Follow Me Always

by HELEN HARDT

  “Bourbon.”

  “Oh. Well, we have several bourbons. Follow me.”

  She guided him to the bar. “Hmm. Buffalo Trace. Eagle Rare. Kentucky Gold. No Wild Turkey. Sorry.”

  “Any of those is fine.”

  “Okay.” She poured two fingers into a glass and handed it to him.

  He took a drink. Nice. Smooth.

  He could get used to this.

  “Want to go to my room?” she asked.

  He nearly spit out his mouthful of booze. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You’re hot. Let’s get busy.”

  “Exactly how old are you?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m legal. I’m eighteen. I’ll even show you my ID if you want.”

  “It’s not legal for you to drink what I’m drinking, then.”

  “No, it’s not. But it’s legal for me to have sex. That’s what I’m after tonight.”

  He took another drink. Yeah, she was beautiful. And ready and willing. A quick fuck might be nice.

  But a quick fuck had never been what Braden was after. He had more…exclusive tastes.

  He finished his drink and set the empty glass back on the wooden bar. “That’s a nice offer, but I have to pass.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes.

  He got it. He was turning down an Ames hotel heiress, and she was pissed.

  Well, she’d get over it.

  “Thanks for the drink,” he said. “If you see my brother, tell him I went home.”

  …

  Braden had a small apartment near the rental where his dad lived. Ben still lived with their dad, but he spent a lot of time crashing at Braden’s.

  “Time you started chipping in for rent,” Braden said.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me about my evening last night?”

  “I already know how your evening was. You plucked an Ames twin. You got laid. That’s why you have that dumbass smile on your face.”

  Ben kind of always had that dumbass smile on his face, but this morning it was more dumbass than usual.

  Man, six o’clock in the morning came early.

  Ben seemed raring to go, though. Getting his rocks off agreed with him. Of course it pretty much agreed with all men.

  Braden poured himself a cup of coffee and took a drink. “Damn!”

  “You burn your mouth every time,” Ben said. “Think you’d learn by now.”

  “It’s what gets me moving. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  Ben nodded.

  One thing the Black boys had in abundance was work ethic. They both had their issues with their dad, but he’d taught them that much. He’d learned the hard way, burning their house to the ground when the boys were little. Their mother never fully recovered, but she’d saved both their lives.

  …

  “She saved you?” I ask.

  Braden nods.

  “There’s so much you haven’t told me about your mother.”

  “It’s all related to the story I’m telling you,” he says. “Be patient.”

  Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’m getting better. I nod.

  …

  No clouds at all that day. None. The sun was blistering hot, and by the end of the nearly ten-hour day, Braden was dehydrated, fatigued, and sunburnt. Ben had gone out for a beer with some of the guys, but Braden only wanted to get home and take a cool shower.

  So he was more than a little surprised when someone was waiting for him at his truck.

  Addison Ames. The heiress from the party last night. She wore denim cutoffs and a hot pink crop top. Her belly was flat and her navel sported a pink jeweled piercing.

  “Hello there, Mr. Black,” she said.

  “It’s Braden. What can I do for you?”

  “I could use a ride.”

  “Yeah? How did you get here?”

  “Just happened to be in the area.”

  Okay. That could be true. They were working on a mall near the Ames house. But she was lying. Braden could tell.

  “Sorry, I have somewhere to be. I’ll be happy to call you a cab.”

  “Don’t be like that.” She batted her long brown eyelashes. Then she went around to the passenger side and slid right into his truck.

  Shit. Now what? He was tired and dirty and really didn’t need this distraction.

  He got in. “Fine. I’ll drive you home.”

  He did, only to find her waiting for him again at the end of work the next day.

  This went on for four days straight, until he finally said, “No dice today, Ms. Ames.”

  “Call me Addie.”

  “No dice, Addie. Find your own way home.” Braden got in his truck and left her there, hands upon her hips.

  He hadn’t seen the last of her. He knew that. But he was tired of her games.

  He hadn’t given her any reason to think she had a chance, though he was close to losing control around her. She was beautiful, and she was offering.

  His age, which he’d used the first night to keep himself in check, wasn’t working anymore. He was still damned young with a damned strong libido.

  So this had to stop now.

  Unless…

  Could she possibly give him what he wanted?

  He wasn’t looking for love, but he wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay. Several rolls even, as long as they were on his terms.

  The next day, she wasn’t waiting for him after work.

  Good enough. No roll in the hay, and that was okay, too. She’d finally gotten the message.

  He drove home, and—

  “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

  Addison Ames, this time dressed in a trench coat—yeah, a trench coat in this heat—was waiting outside the door to his apartment.

