Follow Me Always

by HELEN HARDT

  “Don’t you?”

  Fair question, and one I wasn’t expecting. “No,” I say. “Absolutely not. My parents’ separation was not my fault.”

  For the first time, I believe the words with all my heart. My journey is far from complete, but I’m moving forward. And with each step, I understand myself a little better.

  “And your mother’s death was not your fault, Braden. It isn’t. It never was.”

  He cups my cheek, then, running his thumb over my top lip.

  “I won’t give you up,” I say. “You’ll protect me. And I’ll protect you. That’s how it is when you love someone. We both have an equal obligation to each other.” I cover his hand with my own.

  What seems like an eternity passes between us, our gazes locked. Braden doesn’t cry, but his eyes are glazed over with what I suspect are unshed tears.

  I hold my own tears back—for him, and also for me.

  Finally, he smiles. It’s weak, but it’s a smile. “I’ll never truly control you, will I?”

  I move forward and brush my lips against his stubbled cheek. “Braden, did you ever honestly believe you would?”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Black Rose Underground.

  Braden’s private suite.

  I wear only platform stilettos and black-and-red lace panties.

  “Lie down on the table,” Braden says darkly.

  A black sheet sits on top of the leather table. Braden has prepared for something. My nipples are hard and aching.

  I know what’s coming, and I know how much he’s giving me.

  I flash back to the last time we were in this room—that horrid evening when we almost ended for good because of something I wanted. Something he couldn’t give me.

  This lifestyle means as much—perhaps more—to me as it always has. But now, I see the play for what it is—play. It’s not punishment for something either of us did in the past. It’s simply part of our sex life, a part we both immensely enjoy.

  And we both need to be comfortable with what happens.

  I lie down as commanded, Braden’s diamond choker heavy around my neck—a symbol of who I belong to when I’m here.

  “Hold this.” Braden places a black leather flogger next to my hip.

  I grasp it in my hand, my body shivering. What will he do to me with the flogger? How will it feel against my hard nipples, my abdomen, my clit?

  I can’t wait to find out.

  But Braden won’t be rushed. He’s always on his own time.

  “I’m not going to bind you tonight,” he says. “You have only your obedience to me in this room to hold yourself still as I do what I do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I’ve never given you a safe word. I give you one now.”

  “Okay, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

  “Just in case,” he says. “Your safe word is ‘always.’ Because you’re mine. Always.”

  “Always,” I repeat softly. “And you’re mine. Always.”

  “I am. I never thought I’d want to belong to another person, but I’m yours. Always.”

  I can’t help a smile, and I reach forward—

  Braden grabs the flogger from me and whips my hand away.

  I drop it back down to my side, the sting a lovely flame that probes straight to my clit.

  “Stay still,” he commands. “And stay quiet, as well. The only thing you’re allowed to say is your safe word, if you need it.”

  I nod.

  I understand.

  I understand Braden so much better than the last time we were here together.

  I understand myself so much better as well.

  And I’m ready.

  I’m ready for whatever he chooses to give me tonight. What goes on in this room is his choice, not mine. My choice is whether to consent.

  He moves away from the table and out of my line of vision. When he returns, he picks up the flogger once more and whips it across my breasts.

  I gasp at the sting.

  He gasps as well. “I brought a blush to your tits. So beautiful.”

  My nipples are straining, having grown even harder from the flogger.

  He brings it across my breasts again, and then once more. Then he whips my abdomen softly. Then harder. Harder still.

  Until he comes to my clit.

  It’s hard and straining, and I want more than anything to lift my hips, offer myself to Braden on a silver platter.

  But I’m bound.

  Bound only by his command, but his will is stronger than the toughest rope.

  He teases me with the flogger, trailing it ever so lightly over my clit.

  I’m ready to explode. Seriously shatter like those glass shards from his glass on the carpet last night.

  My flesh tingles, and I’m ready, so ready…

  He flogs my clit then, and I jerk, the sparks flying through me out to my limbs and then arrowing back to my pussy.

  Please, I beg inwardly. Please, Braden. I need you!

  He turns from me for a moment, fidgets with something out of a drawer. Then he turns back to me, a red taper candle in his hand.

