The Bride (The Boss) (37 page)

He raised his eyebrows at me. “What do you think?”

“I think…” I licked my lips, taking in the hypnotic motion of his hand as he cracked his knuckles. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Lie back. Put a pillow beneath your hips. It helps.” He reached for the bottle of lube and sat on the edge of the bed, facing me.

“You’ve done this before?” I asked, a sudden stab of nerves both startling and thrilling me. This was so…obscene. So incredibly vulgar that I had never even let myself look at porn of the act.

We were so going to level up in the kink department tonight.

“I have.” He put a few drops of lube on his fingertips. “The width of my hand has been a problem before, so don’t feel as though you’ve failed if you can’t take it all. We’ll stop if it doesn’t feel good, and go back to what does.”

That made me even more nervous. Men’s hands were such a turn-on for me, Neil’s especially, with the fat veins and wiry brown hairs across the back. He got frequent manicures, a vanity I’d once teased him about, until he’d pointed out that he’d never once snagged me with a splintered nail while fingering me.

But still, we were talking about a whole fist going into a tight spot. He was right, it probably was better that we didn’t include it in a scene the very first time we tried it, and just related to each other as Neil and Sophie.

With his lubricated fingertips, he massaged my labia and perineum, and placed his index fingers inside to gently stretch me. I was already wet and wanting from what he’d done to me before, but multiple orgasms had swollen the pillowy tissues of my cunt. When he slipped his index and middle fingers inside me to the knuckle, I worried it would be an impossible fit.

“Relax and breathe,” he reassured me gently. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I’m just a little afraid,” I said with a tremulous smile. This was like jumping into a cold pool; I wanted to go swimming, but the initial submersion frightened me. “I trust you. Let’s keep going.”

For a long while, he rubbed his fingers in me, hooking them to knead the floor of my cunt, twisting his wrist to sooth the top and sides. I took deep breaths and willed myself to relax; it wouldn’t work if I were tense. He pumped more lube onto his hand, although I could feel my own fluids leaking around him, and slowly, with a cupped palm, slid three fingers inside me.

The three digits together still weren’t nearly as thick as his penis, but the difference in shape produced an almost fuller sensation. The knuckle of his middle finger rasped over my g-spot and I moaned, rocking my hips a little, wishing he would push deeper.

“Tell me when you’re ready for more,” he said softly, his other hand stroking the insides of my thighs. “You’re guiding this now.”

I reached down to touch my clit, and the pinprick feeling in that over-sensitive bundle of nerves made me hiss in discomfort. Neil’s hand stopped moving immediately.

“No, it’s not that. Keep going,” I assured him, and the desperation in my voice must have convinced him, because he resumed his gentle ministrations.

A hot flush broke over my skin, shivers skating down my arms and legs. I was gripped by the unique thrill of sexual exploration. At my urging, he picked up a little speed, steadily twisting and withdrawing. Emboldened by this new territory we were exploring, I couldn’t wait for me. Wetting my lips, I said on a shaky breath, “Okay. You can add another.”

This time, he withdrew his hand completely to apply more lube, all the way down to the back of his hand. He turned his wrist and inserted all four of his fingers, corkscrewing them gently to open me. My cunt stretched wide around them, and an animal moan passed over my lips. It felt so impossibly good, so incredibly large. His thumb stroked over my clit, and I moved my own hand aside to make room. He withdrew, curling his fingers just a bit, then pushed slowly back in, creating a wave of stimulation that made my body undulate in a similar fashion.

“You can go a little faster,” I panted.

He obliged. “Is this alright?”

Alright? It felt fucking fantastic. Any reservations I’d had dissipated at the feeling of those four fingers gliding over every ripple and ridge of my cunt, making me clench. I worked my clit in furious circles, arching my hips up. That proved a bit unpleasant, a bit too much pressure on my pelvis, and I dropped down again as he softly admonished, “Careful now.”

“It feels so fucking good,” I moaned, my free hand gripping the duvet. “Don’t stop!”

“Not unless my hand breaks,” he said with a chuckle. He pumped and curled his fingers, coaxing wet sounds from my pussy. I couldn’t shake the voracious appetite that had gripped me. I feared it would never be sated.