  Braden’s jeans were covered in sawdust, and what seemed like five layers of grime covered his body and lay beneath his fingernails.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m exhausted.” He unlocked his door. “I don’t have time for these games. Go slumming somewhere else.”

  She pushed out her lower lip, and he couldn’t help himself. He thought about biting it.

  Hard.

  “You sure that’s what you want?” she teased.

  No, he wasn’t sure at all. In fact, despite his fatigue, he was getting hard.

  Fuck. Just what he didn’t need.

  “That’s what I want,” he said gruffly.

  She opened her trench coat. “Still sure?”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Seriously? She flashed you in the parking lot?”

  “She did.” Braden nods.

  “And since you’re a guy…”

  “I was younger then,” he says, as if that’s a good excuse. “Hey, you wanted to know all this.”

  I sigh. “You’re right. Go on.”

  …

  Mother fuck.

  She wore a leather bra with holes for her nipples. And those nipples were clamped. Already clamped. Fucking god damn.

  She’d replaced the pink jewel in her navel with an onyx barbell, and the only thing covering the rest of her was a black leather thong.

  She pulled a black riding crop out of her pocket.

  “You’ll never use that on me,” he said.

  “I know.” She inched closer to him. “You’re going to use it on me.”

  He was tired. So tired. And horny.

  He didn’t know this woman. Hell, she was barely a woman. But she was legal, and that was all that mattered.

  “I need a shower,” he said, more to himself than to her.

  “Fine. Take one.” She closed the distance between them, her clamped nipples nearly touching his chest. “And
it doesn’t have to be cold.”

  He was done fighting her. She wanted this? Fine. He’d give it to her. But on his terms.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, meeting her horny gaze. “If I let you in, if we do this, we do it my way, got it?”

  “Absolutely. I know what you like.”

  “How the hell would you know?”

  “I’ve done my research, Mr. Black. Lots of research.”

  “What the hell kind of research would tell you what I like?”

  “Trade secret.” She smiled coyly. “But you like what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

  He couldn’t deny it. She was a Dominant’s wet dream. But he wasn’t a Dominant. Not really. He liked bondage especially, and he wasn’t averse to spanking and flogging, but to have total domination over someone? That wasn’t him. He couldn’t imagine it.

  …

  “You couldn’t?” I ask.

  “I’ve told you before,” Braden says. “We were both young and inexperienced. Neither of us knew what we were doing.”

  “But—”

  He places his fingers over my lips. “Shh. We’ll get there.”

  …

  He had no idea how Addie knew his tastes, but somehow she did. “I need your consent,” he said.

  “You have it.”

  “And I’m going to give you a safe word.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  He opened the door and allowed her to enter his apartment. “Your safe word is black.”

  “Your name?”

  “My last name, yeah.”

  “What if I call out your name in passion?”

  “Then you’ll call out my first name.”

  “No. I want to call out Mr. Black.”

  This was getting creepy now. “Do you have some kind of daddy fetish or something?”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re way too young to be my daddy.”

  “I am, but I’m not into that. You will not call me Mr. Black. Understand?”

  She smiled again. “Of course. Whatever you want, sir.”

  Sir. Hmm. He could live with that. “Good. Call me sir. And your safe word is black.”

  …

  “You never asked me to call you sir,” I say. “And you’ve never given me a safe word.”

  “For God’s sake, Skye, would you just let me finish? You’ve been pestering me for weeks to tell you all this. I’m not the same man I was then. Are you the same as you were eleven years ago?”

  “Well, eleven years ago I was thirteen, so I’m going to say no.”

  His lips quirk. “I ought to bring you over my knee and give that cute ass of yours the spanking from hell.”

  My core throbs. “Okay,” I say coyly.

  “Sorry, babe. This is your one chance to hear this story. So choose. The spanking or this.”

  I could tell him I choose the story, that I know he’ll spank me later. But that’s not Braden. If I choose the story, he will intentionally not spank me later, no matter how much I crave it.

  I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, my usual spot with Braden.

  “Continue,” I say. “I need to know, and I think maybe you need to tell me.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  She nodded.

  “No, tell me in words.”

  “Yes, I agree to all that.”

  “All what?”

  “I’ll call you sir, and my safe word is black.”

  “And you’ll do what I want.”

  “God, yes,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll do whatever you want. Sir.”

  Braden’s cock was hard inside his jeans. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m a mess.”

  “I think you look great,” she said. “All dirty after a day of hard work. Work that gives you those amazing muscles.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to take a shower?”

  “No,” she said. “I want you just as you are. You’re so hot.”

  Braden walked toward her, intentionally not touching her. “Honey, this isn’t about what you want.” He walked to his bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and got under the pelting water.

