conquest Broadcasting and Blake Burns for believing in Kurt Kussler…my incredible producer, Doug DeMille and his stellar production team…my talented, wonderful co-stars, Kellie Fox and Jewel Starr…my outstanding fellow nominees…my dear parents, Phyllis and Edward, and my mentor, Bella Stadler…and last but not least, I want to thank my beautiful assistant, Zoey Hart, for all you do for me. Love you!”

I triumphantly hold up the award and soak in the audience. Holy shit! A standing ovation! Everyone is applauding and cheering wildly except one person. Katrina. She’s in her seat, seething.

What the hell?

Zoey

Jumping up and down on my bed, I’m literally doing a happy dance. I don’t even care if I break a spring and the mattress crashes to the floor. I can’t believe it! Brandon just won the Golden Globe and thanked me on national television! In front of a gazillion people! Called me beautiful! And then said, “Love you.”

My cell phone rings. The strings of my heart go zing. It must be him. I hop off the bed and make a beeline for my phone. A tinge of disappointment. It’s Jeffrey. We’re on FaceTime.

“Girl, that was so exciting!”

“You’re watching the awards?” My TV’s still on, but I’m not paying attention.

“Of course. You’re practically a household name. You’re already trending on Twitter.”

I laugh and then laugh harder when he tells me about Katrina.

“Did you see the expression on Katrina’s face when Brandon thanked you?”

I tell him I missed that.

“Don’t worry. I recorded everything. There was a camera on her. Everyone in the audience stood up and gave Brandon a standing ovation except her. She was fuming. I thought she was going to throw a plate at the lens.”

My laughter dies down, but a question burns on my tongue. “Jeffrey, I have to ask you something.” I can tell him anything. And you can always count on a gay guy to tell it like it is. Brutal honesty.

“Shoot, Zoester.”

“You know, when he said ‘love you’? What do you think he meant by that?”

“Honey, this man’s going to sweep you off your feet.”

The breath in my throat hitches. In the corner of my eye, I glimpse the Kurt Kussler poster I shattered in a fit of madness. It’s leaning against a wall. I still haven’t fixed it, and now I regret my actions. Before I can get down on myself, Jeffrey’s boyfriend Chaz gets on FaceTime and makes me laugh again. He berates Katrina’s red carpet performance.

“Oh my friggin’ God! I wanted to barf. That bitch was in everyone’s face. I wanted to slap her! And can you believe that dress? It was so vomiticious! Oh and when Brandon blew you a kiss, she practically blew a fuse.”

I’m laughing my head off. I so love Jeffrey and Chaz. They’re my equivalent of Cinderella’s chattering, adorable, supportive mice. We watch the rest of the Golden Globes together, and we all squeal when Kurt Kussler wins for “Best Drama Series” near the very end. The cast and crew rush to the stage and swarm a blown-away Brandon. Executive Producer Doug DeMille speaks for them all. What a night for the show! What a night for Brandon! What a night for me! I only wish I could be there with Brandon to celebrate.

After Tina and Amy congratulate all the winners and thank everyone for watching, I bid Jeffrey and Chaz goodnight. In no time, I’m hugging Teddy, dreaming of my Prince Charming.

The subconscious is a strange place. When I doze off, all of tonight’s events come together in a fantastical dream that plays out in my head like a surreal fairy tale.

It’s the night of the most anticipated event in Lalaland. The Golden Globe Ball. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. A glittering gathering of Hollywood royalty. It’s being given by Prince Brandon, the most eligible and handsome bachelor in the land. Rumor has it he’s seeking the woman of his dreams—his princess bride. He’s my idol. My sigh master. The love of my life. I long to attend, but my chances are nil.

“I’d like to go too,” I plead to my evil stepmother, Enid, already dressed to the nines and hopeful that my stepsister will be the one to marry Prince Brandon.

She rolls her eyes. “Puh-lease. Peasants don’t attend balls.”

