The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“Not a bit.” I slipped in beside him and snuggled up, looping one leg over his. I sighed contentedly and walked my fingers over his chest. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“For what? I can’t take credit for any spontaneous romantic gesture here. I already owned the plane.” He kissed my forehead and gave me a squeeze with the arm around my shoulders. “But I am so glad you’re here.”

“I am, too. Maybe not in a plane in the air. I mean, trapped in an elevator, that’s probably only slightly worse on the list of places I don’t want to be—”

“Me as well,” he reminded me. The first time we’d met, we’d discussed our mutual hatred of elevators.

We lay in silence for a moment. His hand caught mine and he threaded and unthreaded our fingers playfully. So when he said, “I’m frightened, Sophie,” it blindsided me.

I knew without a doubt that he wasn’t talking about the flight. “I think you would be very naive if you weren’t.”

He made a thoughtful, “Mm,” noise, but he didn’t respond further, still playing our hands together over his chest.

“You can be afraid, you know,” I said gently. “You don’t have control right now, that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s why you’re afraid of flying, and elevators. You’re not in control of what might happen to you.”

“This is an interesting theory,” he teased. “What on earth would make you think I was a controlling person?”

I snorted. “Let’s see, you’re locked in a battle of wills with your adult daughter over the man she’s dating. You have a housekeeper but you cook most our meals by yourself—”

“I cook when you’re over, because I think it’s romantic,” he protested.

“You’re incredibly bossy in bed.” I wiggled a little closer to him.

“If that’s proof of my enjoying control, then by that token you should love planes and elevators, because you love being controlled in bed.” He slipped a finger beneath my chin and tilted my head up. “And I like controlling you because I like watching you lose control.”

A shiver went straight down my body, to the already achy place between my legs. God, I wanted to come. My body was used to daily orgasms, and she wasn’t listening to reason. If I couldn’t have sex with Neil now, I had to do the next best thing.

“Hey,” I whispered in the dim light of the cabin’s interior. “The flight attendant won’t just come busting in here, right?”

“No, she’ll be in the forward compartment, where we can call should we need her. Why?” There was a note of suspicion in his voice.

I sat up and cast my gaze around us. Neil’s belt was still threaded through the loops on his jeans, and I got out of bed to retrieve it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning up on an elbow.

“I want to try something.” I came back to the bed and straddled his waist, holding out the belt. “Give me your hands.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sophie, you do remember what I told you about my experience before?”

“I do.” Neil had subbed once for a man who’d been a terrible Dom. I didn’t know the graphic details, only that it hadn’t gone well and Neil had hurt himself when he’d panicked while bound.

I took one of his hands, and to his credit, he let me push it above his head. But I could tell he was still nervous. Leaning down, I said, low beside his ear, “Remember the first time you fucked me?”

“For the rest of my life I’ll remember.”

“When I was so nervous about everything, you said that while we were together I should do whatever I felt like doing, because you weren’t the guys I’d slept with before.” I slid my hand up his other arm, gripping his wrist and bringing it together with the other over his head. “Well, I am not that guy, either. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make you lose control.”

He laughed beside my ear, and gently tested my grip on his wrists. I released my hold immediately, and he relaxed. Rising up a bit, I reached for the belt and wrapped it around his wrists, as he lifted his head to nibble at the front of my nightgown over my breasts. I moaned quietly, keenly aware of the relative silence of the plane and the presence of the flight crew. I didn’t know how much they would hear.

“So, how many times have you had sex on this plane?” I whispered as I pulled the end of the belt through the buckle and drew it up tight.

“Many,” he admitted. “If you had a plane, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess.” I gasped as his tongue found my hard nipple and circled it through the silk.

“Do I detect just a hint of jealousy?” he murmured against me. I sank my fingers in his hair and tugged his head down to the bed. A slow smile spread across his lips. “I do hope you’re the last.”