  “Soy wax,” he says. “It burns cooler than paraffin. I can’t risk burning your beautiful skin.”

  He hands the candle to me then. I grasp it tightly.

  He pulls out a match. “I could use a lighter, but I prefer matches.” He strikes it and then lights the candle. “Watch the flame. Let it hypnotize you as you hold it.”

  I bring the candle in front of me, breathing in the aroma of the lit match, the sweetness of the burning wax. The small flame grows, flickering in a discordant rhythm. I stare at its orange warmth, at the red wax beginning to melt. Relaxation overtakes me, though my body still hums from the flogging.

  After some time—I couldn’t say how long—Braden takes the candle from me and tips it, so a drop of wax hits the inside of his forearm.

  I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but he regards me sternly.

  Right. I’m to stay quiet.

  “I’m testing the wax, Skye. I’ll never put something on your body that I wouldn’t put on my own. It’s my duty to protect you. Always.”

  Always.

  My safe word.

  Except it’s so much more than a safe word.

  Not just to me but also to him. Braden was so distraught when he thought he didn’t protect me from the Reardons. So upset that he was ready to leave me rather than have me put in harm’s way again.

  Now, more than any other time, I understand his need to protect me. He’ll never let me down, and I’ll never let him down.

  The wax hardens on his forearm, and he nods. “It’s ready.”

  I tingle all over. Where will he drip the wax first? On my thighs? My chest? My nipples. Not knowing what to expect has me thrilled beyond measure.

  Braden holds the candle over me, and the anticipation drives me wild. I don’t dare close my eyes, though I’m tempted, just so I won’t know where the hot wax is coming—

  Until it’s there. A drip on the top of one breast. I gasp. It burns, yes, but only for a split second. Then it’s warmth, as it meanders for a few seconds before beginning to harden.

  Braden tips the candle once more, and another drop drizzles onto my areola.

  My nipple hardens as the areola shrinks around it. The red hue of the wax makes my nipple look painted.

  Painted red.

  And it’s fucking hot, in more ways than one.

  My hips rise, seemingly of their own accord. Yes, Braden told me to stay still, but he doesn’t admonish me.

  He merely groans.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, as he drips more wax over my breasts and nipples. “God, I didn’t know how hot this would be.”

&n
bsp; I sigh, again tempted to close my eyes and surrender myself to the moment.

  More drips, the flaming hotness melting against me, engulfing me in desire, and then cooling quickly into shapes, none the same.

  He trails the candle lower, and I hold back a gasp. Will he drip wax onto my clit? Onto my pussy? Do I want him to?

  I have my safe word.

  But I won’t use it. I know this already. Braden will never put me in harm’s way.

  I trust him.

  I trust him with my body, my heart, my soul.

  And I trust him with this candle.

  He groans again. “I thought about binding you, but I decided against it, and I’m glad. You couldn’t be more beautiful than you are now, bound only by my command.” He drips wax on my abdomen, close to my mound, and I shiver at the burn and then the warmth and then the tingles as the wax cools and hardens.

  Braden moves down to my thighs, dripping the wax into long rivers over my flesh. With each new burn, my excitement increases. My heart beats faster, and my pussy aches even more.

  He spreads my legs. “You’re glistening, Skye. So wet. Fuck.” He blows out the candle.

  I suck in a breath, part out of disappointment but more so out of anticipation. He’s going to fuck me now. I know it in my bones. I’m in sync with Braden’s passions and desires.

  He disrobes quickly and within seconds he’s hovering over me, ready to plunge inside.

  “I love you, Skye. I fucking love you so much.”

  He thrusts into me.

  The wax shapes bend slightly with each of his thrusts, and my nipples react to the friction. I meet Braden’s fiery blue gaze. I haven’t been told to speak, but I can’t help it.

  “I love you, too, Braden. So much.”

  He lifts his eyebrows slightly at my disobedience, but then he closes his eyes, squeezing them shut as he continues to fuck me hard and fast.

  And with each thrust, I lift my hips, longing to grab his ass and force him farther and farther into me, but I hold back. I already disobeyed once. I will not do it again.

