The Bride (The Boss) (13 page)

At around six, I put away my stuff, washed my brushes, said goodnight to Sue and headed into the bedroom. Neil wasn’t always going to be around for sex, but it wasn’t like working late was the worst thing that had ever happened in our sex life. When he’d been ill, we’d gone for months without making love. I knew how to make this work.

Part of making it work was committing fully to great sex with myself. I ran a hot bath with lots of bubbles and scrolled through Neil’s iPod, since he’d left it plugged into the sound system in the bathroom. I found Morcheeba and decided I could definitely get down to their slow, sultry beats. I lit the candles around the garden tub, hit the lights, and sank into the water.

I leaned back, careful not to let my messily pinned up hair get wet. That would be uncomfortable later, when I moved to the bed. I had an awesome bath pillow, and I rested my head and neck on it as the tub’s jets blasted away the soreness in my calves and thighs. Closing my eyes, I imagined Neil coming home and catching me like this. I could clearly see him standing beside the tub in his button down and expensive trousers, his sleeves rolled up to the thickest part of his forearms. He would watch me wordlessly for a while as I stroked myself beneath the water…

I slipped my fingers down my body, lifting my hips as my hand strayed closer and closer to its goal. If Neil really were here watching me, I would take more time, teasing my nipples and making long, fluttering sweeps down my stomach. Since he wasn’t—and since he’d given me the time-consuming task of fifteen edges—I parted myself with my fingertips and made slow, gentle circles around my clit. The hot water moving around the unprotected bundle of nerves made me sigh, and a naughty smile bent my lips. I briefly considered getting out to retrieve the video camera, but the water was so nice and warm, and touching myself felt so good, I didn’t want to stop.

I thought about what Neil would say if he were standing over me. Something to get my attention, like, “No one should be so filthy in a bath,” or some similar cliché, yet insanely hot, quip. And I would gasp and open my eyes, and see him there, feel the sudden, piercing weight of his stare as he took in my form, and I would be utterly helpless.

My fingers sped up, rolling over and over my flesh. Fifteen edges. Fifteen orgasms denied at the last possible moment. Fifteen clenched fists, cramped toes, countless sobs of frustration and joy. I had to do them all and then I had to call him so he could give me permission to finally let go and tumble over.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, my other hand gripping the tub beside my head. I pumped my hips in time with my fingers and rose higher, higher…

I thought of Neil’s big hand dipping beneath the water, his fingers brushing mine as I pleasured myself, and I was so close, I had to jerk my hand away, laughing a little at how intense I’d gotten so quickly.

I handled the first five edges in the tub before I forced myself to get out. My knees shook, but as I moved about the bathroom blowing out the candles and drying myself, my arousal dimmed. I was in control enough to get to my sixth edge by tapping my clit with the soft terrycloth towel, though I had to grip the bar for support as I struggled not to come.

Making a little game of it, I considered how to get close to each next edge. I seated myself on the padded bench beside the shower and used a makeup brush to tease myself, whisking the smooth, ticklish hairs over my clit. He’d said no toys, but I didn’t think a blush brush counted as a sex toy. I went out to the dressing room and sat, legs splayed, in front of the mirror to watch my fingers spread my glistening wetness over me. The sense of being exposed and doing something really naughty harkened back to the days of my inventive teenage masturbation. There was a dirty thrill in taking so much time, moving from the bathroom to the closet to the bedroom, making a full event out of exploring my sexuality. It had been a long time since I’d really gotten to know myself in this way; after a summer of stresses that had pushed sex as far from my mind as possible, it was
so
good to catch up.

By the time I reached number fifteen, I was a sweating, panting mess lying in the center of the bed. When I was close, so close I felt a step from the summit, I pulled away my fingers and held painfully still. Any movement, even breathing too hard, could have triggered my long delayed orgasm. My vulva throbbed, all of my delicate tissues painfully swollen. I dripped onto the duvet beneath me; I should have put a towel down.

When the danger had passed, I reached for the phone on the nightstand. My hands shook, as much from physical tension as from excitement. As Neil’s cell rang, I held my breath, afraid that I might come just from hearing his voice.

