by HELEN HARDT
“Honestly? I forgot about it. I’m sitting here after you busted into the middle of my meeting with a potential source of income and blew the whole deal. New York next week isn’t the first thing on my mind.” I meet his gaze. “Now, can you explain to me how you know about New York?”
“Eugenie called me.”
“What?” A spike of anger hits me.
“She called to let me know you’re meeting with her early next week, and she wants to take us out to dinner and asked what restaurants I liked.”
“What restaurants you like? Shouldn’t she be more interested in the restaurants I like?”
Ten more bricks to my gut. I already know Braden’s the only reason anyone’s interested in me.
“Of course, but she knows you’re not familiar with New York. I am.”
Nice try. “And she just assumed you’d be coming with me?”
Braden sighs. “Skye, stop making this bigger than it is.”
“Heather is completely right,” I say. “No one gives a shit what I think. They give a shit what Braden’s girlfriend thinks.”
He nods. “That’s a big part of it. You knew that from the beginning.”
He isn’t wrong. I do know that. When I was offered five thousand dollars to do a couple of Instagram posts, I kind of got over it.
Now? It’s bugging me, like a gnat gnawing under my skin.
But a girl needs to make a living.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’ll be commandeering my meeting with Susanne.”
“As a matter of fact, I won’t be. I’ll have meetings all day in the city as well for my own business. Remember my own business?”
Sucker punch to the stomach. In other words, my fledgling influencing business is nothing compared to Braden’s billion-dollar corporation.
Again, he isn’t wrong. But he’s still being a dick.
I stand. “I’m suddenly not hungry.”
“Sit down, Skye. Stop being petulant.”
“Fine.” I obey and sit. “Then you stop being patronizing.”
That smile tugs at the corner of his mouth again, but he’s nothing if not determined. “Deal.”
As if on cue, our oysters arrive.
“It’s time you learned how to slurp an oyster, Skye.”
Chapter Eleven
By my sixth oyster, I have the slurping thing down.
And I’m horny as hell.
Watching Braden suck an oyster off its half shell and onto his tongue is a sexy sight indeed. The man has a lethal mouth. I reach for my phone and snap a photo.
“You’re not thinking about posting that,” he says after swallowing.
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I’m thinking of doing.” I giggle. “Influencing isn’t just about sponsored posts.”
“I’m happy to pose in a selfie with you,” he says, “but oyster slurping? Not going to happen.”
I huff softly. “Fine.” I move to his side of the table, snap a quick selfie, and then sit back down in my chair.
Slurping oysters with @bradenblackinc! #unionoysterhouse #oysterslurping #bostonsfinest
I click post. Then, watching him down another one, “Are you going to try one just with a twist of lemon?” I ask.
“Sorry. I like the cocktail sauce.”
“You have a little smudge of it on the corner of your mouth,” I say.
The corners of his mouth tilt upward, and he pats his napkin to it, removing the sauce.
This man is so sexy.
“Braden…”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn’t have taken the deal with Heather.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you interfere?”
“Because I know business. Crystal’s Closet isn’t the best-run corporation, and I don’t particularly want you getting involved.”
“You just said you knew I wasn’t going to take the deal.”
“I know you wouldn’t have taken the deal as she first expressed it. The two of you may have come to terms.”
I finish off my bourbon. “What’s wrong with how they run their business?”
“They have some questionable investments.”
“Like what?”
“Suffice it to say they keep a substantial amount of their assets in banks in the Cayman Islands, which is a huge red flag.”
“Why?”
“Cayman banks are tax havens. That’s certainly not a bad thing. I have investments there myself. But Cayman banks also take confidentiality very seriously. Hence, the red flag.”
“Meaning?”
“Money laundering, Skye.”
“That’s a pretty significant accusation, Braden.”
“I’m not making an accusation. I’m just telling you it’s a red flag. If my girlfriend is going to model sexy clothes, I want to make sure the company she’s doing it for is red-flag free.”
I smile slyly. “So it’s okay for me to model sexy clothes? Just not underwear and bustiers?”
“You really want to have this conversation in public?”
“Yes,” I say adamantly. “Because it’s my body, my choice. If I want to model sexy clothes, I’ll model sexy clothes.”
“Even if I’d rather you didn’t?” He sears me with his blue gaze.
“Why not? That GQ spread showed you in skivvies, for God’s sake.”
That raucous laugh I hear so seldom flies out of his throat like holiday bells. “Skye, I’ve said it before. You are a challenge.”
I smile. Yeah, I’m still only a budding influencer because of who my boyfriend is, but I feel better.
Braden considers me a challenge.
Me. Skye Manning, a Kansas farm girl.
He’s the ultimate challenge, and I will figure him out. I will.
…
“Grasp the rungs of the headboard, Skye.”
I’m already naked, of course. Braden made quick work of my clothes as soon as we got back to his place. I expect him to tie me to the rungs as he normally does, but instead, he returns from his dresser drawer with two different types of bindings. He secures them to each outside rung of the headboard.
