The Ex (The Boss 4)

“Oh, by all means,” he said with a wide grin.

“May we stay?” Ian asked. It was clear it wasn’t a playful question, but a condition.

“No sex alone,” Gena reminded me. “Is that all right?”

“Yeah.” I looked to Neil one last time. He seemed affectionately amused by the situation.

I was still kind of bewildered. I was lying there naked with a chick, and she was naked, too. She scooted closer, bringing our bodies together. The feeling of her soft skin against mine, the familiarity of breasts and belly brought my satiated clit to throbbing attention again.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, reaching up to touch a sweat-damp lock of her hair.

“Don’t worry.” Her serious tone was gently mocking. “You’re not interviewing for a job.”

She slipped her hand between us, down my body, between my legs. Her knee nudged mine, and I lifted my leg to tangle ours together. I’d never been so turned on and weirdly afraid in my entire life.

My gaze drifted down to follow her hand, and she said softly, “Look at me, Sophie.”

I raised my eyes to look into hers, and I was totally lost. The heat that was there only for me scorched me straight to the core as one of her deft fingers found my clit.

The first thought that came to my mind was all those times I’d heard women joke about how when they take over the world, they’d keep men in cages for sex. My second thought was, we would be just fine without them. Gena touched me the way I would touch myself, with just the right amount of gentle, consistent pressure. Holli had once said that women “pet the kitty” and guys “pet a dog.” That is, men were a little less gentle with their fingers out of fond enthusiasm, but women knew how to be delicate and soft.

I couldn’t wait to call her and tell her how much I agreed with her.

“I want to make you come,” Gena whispered. I knew the guys were watching, but her attention was focused on me, and everything else seemed to melt away. She looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. My entire world became her fingers, her silky skin, her lush breasts and hard pink nipples pressed against my chest. I held her gaze as the pleasure built between us, and resisted the call to close my eyes as it peaked and broke, gripping my whole body with tingles that spread out from her hand to prickle over my skin.

I ran my hands over every part of her that I could reach, amazed that I was doing something that, due to my strict Catholic upbringing, had always seemed forbidden. I realized that I had been shown a delicious piece of cake every day of my life, but I’d resisted because I’d thought I was on a diet.

Now, I could have the cake.

I wanted to eat it.

“Can I…” What was the protocol for asking to eat someone’s pussy? “Can I go down on you? Would that be okay?”

“Well, I’m not going to turn it down.” She giggled, and the sound was so cute, my teeth ached.

I bet she tasted sweet.

She rolled onto her back, her gorgeous breasts wobbling on her chest. “Just do what feels good to you.”

“You mean, do what I like?” I slithered down her body, pausing to suck one nipple into my mouth. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was, just touching her breasts. From the corner of my eye, I saw Neil shift position in his chair. I lifted my gaze to his and saw the same dark intensity that had been there when I’d spread myself over Emir’s lap in the club in Paris. He was getting off on his jealousy.

Gena’s chest hitched beneath my cheek as I traced across her stomach with my fingernails. “No, I mean, do what feels good to you. If it feels good to your mouth, it probably feels good to my pussy.” Her logic seemed sound.

I rolled between her legs. Her vulva was hot and wet as she lifted it against my belly. I went all lightheaded. Ian was dressing, but his attention was as fixed on us as Neil’s was. Both of them were watching us like they were witnessing pandas mating or something.

Shaking off the weight of their stares, I made a line of sucking kisses from Gena’s sternum to her belly button. With each one, she lifted her hips higher. I wet my lips when I reached the line of her pubic hair. She was soft there, too, her curls surprisingly downy.

I had a moment of doubt. What if, when faced with the slick, hot reality I knew was coming, I freaked out? Her hips rocked upward, and that made my decision for me. I’d told her I would do it, and I was going to do it. When would I get this chance again?

I squirmed lower in the bed, pushing her thighs wider as I went. And then…the moment of truth.

Her labia were as delicate as little pink flower petals. Her clit was a red, enflamed knot at the top of her slit, and I danced one finger over it, captivated by the feel of her. Her hair and skin were damp, and when I slid a finger in, her cunt grasped at it. A strangled sound escaped me.

“Mmm,” she purred. “You’re off to a very good start.”

The desire dripping from her voice shot straight to my groin. I wanted to make her come. I wanted to hear her sounds and feel her pussy rippling around my fingers. I slipped a second one in and crooked them in a “come here” gesture to find the spongy spot at the top of her vagina. I knew when I found it, because she gasped and sank her hands into my hair.

It was so easy to find. Why did so many guys have such trouble with it?