Darkly (Follow Me)

by HELEN HARDT

  “It holds your mouth open so I can fuck it. What if I want to use this tonight?”

  “Then I want you to.”

  I narrow my gaze slightly. I don’t want to take her further than she’s truly ready to go. “Are you sure?”

  “Braden,” she says, “let me be clear. I’m giving myself to you. I’m giving you the control you so desperately want. If you want to put a collar on me and lead me around on a leash like Sasha or Penny, do it. I’m yours.”

  God, my cock is throbbing as I walk toward the bed. “For good this time? I get your control in this room?”

  “Yes, Braden. I yield to you. I give up control.”

  I groan, push her onto her back, lie on top of her, and dry-thrust my cock against her. “See how hard I am for you? See what you do to me? All these things I love to do, all these toys—I don’t even need them with you. All I need is your lush little body, your gorgeous parted lips, those luscious tits. Your control. But mostly I just need you, Skye. I can fuck you all damned night.”

  She opens as I slide my lips against hers, push my tongue into her mouth. We’re still fully clothed, but I feel as though we’re already making love, our bodies already joined in that most intimate way. I deepen the kiss.

  Emotion coils through me, beginning deep in my core and flashing outward.

  I’m in love with her.

  I’m in love with Skye.

  How did this happen? How did she break through my barriers so quickly? So easily?

  I break the kiss, gasp sharply, and give the chain between her breasts a hard yank. She arches her back. Then I grasp the fabric of her dress and rip it, tearing it from her body. So satisfying to rip the fabric, to bring her beautiful body into full view in such a powerful and animalistic way.

  “Braden!”

  “I already told you. I’ll have this dress remade as many times as it takes.”

  Her nipples are red and hard from the nipple clamps that still grip them. Fuck, she’s hot. I could unclamp them, suck them, bite them…

  But as much as I want to, I have other plans.

  Only her black panties remain, and I’ll leave them on for now. A strip of black lace and nipple clamps—the only clothing she needs at the moment.

  “Grip the rungs of the headboard, Skye,” I say, my voice low and dark.

  I’m ready—so ready—to show her how I can please her in the dark. Not just the dark of night but the darker side of our sexuality and passion.

  She doesn’t hesitate to obey. She grips the wood firmly.

  “Don’t let go,” I command.

  “I won’t.”

  I rise, walk back to the highboy, choose a piece of rope, and return to the bed.

  I show her the rope. “Nylon doesn’t cause rope burns.”

  She nods as I deftly tie her wrists in place, using the notches on the rungs. She pulls against her restraints, most likely an involuntary move. Very common. But her pulling has no effect. She’s secure in my bindings.

  I walk back to the highboy, grab a silk blindfold. When I return to the bed, I place the blindfold around Skye’s eyes.

  “Do you remember the last time I took your sight?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was to heighten your other senses. But that’s not why I’m doing it this time.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “This time, I’m taking it because I can. Because you’re giving it to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t move your arms. You can’t see. What else should I take from you?”

  “Whatever you want, Braden.”

  I yank the chain between her breasts once more. She arches into the sensation, her feet flat on the bed as her hips rise. She pulls against the restraints again, and this time it’s not voluntary.

  She wants to touch me.

  I allow my lips to curve into a smile I know she can’t see.

  Oh, I want to touch her as well, but more than anything, I want her control. I want her to bend to my will.

  We’ll both reap the rewards when she does.

  I undress quickly and quietly, laying my tuxedo jacket and pants on a chair, my shoes and socks on the floor. My erection is ready and willing, and though I want more than anything to shove it into Skye’s pussy, I steel myself.

  First, the riding crop.

  I walk to the wardrobe to retrieve it.

  Again, the leather is cool against my palm as I grasp the handle.

  It is now an extension of my arm—of me—and what it feels, I will feel.

  What it does to Skye, I will do to Skye.

  I head to the bar in the corner of my bedroom, grab the ice tongs, and place a few cubes on a small plate.

  Slowly, I return to the bed.

  Skye lies, her wrists bound above her head, secured to the headboard with my nylon rope. Her gorgeous brown eyes covered. Her body supine and at my mercy.

  And her lips.

  Those gorgeous bloodred lips are parted just a bit—that look that captured me the first time I saw her.

  Her flesh, rosy and taut, so very—

  Whip!

  I bring the crop down on her breasts, jiggling the chain and clamps.

  She jerks, and her breasts redden.

  I bring the crop down on her again and then again.

  As she reddens further, the warmth of her body caresses me.

  Another lash. Another.

  The sting of the crop travels through the leather as if it’s an electric current sending an intense sensation through me.

  “The tops of your breasts are rosy pink, Skye. So beautiful. Do you want me to do it again?”

  “Yes, please. Whatever you want.”

  I bring the crop down once more and then again. She gasps and then sighs. Gasps and then sighs. Gasps—

  “Oh!”

