Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I cock my head. “What happened this morning?”
His blue eyes smolder. “I saw you engrossed in a book in my library, touching yourself as you stared at the photographs.”
My cheeks warm further. And not from the wine.
“You’re a photographer, Skye, but let me ask you this. Do you like being the subject of photographs?”
“I don’t mind if I look good. After all, this new career as an influencer means I need to take selfies.”
“What about being photographed by someone else?”
“I’m okay with it. Like I said, if I look good.”
“You have a beautiful body, Skye. May I take pictures of you?”
I raise my eyebrows and smile. “I had no idea you might like to take pictures.”
“Photography is a hobby. I’m not remotely as good as you are.”
A hobby? I should have guessed, given he knew exactly what camera to buy for me. “I’m just beginning my career.”
“But you studied the art. I haven’t done that, other than read a few books.”
“What exactly are you asking, Braden?”
He lowers his eyelids slightly. “I’m asking if I can take a photograph of you. A photograph of you nude. After I tie you up.”
Chapter Thirty
I keep my expression as deliberate as I can, resisting the urge to drop my mouth open. I take another sip of wine, only to draw the time out a little bit.
Then, “I don’t know.”
“The photographs would only be for your eyes and mine.”
I can’t stop a nervous giggle. “I certainly won’t be posting them on my account.”
“It would be a sure guarantee to increase your following a hundred-fold.”
Braden’s voice is even-toned, as usual. I almost think he’s serious.
“Is that the surprise? You’re going to tie me up and take a picture?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What, then? What’s the surprise?” I smile, knowing full well he won’t divulge the secret.
He chuckles. “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise. Nice try, though.”
Seth returns with our entrees. “Filet mignon au poivre with a hickory béarnaise sauce on the side. Zucchini blossoms a l’orange and gratiné of Yukon Gold potatoes and asiago cheese.”
I inhale the savory aroma, but my hunger has dissipated. For food, at least.
All I can think of is Braden tying me up in one of those intricate ways and then taking my photo.
And after that?
Fucking me senseless.
Braden cuts a bite of his filet, brings it to his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Delicious. Aren’t you going to try your dinner?”
I say nothing. Simply cut into my steak and bring a bite to my mouth. It’s tender and flavorful, but I can’t taste it. Not when I’m thinking about being bound in such an artistic and seductive way.
We don’t talk much, and soon Braden has cleaned his plate. I’ve taken all of about five bites.
“You aren’t enjoying your dinner?” he says.
“It’s wonderful. I’m just…”
His lips edge upward. “Contemplating?”
I nod.
“Does the idea turn you on?”
I nod again.
“Eat, then. You’ll need a lot of energy.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. I won’t be introducing you to anything new tonight, not when you have an important meeting first thing tomorrow. You’ll still need energy for this evening, however.”
I warm all over as tingles shoot through me.
Tonight.
I clean my plate.
Dessert turns out to be chocolate-orange mousse. By now I’m no longer hungry, and Braden asks Seth to wrap up our desserts for us.
“Please give Gabriel my compliments,” Braden says as he signs the credit card statement and hands it to Seth. “Everything was spectacular.”
“I’m delighted you enjoyed it, sir.” Seth bows, taking the receipt, and leaves the table.
“Ready, Skye?” Braden asks.
I’m ready, all right.
Good and wet and ready.
…
Braden’s bedroom in this Manhattan penthouse is different from his bedroom in Boston. It’s more minimal. No wardrobe holding exquisite toys. No weird little notches on the headboard where he can hook ropes and cuffs. No spackle on the ceiling from a suspension device.
Indeed, it seems almost normal, which confuses me.
What kind of lifestyle does he practice here? In this vanilla bedroom?
I’m excited to find out.
Except he already told me that I won’t find out tonight.
“Strip for me, Skye,” he says, his eyes smoldering.
I nod and peel off my garments, one by one, slowly and seductively. I get wetter each time a piece of clothing hits the floor.
He is, of course, still dressed.
“I won’t bind you to the headboard tonight,” he says, “but I want you to grab two rungs and keep your hands there, as if you are bound. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I lie down and grab two rungs, my palms already perspiring.
“I haven’t forgotten, Skye,” he says.
“Forgotten what?”
His lips curve slyly upward. “That I’ve denied you orgasms the last few days.”
My body throbs. Does this mean…?
“Lift your hips,” he says.
I obey, and he shoves a pillow under my ass.
“Now spread your legs.”
I obey once more.
“Mmm. Beautiful.” He sucks in a breath. “Beautiful and always so ready.”