Her equally evil and done up daughter Katrina snorts with wicked laughter. “Mommy, she probably couldn’t even find a ball gown to fit her.”

Their words sting me like a hornet. She’s right. I can’t even fit into my beloved late mama’s beautiful vintage dresses. In her haughty voice, Katrina demands that I zip up her coral ball gown. Reluctantly, I do as bid when what I really want to do is rip the dress off her back.

Not even a thank you.

“Now, Zoella, while we’re gone, I want you to mop the floor and polish the furniture,” pouts Enid as she heads toward the front door, arm in arm with her stunning daughter.

I sigh silently. I’m more of servant than a stepdaughter. I’m thanklessly worked to the bone. Expected to tend to their every whim and need. Dear Papa had no clue when he married Enid and left her his two cents.

Their imposing black limo awaits them outside, leaving me behind with Katrina’s sweet little white mutt, Gucci. Weighted with gloom, I sink into the couch. Life’s so not fair. The fluffy pup dances around my feet, licking my ankles in an attempt to cheer me up. With tears in my eyes, I gather him up in my lap.

“Oh, Gooch, it’s futile. They’re right. I’m just a no one.” My tears give way to uncontrollable sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut while my body heaves. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying when Gucci barks madly, hurtling me out of my misery. My eyes blink open and my jaw drops to the floor. Standing before me are two boyishly handsome men dressed alike in flamboyant sequined jumpsuits. Each holds a sparkling wand.

“Who are you?” I gasp.

“We’re your fairy godmothers,” says the slightly taller of the two. “I’m Jeffrey and this is my life partner, Chaz.”

“Wow! I have two fairy godmothers?”

“Double the pleasure. Double the fun,” they reply in unison.

“Now, darling, dry your tears,” says Chaz. “It’s bad for your complexion.”

“And you can’t go to the ball with red eyes,” chimes in Jeffrey.

My eyes grow wide. “I’m going to the ball?”

“That’s the goal here.” Chaz surveys me.

I look down at my sweats and then back at Chaz. “But I have nothing to wear.”

“No worries. I’m a fashion designer by day, a fairy godmother by night.”

Jeffrey glances at his Mickey Mouse watch. “Oh dear, we’re going to have to work fast. Are you ready?”

With a nod, I squeal out an eager “yes.”

“Chaz, do you remember the incantation?” Jeffrey asks his partner.

“Abracadabra?”

Jeffrey rolls his eyes dismissively “No, honey, that’s so last year. It’s bippity-boppity-boo.”

Chaz blushes. “Right.”

I stand as still as a statue while the twosome recite the magic words and wave their glittery wands. On my next breath, I find myself shrouded in a cloud of sparkling fairy dust. And when the dust settles, I’m dressed in the most beautiful ball gown I’ve ever set eyes on. A sexy tulle and lace pouf in a color that’s reminiscent of Prince Brandon’s famous violet eyes. I gasp. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful!” Tears of joy spring to my eyes.

Proud of their handiwork, my two fairy godmothers give me the once over.

“We need to accessorize,” comments Jeffrey.

“Totally.” Reciting another incantation, Chaz waves his magic wand. With a whoosh, he transforms my worn slippers into shimmering glass stilettos and my tears into a breathtaking pair of diamond teardrop earrings.

“Come look at yourself, honey,” says Jeffrey. Taking me by the hand, he leads me to a floor-to-ceiling gold-leaf mirror. I gasp at my reflection. I hardly recognize myself. My hair is done up in a crown of dark curls, and I’m wearing a stunning spaghetti-strap dress that hugs all my curves and compliments my cleavage. I look like a princess! And then my heart sinks.

“Fairy Godmothers, how am I going to get to the ball?” The thought of driving my little Mini-Cooper in this voluminous gown doesn’t sit well. Plus, I’m so anxious I’ll probably get into an accident. Or pee.

“No worries. Where’s your car?” asks Jeffrey. “I’m an event planner by day. I’m a whiz at these things.”

