Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,16
and out of me, slowly at first and then increasing his speed. The cotton of his shirt brushes my lower back as he pushes, pushes, pushes, and with each push, my clit abrades against the comforter, giving me jolt after jolt of magnetizing pleasure. His dick slides in and out, hitting spots inside me I never knew existed—spots that increase my pleasure, increase the energy swirling in my clit.
I grasp the comforter in my fists, still immobile, biting my bottom lip so hard I fear I draw blood.
Something’s different. I’ve been excited before, turned on before, but this is new, as if I’m running naked through a forest at dusk, reaching, reaching, reaching for a mysterious black bird that holds a secret I need. It flies closer and closer but then flaps away, always just a foot out of my grasp.
God, I’ve never felt this way.
“I’m going to come.” Braden thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. “Come with me, baby. Come with me.”
His words are a command—a command I can’t obey, except—
“Oh my God!” An intense and tingly heat begins in my core. My pussy shatters, warmth coursing through it, and I swear electricity surges through my veins and sizzles outward all the way to my fingers and toes. The roller coaster finally reaches the pinnacle and plunges me into nirvana. I pulse in time with him, each stroke, as he finishes inside me.
My whole body becomes one with Braden, with the bed, and with myself.
This.
This is what I’ve been missing.
This is what I’ve come so close to but never experienced—this intensity, this dreamy high.
What would Braden say if he knew this was my first orgasm ever?
Chapter Ten
I don’t have much time to ponder the complete wonder of what just happened. Braden pulls out, and I turn over to see what’s going on. My mind is luxuriating in the kaleidoscopic whirlwind of the climax when Braden finally rips off his own clothes.
And I gasp.
GQ didn’t do him justice.
The man is a fucking god.
His eyes are ablaze with blue fire as he looks down at me. His cock, though he just came, is nearly erect again sans condom. He must have disposed of it when he undressed.
“Move to the head of the bed,” he says. “Lie on your back and grab two of the rungs of the headboard.”
I stare at him—his glistening lips, his perfect chest with scattered black hair, his hard washboard abs, his black nest of curls encircling his huge cock.
“Now, Skye.”
I’m still intoxicated from the climax, but I hastily scoot backward as he demands, rest my head on one of his fluffy pillows, and grab the headboard.
“I’m not going to bind you,” he says.
Bind me? He was thinking of binding me? Oh, hell no! I let go of the headboard and meet his gaze, my own on fire.
“Grab the rungs,” he says calmly but darkly.
“No, I won’t. You can’t tie me up.”
“I think I just said I wasn’t going to.”
A strange sliver of disappointment edges through me. I shake it off.
“I—”
“Grab the rungs, Skye. Now.”
His voice. What is it about his voice that makes me want to obey him? To never question him? My God, if he asks me to do something illegal, I may just do it. That’s how hypnotizing his husky timbre is.
I grab the rungs.
“Good.” He scoots on the bed so he’s straddling me, his cock dangling at my mouth. “Get me hard again. Use that sexy mouth of yours.”
He wants a blow job. Of course. I never knew a man who didn’t want a blow job. That I can do. Braden is bigger than any man I’ve been with, but I’m pretty sure I can pull this off.
He pushes his cock between my lips slowly, letting me go at my own pace. When he hits the back of my throat, he’s only a little over halfway in. I let go of one rung to use my hand—
“Don’t let go!” he says through clenched teeth.
I want to tell him I can make it better for him if he’ll let me use my hand, but I can’t because my mouth is full of cock. I quickly re-grab the rung.
He still moves in and out of my mouth slowly. His erection has returned in full force, and I’m excited to get it inside me again, to do an instant replay of the most amazing several minutes of my life.
Tessa was right. An orgasm can’t be described.
“I enjoy sex,” I once told her. “Maybe I’m climaxing and I don’t