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He thrusts and he thrusts, and soon I know he’s close to release. He said he would fuck me in the library, and though this isn’t what I expected when he said it, this is still a fuck.
“Damn it, Skye. Going to come. Going to come in your mouth. Fuck!” He rams into me and pulses as he releases.
I suppress the choke as best I can and take it. I take it all. All of him. All of Braden.
I ease my mouth away when he’s done and inhale a much-needed breath. A few minutes later, he adjusts his underwear and pants. Then he pulls me to my feet.
“I needed that,” he says. “I’m aware of your needs, too, Skye. We were interrupted last night. You’ll get your reward. Anticipation makes it better.”
I nod, my core throbbing as I force myself not to look down at the book still on the floor.
“I’m sorry for being nosy,” I say.
“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.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not asking you your opinion as a photographer. What do you think of the subject?”
I bite my 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,” he says.
“Do you…do that?”
He lifts his 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?”
He gives me 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.”
I gulp. Loudly.
“Surely that doesn’t surprise you.”
Does it? I’m not sure.
“You like the idea. Your chest got noticeably pinker when I said the words.”
He’s not wrong. And I only saw two pictures. What other delicacies lie between the pages of that book?
“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…”
His mother. The mother he never talks about.
“What about your mother?”
“Nothing.”
I don’t push it. He’s exhausted and needs to sleep. Not the time to get into a heavy discussion that he’ll fight me on.
“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-Eight
While Braden got some much-deserved sleep—or so he said; I can’t imagine him sleeping in the middle of the day—he sent me out in a limo with a personal shopper. A few hours later, without looking at a single price tag and posting on Instagram twice, I’m the proud owner of a beautiful wardrobe for my meeting with Susanne Cosmetics.
The price tag thing bugs me. Apparently, Manhattan’s finest retailers don’t believe in them, and when I attempted to ask, the personal shopper—a lovely older woman named Mandy—shushed me.
I eye the bags and boxes as the driver deposits them in the trunk of the limo. Exactly how much of Braden’s money did I spend? At least a grand, and probably much more. The Chanel bag was probably a thousand dollars by itself.
I’ve never spent a hundred dollars on a bag, let alone a thousand.
I scramble into the back of the limo next to Mandy.
“Your new clothes are lovely,” she says. “Mr. Black will be pleased.”
“Isn’t it more important that I’m pleased?” I can’t help asking.
“Of course. That goes without saying. But you’ve already said you like the items.”
I nod. I love the items, in fact. Everything we purchased is both professional and extremely flattering.
And ridiculously expensive.
I’ll look better for this meeting with Eugenie than I ever imagined. Which reminds me. I forgot to call Tessa and tell her our shopping spree is off. It’s nearly five p.m., and I haven’t even checked my phone.
As I suspected, two texts and two phone calls from Tessa await me. I hastily call her back.
