“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. f*ck
. 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 f*ck
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 p*ssy
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 p*ssy
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 f*ck
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 p*ssy
a nice slap, and as she yelps, I kiss her clit and suck away the sting.