Darkly (Follow Me)

by HELEN HARDT

“It’s hard to explain.” Not that hard to explain, actually. I don’t take unnecessary chances.

  But if I look further inside myself, I see the ultimate truth.

  It’s a barrier.

  A barrier between my partner and me. I don’t want to get too close, so I don’t.

  “Try.”

  “I’m not sure. It’s kind of a…” I close my eyes. I can’t lie to her, yet I’m not ready to tell her the truth. A few seconds later, I open them and meet her gaze. “We’ve done enough talking for one night. I owe you a climax.”

  Surely that will get her off this topic.

  But I’m wrong.

  “I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else while you’re sleeping with me.”

  Not an issue. Rarely do I have a sexual relationship with more than one woman at a time.

  “I told you. You’re the only one I’m sleeping with this week. I haven’t fucked anyone else since I started fucking you.”

  “Good,” she says. “Keep it that way.”

  “Skye—”

  “If I’m your”—air quotes—“‘girlfriend,’ I deserve to be the only one in your bed.”

  I stare at her. She’s asking for something no other woman has ever had the guts to ask from me. I’ve always been up front with women about my expectations.

  I can’t help but admire her in this moment. She’s making a demand—a demand that, for all she knows, could signify the end of whatever this is between us.

  The problem? I don’t want it to end. I haven’t gotten what I want from her. Perhaps, when she finally submits to me, I’ll have had enough of her and will be willing to let her go.

  God, even the thought seems foreign.

  What have I gotten into?

  I’ve never made a guarantee like the one she’s asking for. Even though my MO is to be sexually involved with only one woman at a time, I’ve never made that promise.

  I already know, though, what my answer is.

  “Okay.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “You’re surprised,” I say.

  “A little.”

  “What kind of man do you think I am, Skye?”

  “That’s just it, Braden. I don’t know what kind of man you are. You refuse to talk about anything personal. You’re intelligent, obviously. You’re an excellent businessperson. You do some charity work. But that’s all I know other than what magazines report.”

  “You know I love oysters.”

  “For God’s sake, Braden.”

  I sigh. “You know as much as anyone else does. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No, it’s not, especially if I’m”—air quotes again—“your ‘girlfriend.’”

  She’s not wrong. What bothers me more, though, is that I want to open up to her. To show her who I truly am.

  “Fuck,” I say through clenched teeth.

  I grab her breast and thumb her nipple over two layers of fabric. I lean into her and can’t stop the words from flowing off my tongue.

  “You want to know about me?” I rasp into her ear. “Here’s all you need. Since I laid eyes on you, I haven’t been able to think about anyone else. Your mouth, your tits, your curious and controlling nature—everything about you beguiles me. Since I first fucked you, all I can think about is fucking you again. You’re all I think about”—I bite her earlobe—“and it…perplexes me. Not much perplexes me, Skye. You’re like a narcotic. I hunger for you.” I inhale. “God, I love how you smell—like apples and sex. You taste even better. You want to be the only one in my bed? You don’t even have to ask. You’re the only woman I want right now. The only one.”

  A low growl vibrates from her throat.

  I scrape my teeth along the outer edge of her ear. “Now, let me give you that climax.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I lift her tank top over her head and throw it on the floor. Then I unhook her bra and discard it as her breasts fall against her chest. I cup them, knead them, and then I bury my nose between them, kissing them and thumbing her nipples.

  My admission to Skye has every cell in my body humming, every thought in my mind turned to mush.

  All I do is feel.

  How much I want her…

  How much I desire her…

  How much I need her control…

  How much I…

  I nibble the tops of her breasts and then finally take a nipple between my lips and suck. She inhales sharply.

  “So beautiful,” I say against her flesh.

  “Braden, please…”

  “Please what, baby?”

  “I…I want to come.”

  She has no idea that I want that climax as much as she does. “You will.” I bite a nipple.

  “Oh!”

  “You like that?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  “Good. I could suck and bite your tits all day.” No lie there. And yes, she likes pleasure-pain. Good. Very good. I nibble on her other nipple and then raise my head again. “On the other hand, that paradise between your legs is even more beautiful.” I slide down her body, grasping her sweats, and glide them over her hips and legs.

  I spread her legs. “God, yes. So beautiful.”

  All of Skye is beautiful, but I swear, when she’s naked, her legs spread, her pussy glistening for me—that’s when she’s at her most beautiful.

  “I’m going to make you come, Skye,” I say, my voice low and husky. “I’m going to make you come so many times that you’ll be begging me to stop.”

  “No,” she says, “I’ll never beg you to stop.”

  “You will.” I stroke my tongue over her clit.

  She quivers beneath me. I tug on her flesh and then close my lips over her clit.

  “You taste so good, baby,” I say, lapping at her rich cream. “I’ll never get enough. But this isn’t about me.” I glide a finger into her pussy.

  That’s it. All it takes.