I tell him it’s in the driveway, and on my next inhale, the duo escorts me outside. Wagging his tail, Gooch trails behind us. Jeffrey waves his magic wand over the miniscule white car, and before my stunned eyes, it magically transforms into a majestic Rolls Royce. It’s fit for Hollywood royalty.

“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s outrageous, but there’s no way I can drive that to the ball. I’ll crash it for sure.”

“No worries.” Grinning, Jeffrey recites another incantation over panting Gooch, shrouding him in a pouf of fairy dust. My eyes grow wide again as the little dog magically transforms into an adorable shaggy, white-haired livery.

“Meet your new driver.” Jeffrey beams.

“Shall we, Madame?” says Gooch, gallantly opening the passenger door for me with a sweep of his arm.

Pinch me. This can’t be real. I slip into the car as gracefully as I can while Gooch gets into the driver’s seat.

“Get ready to par-tay,” chants Chaz.

“Enjoy the ball,” chimes in Jeffrey. “But there’s one caveat. At the last stroke of midnight, our spell will be broken. The Rolls will turn back into a Mini, the driver back into a mutt, and you back to a simple servant girl.”

A shiver skitters up my spine, but I’m still grateful for the incredible opportunity they’ve given me. “Fairy Godmothers! How can I ever thank you?”

“Give us hugs and be off. Have fun!” replies Jeffrey with a smile.

“Oh, and give the Prince a kiss from us,” adds in Chaz.

In twenty short magical minutes, we pull up to the entrance of the Prince’s majestic palace. It looks just like the castle at Disneyland. The valets take the car and escort me to the ballroom. For the third time tonight, my eyes grow as wide as spinning saucers. It’s a veritable spectacle filled with the glitterati of Hollywood. All eyes are on me, but my eyes are on only one person. Heart-stoppingly beautiful Prince Brandon. Our eyes connect instantly. He meets me halfway on my walk down the red carpet until we’re a mere breath apart. His violet eyes sparkle while a dazzling smile curls on his lips.

My heart flutters, my body trembles, and my legs go weak.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes against my neck. “What is your name?”

“Zoella. But you can call me Zoey.” I’m tingling all over. Every fiber of my being is sparkling like fairy dust. For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful.

“Zoey, may I please have this dance,” he asks me. It’s more of a command than a question.

Before I can respond, a perturbed Katrina clamors up to us. “Brandon, you promised you’d dance with me!” She shoots me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here look.

Prince Brandon shoves her away. She lands hard on her bony ass at the feet of her nearby mother and shrieks.

“Mommy, do something!”

Her shrieks fade in the distance as Brandon sweeps me into his arms and waltzes me away.

I’m his. Melting into him, I lose sight of everyone around me. My body follows his as if we’re sewn together. As if we’ve danced this way forever. He draws me in closer to him. His hard body brushes against my chest and his hard length against my center. My heartbeat accelerates and wetness beads between my legs.

“C’mon, let’s blow this pop stand,” he whispers in my ear and then whisks me away.

A few breaths later, we’re in his royal highness’s private chamber. Lit by candlelight, the cavernous room is dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in violet satin and fit for a king. A tall grandfather clock sits in the corner. I can’t make out the time. I’m too distracted. Too caught up in the moment.

Bathed in the glow of the amber light, Brandon holds me tightly in his arms. His soft lips kiss my neck, shoulders, arms, and face, touching every ounce of flesh they can latch onto.

“Oh, Zoey,” he breathes against my neck. “From the minute I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”

My heart beating a mile a minute, my skin heating with fever, I lift my head and meet his smoldering gaze. Those violet eyes that dance with a glint of lust and love.

“Oh, Brandon. I’ve dreamt about you forever.”

Before I can say another word, his luscious mouth captures mine and he continues our erotic dance with his warm waltzing tongue. Each sensuous sweep takes me further to the edge until we’re entwined on a precipice. Fisting his silky hair, I deepen the kiss. I can’t get enough of him.

