The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“I think that went pretty well,” I called to him as I slipped the pins from my hair and shook it out. I almost moaned at the delicious soreness in my scalp.

Neil was in the bathroom, taking out his contacts. He called back, “It really did, darling. And thank you for being so kind to my mother at dinner, when she called you Elizabeth. I should have warned you about her memory.”

“It’s okay. She had a stroke, I totally get it.”

“I’m having difficulty remembering that her brain has been damaged, because she’s still so like herself. Even in the wheelchair, she’s terrifying. Shorter, but still just as terrifying.”

He came out of the bathroom, bare-chested, bare-footed, wearing just his black silk boxers. I’d never considered boxers sexy at all until I’d started dating Neil.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked as he walked around the huge bed and pulled the blankets back on his side.

“I did. And what a thoughtful gift. Beautiful shoes and Paris. You truly know the way to a girl’s heart.” I grinned at him while I took off my earrings. “So... Emma is getting married, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow in warning and said nothing.

I ignored his sullen attitude. “You have to admit, it was very sweet, doing it here, with her family all around. It was romantic.”

“Was it?” he sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his neck wearily. “I thought he was supposed to ask for my blessing first.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s traditional.” He would have sounded outraged, if he weren’t so tired.

“It’s an outdated custom. Your daughter is a grown woman.” I remembered a tactic Emma had used to shut him up once. “Unless you have a problem with a twenty-four year old woman making a serious commitment to her boyfriend?”

“Keep it up and I might,” he grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about horrible Michael. Come on. Get naked and get into this bed.”

I looked over my shoulder at him as I wriggled out of my dress. He laughed low in his chest as I bent over unnecessarily far to retrieve it from the floor.

“I was lying when I said I didn’t have a present for you,” I told him, crawling across the impossibly wide bed to get to his side. “I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you about it in front of your mother.”

“Oh.” A flush crept up his neck, and he gave me a weird little smile before looking away from me. “I’m actually quite tired. Do you mind terribly if—”

“It wasn’t a present for tonight. I was thinking we could try something out in Paris.” I chewed my lip and sat back on my heels. “I was reading a bit more. About twenty-four-seven submission, slave training... I thought maybe we’d give that a try. One last hurrah before you start chemo. Is that something you’d be interested in trying? Just while we’re in Paris?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but I could tell he was pleased at the suggestion. “I would love it, but are you sure that’s something you’re ready for?”

The thought of giving Neil total control over my life for real would never be appealing to me. The thought of giving him total control over me as a sexual partner for a few days, though... I took one of his hands and brought it to my chest, then slowly drew it down, between my breasts, over my stomach. He knew how I was going to answer him, and dove his fingers between my legs, slipping under my black satin panties to find me hot and wet already, just from talking about the idea.

“Willing, obviously,” he said with a smirk, circling my clitoris with a fingertip.

I moaned, and my head lolled on my neck, my long hair brushing my back. “Very willing, Sir.”

I knew what that word did to him. And it had been a while since he’d heard me call him that.

“I might not be as tired as I thought I was,” he said, slowly moving his finger over my flesh. “Are you going to be ready by the time we go to Paris? The doctor said two weeks.”

I shrugged. “I feel fine, really. Just some light spotting now.” I knew that wasn’t a problem for him, anyway. “Nothing hurts, though. No more cramps or anything. I’m already dying to fuck you.”

“Full-time submission is much different than the play we’ve engaged in before. I would be... stricter. I’m a different man in that role,” He warned.

Oh. That was interesting. “Have you been going easy on me?”

“A little,” he admitted.

My breath fluttered out of me, and I put my hand on his wrist, gently pushing his hand away. “No. No, we’re not doing anything right now. You’re going to talk to me.”

He groaned and flopped onto his back. “I knew the moment I said it that you wouldn’t like that.”