AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And with each spurt of my cock, a little more of the stress of the previous twelve hours drifts away from me.
I heave out a sigh of relief. So much relief.
She eases her mouth away when I’m done and inhales a breath. A few minutes later, I adjust my underwear and pants. Then I pull her to her feet.
“I needed that,” I say. “I’m aware of your needs too, Skye. We were interrupted last night. You’ll get your reward. Anticipation makes it better.”
She nods. “I’m sorry for being nosy.”
“No apology necessary. If I wanted to keep you out of this room, I would’ve locked it.”
“Okay. Good.”
“So what do you think? Of the book.”
“Honestly? It’s amazing. The photography, I mean.”
Right. Skye is a photographer. A talented one. But we both know what drew her to those images.
“I appreciate that, but I’m not asking you your opinion as a photographer. What do you think of the subject?”
She bites her lip. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re hedging.”
“Braden, I’m not.”
“You were playing with your nipple when I walked in here, Skye. You were turned on.”
“I admit that. That doesn’t mean I’m sure about the subject matter.”
“Fair enough,” I say.
“Do you…do that?”
I lift my eyebrows. “Practice bondage? You already know the answer to that question. I’ve bound you many times.”
“Not like in the book.”
“Of course not. The bondage in that book is not for beginners.”
“I get that. I know I’m a beginner. But just how far advanced in this bondage have you gone?”
I give her a half smile. “I can say this. I haven’t tried everything in that book.”
“The book is an inch thick, Braden. I’m not sure anyone has tried everything in there. You know what I’m asking.”
“Do you want to tell me every detail about your previous dalliances?”
“There’s not much to tell, but if you want to know, sure.”
“I’ll tell you this much, Skye. From the first time I saw you, embarrassed by a condom, your cheeks and chest red and your full lips parted in that way that drives me slowly to burning passion, I imagined you bound intricately for my pleasure.”
She gulps. Loudly. And rosiness sweeps over her cheeks and chest.
“Surely that doesn’t surprise you.”
Her nipples are hard, her breasts plump and swollen. I inhale. That smooth, subtle, musky, tangy fragrance.
“You like the idea,” I say. “Your chest got noticeably pinker when I said the words.”
“Is this what you meant when you talked about the part of your lifestyle that stays here in Manhattan?”
“Partially.”
“Why? Why only here?”
“I’ve told you. I’m too close to Boston. My father lives there. My mother…”
My mother is gone, but she’s still in Boston. Her spirit is there. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the woman who gave birth to me, who taught me about what love is.
But I don’t talk about her. I never talk about her. Still too much baggage there. Still too much guilt…
“What about your mother?”
“Nothing.”
“Your private life is your private life, Braden. You should be able to enjoy it wherever you are.”
“I do enjoy my private life in Boston. You of all people should know that.”
“What do you do here, then? What does Manhattan have that Boston doesn’t?”
“You’ll see. Soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I will?”
“Yes, if things go as planned.” I try to hold back a yawn, but I’m unsuccessful.
“You must be so tired,” Skye says.
“Yeah.” Especially after that mind-blowing orgasm from the mouth fuck.
“Braden, I—”
I shush her with two fingers to her shiny lips. “I know. Your appointment tomorrow. I’ve arranged for a personal shopper to take you out today. Get dressed. She’ll be here in”—I glance at my watch—“about an hour.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. You need some clothes for your meeting, and I forced you to come here in the middle of the night without packing anything. This is on me, Skye. Let me do this for you.”
She steps on her toes and kisses my cheek. “I adore you, Braden Black.” Then she runs out of the library toward my bedroom.
A moment later, I hear the whoosh of the shower.
As much as I’d love to peek in on her naked, water trickling over her gorgeous flesh, I bypass the door to my bathroom and go straight to my bed. I hastily remove all my clothes except my boxer briefs and crash.
With only about an hour to spare after my afternoon nap, I arrange for dinner at Gabriel LeGrand, one of Manhattan’s finest restaurants.
Skye and I arrive, and Joshua, the maître d’, leads us to an exclusive table. A votive candle flutters in the center.
Christ. For the money I pay for the special chef-created menus here, you’d think they’d remember that I hate to have candles on the table.
Candles only remind me of things I never let myself think about. Except I think about them anyway.