Without losing contact with my mouth, he tugs at the back zipper of my gown, and glides the dress down my body until it puddles at my feet. To my shock, I’m totally bare and wonder if my fairy godmothers deliberately left out underwear. Pulling away from me, Brandon beholds me. I feel terribly naked and ashamed under his gaze, but his sincere words ease my discomfort.

“Zoey, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined. A vision of womanly perfection.”

While I tremble with rapture, his mouth repossesses mine with a fierce kiss and his hands coast from my ass to my tits, lingering on all my curves. Moaning into my mouth, he gropes my bare breasts. His thumbs rub my sensitive nipples and send a tingly rush of wetness to my sex. My hands move back to his head, but this time I cradle his gorgeous face between my fingers. Capturing one of my wrists, he places a hand between his thighs. His hot rigid length sears my palm. He’s as aroused as I am. I feel the fiery desire that’s consuming us both.

“Oh, Zoey, you make me feel so good,” he breathes into my mouth, breaking the delicious kiss. His lips return to mine yet again before he rips off his clothes in a fit of passion. My fingernails dig deep into his heated flesh as he scoops me into his arms and lays me down on his regal bed. The sea of satin sheets feels cool against my flaming skin.

He climbs onto the bed. Every inch of his virile magnificence makes my skin prickle. I’ve never set eyes on a man as beautiful as he is. And have never wanted anyone more. Straddling me, his muscled legs pressed against my hips, he trails hot kisses from the ticklish crook of my neck, all over my breasts, and then past my abdomen until his head is buried between my thighs. After an inhale, he kisses my delicate folds with urgency and reverence.

“Oh, my sweet Zoey. You smell and taste divine. And you’re so hot and wet.”

“Oh, Your Highness, My Lord! What you do to me!”

“My beauty, I love that you call me Your Lord.” His hand caresses my fluttering sex, a thumb running over my quivering clit. I moan from the ecstasy he’s giving me.

“I want to own you. Possess you. Treasure you. Rule you.”

“My body is your kingdom,” I whisper.

“Your wish is my command,” he hisses back. “What do you want, Zoey?”

“I want you to ravage me.”

“You want to be my princess?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“Please, what?”

“My Lord! Oh My Lord!” My voice is a breathless, desperate plea.

“Good girl.”

On my next rapid heartbeat, he spreads my legs with his powerful knees.

“Show me what you want, Zoey.”

My hand trembling, I wrap my fingers around his pulsing girth and guide it to my ever-ready entrance. The very touch of him at my door to pleasure sends a ripple of white-hot desire to my core. I let out an audible gasp as he drives his magnificent cock inside me, one glorious inch after another. I groan at the size of him, stretching me apart, filling me beyond measure. I want him all.

“Take me, My Lord,” I cry out with equal pain and pleasure.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck you royally.” With a loud grunt, he pushes all the way into me until his shaft hits a spot that makes me wince from the impact.

“Jesus, my love. You’re so fucking tight and wet. You’re pussy fits my cock better than a glove. Like a rare glass slipper…the perfect fit.”

At his words, my muscles clench around his erection like a carnal hug.

“Christ, you’re amazing,” he sighs before pulling away. A heartbeat later, he lunges right back into me, and I groan when he hits my womb.

“Oh, Brandon, My Lord. Fuck me hard.”

“How hard?” he taunts as he withdraws again. “This hard?” He rams into me with savage force.

“Oh yes!”

On my next heated breath, he pummels me with reckless abandon, rubbing along my clit and hitting my magic spot over and over. My body arches into him, and with each thrust, my moans grow louder.

“I’ve never had anyone like you,” he mumbles breathlessly. “You feel so fucking good.”

I’m speechless. I’m too consumed with the most indescribable feeling I’ve ever experienced, his body joined with mine, his cock filling me and taking me to a place where I’ve never been.