  She shatters around my finger, squeezing me with those sumptuous walls.

  Damn. It’s nearly as good as coming myself. In its way, it’s even better. Because that thing going on inside me—where I feel what she feels—breaks me into pieces along with her.

  And I want more.

  I add another finger, urging her on and then sucking on her clit.

  Two orgasms and then three.

  I’m exploding along with her, each climax more intense than the last.

  She’s a woman who only recently experienced a climax. This will be too much for her. Too much. Pleasure equals pain equals pleasure.

  But she takes it.

  She takes it all.

  “Tell me to stop, Skye,” I say, my voice more like a growl. “Tell me it’s too much. Too much… Too much…”

  Except it’s not too much. Not too much for me and not too much for her. This is savage. Primal.

  Fucking magnificent.

  I pull climax after climax out of her. Any other woman would be begging by now—begging for a release from the pleasure-pain.

  Skye is so far from any other woman.

  She wins this round—though I’ll never admit it to her—because I can’t wait any longer to ram my cock into her pussy.

  I can’t help a soft chuckle. “You are obstinate. Fuck. I have to be inside you.”

  Then I’m in her. Her pussy walls are still spasming. I fuck her hard and quick, grinding over her clit so her climaxes continue.

  “Braden!” she cries out.

  “That’s it, baby. Keep coming. Keep coming. You’re so hot. That’s it. That’s it. Fuck!”

  I slam into her.

  She’s still spasming as I release, and we come in tandem, her pussy clenching around me with each spurt of my seed into her. Perspiration glistens on her forehead, and her eyes are heavy-
lidded.

  She’s fucking amazing.

  I stay on top of her, our bodies still joined, for a few timeless moments.

  And for those few moments, I feel an utter completeness that is foreign to me.

  I withdraw and roll onto my back. She snuggles against my shoulder and kisses my flesh.

  “That was amazing,” she says.

  I don’t look at her. “You didn’t beg.”

  The words aren’t harsh, though in my mind she’s been disobedient. I’m not angry with her. I’m freaking amazed by her sheer will.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Any other woman would have begged me to stop. I know a woman’s body. I know that many orgasms are a toll, pleasure morphing to almost pain. But you didn’t beg me to stop.” I shake my head, groaning. “I’ll say it again. You’re my Everest, Skye.”

  She giggles. “I think you’ve already climbed me.”

  I open my eyes and prop my head in my hand to meet her gaze. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “You laughed.”

  “I was making a joke. About climbing on top of me?” She smiles.

  Except this isn’t funny. Not at all. She’s beautiful, wonderful—an amazing and brilliant woman. And damn, I’ve never met anyone like her. She makes me smile, laugh. She brings me to my fucking knees.

  And I’m loving every minute of it.

  Which disturbs me more than a little.

  “I get what I want, Skye. Always. No matter how long it takes.”

  She swallows.

  “You gave in to me once. I want it again.”

  “And in return?”

  “You get me. You’re Braden Black’s girlfriend.”

  She bites her lower lip. “I think I’m already Braden Black’s girlfriend. Instagram doesn’t lie, after all.”

  She’s being funny again, or trying to be, but I’m not laughing.

  And I know I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want from her.

  “All right,” I say. “What else do you want?”

  She answers quickly. “To be the only one. If you become interested in someone else, you have to tell me, and that will be the end. And I don’t want you to use condoms with me.”

  I stay quiet for a few seconds, as if I have to think it over. Truth? I don’t have to think at all.

  “Done.”

  I close my eyes then, as thoughts explode through me.

  How is this happening?

  How have I fallen so far from who I thought I was?

  I don’t mind being exclusive, but never have I made such a promise to a woman.

  I picture seven-year-old Skye racing through a cornfield, frightened and lost, her little heart beating against her chest.

  I picture present Skye shooting photos of Addison Ames drinking coffee—paying her dues and using any opportunity to get her name known as a photographer.

  I picture older Skye, still beautiful, standing in my bedroom, naked and waiting…

  Fuck. It. All.

  I feign sleep as Skye touches my now-flaccid dick. Her touch scorches me, and already my cock wants to respond.

  Then she kisses my shoulder.

  “You are my Everest, Braden,” she whispers. “I will figure you out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I rise the next morning without waking Skye and spend more time than I have staring at her sleeping body—the warm flush covering her chest and breasts, the soft sleeping smile on her beautiful lips.

  I could wake her.

  Fuck her.

  Pull more climaxes out of her.

  But I have work to do, and a new reality hits me. I want Skye more than I want to work.

  Willpower, Braden. Willpower.

  This is all new to me. I can’t recall the last time I spent the night at a woman’s place. I’m feeling an odd combination of regret and happiness.

  And the regret part is pretty small.

