Darkly (Follow Me)

by HELEN HARDT

  “Okay,” I say. “You asked. That’s what’s important.”

  “So I agreed. I agreed because I’m new at this and I want my name out there.”

  I nod. “I can’t fault your logic.”

  “So it’s all decided. Tammy emails me the contract, and I sign it electronically and send it back. Then—seriously, like, a minute later—I get an email back from her canceling the balloon ride for the next day. She said they didn’t have availability after all. Still, I expect her to send the countersigned contract later.”

  “Why didn’t she send it with the email?”

  “Well, I’m getting to that. I get in Instagram to check my first Susanne post, and it’s doing really well. That makes me think of Addie, so I head to her profile out of curiosity.”

  “You haven’t blocked her?”

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  “I saw the nasty comments she made on your first Susanne post.”

  “Did you? I deleted them as soon as I saw them.” She smiles coyly. “Are you checking up on me?”

  I’m a grown man. I don’t embarrass easily. But at this moment, my cheeks are warming. “Just curious,” I say. “About your new venture. I figured you’d block her.”

  “I thought about it pretty seriously,” she says, “but I ultimately decided not to for a couple of reasons.”

  “Which are…?”

  “Well, she’s a major influencer, so I can learn a lot from how she does things.”

  “And the real reason?” I ask.

  She smiles. “You’re too much. How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Ancient secret,” I say. Except it’s no secret at all. Much of Skye reminds me of myself.

  “The real reason,” she says, “is twofold. I don’t want to be the immature person who can’t deal with anyone who disagrees with me. That’s Addie, not me. And I also want to keep an eye on her.”

  “Well done,” I say.

  “I have a good teacher.”

  She smiles again, and damn, that chain is calling me.

  “So,” she continues, “I get on her profile, and you’ll never guess what I find.”

  Except I’ve already guessed. “Don’t tell me. A balloon ride.”

  “Yup. Her post is all about how she’s going up in a balloon with New England Adventures tomorrow. She even used a hashtag #takingtothesky, which sounds an awful lot like the name of the campaign Tammy pitched to me.”

  “So you think Addison somehow got wind of the offer and went to this Tammy?”

  “How can I not think that? I haven’t received the countersigned contract yet, and it’s been three days. They canceled the balloon flight on me with the excuse they didn’t have availability, but apparently they have availability to take Addison Ames up that same day?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how she found out, but she did. And here’s the thing, Braden. They could only pay me two thousand dollars. Addie won’t even think about posting for less than twenty grand.”

  “It’s possible they offered her more,” I say, though I doubt my own words.

  “I don’t think so. They’re a small operation. Addie must have agreed to do it for two. Just to get me.”

  I flatten my lips into a line as a spark of anger ignites in my veins.

  I don’t ever think I’ve been angrier with Addison Ames that I am in this moment, and I’ve been ready to blow my top at her many times before.

  I agree with Skye. This has Addie’s stench all over it.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I say.

  “No! That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to get involved. This is my problem.”

  “All it’ll take is a quick call to your balloon place.”

  “Please. No. That’s not why I told you.”

  “Then why did you tell me?”

  She doesn’t reply, just parts her lips in the way that drives me wild.

  “Skye, when you tell me about a problem, I find a solution. It’s what I do.”

  “I’m not asking for a solution. Please. I’ll handle this myself.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Definitely sure. Let’s just have dinner.”

  I won’t push her. Not on how she chooses to handle her career. To handle Addie.

  I’ll be doing enough pushing in the bedroom.

  The salmon en croute with asparagus and walnut sauce is delicious, but Skye hardly touches hers.

  “Don’t let Addie ruin the evening for you,” I tell her.

  “I’m not. I won’t. Addie doesn’t control me.”

  “Good girl,” I say, adding to myself, Only I control you.

  “Do you want some more champagne?” I nod toward the bottle sitting in ice.

  She smiles. “You know what I’d really like?”

  “Wild Turkey?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  I head to the bar. No one waylays me this time, as everyone’s busy eating dinner. I bring back two bourbons.

  Skye takes a sip, but her mood is still subdued.

  Again, I don’t press. She eventually eats about half her food.

  Dessert is served, and then George takes center stage.

  “Thank you all for being here tonight,” he says. “I’m happy to report that we’ve surpassed our expected donations for the evening thanks to our generous benefactor, who has doubled all our receipts. Please give a hand to Boston’s own Braden Black.”

  I stand to thunderous applause. I’ve learned to take the appreciation and applause gracefully and sit down after several seconds when it begins to wane.

  George continues speaking, and I turn to Skye. “Time to go.”

  “Now? While he’s talking?”

  “Yes. Now. Before I tear that dress off you right here.”

  Chapter Fifty

  I insisted that Christopher take a rare night off and I ordered a limo.

  “Where’s Christopher?” Skye asks when we’re secure in the limo.