“Give me your hand.”
I reach toward him with my right hand. He secures it by buckling it into a leather cuff, which is attached to a thick leather cord and then to the outside rung. This is different. My arms will be spread out like a Y, but I have some movement. Interesting.
He secures my other wrist on the other side of the headboard.
“Let me know if you have any pain,” Braden says. “This shouldn’t be painful, although it is a stretch, and you will use some muscles you’re not used to using.”
“I will.”
“This is one of my favorite positions, Skye. I’ve waited a long time to try it with you.” He walks back toward the dresser but then turns to the antique wardrobe. He opens it.
I gasp.
The first time I saw this room, I wondered why a man with a giant walk-in closet needed a wardrobe.
Now I know.
The wardrobe is filled with…implements. Braden returns to the bed with what appears to be a step stool, only it’s not high enough to help anyone but the tallest person reach something. The top is cushioned with black leather.
“Lift your hips,” he commands.
I obey, and he slides the stool underneath me.
Then he gazes at me, subtly licking his lips. “Very nice.”
I say nothing, just absently tug on the bindings holding me.
“Careful,” he says. “Your instinct is to tug, but if you stretch your muscles too far, you’ll be in pain tomorrow. Not terrible pain or anything, but you’ll feel like you did some hard lifting.”
“All right.” I force my arms to relax.
&nb
sp; “I have a marvelous view of your pussy from here,” he says. “Already I see how wet you are for me.”
My body quivers. Braden, of course, is still fully dressed, as usual. But he looks delectable. His lips full and firm, and his hands with those beautiful, thick fingers. I want them inside me.
He grabs one of my legs at the ankle. “I want to see how flexible you are. I’m going to bring your leg forward, and if it starts to pull too harshly, tell me to stop.”
I’m not as flexible as Tessa—she out-yogas me every weekend—but still, I’m flexible enough. I keep my legs straight, and it isn’t until my leg and my body form an acute angle that I tell him enough.
“Very nice.” He repeats with the other leg. “Very nice indeed. I’ll be able to bind your legs in many different positions.”
I tingle. He’s never bound my legs before, and while the idea intrigues me, with my arms bound, the only way I can touch him is with my legs. I can wrap them around his back, slide my calves over the globes of his butt, glide my feet down his hard thighs and calves.
“Not tonight,” he says. “We need to ease into that. I want to see how you do with this new form of arm binding. Remember to relax.”
I’m tugging again. I didn’t even notice, but he’s right. I consciously relax my arms once more, trying to think of them as rubber bands.
“I’m wondering… Should I blindfold you tonight?”
Is he asking for my opinion? I have no idea, so I say nothing.
“I think I’ll let you keep your sense of sight tonight,” he says. “I want you to see me fuck you. In fact…I want you to see everything.”
Am I supposed to answer? He hasn’t told me not to speak.
“Whatever you want,” I say.
“Good answer.” He smiles slightly as he loosens his tie. “I’m going to undress for you now, Skye. Slowly. I want you to watch every deliberate movement I make, and I want you to tell me what you’re feeling as you watch me.”
“Okay. Right now I feel like I want you inside me.”
“Easy. You know we always get to that. Focus on your sense of sight tonight, Skye. I told you I want you to see everything. Tell me what the sight of me does to you.”
I nod, unconsciously moving my hips. Somehow, the slight elevation makes me move better.
Braden throws his tie over the back of the chair and unbuttons his shirt to reveal his white tank. He brushes the cotton dress shirt over his shoulders, bearing them.
I suck in a breath. “I love your shoulders. They’re so tanned and broad.”
He doesn’t respond, simply pulls the tank over his head and tosses it.
My nipples are hard, and they’re yearning for his fingers, his lips, his teeth.
“You’re not telling me what the sight of me does to you, Skye.”
“My nipples are so hard,” I say. “I want you to touch them, to kiss them and suck them.”
He unhooks his belt and kicks off his shoes. Then he unzips his pants, slides them over his hips, and steps out of them. He stands only in boxer briefs and socks. His bulge is huge.
“Braden, you’re gorgeous. I want you so much right now.” He removes his socks quickly, slides off his boxer briefs, and steps out of them.
His cock juts out long, hard, and thick.
“I’m so wet, Braden. So damned wet. I need you inside me. I need your lips on my nipples.”
He approaches the bed and sits down. “Look at me.”
I meet his fiery blue gaze.
“Do not take your eyes from mine,” he commands. “Watch me. Watch my eyes as I fuck you. Tonight is about seeing, Skye. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Tell me what you see.”
“I see you, Braden. I see your beautiful blue eyes looking at me. I’ve never felt so beautiful as I feel when you’re looking at me.”
“You are beautiful. Very beautiful.”
“And you’re magnificent.”
“I want you watching now. Not feeling, not hearing, not talking, not smelling or tasting. Simply seeing.”
“Okay, Braden.”
