Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,21

about it. I could call Tessa and ask…but no. Just no.

I toss the balls and the clear vibrator back in the drawer. My best chances are the plain dildo and the hot-pink vibrator with clit action.

I’ve done this before, and I always felt really weird. At least now I know what I’m supposed to be feeling.

I undress quickly and slide beneath my covers with the dildo and vibrator. I decide to go with the vibrator first, since it has the clitoral stimulator.

Problem number one—I’m not even slightly wet.

No hot kisses and finger fucking to get me in the mood. Even a little sexual banter over dinner would help. I was wet just sitting next to Braden in his car.

I need something to turn me on. Pay-per-view porn? It’s worth a shot. I grab the remote from the nightstand and flip on the television, quickly finding a porn network. $15.99? To watch people fuck? I’m desperate, so I click Rent Now.

Problem number two—porn has never done much for me.

Still, I watch the fake boobs and monster dicks and try like hell to feel enough to get myself ready so the vibrator won’t hurt going in.

Finally, I’m able to ease the vibrator into my pussy. I flip the switch at the end and…

Nothing.

Not that I expect it to be instantaneous, but at the moment I just feel tight and full.

I gaze at the TV, flicking my other hand over one breast and giving the nipple a pinch. I feel a little, but not enough to get going.

Maybe the porn isn’t a good idea. Maybe I need to close my eyes and remember my time with Braden.

Except that will make me sad.

I try anyway. I turn off the TV and the light, close my eyes, and cup my breasts, letting my fingers wander and tease my nipples. They harden under my touch. Nice. Finally, my pussy starts to respond. Just a tiny tickle, not the gushing madness that Braden caused, but I’ll take what I can get.

Slowly I move the vibrating dildo in and out of my pussy. When that doesn’t get me going, I hold it inside me, letting the little flagella on the clit stimulator do their job. All the while, I’m thinking of Braden’s firm lips on mine, his long, thick fingers inside me.

I imagine him flipping me over and thrusting into me.

I turn onto my hands and knees and work my pussy and clit with the vibrator.

My skin warms, a nice flush. A beginning.

But that’s all it is. A beginning.

Not even close to the middle, and what I’m really searching for is the end result.

The peak.

The pinnacle.

The roller coaster finally reaching its highest point and then plunging me down in a heady euphoria.

Shit.

I get up and clean the vibrator. Then I shove it and the dildo back in my drawer.

This was a gigantic waste of time.

I’ll never climax again.

And the fact that I’ve now experienced it—with Braden Black, no less—makes the loss all the more profound.

…

The next few days of work fly by with few issues. Susanne Cosmetics calls on Friday to tell us how happy they are with the post and its result. Addie was right this time. They didn’t care about the filter to make their purple plumper look a little more human. They’re only interested in results. In fact, they have a new offer for their skin-tightening serum. Addie won’t be happy about that.

A few followers complained that the color was different from Addie’s “selfie.” I privately messaged them to remind them about Susanne’s money-back guarantee, and then I deleted the comments.

Easy enough week.

Except that four days ago, that fateful Tuesday evening, I drank Wild Turkey with Braden Black and ended up in his bed.

I shake my head to clear it. Best not to dwell on something I have no power over. But damn, I hate not having control.

I definitely have no control over Braden Black.

Addie exits her office. “I’m out of here, Skye. Have a great weekend.”

“You too,” I say. “I’ll be in touch if anything comes up with the posts.”

“Great,” she says and swiftly leaves. The door swings shut behind her.

I power everything down for the weekend, reveling in my freedom. I still need to watch the current posts, but Addie doesn’t have any shoots this weekend.

“I’m free as a bird,” I say out loud, smiling.

“Good to know,” a low voice says.

I jerk my gaze upward.

Braden is standing in the doorway.

My whole body tightens, as if someone wrapped me in clear cellophane. “How did