  Fuck. I can’t take it anymore. I pull one nipple clamp off, freeing her nipple. Then the other. Then I suck. Take that engorged nipple between my lips and suck hard. Her nipples will be sore tomorrow, but that’s okay, because every time she feels the prick of pain, she’ll know I was there.

  She’ll know those nipples belong to me.

  I continue sucking. One nipple and then the other. I lick the pebbled flesh, nip at the hard nubs. She writhes beneath me, pulling at her restraints, moaning, arching.

  In a flash, I grab one of the ice cubes from the nightstand and touch it to a nipple.

  “Oh!”

  Her areola shrinks up tight.

  Nice. Very nice. So beautiful.

  I trail the ice cube around both nipples and then over the tops of her breasts. She shudders, and the chill of her skin floats up to me, making goose bumps rise on my forearms.

  I trail down her flat belly, letting the warmth of her skin melt the ice into a tiny river that pools in her belly button. Again I imagine a piercing there—a barbell I can tug on with my fingers, my teeth.

  I continue the path of ice down her vulva.

  When I touch it briefly to her clit, she jerks and arches.

  “Braden!” she cries.

  “Baby,” I say, my voice more of a raw growl. “We’ve only just begun.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  I slip the ice cube inside her then, and she lifts her hips. I let her embrace the chill for a moment, until I can’t take it any longer. I spread her legs and dive between them, replacing the ice with my hot tongue.

  I devour her pussy, licking and sucking, moving upward to her clit but then leaving it before she can reach the precipice.

  The ultimate tease. I’m good at it, and in the end, I know it’s better for the woman if she waits.

  I eat her and eat her, sucking the cream from her hot pussy, letting it sweeten my tongue and slide down my throat. God, I could lick her for
ever and never tire of the soft texture of her folds, the tangy taste of her juices, the way she grinds into my face.

  But all things must end, and now I have something to say to her—something that may surprise her.

  I leave her pussy then, and she whimpers.

  I move forward, brushing my chest against her breasts, my cock aching for her heat. I kiss her chest, her neck, and then her earlobe.

  “I know your secret, Skye.”

  “Wh-What secret?”

  “You only come when you give up control.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up, away from the black silk.

  “That surprises you?” I say softly.

  She says nothing.

  I’m not surprised this is news to her. She probably also doesn’t realize that I know she never climaxed before me. I’ve been with a lot of women. I know the signals.

  And I also know how to recognize a potential submissive. I recognized one that day in Addison’s office, when Skye dropped the contents of her purse.

  “I’ve given you climax after climax,” I continue, “but only when you yield to me. You told me tonight that your fight is over. That I have your control.”

  “Y-Yes,” she says.

  “Do you know what that means to me?”

  “N-No.”

  “It means you’re mine, Skye. In this bedroom—in the dark—you’re mine.”

  “Yours,” she echoes. “Yours in the dark.”

  Her words feel like salvation, and the truth of them spears into my heart with warmth and love.

  Then I thrust my cock into her.

  She arches into the invasion.

  “So much more I want to do to you,” I say against her cheek. “So much more. And now that I have your control, I will. But for now, I want to fuck you like this, while you can’t touch me, can’t see me. Your tits are so beautiful, your nipples red from the clamps and your chest pink from my crop. Colors I gave you, Skye. Colors that prove you’re mine here in the dark.”

  “Yours,” she says again as she wraps her legs over my hips.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

  Such completeness. The sexual act has never felt more acute, more intense, more excruciatingly mind-blowing.

  It’s the emotion.

  Emotion I’ve never felt.

  Emotion I never thought I could feel.

  Emotion I never had the desire to feel.

  It’s all part of this passion, this pleasure.

  It’s drugging, mind-numbing, like a kaleidoscope of color and sound.

  My balls slap against her, and the smacking sounds drive me further toward the brink.

  She’s ready, too.

  I feel her right on the edge with me.

  But she won’t come.

  Not yet.

  Not until—

  “Come, Skye. Come for me.”

  She explodes around me, her pussy walls hugging my thrusting cock, pushing me further, further, further… “That’s it, baby. Show me. Show me how you come for me.”

  “Braden!” she shouts. “My God, Braden! So good! I can’t. I can’t… Braden!”

  She’s coming and coming, and though she’s arching and grinding into me, she’s no longer pulling at the restraints.

  She’s accepted my control over her.

  Accepted her place in this bedroom.

  And my God…I’ve never been so ready for release in my life.

  I give her one last thrust and release.

  I give to her my body.

  And with it…

  I give to her my heart.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “You’re beautiful,” I say, stroking her cheek. “You have an amazing ‘just-fucked’ look.”

  I remove the blindfold and release her wrists.

  She rubs them.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “Probably more instinct than anything. You took good care of me.”

  “I always will.”

  She smiles, wraps her arms around me, and kisses my lips lightly.

