by HELEN HARDT
I know it won’t work. Only Braden can make me come.
I only want Braden to make me come.
I’m lost in a fantasy of being bound and fucked when we come to a scene that leaves me spellbound.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
My nipples strain against the corset, and I suck in a breath. Braden has left me plenty of room to breathe in the garment, but now it’s too tight. I’m panting. I’m aching.
A beautiful dark-haired woman sits on her knees in front of a well-toned blond man. She’s bound with dark-red rope that begins around her neck. From there, it loops over her shoulders and over her breasts, her nipples protruding through two tight knots.
The rope curves over her abdomen and around her hips, and then it coils over her thighs and calves, forcing her into the kneeling position.
The man pulls on the rope around her neck, and she gasps softly.
My whole body tingles with current. Sparks slide through me, and my already wet pussy gushes.
The man strips off his black pants, releasing a giant cock. He pulls the woman toward him and shoves it into her mouth.
What is different about this scene? They’ve all been titillating, but this one…
This one makes me yearn.
For what? I’m not sure.
Something about her position, the ropes binding her.
“Skye.” Braden breathes against my neck.
“Hmm?”
“Do you like what you see here?”
Does he mean the whole room? Or this scene? I’m not sure.
“Yes,” I say, my breath catching.
“There’s a lot more to see in this club, but for now, we’re going to my private suite.”
Private suite? Of course. He owns the club. “Does anyone…watch us there?”
“Do you want anyone to watch us?”
Do I? I’m not sure. Strike that. I’m sure, but not in the way he means. It’s not that I want to be watched. More that I want to know anyone could see us at any time. There’s a subtle difference that I’m not sure I can explain.
“I don’t know.”
“No one will watch us. I’m not an exhibitionist.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the room and back into the hallway.
“What are all these other doors?” I ask.
“They’re for another time.” He cups my cheek. “I want you, Skye.”
“I want you, too.” If only he knew how much. I can smell the musk between my legs. Can he?
He leads me to a door at the end of the hallway. The sign on it reads simply Private. He keys in a code, shielding his fingers from view. From me? No one else is around.
“Are you ready?” His eyes burn into mine.
I nod.
“I need an answer.”
“I’m ready,” I say, willing myself not to stammer.
He turns the knob and opens the door. “After you.”
I hold my head high and walk in.
And I gasp.
It’s not a dungeon—at least not what I ever thought a dungeon might look like.
At first glance, it’s a beautifully decorated bedroom. A king-size bed is the centerpiece. The head- and footboards are lovely black lacquer, and the bed is covered in mahogany silk. For a moment, I imagine we’re at Braden’s penthouse in Boston, except there are no windows in this room. No Boston Harbor. No Manhattan skyline.
We’re truly underground.
Though the bed draws my gaze, when I allow my eyes to wander, I realize this isn’t a bedroom at all.
In one corner is a leather table with straps and stirrups. In the other corner is what looks like a stockade, but it can’t be. Can it? Hanging on the wall are floggers and handcuffs and whips, oh my.
Against one wall stands a chest. What’s inside I can only guess.
Braden walks toward the chest and opens the top drawer.
Rope. All different colors and textures of rope.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I was when I found you masturbating to the bondage photos,” he says. “I enjoy many aspects of this lifestyle, but bondage is my favorite.”
My flesh tingles. Is he going to tie me up? Artfully, like in the book? Like in the scenes we just witnessed? And then…what will he do to me?
Anticipation courses through me. My pussy aches with need.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
“What would you like me to do?”
Bind me. Fuck me. “Whatever you want.”
“Good answer.” He fingers the diamond choker at my neck. “You’re wearing my collar tonight, but as I said before, that’s only for your protection. We’re alone here, and you may remove it before we play if you’d like.”
His use of the word “play” takes me aback. I don’t consider what I do with Braden playing. We make love.
I bring my hand to his fingers at my neck. “I’d like to wear it. For tonight, anyway.”
“As you wish.”
Is he happy at my decision? I honestly can’t tell. His demeanor is stoic.
“Braden?”
“Yes?”
I clear my throat. “How many other women have been in this room with you?”
“Skye…”
“I’m not asking for names or anything. I just… I’m not naive. I know I’m not the first.”
“What if I told you that you were the first?”
“I’d say you were lying.”
He resists breaking into a grin, keeping his stoic demeanor. “You’d be correct. You’re not the first. Perhaps, though, you’ll be the last.”
I widen my eyes. “You mean that?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean, Skye. You should know that by now.”
“You want me to be the last?”
“I said perhaps, Skye. I’m not clairvoyant. I can’t predict the future.”
“But you want—”
“I love you, Skye. I’ve never said those words to any woman before you. I make no promises about anything other than this moment, but at this moment, I love you.”