“Hello, Sophie,” he answered cheerfully. “Is there something you need?”

A gasped laugh tore from my throat, hoarse from my moans and hisses at the denial. “Please, Sir. Can I come?”

“I don’t see why not. I’m all alone here.” The cocky half-smile that matched his tone would be on his face, I was sure of it. “But first, let’s make sure you followed my instructions. Are you wet?”

“Are you kidding?” I snapped.

He clucked his tongue. “I could always just deny you, you know.”

“I could always just come anyway!” I was mindless with desire, and though I knew my Sir didn’t like bratty subs, I couldn’t imagine any punishment he could come up with that would be worse than withholding release now.

His voice lowered to that dark, silkily stern tone that set every inch of my skin tickling. “If you did, I would tie you down and make sure you got your fill, and then some. You wouldn’t want to come again for a year.”

He would, too. He loved torturing me with orgasms, making me come over and over until I begged him to stop. If he did something like that tonight, after all the torment I’d already been through today, I wasn’t sure I would be able to last five minutes without safewording.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“That’s better.” Something thumped in the background, maybe a file cabinet door closing. It was a bit off-putting to know that my climax was being multi-tasked. “Put the phone near your cunt and touch yourself, so I can hear it.”

A hot flush burned in my face and across my chest, and I giggled in embarrassment. “You want to talk to my cunt, Sir?”

“No, I want to talk to
my
cunt. Who does it belong to?” His demand left my knees quivering.

“You, Sir. It’s yours.”

“Good. Now, do as you’ve been told. I’ve missed that gorgeous pussy, we haven’t spoken in a while,” he said with a low chuckle.

I reached the phone down, and I couldn’t help my laugh. It was so ridiculous, yet oddly arousing. I slipped my two middle fingers inside my vagina and pumped them, exaggerating the squishy, wet sound. Then, I lifted the phone to my ear again. “Okay, now can I come? I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

“You may. But do it slowly.” In the background, something dinged. “Darling, I’m heading through the lobby right now, I’m about to get on the elevator. I’m just returning from a dinner meeting with Rudy. If I lose you in the lift, wait for me to call you back. Is that understood?”

“Understood.”
Unfortunately
. “So, go slowly, and don’t finish if we get disconnected.”

“Good girl.”

“Okay, I’m going to speaker.” I hit the button, closed my eyes and tipped my head back on the pillow. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“I think I might have some idea,” he said, and the line
was
a bit crackly. Luckily, he didn’t lose service, and I heard a set of elevator doors sliding open before the signal cleared. “But you’re being awfully quiet.”

If he wanted me to make some noise, I could make some noise. My tortured clit practically recoiled beneath its hood as I stroked myself. My own lubrication was enough to keep things good and slippery, and I was swollen, so swollen that I hurt. The tightening in my pelvis was almost a cramp, and my clitoris felt like it was being pricked with needles. I didn’t need to be told to moan and thrash as I got closer and closer. My hand fisted in the pillow beside my head just as the bedroom door opened, and Neil stepped inside.

The bastard! He’d been in
our
elevator.

I opened my mouth to say something witty, and I burst out weeping.

He slipped his coat and jacket off, smiling slightly to himself. “I can leave again if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare!” I climbed up on my knees and grabbed at him, pulling him against me with two fistfuls of his shirt. I was practically hiccuping with my sobs of desperation, and a hot tear ran down my face as I begged him. “Fuck me! Please!”

He caught my chin in a firm grip. “How do you ask?”

“Fuck me, please, Sir. Please!” I tried to pull him down with me, and he gently pushed me back. It took him no time at all to work the buttons on his shirt, at least the top four. He pulled the shirt and his soft cotton undershirt over his head and then he was on top of me, fumbling between us to undo his belt. His hand bumped my mound, then his belt brushed me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, panting “please” over and over in a ragged whisper. He unzipped, then the head of his cock touched me, and finally,
finally,
he was inside of me.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he groaned against my ear. I squeezed him with my internal muscles and delighted in his sharp intake of breath. He kissed my ear and murmured, “I’d better make you come now, because I have a feeling this isn’t going to last long.”

