Follow Me Under

by HELEN HARDT

  He’s been burned, and he’ll never let it happen again.

  Does Ben know the whole story between Braden and Addie? If so, will he tell me? He’s a talker for sure, but he and I just met. Plus, going behind Braden’s back to get information out of his brother would earn me a dire punishment. I may never orgasm again.

  But as much as I hate the thought of never climaxing again, that’s not the main issue here.

  I love Braden. I love him so damned much.

  If I go behind his back and pump his brother for information, he may not forgive me.

  And as much as I want to know, I won’t abuse his trust again.

  “What do you think, Skye?”

  I suppress a jerk at my name from Braden’s lips. I have no idea what the rest of them have been talking about. Not cool.

  “About what?” I say.

  “About going downtown and listening to some jazz tonight,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

  Damn him. He knows I wasn’t listening. “Sounds great.”

  “Wonderful,” Kathy says. “I love jazz, don’t you, Skye?”

  “Sure.” I’m so far from a music connoisseur. But hey, doesn’t everyone love jazz?

  The maid enters the living room and waits for a lull in the conversation before she says, “Mr. Black, dinner is served.”

  “Excellent, thank you, Sadie.” Bobby stands. “Ladies first, of course.”

  Since I’ve never been here, I have no idea where the dining room is. I’m certain Kathy does, though, so I follow her. Sure enough, she leads me to the formal dining room. Bobby holds a chair out for her, and she sits.

  Ben takes a seat next to her, while Bobby sits at the head of the table.

  Braden holds out the other chair next to Bobby. “Skye,” he says.

  I sit down, and then Braden takes the empty seat next to me.

  Kathy helps herself to a piece of bread and then hands the breadbasket to Bobby.

  Yeah, she’s definitely been here before. More than once, I’d say. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel comfortable helping myself to anything on this table, no matter how often I end up eating here.

  I admire her tactics, though. This is a woman who believes in going after what she wants. Part of that is making herself at home in any environment. I bet she’d never be embarrassed if a condom fell out of her purse in front of a devastatingly handsome man.

  I don’t have to worry about making conversation because Kathy takes over. Yes, she’s very intelligent. More than that, though, she’s also shrewd and cunning. She’ll make a good lawyer. Why isn’t Braden attracted to a woman like her?

  Easy. You are a challenge, Skye. His words ring in my ears. Kathy is most definitely not a challenge. Intelligent, cunning, and shrewd, yes. But clearly she’ll lie on her back to get what she wants. That’s not a challenge for a man like Braden.

  Dinner is delicious. Cream of tomato bisque with fresh basil and then prime rib of beef, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts, and au jus. Since I have virtually nothing to add to the conversation, I clean my plate before the others are done.

  “Save room for dessert,” Braden says to me.

  “What’s for dessert?” I ask.

  “I don’t know what they’re serving here,” he says, “but I know what I’ll be having.”

  I squirm, trying to ease the pressure between my legs. Maybe tonight I’ll finally get an orgasm.

  …

  “What did you think?” Braden asks after Christopher picks us up.

  “I like your brother a lot.”

  “And my father?”

  “He seems nice.”

  “But?”

  “Braden, you know exactly what I’m thinking. What’s he doing with her? She’s my age.”

  Braden chuckles. “She won’t be around for too long. Once she gets what she wants, she’ll be on her way.”

  “And you’re okay with her using your dad like that?”

  “My dad is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  “Your brother says he’s using her as well.”

  “Of course he is. She’s willing to spread her legs, and my father’s willing to let her.”

  I groan.

  “Do you find that distasteful?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking. Your father is very attractive. It’s just not…me.”

  “So you weren’t working for Addie for the contacts?”

  “I was working for Addie to make a living. The contacts were a nice fringe benefit. You’d better not be suggesting what I think you are. Besides, Addie is definitely not my type.” I can’t help a sarcastic chuckle.

  “I’m not suggesting that at all. I know you wouldn’t sleep your way to the top. But everyone takes advantage of opportunities.”

  “Are you actually defending what she’s doing? I’m sorry, but in my mind, there’s a difference between taking advantage of an opportunity and fucking someone to get somewhere.”

  “What’s the difference? Aren’t they both taking advantage of an opportunity?”

  “One is good business, Braden, and the other is close to prostitution.”

  “And…”

  “And…what?”

  “Do you find prostitution distasteful?”

  “I find prostitution illegal.”

  But he raises a good point. What Kathy’s doing is not illegal. She’s taking advantage of an opportunity, and Bobby’s letting her.

  I sigh. “You’re right. As long as she and your father are good with the situation, who am I to judge?”

  He laughs and squeezes my hand. “You’re exactly right.”

  His laughter thrills me, of course.

  “You knew I’d agree, didn’t you?”

  “When you thought about it logically, yes, I knew you’d agree.”

  “Then why did you push me?”

  “Because you’re so adorably indignant.”

  “Since you’re so fond of my indignation, why did you leave me alone with your brother and Kathy?”