He puts his hands under my ass, his firm grasp making me gasp again from the intensity and pure ecstasy of his thrusts. My legs wrap around his hips, wanting to hold on, wanting this to never end as an orgasm begins to crescendo inside me. I rock my hips to meet his thrusts, each breath, each thrust harsher than the one before. A symphony of our breaths, flesh against flesh, fills my ears.

“You’re so damn sexy,” he pants out, picking up his pace and jamming me harder, as if harder is possible. “I can’t fucking get enough of you.”

The pressure inside me is so intense I think I’m going to die. Fisting the satin sheets so tightly, my hands begin to ache. My desperation for a release overtakes me.

“I need to come!” I scream out, ecstasy pulsating inside me.

“Not yet, my love.”

“Please, My Lord, I beg you!” I can no longer hang on.

“No, Zoey. You will come when I say you can. I own you. Your orgasm is under my command.”

I’m so close to coming. I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming. And squeeze my eyes shut.

“Don’t hold back, Zoey. Open your eyes and let me hear you.”

I do as I’m told. But as my eyes open and meet his impassioned gaze, the sound of a gong coming from the clock chimes in my ears. Gah! I’ve lost track of time. It must be going on midnight!

“My Lord, I must go!” I panic as the gong sounds again and again.

“No, Zoey, you can’t leave.” He grips my hips tightly, holding me prisoner. “You’re mine.”

“I must!” I cry out, so close to combusting. I’m silently counting the gongs. Oh no, the clock’s on seven. I have only five seconds to escape. I can’t let him see me for who I really am.

On the next powerful thrust and a pinch of my clit, I come with a cry of his name and a release so thunderous my whole body convulses. Gong! His cock shudders inside me with his own explosive release.

“Fuck!” he roars before he slowly withdraws.

The gong goes on ten. I only have two seconds.

Frantically, I bolt up and shimmy into my gown. Still in my stilettos, I dash out of his chamber. I can hear rapid footsteps behind me. I look over my shoulder. Wrapped in a satin sheet, he’s coming after me. I run like there’s no tomorrow through the ballroom of shocked onlookers until I’m out the palace doors.

“Come back, Zoey!” Prince Brandon’s voice trails behind me.

Thank God, the valets have left my Rolls Royce parked in the driveway in front of the palace. Gooch is in the driver’s seat waiting diligently for me. But as I approach the car, I trip. A glass slipper falls off. In a panic, I pick myself up, leaving it behind.

Gong!

It’s too late! I’m too late! Before my eyes, the Rolls transforms back to my Mini, and Gooch is once again a little fluffy white dog who’s looking out the window and wagging his tail at the sight of me. Back in my baggy sweats, I clamber into the car. I turn on the ignition, but the sedan won’t start up.

Prince Brandon, with my glass slipper in one hand, runs up to me and tugs at the locked door. “Open up, Zoey. Let me in!”

I can’t face him. Touch him. Bear the pain of my desire. Finally, the ignition catches. But Brandon is still clutching the handle of the door and banging on the window.

“Brandon, please let go! Please! My Lord, I beg you!”

“Zoey, if you leave me now, I will fuck every woman in the kingdom until I find my princess. My cock belongs in only one pussy. I’ll find you again. I will know when I slip it inside you. The girl who’s the perfect fit.”

My core on fire and tears scorching my cheeks, I jam down on the gas and peel off the curb.

Another loud bang brings my dream to a screeching halt. Tossing and turning, I’m drenched in a cold sweat. But between my thighs, I feel a hot bed of moisture and relentless throbbing. The banging persists.

“Open the door, Zoey!”

Is he still clinging to the car door? I’m dazed and disoriented. Lost in a gray space between dreamland and the real world.

“Fucking open up!” The pounding grows louder.

My Prince…he’s come for me.

“Zoey, if you don’t open up, I’m going to knock down the door.”

I blink several times while my heartbeat slows down. I glance at my cell phone. It’s midnight. I made it home in time! I’m still treading the fine line between reality and fantasy.