“Can’t,” I grit out.
“You can.”
“No. Please. I can’t. Stop.”
In a flash, he replaces his fingers with his cock, ramming into me as I fall from my last orgasm. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, his groans a hum of vibration around the bubble of lust encircling us.
He fucks me hard and fast, again and again, until he plunges deeply into me. “God! Skye!”
I feel every puff of his breath against my neck, every pulse of his cock as he releases.
And I keep my hands glued to the countertop.
After a few minutes, he pulls out, and I hear him zip and snap his pants.
Still, I don’t move.
“You may move now,” Braden says. “Christopher will drive you home.”
Christopher—as I suspected, he has been here the whole time—had a front-row seat for our little interlude. He probably wasn’t watching, but he sure as heck could hear every little detail.
I choke back the sadness and confusion that threatens me. Didn’t Braden just say he was grateful to Addie because she led him to me? “You said you’d never kick me out of your home again.”
“That’s true. I did.” He walks out of the kitchen but looks over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I left my business meetings to get back here, so I have a lot to do. I’ll be in my office working.”
Semantics. That’s all this is. He’s not “kicking me out,” but he’s leaving me. He’s done with me for the night. Though he is here because of me, and he probably does have work to do.
His invisible bindings are pulling me in two different directions.
I check my watch. Ten o’clock, and I have work in the morning. I can stay here and sleep in one of his extra bedrooms, but I don’t have any supplies. I haven’t brought any extra clothes over yet.
He hasn’t given me a choice at all.
He found a loophole. Braden is a billionaire businessman. He’s probably very good at finding loopholes.
I hop off the counter, dress, gather my purse, and head toward the elevator.
“Home, Ms. Manning?” Christopher says.
The thought of riding with Christopher when he knows exactly what just happened—not just our encounter in the kitchen but what happened afterward as well—makes me nauseated.
“No, thank you. I’ll call an Uber.”
“Mr. Black wants me to drive you home.”
“Please. Don’t bother.”
“It’s no bother.” He calls the elevator and rides down with me.
Once in the car, I gather my nerve. “Christopher?”
“Yes?”
“How well do you know Braden?”
“As well as any employee knows his employer, Ms. Manning.”
“Please. Could you call me Skye?”
“If you wish.”
“I wish.”
“Very well…Skye.”
When we reach my apartment building, Christopher gets out of the car and opens the door for me.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Mr. Black wants me to see you to your door.”
“Oh.” First time for everything. “Okay.”
Christopher and I enter the building and take the elevator to my floor. When we reach the door to my studio, I pull out my key.
“Allow me.” He takes my key, opens the door, and hands it back to me.
“Thanks, Christopher. Good night.”
“Skye?”
I turn.
“He’s a good man.”
“I know that.”
“He cares for you.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Does he?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve said all I can. Good night.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Addie’s still sulking the next day at work. Not surprising. I’ve made up my mind to call Eugenie, but I can hardly do it while Addie’s in the office. Instead I do the usual—read and respond to emails, check yesterday’s sponsored post, and delete a few comments that are borderline negative. Then I respond to comments on some of her fake personal posts, all of which were staged by me. I check email again. Addie has an offer from a new restaurant in downtown Boston. It looks like a place for the young and hip. Good. She’ll be happy about that. I forward the email to her.
Then, on a whim, I log out of Addie’s Instagram and into my own.
“What?” I say aloud.
My following has increased from two hundred to over twenty thousand seemingly overnight.
I never logged out of Addie’s account yesterday, so I had no idea what was happening on my own. No wonder Susanne is interested.
I’m nowhere near Addie’s ten million followers, but still… This is unbelievable.
All because I’m Braden’s girlfriend.
If my newfound followers only knew how close I came to screwing that up last night. I always push. I always try to take charge of every situation.
Addie walks out of her office. “I have an appointment.”
I scan her calendar. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s personal.”
“Okay. When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you get the email I forwarded? From that new restaurant?”
“I’ll deal with it later.” She walks out the door.
Okay, then.
Now that Addie’s gone, I’ll call Eugenie.
My heart begins to race. Why am I nervous? They called me, after all. I’m just returning a call. Braden said not to take the first offer, but I’m no negotiator. I’m a photographer, an artist. Not a businesswoman or attorney. How am I supposed to control this phone call when I have no idea what I’m getting into?