“Please, just do it,” I gasped.

“Everything?” he clarified, rolling his thumb against me.

“Yes, please.” I nodded, and my sweaty hair plastered to the back of my head.

He withdrew his hand and pumped more lube over it, so much that it ran down his arm when it mingled with my own natural lubricant. Slowly, carefully, he slipped his cupped hand into my cunt, his thumb folded against his palm.

The addition of his thumb created a startlingly different shape and size, at least, more so than I had expected. All of the lube made even the widest part of his hand slide in easily, and my breath whooshed out of me on a startled gasp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern rippling across his brow. “I can stop—”

“No, don’t.” I reached down to feel for his hand, and found only his wrist, the tendons flexed at the entrance of my cunt. “Oh my god.” My voice quavered. “Oh my god, it’s really in there.”

“It is.” He took his free hand and covered my own. “Tell me how deep is too deep.”

He’d done the same thing the first time we’d had sex, when I was totally inexperienced and facing down the biggest cock that had ever been in me. He’d wrapped my fingers around his cock and coached me, telling me to control the depth and find what was right. To this day, he was the largest man I’d been with.

He was also the most considerate man I’d been with.

I held his wrist and slowly pumped his hand inside me, pulling until the widest part of his hand threatened to slip out, then pushed back in a little. “Not all the way. Just like that much, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiled down at me. Can you reach the vibrator?”

My hand groped across the bed for it, and he continued, “I’m going to keep doing exactly what I’m doing now, unless you tell me to change the pace or ask me to go deeper. When you orgasm, that’s when I’ll take my hand out; it’s easier to do it then.”

I pressed the head of the wand against my clit and flicked the switch. It didn’t take long to get right on the edge, but I fought it and pulled the vibrator back to resist. I wanted more of this intense pressure, more of the sucking pull of his hand inside me. I just plain wanted
more
.

“Faster,” I begged, and he picked up the speed of his thrusting hand, wriggling his fingers as he did so. I put the vibrator on my clit again, and this time, there was no stopping. Every muscle in my body went rigid to the point of pain, and a high, thin scream twisted from my throat. I twisted, too, jerking the duvet down, the fabric audibly shredding beneath my nails. My orgasm went on and on, and but I didn’t let up, shouting mindlessly, whipping my head to the side, biting the arm arched against the bed. My climax was a wild, uncontrollable force that left me helpless in in the eye of its storm. I thought I was going to die. I was certain I’d never been so alive.

Before I could come down, while my cunt still clutched at the impossible hugeness of his hand in me, he gently slid out. My body shook with violent tremors, my calves cramped. My bones and muscles had liquefied from pure pleasure.

He wiped his hand on the duvet—we were going to have to reimburse the hotel for that, anyway—and carefully laid one hand on my hip. “Is that too much?”

“Not at all,” I rasped.

“Do you need water?”

I nodded, though how I moved my neck, I had no clue.

He helped me to sit up and cradled my limp body against his chest as he handed me the glass from before. I gulped it down then collapsed again while he went to get more.

When he returned, I sat up and winced at the soreness between my legs. “Hey, instead of intercourse, could I like, suck you off? I hate to wimp out on your birthday—”

“Good lord, Sophie, I’m not going to ask to fuck you after that. This is the first time you’ve ever been fisted, I understand if you need time off.” He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it from his shoulders, and toed off his shoes. He unbuckled his belt and slipped off his pants, then pulled back the covers beside me and tucked me under.

“Seriously.” I propped myself on my elbow. “I’m not going to be emotionally well if I can’t do at least something for you. I need that…reciprocation. I can’t stand it when you don’t get off.”

“Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “Shall I get myself started?”

I stretched out beside him, luxuriating in the feeling of sweaty skin and overused muscle against soft sheets. I walked my fingers down the narrow line of hair on his stomach. “Mmhm. I love to watch you jerk off.” I snapped the waistband of his boxers. “Get rid of these.”

He lifted his hips and slid the black silk down his legs. His cock was semi-hard, and he stroked himself slowly as I threw my leg over his. I pressed my body close and kissed as much of his chest as I could reach, then down, trailing the ends of my hair over his skin.

