The Ex (The Boss 4)

“There’s no reason you couldn’t see them as often as you wanted. We’ve got a jet.” It wouldn’t be the same as living so close she could check in on her mom every day, but it was better than if she’d moved to the east coast on her own salary. “Just think about it, okay? While you’re waiting to hear from the insurance people.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she conceded reluctantly. To change the subject, she covered a fake yawn with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I should go to bed. Do you work tomorrow?”

“Sadly, yes. Do you want to go into the city for the day? I think Neil is going to be at the track, so it’ll be boring around here.”

“Right, because Neil and I hang out together when you’re not here,” she said. It’s so weird to hear your own voice coming out of your mother’s mouth. She shook her head. “No, I’ve got stuff I want to do. You’ve got Netflix, for god’s sake. What more could I need?”

“You laugh, but Netflix is a gift from the gods.” I finally gave up and headed for the door. “Maybe you should spend tomorrow Googling for a hobby.”

“Good idea.” She pretended to consider. “Maybe I’ll take up knitting.”

I snorted. My mom is so not crafty. “Well, as long as you give up cleaning before the cleaning lady gets here, I’ll be happy.”

I took my earrings off as I walked down the hallway, so I didn’t immediately see that the bedroom door was open. When I looked up, the low light that spilled out gave me flutters in my stomach. I wanted to run to get down the hall faster, but I forced myself to slow my steps. With each one, I let go a little more. I wasn’t worried about my mom. I wasn’t worried about Ian and Gena, or Stephen’s book, or work or anything. By the time I closed the door behind me, my mind shed every thought that wasn’t of Neil, of Sir, and my desire to please him.

He’d repurposed some of the candles from the living room to light our bedroom. When I entered, he emerged from the closet shirtless and barefoot, a pair of padded wrist cuffs in his hands. A spreader bar already lay across the bed, cushioned in the duvet like a ring in a jewelry box.

Neil didn’t look at me as he crossed to toss the shackles on the bed. “Go and get your collar, Sophie.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said automatically, and a little thrill shot through me, like it did every time. I dropped my earrings on a table in the dressing room as I headed to the safe, where I punched in the totally immature four-digit code Neil used for everything and removed the velvet drawstring bag inside. My fingers parted the opening reverently and brushed over the cool metal. Bringing Sir my collar set off a dark pulse in my chest. My breathing slowed and deepened as I slipped the collar free. I didn’t put it on; he liked to do that himself.

His back was turned when I came back, but that didn’t take away the languid sway of my hips, or the decadent slowness with which I sank to my knees. I rested the collar on my upraised palms and kept my gaze on the floor. I didn’t make a sound to alert him. He knew I was there.

It took him a long time to acknowledge me. Waiting was its own kind of torture; I heard the soft clink of the cuffs and wondered if he’d fastened them to the discreet under-mattress loops, or just intended to leave my bound arms loose. I hadn’t seen a paddle, or the wand vibe that he loved to torture me with. The absence of these things heightened my anticipation.

“You’re breathing rather hard, Sophie.”

My arms ached from holding my pose. “Yes, Sir.”

“You’re wondering what we’re going to do tonight?” The brush of his feet on the carpet stopped. “Would you like to know, tonight?”

I hardly ever wanted to know. A slow grin crossed my face. “Surprise me, Sir.”

“Look at me.”

I raised my eyes to his. I couldn’t disguise my giddy excitement. He seemed to be struggling to maintain his firm, intimidating demeanor, as well. He took my collar from my hands. “Stand up.”

I rose and shivered as he fit the metal band around my neck. The clasp closed, and my indrawn breath pulled a tight line from my groin to my chest. He trailed one finger along the line of the collar then down to my shoulder to brush back my hair. “You have the most beaut

iful smile. Let me have a taste.”

I knew the lip gloss would work.

He tilted my face up with two fingers and slowly lowered his mouth to mine. The wet slide of his tongue sent hot pulses to flood my pussy and engorge my clit. My chest rose; I wanted to put my arms around him, but he hadn’t invited me.

He raised his head, uttering a soft, short moan as our lips parted. During a scene, he was so controlled that any suggestion of the effect I had on him struck me like lightning.

“Happy birthday, Sir,” I told him, risking the consequences of speaking out of turn.

“Thank you, Sophie.” He motioned to the bed. “Go. I want you bent over.”

I walked to the bed slowly, with a deliberate sway to my hips. My tight dress fit every curve. I wished I could see the rear view. When I bent over, the bottom of the skirt just barely covered my ass. I turned my head and rubbed my cheek against the thick down comforter.

Neil knelt behind me. “Spread your legs, darling. There’s a good girl.”

I giggled and did as he commanded. He took my ankle in both of his big hands and nudged me to raise my foot. He slid off my pump then repeated the action on the other side. I squirmed a little. I couldn’t help it.

“Stay still,” he warned me, sliding both hands over my calf, up my thigh, under my skirt. The fingers of one hand dug into my ass,while the other skimmed between my legs. The tip of his thumb pushed under my panties and found my slit. The gentle brush across my labia slicked the fluid evidence of my arousal over my skin. I shivered at the touch; I hadn’t realized how much I had ached for him all night.