  I love her.

  I truly love her.

  I may not be ready to say it aloud, but I will. Soon.

  She gazes beyond me then, out the windows to the illuminated Boston Harbor, a contemplative look on her face.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “How perfect this all is.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “Yes, the sex was amazing and perfect, but I mean everything else, too. The way the light from the harbor is shining in here. How it could perfectly capture…”

  “What?”

  “I want to do a post from here. Standing in front of the window.”

  I cock my head slightly. A post here? At my place? My private life is private. I’ve never posted anything from my home. Kay Brown will jump on this.

  “You don’t like the idea.”

  “I haven’t heard the idea in its entirety, Skye. Go on.”

  “My three posts for the first contract were casual, formal, and dramatic. I’ve done the casual and formal. And I’m thinking…this would be perfect for dramatic. You say I have a ‘just-fucked’ look. What if I wrapped myself in a sheet, wore the lip stain, and stood in front of this window? I can adjust the lighting so it will work beautifully. I can’t think of anything more dramatic.”

  I edge into a smile. “It’s brilliant.” Kay Brown be damned.

  “Will you let me do it, then? Will you?” Her eyes dance.

  “I will. You just can’t post that you’re at my place.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” she says. “Our private life is private.”

  “Don’t be surprised if the Babbler does some kind of exposé.”

  “Good point. I’ll wear a robe instead of a sheet.”

  “God, no, Skye. Wear the sheet. You’ll sell so much lip stain that Eugene what’s her name won’t know what hit her.”

  She heads into the bathroom with her purse and then emerges with her lips painted Cherry Russet. I watch in amazement as she sets up the shot. She tests different angles with her phone, makes adjustments to the camera. A few minutes later, she hands her phone to me and pushes me to a point on the floor.

  “Stand right here. I want a profile shot against the harbor. Make sure you get a good shot of my lips.”

  She takes her place at the window, and though I’m mesmerized by her beauty, I instantly know what will make her lips stand out even more.

  “Wait,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see.” I walk to my closet and find the box containing the black mask I purchased in New York. Talk about dramatic. “Wear this.”

  “A mask?”

  She may be the expert on photography, but I’m the expert on Skye Manning’s beauty. “Trust me. Go to the bathroom and put it on. See what you think.”

  She nods and traipses into the bathroom, securing the sheet around her.

  She returns transformed. As beautiful as ever, but those lips—those sexy lips that are going to make Susanne lip stain fly off every shelf in America—are front and center.

  She returns to the window where I wait, still holding her phone.

  “You look breathtaking,” I say.

  “Remember, it’s the lip stain I’m selling.”

  How can I forget? The mask makes the lips stand out like crimson on snow. “I’ll take several,” I tell her.

  “We’ll get a good one.” She adjusts her stance at the window.

  “Smile,” I say. Then, “No, don’t. Part your lips in that sexy way.”

  She chuckles and then moves her mouth.

  “Perfect.” I shoot several photos and regard the screen.

  Skye can’t take a bad photo. She’s too beautiful
. They’re all stunning, but it’s the second one that floors me. She’s focused on nothing in particular, as if she’s contemplating something almost ethereal.

  “The second one, Skye. Use the second one.”

  She takes the phone from me and peruses the photos. Then she nods, taps into her phone, and then tosses it to me.

  Cherry Russet lip stain by @susannecosmetics. Perfect for all life’s moments. #sponsored

  No other hashtags. She’s a genius.

  I walk toward her and wrap my arms around her. We look out at the beauty of the harbor, the moon shining down and casting silver sparkles on the boats below.

  “I have more in store for you,” I whisper, “now that I control you in the dark. Will you follow me, Skye? Trust me to give you all kinds of pleasure?”

  “I will.”

  I kiss her forehead. “I can’t believe what I’m about to say.”

  She pulls away slightly and meets my gaze.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Maybe we can give this relationship thing a try.”

  She smiles then, and of all the smiles I’ve ever seen on Skye’s face, this one is the most radiant.

  She parts those lips—

  “I love you, Braden.”

  The words.

  The words I’ve been feeling in my heart but was going to wait to say.

  She said them.

  Skye said them.

  My heart fills with everything I never knew I wanted. She loves me. I love her and she loves me. We have a lot more to learn about each other, a lot more to experience together.

  But in this moment—

  “I love you, too, Skye.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  After a beautiful weekend together—a lot of time in the park playing with Sasha and Penny—I take Skye home, actually drive her in one of my cars rather than have Christopher drive us, on Monday morning before I head into the office.

  “I’d like to see you tonight,” I tell her.

  “I’d love that, Braden.”

  “Are you ready to discover more about yourself in the dark?”

  “Very ready.”

  I kiss her lips. “See you tonight, then. I’ll text you the details.” I kiss her again. “I love you, Skye.”

  “I love you, too.”

  …