“I loved that. All of it,” I purred against his ear. “I love it when you control me. When you punish me and hurt me. I love losing control over myself. Losing myself.”

A deep sigh rumbled from him. He was hard now, his foreskin rolling over the tight pink head of his cock with every pump of his hand.

I slid down his body, sucking and licking at his stomach. I rose to my knees to straddle his thigh. My wet, sore vulva plastered to his skin, and he groaned at the touch of it. Covering his hand with my own, I leaned down and hovered my mouth over the head of his cock. I didn’t close my lips or suck, or even flick my tongue out. I just let a thin line of drool run from my mouth, directly onto his tip, until he squirmed his hips on the bed. I made him wait as long as I could stand before I closed my lips over him and took in as much of him as I could.

Bent over wasn’t the ideal position for giving head, but I worked him with a hand that replaced his own, never speeding up, just a slow, lazy suck and swirl of my tongue as I glided my hand up and down his length. When his hips began to pump in time to my motion, and then sped as though desperately reaching for more, I slipped the point of my tongue between his foreskin and glans and swept over the super sensitive spot on the bottom of the head. His hands fell to my head, and he held on, thrusting deep enough to gag me. His body strained beneath me, and he made a noise that could have been either pleasure or pain as he erupted, filling my mouth and throat. I coughed and cum ran out over his cock and my hand, and I used it as I milked the last drops from him before giving a tiny, chaste peck to the head.

He hissed and laughed at that, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Oh, Sophie. This was a fantastic birthday present.”

“Thank you.” I pulled the covers over both of us, taking a moment of sadistic delight in the way he gingerly tried to avoid contact between the sheets and his penis.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Anything you would have changed?” It was his usual check in, and I loved it every time. It felt nice to be valued, rather than abandoned with a quick cuddle before the snores started. My past partners had been terrible for that.

I considered his question. “Nothing you did, but something does bother me.”

“Hmm?” he asked, situating me more comfortably against his shoulder. His fingers skated down my spine and back in long, slow sweeps.

“I don’t like that you were able to just call up the front desk and be all, ‘hey, there’s going to be a woman screaming, ignore it,’ and they were totally cool with it.” I frowned. Saying it out loud made it even more troubling.

“When you say it that way, I suppose it is a bit…”

“Yeah.” I didn’t want to think about it anymore, but the idea seized my brain. “When I think about what someone could do… Not you, but some other guy, some sicko posing as a Dom…”

My chest felt as though it would cave in, and my throat closed. I tried to gasp for air, and tears leaked from my eyes. Before I knew what was happening, I was in a full-blown anxiety attack.

Neil sat up and pulled me close as fast as he could, his face pressed to the top of my head as he rocked me. “It’s all right. It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

This was, by far, the worst sub drop I’d ever experienced. The thought of someone exploiting me as I was helpless nauseated me and paralyzed me with fear. There was no danger of that happening, and I tried to reassure myself with what little logic I still had left in me. Neil would never hurt me that way, and I would never do this with anyone but Neil. But just the thought of someone being hurt or abused, a young woman, trusting of her partner as I was and having that trust shattered through brutality, crushed me from the inside, until all I could do was sob hysterically.

“I’m here, darling. Breathe through this.” There was a helplessness in his voice that I knew he was trying to control; if he gave in to it, he couldn’t help me. “Just breathe. This will pass.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I would never think you’d do anything to me. I just… I thought of what happens to other women…” I hiccupped and the feeling in my chest grew worse. I cried harder, but I had to tell him. I had to get it out. “It was the only thing you’ve ever said to me, ever… It was the only thing that was truly scary.”

“Oh, Sophie. I never meant to frighten you.” His anguish soothed me, as selfish as it seemed. “I never thought—”

“It’s okay. It didn’t bother me at the time. And I wasn’t scared of you.” Just saying it made things a bit more bearable. I sat up and pushed my hair back from my forehead, taking slow, deep breaths before I went on. “You thought you were reassuring me that no one would overhear or complain. You couldn’t have known how it would sound.”