  “You held your own.”

  “Of course I held my own. Still, it was pretty uncool of you to leave me with two people I’d just met.”

  “I had something to discuss with my father that couldn’t wait.”

  “Of course you did. You were giving him shit about bringing his current fuck to dinner.”

  “Actually, no, I wasn’t. I was talking to him about an investment.”

  “And it couldn’t wait?”

  “No, it couldn’t, because it was fake.”

  “Why would you drag your father away from his dinner party to—”

  His lips curve upward slightly.

  “You were baiting her.”

  “I knew you’d figure it out.”

  “Why? As you say, your father’s a grown man, and he can take care of himself.”

  “I agree. If he wants to spend his money on some young woman who’s only interested in one thing, that’s his prerogative.”

  “Then why drop information?”

  “Because this is my company, Skye. I love my father, and he does a good job, but sometimes he thinks with the wrong head.”

  “You don’t really believe he’d give up trade secrets or anything, do you?”

  “Not when he’s in his right mind, no.”

  I giggle. “In other words, not when he’s thinking with the right head.”

  “Bingo.”

  I smile and cover his hand with mine. “Tell me, Braden. Which head are you thinking with right now?”

  He sears me with his gaze, saying nothing.

  And I know.

  Braden Black only thinks with one head, no matter what, and it’s always the right one.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’m in
Braden’s bedroom, naked and lying supine on his bed. I’m bound as I was last time, with leather restraints on my wrists, my arms in a Y above my head. He doesn’t bind my ankles.

  I’m both relieved and disappointed.

  “Close your eyes,” he says softly.

  I obey, and the cool silk blindfold covers me.

  “You won’t be seeing things tonight, Skye.”

  I nod.

  “Tonight I want you to concentrate on what you hear. Pay close attention to the sounds in the room.”

  “How?”

  “The same way you paid attention to the sights last time.”

  “But there’s so much to see,” I say. “There’s nothing to hear during sex.”

  “You’re wrong,” he says, “and tonight, I’ll prove that to you.”

  “The feeling of what you do to me overshadows everything else. I could suppress it by watching the visual, but for sound? I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can.”

  I open my mouth, but he places two fingers over my lips.

  “You’re done talking. Don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

  Again I open my mouth but shut it abruptly. He wants me to concentrate on what I hear, but I can’t speak? What I say during lovemaking is a big part of the experience, isn’t it?

  I stifle a giggle. Maybe it used to be, but Braden so seldom lets me talk.

  Maybe he’ll play some music. I stifle another giggle. We were supposed to join the others for some jazz tonight, but Braden remembered he had an early meeting. I’m not sure the meeting exists, but I have no complaints.

  I wait.

  No music.

  No kisses, no touch, no flicks of a flogger or anything else.

  So I listen.

  What I hear astounds me.

  Braden’s breath. It’s rapid, and a low moan emanates from his throat. I’ve heard him moan many times before, but this is different. This is so low that I’m sure I’ve never heard it before.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says. “So fucking beautiful, Skye.”

  More words I’ve heard before. But when I concentrate only on their sound, in the husky timbre of Braden’s voice, they’re so much more evocative.

  My skin tingles, and energy arrows between my legs.

  His lips press against mine, and though I’m tempted to open my mouth and let him in, he pulls back. Then he kisses me again. A short, sweet kiss to my lips. The sound is a soft smack, and it makes my nipples strain.

  The sound of a kiss. I’ve never thought about it before. It’s amazing, and electricity slides through me.

  I let the sound travel through me as he kisses me again and again. He moves from my lips to my neck to my shoulders. Tiny smacking kisses, and each one leaves me scorched. He wanders over my chest to the tops of my breasts, where the kissing sound is joined by his low guttural moan.

  “God, I love your tits.”

  They love you, too. I don’t say it, of course. I shouldn’t even be thinking it. I should be concentrating only on what I hear.

  He kisses my nipple, and I suck in a breath. How do I escape from the feeling—the intense feeling of pleasure that surges through me every time he pays any attention to my nipples?

  I don’t want to. My nipples are so sensitive, and they love what he does to them. I love what he does to them. I don’t want to ignore it.

  “Concentrate, Skye,” he says against my flesh.

  Concentrate. The warm timbre of his voice. I let it rush over me and flow through me, and when he kisses my nipple again, the sound of the peck sends a thrill through me.

  And I begin to understand.

  The sound. His mouth touching my skin, and then the slight intake of air through his closed lips. The smack. The sweet smack.

  It’s the most provocative sound in the world.

  “I’m going to suck on your nipples now, Skye,” he says. “Listen. Listen to the sounds I make. Listen to the sounds you make.”

  The tug comes sharply. His lips are firm and tight over my nipple, and I moan. My moan is higher and louder than Braden’s. Has it always been? Have I ever paid attention?

  “Oh God,” I say breathlessly.

  Slap!

  His hand comes down on my other breast.

  “No talking,” he commands.

