“There’s something about him, though,” I say. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“What do you mean?”
“A darkness. Almost like an invisible cloud hovering over him. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t explain it any better. I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.” I purposefully don’t mention the other enigma about him—that I want to obey him without question. It’s not like me at all.
“You’re probably imagining things. Maybe because his name is Black. And, you know, black is dark.” She giggles.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah, probably,” she agrees.
“I’m sure I’ll never see him again, so I’ll never figure out what the darkness is.” I let out a short scoff to try to hide the sadness I feel. “Funny. I hardly know him, but I feel a loss.”
“That’s because he made you come.” She smirks.
“What if I can’t ever come again?”
“You know how it feels now, so you can duplicate it. Try it at home with your toys. It’s bound to happen.”
I laugh softly. “I’ll try.”
“Atta girl. You’ll be over Braden Black in no time.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Something about him really got to me.”
“Try to just remember it for what it was. A night of really good sex that gave you the first of many orgasms you’ll have in your long life. Really, you should thank him.”
“Maybe send him some flowers?” I say facetiously.
Tessa finishes her iced tea and signals the server for our check. “Maybe one of those erotic cakes.”
I can’t help it. I let out a guffaw. Send Braden Black an erotic cake? That’s just damned funny, and not something I’d ever do.
“Seriously. You can have them make a marzipan pussy and then write something like, ‘Thank you for coming.’ Great double entendre.” She laughs hysterically.
Tessa is my best friend ever and I adore her, but sometimes she thinks she’s funnier than she actually is. Okay, this is pretty funny, but no way in hell would I ever send anyone a marzipan pussy.
“Shouldn’t it actually be ‘thank me for coming’?” I say. “I’m the one who had her first orgasm.”
“Yeah, but that sounds ridiculous.”
“Like it all doesn’t sound ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.” I laugh and grab the check when it comes. “My turn. You paid last time.”
“I have to run anyway. Meeting at two, and I’m hopelessly unprepared.” She stands and a huge grin splits her face. “Think about that cake.”
I roll my eyes, grab a credit card from my wallet, and lay it over the check.
Then finish my diet soda and play with the remains of lettuce left on my plate.
And I think about last night.
How Braden made me feel. How he made me want to give up control. If any other man demanded I hold on to a headboard, I’d laugh in his face.
What is it about Braden?
I sigh. Doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again. Still, what exactly did he do to make me explode the way I did? Everything was amazing, but what specific thing? I need to know, because I sure as hell want to come again, whether it’s with him, another guy, or myself. I don’t care.
Except I’d really like it to be with him.
I have a few minutes before I need to be back at the office, so I walk around the city a bit and find myself in front of my favorite bakery—a bakery that also makes erotic cakes. I go in on a whim.
“May I help you?” a young woman asks.
“Yeah.” Please let my voice not crack. “I need a baguette, please.”
Chicken.
She bags one for me. “Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
I pay for the baguette and walk to the door.
And wonder what Braden is doing at this same moment.
…
Back at the office, Addison is making the final arrangements with Susanne Cosmetics. They finally upped their offer to two hundred grand, so this afternoon, we’re shooting the lip plumper post. Apparently that’s the amount necessary for Addie to pimp a product that’s supposed to get rid of lip lines. Turning twenty-nine has sent her into a tailspin.
I’ve set up a mini studio in the office, where I can adjust the lighting as needed. We’ll shoot today’s post there.
I’m getting the space ready when Addie storms in.
“Change of plans. They want the shot at the Susanne counter at Macy’s.”
“Crap. Really?”
“Yeah. I tried to talk them out of it.”
“Department stores are the worst.”
“I know,” she says. “The lighting’s atrocious, but that’s what I have you for. You can work your magic.”
I warm slightly. That’s what passes for a compliment from Addison Ames. I’ll take what I can get. She appreciates me—I know that. She just doesn’t show it very well most of the time.
“Sure. You want to go now?”
“Yeah. We’ll close up, and then you can take the rest of the day off.”
I keep myself from laughing. It’s nearly three thirty. The shoot will take at least an hour, and then I’ll be monitoring it for the next hour for negative comments. So much for getting “the rest” of the day off.