Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,17
realize it.”
“No,” she replied. “You’ll know when it happens.”
How had I ever doubted her?
Now that I’ve experienced the thing that has always eluded me, I want more. A lot more.
Braden finally removes his cock from my mouth and eases down my body. “Your tits are perfect,” he says, and then he sucks one between his lips while lightly pinching the other.
Goose bumps erupt on my flesh. My nipples feel as if they’ve never been touched before, as if Braden Black is the first man to ever tantalize them.
He sucks, nibbles, bites.
I squirm beneath him, circling my hips, searching for something to rub against my clit to relieve the pressure building in it again. My breasts are swollen and achy, and each tug on my nipples rushes straight to my pussy.
Braden sucks and bites, his stubble abrading my sensitive skin. How I long to run my fingers through his thick hair, smooth back the wet strands sticking to his forehead.
But I can’t let go. I can’t. I’m not bound, but I can’t.
I’m bound by Braden’s will, Braden’s strength. I don’t know what to think, but I know something in me…
Something in me likes it.
Something in me wants more.
I don’t like being contained. My fingers itch and tingle. They want to move, embed themselves in the silk of Braden’s locks.
I wiggle a finger. Yeah, I can still move them.
But I don’t.
No matter how much I want to. I don’t.
“You’re beautiful,” he says after releasing my nipple. He moves down my body, raining soft kisses on my belly and my vulva. “I want to eat you again, but damn, I need to get inside that hot pussy. Fuck.” He moves from the bed and returns with a condom.
“Let me do that,” I say.
He meets my gaze, his teeth clenched. “Don’t you fucking move.”
“Braden, I want to—”
“I said don’t move!”
I inhale sharply and look up, a sliver of fear edging through me. The thing above me finally comes into focus.
It’s some sort of contraption with pulleys and a harness.
I’m both frightened out of my mind and turned on beyond belief.
“I’m going to fuck you again, Skye, and this time, I’m going deep.”
He hadn’t gone deep last time? I swore I felt him pushing against my cervix. But he means business. He maneuvers my legs over his shoulders, opening me.
Then he thrusts in.
Damn! I bite my lip to keep from shouting. Yes, he’s deeper this time. So deep. So good. I’m loose from the first time, and I’m wet as all get out, and still he burns through me as if his dick is made of fire.
“That’s good,” he grits out. “Sweet pussy. Sweet Skye.”
His shoulders are hard, bronze, and beautiful. My fingers ache to glide over them, down his back, and grab his perfectly shaped ass so I can push him farther and farther into me.
But I don’t let go of the rungs. I don’t let go.
It’s probably too much to ask for another climax. After all, one was a true surprise and a true gift. Another won’t—
“God, Braden!” I grasp the rungs with white knuckles as he pounds into me, grazing my clit with his pubic hair, his balls slapping against my ass.
My world spins as I continue moaning and screaming.
“That’s it, baby. Come. Come all over me. Come for me. Only me.”
His words become his voice, a simple vibration that takes me soaring over the harbor. Still he fucks me, harder and harder. The tingling intensity builds again, and I jump off the peak of the highest mountaintop.
“Fuck. Skye. Yes!”
He roars as he thrusts so deeply, I swear he’s touching the tip of my head. I pulse around him as he comes, our climaxes in perfect tandem.
Wow. Just wow. No drug can match this.
I meet his gaze, yearning to touch his face glistening with perspiration. Yearning for him to lower his lips to mine and kiss me—the perfect ending to the perfect fuck.
Instead, he rolls off me onto his back, one arm across his eyes.
And I wait.
Shouldn’t he say something? Should I say something? Finally, he moves off the bed, stands, and throws the condom in the trash. Then he bends down, picks up his pants, and takes his phone out of his pocket. Now will he say something?
When he doesn’t, I do. “Going to Instagram this, too?”
It sounded funny in my head, but now I just think it’s immature.
Still he says nothing. He’s tapping into his phone.
When he finally speaks, I wish he hadn’t.
“I just called Christopher. He’ll drive you home.”