  The sound. The blow of his hand coming down on my flesh and striking me.

  It excites me. It’s dangerous. Dangerous and intriguing.

  His lips clamp over my nipple once more. I gasp, suppressing the words that want to come spewing out of my mouth. Because God, it feels good. It feels so damned good.

  How does he expect me not to feel any of this?

  I remove the feeling from my mind as best I can. He’s on my nipple, so I listen. I listen to the slurping of his lips. The low moan that comes constantly from his throat as he pleasures me.

  The low moan that means he’s receiving pleasure as well.

  My nipples are so hard, so needy and aching.

  And my pussy. God, my pussy…

  He trails his fingers at my side and squeezes my other breast. Then he thumbs my other nipple. He gives me a pinch. A sharp pinch that makes no noise.

  No, the noise is in the echo of his low groan and the gasp and moaning coming from my own throat. He continues sucking one nipple. The soft slips and smacks swirl in the air around me, making my body ache even more.

  Braden finally lets my nipple go with a soft pop.

  A waft of cool air flows over my nipple.

  No, Skye. Don’t feel. Just listen.

  Braden spreads my legs. Tension whirls through me. I’m aching with need, and this waiting is driving me slowly out of my mind. Lick my pussy, damn it!

  I say nothing, though. And again, I try to listen.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says. “Pink and swollen and oh so wet.”

  Again the low moan. Braden’s moan. The moan that says he likes what he sees.

  And what he sees is me.

  That sound. I know that sound, and I love that sound. Yet only now do I realize its true significance.

  “I’m going to eat your pussy,” he says. “Listen to me eat your pussy.”

  Oh God. This will be one hell of a challenge. I’m supposed to listen and not feel? Is he going to let me come? Will I ever orgasm again? Braden has ensnared me with his control of my climax. I never know when or if I’ll get one, and that intoxicates me all the more. He’s a master.

  But then I stop thinking. Because he’s between my legs, his stubble abrading my thighs, his tongue sliding over my clit, and that low moan—always that low moan—vibrating against me and through me.

  Like a warm waterfall. It comforts me. Both comforts me and makes me hot.

  A smack as he kisses the inside of my thigh. A low hum as he slides his tongue along my slit. A brisk inhale when he clamps his lips over my clit.

  All from him, while I do my best to keep quiet.

  I embrace the music of his body as he licks me, let it flow around me like a melody written solely for us.

  It’s intoxicating.

  Yes, I’m turned on. Yes, I’m floating toward the peak.

  The climax is no longer my goal, though. Listening is. Hearing is. For I gain something nearly as beautiful as a climax itself.

  The music. The beauty in sound.

  When he moves his mouth away from me, I whimper at the loss. A soft whimper that comes from my body involuntarily. I listen. I appreciate the sounds I make.

  A soft thud as one of Braden’s garments hits the back of a chair. A louder thump. A shoe. Then another.

  Soft sounds of his clothes meeting the floor in a puddle of fabric.

  My heart hammers. Each of these sounds means he’s closer to being naked. Closer to his cock inside me.
>
  I’m so ready for that.

  The soft creak of the bed as he returns, and when his cock slides between my legs, a swift intake of breath.

  His breath.

  And also my own.

  “I want to fuck you now. I can’t wait to get inside you.”

  I gasp when he thrusts.

  He groans. Much louder and longer this time.

  He fills me, and the feeling—

  But I’m not supposed to feel. Only to hear.

  The suction of his cock sinking into me is subtle, but it’s there. I listen, and I hear it.

  His balls slap against me as he thrusts. I hear them.

  The sounds of him fucking me. Of him making love to me. They’re there, and I hear them.

  The rhythm of his thrusts. The chorus of his moans and mine, his breaths and mine.

  And the melody. The melody that is audible only to me. To Braden and me. A lovely tune that exists between us and around us and inside us.

  And I understand. I understand.

  “Fuck,” he says. “I’m going to come, Skye.”

  He thrusts into me and stays there, moaning. I revel in the sound, in the music of his release.

  And I don’t miss my own release. I’m too busy listening to his.

  The pure musical beauty of it.

  A few moments later, he pulls out and rolls off me, sighing. A soft yet masculine sigh. A sigh I’ve never bothered to listen to before now.

  A moment later, he removes my blindfold.

  “Well?” he asks.

  I stay silent.

  “You may speak now.”

  I smile. “It was amazing. I heard things I’ve never heard before.”

  “Good. That’s the plan. You did well.”

  “But, Braden…”

  “Yes?”

  “Why?”

  “You mean why all this? The concentration on only one sense?”

  “Yeah.”

  He doesn’t answer me for a minute. Instead, he moves downward and positions his head between my legs. My clit rushes to attention. I haven’t climaxed, and I want to. I want to very badly.

  He flicks his tongue over my clit.

  I jolt, arching my back. God, I want that orgasm more than I want anything at the moment.

  Is he going to answer my question?

  “I will give you an answer,” he says, “but first, I’m going to give you a climax.”