I don’t know if he expected me to argue with him, but I was already a trembling, sobbing, emotional wreck. I worried that if I didn’t come soon, I might have some kind of actual break down. I considered safewording just to relieve the tension, but with his cock grinding against my clit and the incredible pressure on my g-spot, it only took two strokes to bring me right back up to that cruel edge. My body, so long denied, teetered uncertainly at the breaking point, and my shouts escalated in pitch and volume as I clenched around him. The desperation and anticipation he’d already subjected me to burst, a wave crashing around an immovable boulder. I shook with the violence of my orgasm, every muscle in my body clenching and unclenching spasmodically, until all I could do was hang on to the duvet and writhe, my long moan turning into a shriek of tortured ecstasy.

As the tremors of my climax continued to rock my body, he slammed forward and withdrew, slammed forward and withdrew, until I couldn’t catch my breath. I grasped at him, my hands crawling up his chest to his shoulders to pull him down, and I buried my face in his neck, whimpering, “I love you, I love you,” like a mantra. I wound my legs around him, and he arched up, face crumpled in a grimace as he pounded his last few thrusts. He growled and grabbed my thigh, pulling me tighter to him, his cock jerking as he came. I clenched around him, reveling in the hot, wet gush and the throbbing pulse of him buried deep inside me.

“I’m so glad I came home,” he murmured against my ear, and I squeezed him with my arms and legs.

He pulled out and tucked himself into his boxers, and sat on the edge of the bed to get his breath.

I slipped off the bed, kneeling beside his feet. I reached for the laces of his boot and untied it. He lifted his foot so I could slip the boot off and set it carefully aside. I had seen Neil take off the jacket from a thirty-thousand-dollar suit and drop it on the floor without a thought, but he was damned serious about his shoes.

He wriggled his toes when I took off his socks, and reached down to cup my jaw as I gazed up at him. A slow smile spread across my face. “I’m glad you came home, too, Sir.”

He kicked his trousers aside and swung his legs beneath the blankets. “Come on. Tell me about your day.”

I got into bed on my side and rolled to the middle, to rest against Neil’s body beneath the covers. He hit the lights via the remote, bringing them up so we wouldn’t fall asleep without dinner.

“Well, I heard some big news today.” I lay on my back and smoothed the blanket across my chest. I folded my hands primly atop the blankets. “Holli and Deja are engaged.”

“Are they?” Neil’s eyebrows shot up. “Rudy didn’t say a word about it to me.”

“From what I hear, you and Rudy had quite the celebration.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We toasted to my good fortune, is all. And then we had a bit of a boozy lunch.” He fell serious. “But I did warn him not to keep it private so I wish he wouldn’t have mentioned it to Deja. I want to tell Emma the news in person, and I’m afraid—”

“That she’ll hear it from Valerie, who heard it from the office.” I nodded, my hair rasping against the pillowcase. “I got it. Deja would never spread gossip she got from an employer. She’s a better assistant than I ever was.”

“Oh good. I was hesitant even to mention it. But you know.”

I did know. One of the biggest issues Neil was working on in counseling was learning to tell me things like this the moment he thought them. Neil had a terrible habit of thinking relatively minor things were potentially hurtful, so he just didn’t tell me about them. He’d done it when he’d decided to give me an enormous share of his estate and consulted with Valerie about it instead of coming to me, and when he’d planned his funeral and shared the details with Valerie, but not with Emma and me. He was doing way better on confronting his avoidance issues than I was.

I scooted into the crook of his arm and laid my head against his chest. “Holli and Deja have already set the date,” I said, gently wheedling.

Neil’s sleepy chuckle rumbled under my ear. “Oh, have they?”

“And they were all, ‘when are you getting married?’ But they’re doing it in like, August. Eight months to plan a whole wedding, that’s insanity. You need at least…”

“I’m beginning to feel that you’re hinting at something.” He stopped his slow stroking of my hair against my back and sighed. “Believe me when I say that my reluctance to jump with both feet into wedding planning has nothing to do with you.”

“I know, you’re busy with Emma’s big day. And that’s fine.” It really was. I didn’t want to get into hardcore planning, myself, especially now that I was going to be Holli’s maid of honor in less than seven months. “I just want a date.”