  He scrubbed his body clean with lukewarm water, wondering what he’d find once he was done. Most likely, she’d realize what she’d gotten into and turn tail and run. That’d be okay. He’d jack off and be done with it. Not like he’d never done that before. It was most of the sex he had these days.

  He stepped out of the shower, dried his hair and body, and then wrapped a towel around his waist.

  Here goes nothing. He opened the door and walked out into the living area.

  He’d gone over in his mind what he might find. Most likely she’d be gone. If not, she might have gone into the small kitchen area and gotten a couple beers out of the fridge. Maybe some bourbon. Maybe just some ice water. That sounded great right about now.

  Or maybe she’d have discarded her trench coat and be lying spread eagle on his bed.

  Those were the things he expected.

  Not what he got.

  Addison was kneeling by his bed.

  Kneeling.

  This woman knew something about submission. More than Braden knew at this point.

  And he was more than slightly turned on.

  He walked to her. “What’s going on here?”

  “May I look you in the eye, sir?”

  She asked permission to look him in the eye? This was what she wanted? What she thought he wanted?

  Fine. He’d give it a try. It was kinky. What the hell?

  “You may.”

  She raised her head, meeting his gaze with her neck bent backward. “What can I do to please you?”

  “Bring me your flogger and then get on the bed.”

  She walked to her trench coat, got the flogger out of the pocket, and then sat down on the bed. She held the flogger out to him as if in offering.

  Okay, he could live with this.

  “This is a two way street,” Braden said to her. “I’m going to tell you what I want to do, and you have the choice to say no.”

  “I’ve already consented. I don’t want that choice.”

  “I think I’ve told you before. This isn’t about what you want.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “But I want what you want.”

  “You may think that. I’m giving you the choice. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. We understand each other. I will ask you each time we do something new whether I have your consent, and I want it verbally. No headshakes or nods, got it? I need a verbal yes or a verbal no.”

  “I understand, sir. But it will always be yes.”

  She certainly had a one-track mind. Great. Whatever. He’d see soon enough how far she was willing to go. Braden had wanted to experiment with some BDSM for a while now, but finding a willing partner had been an issue.

  Now, one had walked right into his life. A fucking hotel heiress, for God’s sake. But she was legal, so what the hell?

  In the back of his mind, something nudged at his neck. That what he was about to do might be a huge mistake.

  But he was erect, and a woman was on her knees in front of him.

  He ignored the voice of his conscience.

  It was the last time he’d do so.

  …

  “Really?” I ask. “You knew you shouldn’t be doing it?”

  He nods. “It wasn’t that I thought we were going to do anything wrong. You know my tastes. You share them. But I was inexperienced, and I was about to embark on something dark with someone I knew nothing about. She seemed to know much more about me than I did about her.”

  “It does seem unlike you.”

  “It does. Now. Then? I can’t really tell you. I was
young and horny, and she was offering.”

  I scoff. “Men are pigs.”

  He chuckles. “I suppose I should be offended by that.”

  “And you’re not?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not. Men—especially young men—have the habit of thinking with the wrong head.”

  “You don’t do that.”

  “No, I don’t. Not anymore.”

  Not since that time in my life.

  He doesn’t say those words, but they’re clear as day, buzzing in my head as if he actually uttered them.

  “Go on,” I say.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  He didn’t bind her that first time. He simply made her stay on her hands and knees while he flogged her ass until it was pink. Then he fucked her from behind.

  …

  “Skye?”

  I exhale. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  I wait a few seconds, gathering my thoughts. “Yes. It’s just harder than I thought to hear you say you fucked her.”

  “I did fuck her. You already know that.”

  I inhale again. Exhale. “I know. But hearing you say it…”

  “Would you prefer a little less detail?”

  “Maybe. Let’s keep it on a need-to-know basis, okay? Explain what happened and what the final result was.”

  “Without explaining how we got there?”

  “Fuck.” I bite my lower lip. “I don’t know.”

  “I wasn’t planning to paint a picture in your mind, Skye. All I said was I flogged her and then I fucked her. To me, that’s not a lot of detail. I’m hardly painting a picture.”

  “But you are painting a picture. I’m an artist. I see pictures in everything. How do you think I figure out what to photograph?”

  “Then you’re creating the picture yourself.”

  He’s not wrong. “I know.”

  “You want me to fast forward?”

  “Maybe just a little.”

  “Good enough.”

  …

  The affair went on for several weeks. They got together on Braden’s days off and experimented with BDSM. He bound her wrists, her ankles, sometimes all four appendages. And he spanked her and flogged her. Braden was content to leave it there.

  But Addison wanted more.

  When he refused to go further, she began the stalking again. She showed up at his workplace and his apartment.