  Instead, I rush. Inside my body I rush toward the peak I’ve only climbed with Braden. With this amazing man who I love so much.

  And when I come, I undulate into him, take his body into my own with more passion than ever before.

  I moan and cry out, shudder beneath him as my pussy explodes around his cock.

  “Fuck,” he groans.

  When he releases, I feel every spurt, every contraction, every ounce of love he pours into me.

  And I know.

  I know this is the man I’ll spend my life with.

  Always.

  Epilogue

  Two days later, we’re back in Boston. Penny runs toward me and I pepper her little face with kisses. Already she’s nearly doubled in size. I give Sasha equal attention, while Braden hangs his suitcoat on the coatrack near the elevator door.

  I take a quick look at my phone. Betsy never called me back, so I’ll call her. I owe Kathy Harmon a call and dinner date, too. I have a therapist who is helping me. Tessa and I are great. Braden and I are great. I’ve forgiven my parents and myself, and I’m on a journey toward self-love and acceptance. It will take some time to get over the trauma with the Reardons, but I’ll do it. I have to.

  Addison is no longer a threat to either of us. Braden met with Brock Ames and a slew of attorneys this morning, paid back the half million dollars Brock gave him all those years ago, and they drew up a new agreement, nullifying the previous one. The statute of limitations for any allegations Addie could make against Braden has long expired. Now, if she comes near either of us again, we will file charges.

  I smile to myself.

  Christopher and the others seem to have disappeared, and I head to the kitchen for a drink of water. “You want anything?” I ask Braden.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  I grab a glass, fill it with ice and water, and take a long drink. Flying dries me out, even a short flight like New York to Boston. I set the glass on the counter, and—

  I gasp.

  Braden is in the kitchen, and he cups my face and kisses me long and hard. I melt into him and return his kiss, already throbbing with want. I’ll never get enough of Braden Black.

  So I’m disappointed when he breaks the kiss.

  “I love you, Skye,” he says, his voice gruff.

  “I love you, too.”

  Then he does something I don’t expect, especially not from Braden Black.

  He drops to one knee.

  I gasp.

  He pulls a ruby red velvet box out of his pocket, opens it, and hands it to me.

  My heart nearly stops. It’s a ring. A diamond ring, and it’s large but not ostentatious. Braden knows me. He knows I wouldn’t want anything over-the-top.

  “I didn’t want to do this in New York,” he says. “I wanted to do it here. In our home.”

  “Our home?”

  “Yes. I want you to move in with me, Skye.”

  I clasp my hand to my mouth.

  “The diamond choker you wear at the club is yours now,” he says. “It tells the world you’re mine in the dark. But Skye, I want the world to know you’re mine all the time. Everywhere we go.”

  “Oh my God, Braden.”

  “Will you accept this ring? Will you marry me? Will you be mine. Always?”

  I drop to my knees in front of him, cup both his cheeks, and as a tear streams from my eye, I reply.

  “Always, Braden. I’ll follow you always.”

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  Acknowledgments

  This has been a blast! I hope you’ve enjoyed Braden and Skye’s journey as much as I have.

  Thanks so much to the incredible team at Entangled Amara for their belief in and dedication to this project. Liz, Jessica, Stacy, Heather, Bree, Riki, Lydia, Curtis, Toni, Meredith—you all had a huge hand in making the Follow Me series shine! These new covers are gorgeous!

  Thanks to the women and men of my reader group, Hardt and Soul. Your endless and unwavering support keeps me going.

  To my family and friends, thank you for your encouragement.

  Thank you most of all to my readers. Without you, none of this would be possible. If you find yourself missing Braden and Skye, have no fear. We may see more of them in the future!

  About the Author

  #1 New York Times, #1 USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Helen Hardt’s passion for the written word began with the books her mother read to her at bedtime. She wrote her first story at age six and hasn’t stopped since. In addition to being an award-winning author of romantic fiction, she’s a mother, an attorney, a black belt in tae kwon do, a grammar geek, an appreciator of fine red wine, and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She writes from her home in Colorado, where she lives with her family.

  helenhardt.com

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