The Girlfriend (The Boss) (26 page)

He held back a self-satisfied laugh, but I couldn’t help my giggle. “There are better ways to get my nipples hard, Sir.”

“Yes, but this is so much less comfortable for you.” He rolled the bottle through the valley between my breasts, lifting it to touch the other tight, rosy peak.

“I think it just saves you from unnecessary work.” I rolled my eyes.

“Do you remember what I said about bratty subs?” he asked in a warning tone.

I thought he might secretly like my brattiness. It gave him more opportunities to torment me.

He considered the green glass against my goose bump covered skin. “Lay on the bed for me. Arms over your head.”

I did as he asked, and he ran the flat of his palm over my stomach, considering. He took a drink from the bottle, then sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “You’ll have to hold very, very still, Sophie. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir.” It really depended on what he planned to do to me. If he tickled me, all bets were off.

Carefully, he poured a little champagne into my belly button.

I gasped and sucked in my tummy.

“Don’t move,” he reminded me. “You’ll spill it all over the bed.”

“You can afford the hotel bill,” I said through gritted teeth.

“That I can.” He leaned down and licked the champagne from my skin.

It was so cliché, but it felt amazing. I giggled as his tongue swiped over my tummy, and he lifted his head.

“Open your legs.”

If he planned to repeat what he’d done to my belly button, I was more than happy to comply, even if I did have to overcome my momentary fear of a possible yeast infection. I squirmed into a comfortable position as he settled beside me, carefully bracing the champagne bottle against my leg to keep it upright. I startled at the drops of cold perspiration that rolled off the glass and onto my skin.

He stroked a fingertip up and down my slit, humming in indecision. “I don’t know if I want to pour this on you. I love the way you taste, I’d hate to spoil it.”

“Spoil it? With champagne.” I snickered, incredulous.

A sharp slap to my vulva corrected my sassiness. “I won’t listen to you questioning my judgment on this subject.”

He brought the bottle between my legs and pressed it against me. Now that it had been out of the ice bucket for a while, it wasn’t as shockingly cold.

Tilting it slightly, he eyed the level in it, stopped, took another drink, then pressed the mouth of the bottle against my opening.

“Are you going to fuck me with a champagne bottle?” I gasped as he slid the neck inside me.

“’Fuck’ is far too vigorous a word. I wouldn’t want it to create suction and get stuck.” He laughed and dipped his head to give my clit a long, slow lick. My thighs trembled, and my fingers grasped at the leather cuffs. He looked up. “It would be a rather high profile emergency department visit, I think.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” I clenched down on the cool smoothness of the bottle, and Neil leaned over me, his tongue burrowing between my labia, over my clit, circling and sucking.

My breath hitched, and I instinctively flexed my thighs— I don’t know what strange mechanism in my physiology makes me snap them closed near orgasm—, and the bottle rocked against the bed.

Neil raised his head in mock alarm. “Don’t spill, Sophie. What
are
you thinking?”

“I was thinking of coming, Sir,” I admitted. “May I?” I asked, almost certain his answer would be no.

To my surprise, he tilted his head and said, “Oh, please do. Just don’t spill the champagne.”

I stretched my arms higher over my head, relishing the tension that drew me up tight. Since he leaned across my body, instead of lying between my legs, the sensation was different than usual. He swiped over my clit from side to side, rather than up and down, and it seemed like he hit some magical spot he never had before.

“Oh!” I shouted, all the breath deflating from my lungs. I wanted to curl up, but the mouth of the bottle was still just slightly inside of me, and if I dislodged it, the champagne really would go all over the bed. I flexed my feet, helpless to do anything but wait and feel.

Every sensation was new. Every twist and flick of his tongue shocked me. How I would keep from writhing and spilling the champagne, I had no idea. But my orgasm came closer and closer, and my options for exactly how I was going to keep from making an even bigger wet spot than usual were limited.

I clamped my lips together, squeezed my eyes shut, and came. One of my legs jerked, and I clenched down tight on the bottle neck. I couldn’t hold back my cry any longer, and it came out on a high, thin wail.

Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes. Neil sat up and pulled the bottle away. The glass glistened, and he licked around the neck to catch every drip my body had left behind. Then he took a deep swallow of champagne.

“Oh god,” I whispered, clenching my thighs together.

He winked at me, still drinking, then held the bottle out to me. I lifted my head, and he tipped a swallow past my lips. I tasted myself on the bubbles.

It took him just a moment to put on a condom and settle between my legs. I loved the way we fit together now, the way he sank into me easily. I lifted my hips and welcomed him in, and he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his back bowed over me.

If I could have hung onto him, I would have. I settled for winding my legs around his back and moving with him. I was tight from my orgasm, my flesh all pillowy and satisfied, my cunt totally unaware that Neil wasn’t finished with me. I savored every moment. Tomorrow, we would return to the real world, and I wanted to take this with me.

His hands slipped beneath the small of my back, and braced on his knees he pulled me onto his cock, rocking my pelvis back and forth. The exquisite pressure on my g-spot became almost too much, and I sobbed, “Oh no.”

“No?” he asked, catching my chin in his hand. “Did you just say no to an orgasm?”

“Um...” I could barely think of words, let alone figure out a good lie that would keep me from punishment.

“Answer me.” He thrust harder into me, and I squirmed.

“Yes, Sir!” I shouted. “I’m sorry!”

He leaned over and grabbed the vibrator. He pushed the head of it against me and flipped the switch. Then he leaned over me, pushing my face aside, pinning my head flat to the bed. The roughness of his touch made me want to struggle, shoved a spike of fear into me that I’d never felt with him before. I spiraled out of control, my legs bucking, trying to get away from the pleasure that crashed over me.

“That’s one,” he said in a warning tone. My legs and arms still jerked, and the buzzing never let up, his movements inside me never let up.

“H-how many do I have to do?” I asked, my throat hoarse from shouts I didn’t realize I’d uttered.

“Ten.” There was no room for argument. “That should teach you to be grateful, yes?”

He rolled the wand in circles, twisting my tortured clit beneath the soft vibrating head. I clenched around him, so hard it hurt.

“You’re like fucking iron,” I groaned, throwing my head back.

His deep, dark laugh brought goose bumps over my skin. “I’m glad you noticed. You do that to me, Sophie.”

Moving his hand down, he held still inside me. He stopped at my throat, and pressed his thumb and index finger in the hollows on either side of my trachea above the collar. He squeezed with gentle pressure. My brain pounded, my clit pounded, and my body convulsed with another release.

He loosened his hold, but left his hand there, possessive over the collar. “Was that all right?”

“Oh, fuck yes, Sir!” With my hands bound, I had no way to struggle. I had no choice but to lay there and let him choke me.

Well, I had a choice. I could always safeword. But then he would stop, and that was the last thing I wanted. I had never experienced “runner’s high” before, but I was pretty sure that’s what I felt now, my entire body breaking out in chills while my heart pumped hard and my brain was flooded with endorphins that made me giddy. I came again, but I was going numb; it took a long time to break over the edge, and my whole body cramped up when I did.

Neil pressed the vibrator tighter against me, and I screamed.

“They’re going to send security,” he warned with a grin.

“Oh no, no, no,” I chanted in dismay as another intensely painful climax shook me. Though I was keenly aware that it was that word that had gotten me into trouble before, I couldn’t control any of the noises coming out of my mouth.

“How many was that?” he asked. “It sounded like number three.”

“Four! It was four!” I shouted, almost weeping in my desperation.

He slapped my cheek, and I choked back my cry. “I said it was three. Are you arguing?”

“No, Sir.” I bit my lip so hard, I tasted blood.

He must have seen it, because he pulled the wand away. “Careful, careful,” he murmured, brushing the drops from my swollen bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Let’s call that last one ten.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I gasped gratefully.

“Can you continue?” he asked, smoothing my sweat-damp hair back from my face.

I nodded. “I just don’t want to come anymore. We’re at a yellow.”

He gave me that half-smile I loved and kissed my nose. Then he took off the condom and stood. “Get on your knees on the floor.”