I warm all over. “I love you, too, Braden.”
“What we’ve done in my bedroom in Boston only scratches the surface of what I can show you. Of what I want to show you.”
“Is this the kind of stuff you like to do all the time?” I ask.
“Yes, this is a lifestyle choice. I don’t indulge in club scenes regularly, as I’m not always here. I still live in Boston.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve already explained part of that, but also, by only indulging in my darkest side on occasion, it’s more special. Like anything, if you do it constantly, you become used to it. The thrill lessens.”
“I see.” And I do. I truly see, as if Braden has ordered me only to see.
“Are you ready, Skye?”
“For…all of this?”
“To follow me under. To the darkest side of my fantasies.”
I swallow, my heart stampeding. “Yes, Braden. I’m ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Braden loosens the ties on my corset and helps me step out of it. Then he removes my stilettos, my garter belt and stockings, and my thong.
“Put the shoes back on,” he says, his voice a low rasp.
I obey.
I’m naked except for the black platform stilettos.
He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, you’re sexy. Take a seat on the table.” He gestures to the leather-covered table in one corner of the room.
I walk to the table and comply.
Braden bends over the chest of rope, pulls out some dark-red pieces, and returns to me. “We’ll start slowly. You’re not ready to be completely bound.”
The image of the woman tied from neck to toes forms in my mind. I am ready.
Please. Bind my neck. Make me yours.
I say nothing, though he hasn’t ordered me not to speak.
“Lie facedown,” he says, “with your arms behind your back.”
I obey, placing my face in the cradle.
Though I can only see the floor in front of me, I feel the texture of the rope as he pulls my wrists together and binds them. It’s soft, which surprises me. But of course. This is meant to be pleasurable for both of us. Scratchy twine wouldn’t be pleasurable.
He pulls my arms and binds my forearms together, stretching me. “Okay?” he asks. “Any discomfort?”
“Just a stretch.”
“Good. That’s good.”
Is this it? Just my arms?
“I’m going to remove the bottom half of the table now,” he says. “Drop your feet to the floor with your legs spread.”
The table releases, and my feet end up on the floor. Braden adjusts the height so my legs are spread the way he wants them.
“Keep your face down,” he says.
A few seconds pass, and then I feel the head of his cock nudging at my ass.
“So tempting,” he says. “But not tonight.” Then he pushes his cock into my pussy.
I tense at the sweet invasion, and the ropes binding me pull, adding more tension. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable, either.
“Feel it all, Skye,” he says. “Not just me fucking you but how the binding enhances it.” He pushes into me again and then again. “God, you’re so wet. So wet and still so tight. The perfect pussy for me.”
His words spur me on, and with each subsequent thrust, he pushes my clit against the leather table, the friction delicious.
I’m ready. So ready. I’m climbing, running toward the peak…but I don’t get there.
Don’t get there.
Until he says, “Come, Skye.”
I shatter, pulling at my bindings, trying to reach to touch him.
But I can’t. Can’t touch him. I’m bound. At his mercy as I break into a million shards.
And it’s fucking thrilling.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl. “You’re so hot, Skye.” He pumps again and again, until he locks himself inside me, releasing.
As I come down from my own climax, I feel every contraction of his.
Every single one.
We’re joined as bodies. As hearts. As souls.
And this is only the beginning.
Minutes later, he pulls out. My face is still buried in the table. I can’t see, but I feel. He’s touching me. His fingers trail lightly over my warm flesh—over the cheeks of my ass, over my back and shoulders. Then over my upper arms. He helps me roll to my side, and then he pushes my legs upward so I’m in a makeshift fetal position. I close my eyes, letting the nirvana from my recent orgasm wash over me. A few seconds—or minutes, I’m not sure which—later, Braden rolls me faceup so my arms are now underneath me, forcing my back to arch.
I’m awash in a dreamy haze. Are my eyes open or closed? Braden is a blur moving above me. What’s he doing? I’m not sure. All I know is the utter peace I’m feeling.
Finally, he pulls me into a sitting position, loosens the rope, and removes it slowly.
Then he massages my forearms. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Was the stretch too much?”
“No.”
“Good. You’ll be able to take more next time.”
“Are there other places like this?” I ask. “I mean, I know there are, but…”
“This is tame compared to most,” he says. “I couldn’t find a place that suited me perfectly, so I built this one.”
“When did you…you know?”
“Get interested in bondage?”
“Yeah. Bondage, and the rest of it.”
“I’ve always been interested in it. It’s part of who I am.”
His need to be in charge. I get it.
What I don’t get is why I’m so interested in the other side of it, given my own need for control.
And I am interested.
The image of the woman bound at her neck still titillates me.