  “He has the night off.”

  “Oh.”

  “You didn’t really think I could wait until we got to my place to have you, did you?”

  She gulps. “I…didn’t think about it.”

  I move toward her, softly brush her straps off her shoulders, baring her breasts, and then give the chain between them a good yank.

  She cries out.

  “That’s right. I’ve been thinking about those nipple clamps all night, Skye. Every time I looked at you. Every time someone else looked at you.”

  “No one looked at me,” she says.

  “Not blatantly, no. They wouldn’t dare. But they looked, baby, and every time they did, I thought about what I’d do to you tonight in this limo. What I, and no one else, would be doing to you.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  I yank the chain again. “I’m going to drive you as wild as you’ve driven me all evening.” I crush my mouth to hers.

  She opens instantly as I continue to pull on the chain in tandem with the thrusts of my tongue.

  With one swift movement, I have her on my lap, her dress around her waist and her clamped nipples in full view. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss as the rhythm of my yanks on the chain becomes discordant and nonsensical. I’m enthralled. Intoxicated. Wild with passion as I tantalize her nipples. Finally, I pull my mouth away from hers, her lips swollen and parted just so.

  “God, those tits.” I lift her skirt and rip her panties off her. Then, holding her to the side, I unbuckle my belt, slide my pants and boxer briefs over my hips, all with my one free hand. My cock juts out, hard. “Have to have you now.” I grip her hips and push her down onto my erection.

  I’ve been aching all night for this—this homecoming, this joining of our bodies, this shoving of my cock into her heat. Every time
I looked at her—those lips parted, those nipples hard, those brown eyes so warm and intense. She sits on me, all pink and creamy, and just once—just this once—I’ll give her the control she craves.

  “Ride me, Skye,” I say huskily.

  She begins to fuck me hard and fast. I don’t care that the driver is right behind the wall. She doesn’t seem to care, either. She moans, gasps, cries out my name, all the while knowing the chauffeur can hear us.

  My fingers never leave the chain between her breasts, and I pull on it in the same discordant way as she fucks me. Her nipples are sticking out farther than I’ve ever seen them, and they’re red from pinching.

  Fuck. I made them red. Gorgeous red.

  Her boobs bounce as she fucks me harder and harder.

  “Damn. Those tits,” I say again, yanking on the chain.

  Then I grip her hips, taking over the thrusting. This is my rhythm now, and as I take over, I twist the chain between her nipples tight, parachuting her into an intense climax.

  A moment later, I’m releasing, slamming her down onto me. With every spurt, I grow closer and closer to that place inside me. That place I never go.

  That place I never thought I’d want to share with another person.

  I’m no longer perplexed. No longer disturbed.

  I’m fucking in love.

  In love with Skye Manning.

  And scared out of my wits.

  When we both finally come down from our high, I can’t move.

  I embrace her, holding her close—something I’ve done very seldom.

  I think about how she’s consumed my thoughts since we met, how I left New York early for her and then had to stop myself from doing it again.

  How I walked through the Diamond District and couldn’t resist buying gifts for her.

  How I wanted to pummel everyone who looked at her tonight—which was every man, and quite a few women—at the gala.

  How I couldn’t bear the thought of her heartbreak over the little puppy at the shelter.

  I smile against her hair.

  “We’ll be home soon,” I say. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The limo arrives, and the driver opens the door for us.

  I thank him and we walk into my building. I call the elevator.

  Skye says nothing as we ascend. Nothing as the door opens.

  Nothing as—

  “Oh my God!” She clamps her hand over her mouth.

  Sasha runs toward us, and she has a friend.

  The puppy from the shelter. Skye grabs her and holds her, and the tiny dog peppers Skye’s face with puppy kisses.

  Joy. Pure joy in the smile on her lips, in her dancing brown eyes. And on my end? I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life to see Skye so happy. I’m feeling pure joy, too.

  And damn, it’s been a long time.

  “You like her?” I ask.

  “I love her! I adore her. How did you know?”

  “Tessa called me.”

  “But…you know I can’t keep her. My apartment doesn’t—”

  I place two fingers over her lips. “I know. She’ll live here with Sasha and me until you get a new place.”

  Or until you move in with me.

  The thought doesn’t even surprise me. It scares the hell out of me, but it doesn’t surprise me.

  My feelings are what they are. Not much time has passed since Skye and I met, but I was drawn to her as soon as I laid eyes on her, and everything I learn about her makes me want her more.

  Yes, she can be impulsive.

  Yes, she has a need to take charge.

  But she’s also kind and loving and focused and determined.

  She’s young, and she has much to learn about life.

  But I want to help her. Help her grow in all ways.

  “Thank you!” she squeals. “Thank you so much.”

  The puppy squirms out of her arms and jumps to the floor, chasing Sasha.