He brushes past me, completely ignoring my breasts.
“Braden…”
He swats me lightly on my thigh. “I said no talking.”
I nod. Yeah, he did. I can handle no talking. How am I supposed to not hear or smell?
How in the world am I supposed to not feel?
He lightly trails his fingers over the tops of my thighs. I shudder. It feels as though butterfly wings are fluttering against me.
Except I’m not supposed to be feeling.
Concentrate on what you see, I tell myself.
His hands are large and manly. And they’re touching me. His gorgeous hands are touching my thighs. It’s a beautiful sight, and I begin to understand what he’s asking of me.
He leans down and brushes his lips slightly over my navel. Now I realize why he’s using such a light touch. He wants me to concentrate on what I see.
His lips pucker slightly each time he kisses me. Full and firm and dark pink. Then he positions himself between my legs and he closes his eyes. I take a second to appreciate his male beauty. He inhales, and a slight smile emerges. He likes the smell of me. I already know this, but watching it on his face makes it so much more profound.
Then he opens his eyes, and they’re smoldering.
Just seeing the effect in his eyes awakens new needs in my body. I’m already wet, my nipples are already straining, but the vision of Braden wanting me forces every cell in my body to come to life.
I’m hot. My hips rise, almost of their own accord, as I search for him to fill me. All from seeing the effect I have on his eyes.
He spreads my legs farther apart and lowers his head. His eyes smolder, and a groan vibrates from him into me.
He inhales again, and my body responds, tingling and yearning.
Then—
My phone rings, a muffled tune coming from my purse on the nightstand.
Chapter Twelve
“Ignore it,” he commands.
I obey, and oddly, though I wonder briefly who was calling me at this hour, I’m able to let it go.
That’s so unlike me.
I can’t take my gaze off Braden. The glory of seeing him, concentrating on the beauty of his movements, entrances me.
He lowers his lips and gives my clit a quick nip.
I jerk wildly. I’m not supposed to be feeling, but how can I not? Still, I try to focus on what I see. Braden’s lips circled around my clit. He nips again and then once more. His tongue slides over my clit and downward until I can no longer see its movements.
What I can see? His eyes. His heavy-lidded, beautiful blue eyes, and they never leave mine.
He licks my folds, and still, I concentrate on his gaze. He’s focused—so focused—on me. How have I never noticed that before? How much it pleases him to give me pleasure?
Is he going to let me come tonight? And what if I do? Will that mean I’m disobeying him? Because I can’t come without feeling it. That’s completely impossible.
Still, he looks at me, slides his tongue inside me, and then forces a finger inside my channel.
He stops licking me, leaving my clit alone. I continue to do as he asks.
I look.
I see.
My juices glisten on his chin and lips. The muscles in his forearm tense and contract as he fingers me. His dick is hard between his legs.
Should I tell him what I see?
No, he told me not to talk.
How have I never before understood how powerful the sense of sight is? When I separate it from the other senses, it takes over, and my body responds. I pull at the bindings absently and then quickly remember to ease the tension.
I expect him to speak, but he doesn’t.
Braden is normally very vocal during lovemaking, but then I realize what he’s doing. He told me not to hear, just to see. He’s helping me.
I smile, meeting his gaze. Though he doesn’t return the smile, he does withdraw his finger and swiftly moves to thrust his dick inside me. He reaches upward, bracing his hands on the headboard. No kiss. As much as I love a kiss when he fucks me, I won’t be getting one.
I can’t see anything when he kisses me.
He positioned us perfectly so I can look directly into his eyes as he fucks me, but I can also lift my neck and watch him going in and out of me.
And my God, it’s a beautiful sight.
His massive dick disappears fully inside my body, and though I feel so complete, I set that feeling aside and simply concentrate on the sight of him embedded inside me.
It’s intoxicating. Truly intoxicating.
He pulls out then, and I marvel at the length and thickness of him, that I can take him inside my body so comfortably, indeed so erotically.
He’s going slowly, which isn’t the norm for him. He’s doing it so I can watch. So I can see the beauty of our bodies coming together.
He doesn’t tell me to watch.
He no longer has to, because I cannot look away.
He pushes back into me slowly, holds our bodies together for a few seconds as I gaze into his eyes, and then he pulls out, again so slowly. I imprint the visual in my mind, the head of his cock teasing my lips, but then—
“Fuck it,” he grunts, and he thrusts into me hard.
Slowly is over, but still I watch as he pistons his hips and fucks me hard. One thrust, another, another, another, until—
He buries himself inside me so deeply, and though I’m not supposed to feel, I can’t help it. He pulsates inside me. I regard his face, perspiration emerging on his brow line and moistening his black hair. His eyes are closed, and a subtle shudder racks his body.
This is what Braden looks like when he comes. I’ve always known it, but I’ve never taken the time to appreciate it. To see it.
Until now.
He finishes his climax and then rolls off me. He rests on his back and closes his eyes, breathing rapidly.