Why? I don’t know.
But it does.
“Braden?”
“Yes?”
“This is all…normal, right?”
“Normal? Depends, I guess. If normal is what the majority of people like, then no, this probably isn’t normal. But if normal is whatever consenting adults choose to do without harming anyone or breaking any laws, then yes, this is perfectly normal.”
“Do you always look at both sides of everything?” I ask.
“Always. And you should, too. It’s how you make a success in business.”
I regard him. His bare chest, muscled arms, bronze shoulders, perfectly sculpted abs. There is so much more to Braden Black than meets the eye, and even though he’s let me get closer than anyone, I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface.
He’s a good man. An excellent businessman. A philanthropist. A dominant.
A generous man and a generous partner.
So much to love.
And I do love him. I love him so damned much.
But there will always be a part of Braden I can’t touch.
Always.
And I have to accept that.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
My phone rings, waking me from a sound sleep.
I jerk upward. Where am I? Still at Braden’s penthouse in Manhattan. I look toward the other side of the bed. No Braden.
Shit! My phone’s still ringing.
“Hello.”
“Skye, it’s Eugenie Blake.”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Good morning, Eugenie.”
“Good morning?” She laughs.
I eye the clock on the night table. Noon? My God. No wonder Braden’s gone. He’s probably already put in five hours this morning.
“Sorry. Afternoon,” I say. “What can I do for you, Eugenie?”
“I’m just calling to see if you’ve made a decision on the contract yet.”
“Oh. Yes. I’d be delighted to sign with you. I can bring it by your office today.”
“That would be great. It will be wonderful to see you again. How does two p.m. sound?”
“I can do that. See you then.”
Now, where did I put the contract? First things first. I need a cup of coffee and a shower. I rise and stretch—
Ouch! My arms and shoulders are sore.
I don’t mind, though. It’s a reminder of how Braden bound me last night, just the beginning of what he has in store for me.
Excitement courses through me. I don a robe quickly and walk to the kitchen to get some coffee. I have to start a pot. No Marilyn here to make me coffee no matter when I rise. Odd that Braden doesn’t keep a staff here.
I laugh out loud. Since when is not having a full-time staff odd? God, I sound like Addie.
Time to come back down to earth, thank you very much.
Once the coffee is brewed, I pour myself a cup and head back to the bedroom. I shower quickly and dress in another one of the outfits chosen for me by Mandy, the personal shopper Braden hired. Now, to find the contract. I’m due at Susanne Corporate in an hour, so time is of the essence.
I text Braden, but he doesn’t reply. Probably in a meeting.
Crap! We were reading it in the kitchen before we met Eugenie and the team for dinner. I head back to the kitchen. No contract. The dining table. Nope. It isn’t in the bedroom, so where is it?
Okay. Not a huge deal. I can ask Eugenie for another copy and sign it at our meeting at two. But that won’t make me look very responsible.
Where is the fucking thing?
Shit! Why did I offer to bring
it by? Why didn’t I just say I’d have it messengered over?
I sigh. If I were a signed Susanne Cosmetics contract, where would I be?
Does Braden have an office here? Other than the big one in the front of the penthouse?
Who knows?
Ding!
I jerk. A text from Braden. Thank God.
I had it messengered over to Eugenie this morning.
Fuck. That’s right. He said yesterday he’d do that. How could I have forgotten? Now I look disorganized. I have a meeting with Eugenie to deliver the contract, which she’ll already have in her possession by then.
I text him back.
Okay. Thanks. I’m on my way to see Eugenie.
Then I race toward the elevator, using the card Braden supplied me with. Time to hail a cab.
…
I walk into the building that houses Susanne Corporate, check in with security, and make my way to the elevator.
Only to see—
“Skye. Back again?”
Addison Ames. Seriously?
“Yes,” I say simply.
An elevator opens.
And it’s fucking empty.
Which means I get to ride up to floor twenty-seven with Addie.
Only Addie.
I hold my head high and enter the elevator ahead of her. I push twenty-seven. “Floor?” I ask her.
“Same,” she says.
Which I already knew anyway, but I was hoping she was going somewhere else.
“You’ll make a wonderful discount-cosmetics influencer,” she says snidely.
God, she’s such a bitch!
“Nice outfit,” she continues.
I say nothing.
“Cat got your tongue today, Skye? Or has Braden forbidden you to speak?”
Nice touch. Not only does she diss my new contract, she brings Braden into the mix, and she seems to know he likes to keep me from speaking during sex. Not surprising, since she also knows about his penchant for nipple clamps and butt plugs.
I say nothing.
But only for a couple of seconds.
Before I can stop myself, I turn to Addie, my temper on fire. “You want to have it out? Take your best shot.”