This, I could do. I got my breath and did as he’d told me.

He pressed the tip of his cock against my lips. My mouth dropped open obediently, and he pushed inside.

As I sucked and bobbed on him, my head cleared a bit. I’d been deeper than I’d ever been in the submissive mindset. If he hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have stopped, even if I’d wanted to. I had to appreciate the fact that he’d been able to know when to call it off.

When he came, it wasn’t down my throat, as he’d done before. He held my jaw open and hit my tongue with every drop as he jerked himself off, groaning in relief.

“Don’t swallow,” he panted. “Let me see it.”

I opened my mouth wide, showing him the little pool of cum on my cupped tongue. He groaned, and reached for the half-empty bottle of champagne. Holding the neck of the bottle high above my upturned mouth, he poured a stream in to mingle with his semen. It splashed down my chin, but I didn’t swallow. Not until he gave me permission.

“Swallow, Sophie.”

I looked up at him, champagne and cum dribbling down my chin and onto my breasts, my body trembling from the pure exhilaration of total submission. At that moment, I honestly thought I might die from the swell of emotion I felt. It stole my breath, and a tear slid from the corner of my eye. It was insane that I could love surrendering so totally.
 

It was insane that I could love someone as much as I loved him.

“I love you, Sir,” I murmured, the taste of him still on my lips.

“Oh, and I love you, Sophie. More than I could possibly express.” He helped me to my feet and unshackled my wrists, kissing the reddened skin beneath. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm.” I nodded and smiled at him. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I went into the bathroom to clean up. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyeliner smudged from sweat and tears, hot, red patches on my breasts. The sheen of semen and champagne on my skin was as sticky as it looked, and I turned on the shower, carefully unclasping the collar from around my neck.

I wasn’t sure how one cleaned a diamond BDSM collar, so I carefully wiped it down with a damp washcloth and dried it.

Neil came in and washed his hands in the shower spray as he tested the temperature. “Let me see your lip.”

I stood in front of him with my face upturned, blinking from the overhead lights as he carefully examined the place where I’d bitten myself.

“It looks puffy, but not serious.” He brushed his thumb across it. He lifted my chin high and examined my neck. “Nothing. Good.”

“Were you worried you’d bruised me or something?” I felt my neck, where he’d choked me. “I don’t think you pushed that hard.”

“Was that all right?” He turned back to the shower, tested the water again then held the glass door for me. He followed me in. “I won’t do it again, if you didn’t like it.”

“It was fine,” I assured him. “Don’t choke me unconscious or anything—”
 

“No, no. Never.” He shook his head. “Turn around. Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, the super special after care treatment,” I teased, doing as he asked. The feeling of his fingers moving across my scalp was absolute heaven.

“It’s partially selfish of me,” he said softly, working the shampoo down the ends of my hair. “I want to take care of you, while I still can.”

“Before I have to take care of
you
?”

“Precisely.” He urged me to step forward, into the spray. “Rinse off.”

As the suds washed from my hair, the gravity of his statement truly settled in my mind. I pushed the water back from my eyes and turned to him. “You take care of me in more than a physical way, Neil. And I really doubt that a little cancer is going to change that.”

He wrapped his arms around me and we stood, wet skin to wet skin, hugging each other hard.

After our shower, Neil headed to bed and left me to finish up in the bathroom. I thought for sure he would be sleeping by the time I was done putting on moisturizer and combing out my hair. I was tying the ponytail holder around the end of my braid when I clicked off the light in the bathroom.

“It’s difficult to believe that this all ends tomorrow.”

He’d said it so softly, I barely heard him.

I slipped into the bed and spooned up behind him, bringing our naked skin together under the sheets. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Not yet. I don’t want to sleep and waste our last hours here.” He captured my hand and brought it to his lips. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“I don’t, either.”

He rolled over, smiling in the dim city light that softy illuminated the room. “I like some of the changes so far, though.”

“Oh? Like me coming to London?” I walked my fingers along the arm he’d draped over my waist.

“The relationship we have now.” He stroked his hand down my arm. “I feel much closer to you than I did even in New York before the... unpleasantness.”