Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,84
to get involved. This is my problem.”
“All it’ll take is a quick call to your balloon place.”
“Please. No. That’s not why I told you.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
Because you’re my boyfriend. Because I need to talk to you about stuff in my life. Because if something is bothering me, it should matter to you. Because, because, because.
I don’t say any of this.
“Skye, when you tell me about a problem, I find a solution. It’s what I do.”
“I’m not asking for a solution. Please. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely sure. Let’s just have dinner.”
The salmon en croute with asparagus and walnut sauce tastes like sawdust. Even the bourbon Braden brings me doesn’t help my mood. Addie has ruined this night for me. Even the scads of likes and comments on both my posts today aren’t helping. I silence my phone so I don’t have to keep hearing the dings.
Dessert is served, and the emcee, some bigwig with the opera guild, takes center stage.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he says.
I recognize him. It’s George, the guy Braden introduced me to early in the evening.
“I’m happy to report that we’ve surpassed our expected donations for the evening thanks to our generous benefactor, who has doubled all our receipts. Please give a hand to Boston’s own Braden Black.”
Braden stands to thunderous applause. His demeanor is stoic, as usual. He takes the applause gracefully and sits down after several seconds when it begins to wane.
George continues speaking, and Braden turns to me.
“Time to go,” he says.
“Now? While he’s talking?”
“Yes. Now. Before I tear that dress off you right here.”
…
To my surprise, Christopher isn’t waiting for us. A limo is. A chauffeur I don’t recognize opens the door, and I step into the back while Braden follows. The interior is decorated in red and black leather. I inhale the earthy and slightly sweet fragrance.
“Where’s Christopher?” I ask when we’re secure in the limo.
“He has the night off.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t really think I could wait until we got to my place to have you, did you?”
I gulp. “I…didn’t think about it.”
He moves toward me, softly brushes my straps off my shoulders, baring my breasts, and then gives the chain between them a good yank.
I cry out.
“That’s right. I’ve been thinking about those nipple clamps all night, Skye. Every time I looked at you. Every time someone else looked at you.”
“No one looked at me,” I say.
“Not blatantly, no. They wouldn’t dare. But they looked, baby, and every time they did, I thought about what I’d do to you tonight in this limo. What I, and no one else, would be doing to you.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He yanks the chain again. “I’m going to drive you as wild as you’ve driven me all evening.” He crushes his mouth to mine.
I open instantly as he continues to pull on the chain in tandem with the thrusts of his tongue.
With one swift movement, he has me on his lap, my dress around my waist and my clamped nipples in full view. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, as the rhythm of his yanks on the chain becomes discordant and nonsensical. It’s thrilling.
Need to breathe. But God, I don’t want to break the amazing kiss. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from mine, his lips swollen and glistening.
“God, those tits,” he says. He lifts my skirt and rips my panties off me. Then, holding me to the side, he unbuckles his belt, slides his pants and boxer briefs over his hips, all with his one free hand. His cocks juts out, hard and beautiful as always, the blue vein marbling through it throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Am I imagining it, or are we that in sync?
“Have to have you now.” He grips my hips and pushes me down on his erection.
Full. So full and complete. I’m ready. Wet and ready. All evening, the nipple clamps teased me, kept my body on edge, made me alive with anticipation.
“Ride me, Skye,” he says huskily.
Is he truly letting me take charge? Before he changes his mind, I begin to fuck him hard and fast. I don’t care that the driver is right behind the wall. He doesn’t seem to care, either. I moan, gasp, cry out his name, all the while knowing the chauffeur can hear us.
Braden’s fingers never leave the chain between my breasts, yanking it in the same discordant way as I fuck him, so I never know when it’s coming.