  If I didn’t have an early meeting…

  Oh, for God’s sake. I pad into her small bathroom and turn on the shower. The water pressure is weak, but I squeeze some shampoo—raspberry-scented and oddly refreshing—into my palms and wash my hair. Then I squeeze shower gel—also raspberry, no wonder she always smells like raspberries—into her loofah and scrub myself clean. I don’t have my toothbrush, but I swish some of Skye’s mouthwash around. I’ll brush my teeth when I get home.

  I dry off, dress in yesterday’s clothes, and walk back to the bed.

  I grab my phone as I kiss Skye gently on her forehead.

  She opens her eyes. “You took a shower?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never used raspberry shampoo before. I like the fruity smell.” I give her a half smile.

  She giggles and then parts her lips and inhales, smelling my wet hair.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you,” I continue. “You were out.”

  A yawn splits her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”

  “I can.”

  “You can? Why?”

  “Multiple orgasms will do that to you.” I stare at my phone.

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  “Oh, good. I have plenty of time to get to work.”

  Shit. An email from the office in New York. They need me to sign a document today and attend meetings the rest of the week—among them a meeting with McCain Global regarding some property we’ve been trying to purchase for years. A busy several days and then the benefit for the Boston Opera Guild on Saturday. I’m a major donor. “Looks like I have to go to New York for a few days.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Who will take care of Sasha?”

  “Annika will. I’m texting her now. I’ll be back Saturday morning. Saturday evening, I’d like you to accompany me to a benefit for the Boston Opera Guild.”

  She nods. “Sure. Okay.”

  I kiss her lips softly. “Wear the black dress.”

  …

  Two hours later, still wearing yesterday’s suit, I arrive at LaGuardia on my jet. I don’t have any luggage, as I keep everything I need at my Manhattan penthouse. After a quick change into fresh clothes and a much-needed tooth brushing, I arrive at the office.

  Another two hours later, all the documents are signed, and I’m at lunch with Dimitri Stamos, who heads the company satellite in Manhattan, telling him to take the meetings for the rest of the week.

  He drops his jaw. “Who are you, and what have you done with Braden Black?”

  I understand his confusion. I’ve always been the face of Black, Inc., and in the rare event that I can’t make an important meeting, I send Ben.

  Dimitri is a capable man, though, and he’s told me on more than one occasion that he’s available to ease my workload.

  “You’ve been wanting to do more, Dimitri. Here’s your opportunity.”

  “Well…yeah, but this isn’t like you. At all.”

  He’s right. Still, I don’t owe him an explanation, so if he’s waiting for one, he’ll be waiting a long time.

  “Suffice it to say I have confidence in you to take the meetings and do what needs to be done.”

  “I’m up for it. The only issue I see is the meeting with Foster McCain of McCain Global. It’s taken a while to even get him to talk to us.”

  “You know as much about the business as I do,” I say. “If you have any issues, I’ll be available by phone as always.”

  Dimitri’s brown eyes widen further. “You mean you’re not going to call in and attend via phone?”

  “Not this time,” I say, taking a sip of water. “You can call me if necessary, but this is what you’ve been asking for, Dimitri. You’ve more than proved your competence over the last five years. I trust you. Implicitly.”

 
Though I keep my expression stoic, I’m surprising myself as well as Dimitri. Ben has been after me for years not to micromanage so much. We hire only the best people, have an ironclad nondisclosure agreement, and in the last ten years, we’ve never had an employee screw us over.

  That’s why I’m doing this.

  It’s not because I can’t stand being away from Skye until Saturday.

  Fuck. What a damned lie!

  For a man who values control, I’m losing it where Skye Manning is concerned.

  “I suppose it won’t do me any good to ask why you’ve had this change of heart, huh?” Dimitri asks.

  “No,” I say emphatically, “it won’t.”

  My private life is private. I keep it out of the workplace. In fact, I keep a large facet of it out of my hometown of Boston.

  My club, Black Rose Underground, is here in Manhattan.

  And it’s here for a very good reason.

  “Good enough,” Dimitri says. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  We spend the rest of lunch getting Dimitri up to speed on some details for the meetings he’ll be taking. He’s well prepared already, which gives me even more faith in my decision.

  After lunch, I call my pilot. “Change in plans,” I tell him. “We’re leaving this afternoon.”

  “Hold on. I need to check with air traffic control for a takeoff slot. What’s your window?”

  “I can be at the airport in an hour and a half. As soon as possible after that.”

  “Got it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  I’m heading to my Manhattan penthouse when I get the text from the pilot.

  We’re ready to go at 4 p.m.

  Excellent, I text back.

  Assuming no delays, I’ll land in Boston by five and be back at my place by six. Enough time to see Skye. I considered sending her a ticket to meet me here in Manhattan, but she wouldn’t be able to get out of work with no notice.

  Plus…I’m not sure she’s ready for New York Braden.

  In the meantime…

  I slide my card through the elevator and descend to the bottom floor of the building.

  The Black Rose Underground.

  The club is closed during daytime hours, but I want to be here for a few minutes. I want to soak up the atmosphere, try to get my head on straight.