  “Annika is paper training her,” I say. “And she’ll go out with Sasha on walks with Christopher and me. She’ll be house trained in no time.”

  “She’s three months old,” she says. “It won’t exactly be no time.”

  “I’ve had dogs all my life”—well, all my adult life, anyway—“I know what I’m in for.”

  Skye smiles. “She seems so happy now. Yesterday at the shelter she sat in a corner and didn’t interact with her littermates. She gave me such a sad look that said, ‘Please take me home.’ I was distraught when I couldn’t. And then Tessa…” Tears well in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough, Braden. Truly. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  I smile.

  A really big smile.

  I can’t help it. It’s the joy. The fucking joy on Skye’s face, in her eyes. I rescued a puppy for her. I swear I’ll rescue the whole damned shelter if it keeps that joy in her eyes.

  “Do you have a name for her?” I ask.

  “Penny. I named her at the shelter.”

  “Oh? Tessa didn’t tell me.”

  “Because I didn’t tell her. I kept it to myself. I didn’t think I’d ever see this baby again.” She picks Penny up once more and snuggles her against her cheek. “I love her so much.”

  Again, I’m smiling.

  As beautiful as Skye is, I’ve never seen her look more beautiful than she does at this moment.

  I take Penny from her and usher her and Sasha out of the room and up the stairs.

  “Braden,” Skye says.

  I finger a few strands of her hair. “Hmm?”

  “Take me to bed. Please.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  I don’t hesitate. I sweep her into my arms and march to the bedroom. The lights from the harbor illuminate the dark wood and bedding.

  She meets my gaze, her own eyes smoldering.

  “I’m yours,” she says. “Do whatever you want to me.”

  My heart races. “That’s a tall order, Skye. Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  I lift my gaze to the contraption above the bed. “Anything?”

  She nods, trembling. “What is that thing?”

  “It’s no longer functional. It was a harness, where I could suspend a partner, but I found that sort of play wasn’t particularly enjoyable for me.”

  “Oh? What about your partner?”

  “Depended on the partner.”

  Aretha enjoyed it, which is why I had the contraption installed. Some consider suspension play edge play. It creates a heightened sense of vulnerability and inescapability in the person suspended, and like all forms of bondage, it becomes mental as well as physical. I’ve found that I don’t like my partner to be quite so helpless. Partial suspension is another story altogether. I have no problem with that, but full suspension, if not handled with exacting care, can be dangerous.

  I never want my partner in danger. I’m fine with her not having control, but with full suspension, I risk giving up some control over her safety as well.

  Not on my watch.

  “Why is it still there, then?” Skye asks.

  “I just haven’t gotten around to having it removed yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I met a woman who invades my mind every fucking second.” I set her on the bed. “And all I can think about is all the dark and dirty things I want to do to her.”

  She swallows.

  “Did you like it when I bound your wrists?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “How about these?” I tug the chain between the clamps, my cock responding as much as her nipples. “Do you like these?”

  She nods again, inhaling swiftly.

  “Say yes, Skye.”

  “Yes. I like the
m. A lot.”

  “Did you like it when I covered your eyes?”

  “Yes, Braden.”

  “What else would you like me to do to you, Skye?”

  She sucks in a breath. “Whatever you want.”

  I raise my eyebrows. She’s learning more quickly than I anticipated.

  She just gave me the perfect answer.

  This sexual lifestyle that I enjoy is about what I want. My partner has the ability to say no, in which case I won’t get what I want. But I choose what we do and how we do it. And if we’re in sync—and I believe Skye and I are well on the way to synchrony—what I want will be what she wants.

  I sit down on the bed next to her and finger the notches on the rungs of the headboard. “Do you know what these are?”

  “No.”

  “I had this headboard specially designed. I have bindings that secure here and here, and same on the footboard. They’ll hold you in place, all four of your limbs, render you completely helpless, Skye. What if I want to do that to you? Tie you up spread-eagle and then have my way with you?”

  She doesn’t hesitate at all. “Then I want you to.”

  I stand, walk to my highboy, open a drawer, and pull out a riding crop. The leather is cool against my palm. Already my cock is straining. I hold it in Skye’s view. “What if I want to use this all over your body while you’re tied up?”

  “I want you to do it.”

  Fuck. Already I feel the crop coming down on her pink flesh, the burning pain it will inflict, the hot pleasure it will morph into.

  I set the crop down and pick up the stainless steel butt plug. “This is the anal plug I used on your body while you were blindfolded. What if I want to put this in your ass and then fuck you?”

  She clears her throat. “I want you to.”

  Excellent. She’s not ready for anal yet, so I won’t go there tonight. But her response shows me she’s serious about letting me control her in the bedroom.

  I set down the plug, pick up a spider gag, and hold it, already imagining it strapped around her head, forcing those beautiful lips open. “This is a spider gag, Skye. Do you know what it’s for?”

  “No.” Her voice is breathy.