The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“No, no.” His hand tugged my hair gently, and I opened my mouth on a desperate gasp. “I didn’t give you permission.”

I whimpered, and held back. I desperately wanted to lick him, to trace the veins in his shaft with the rough, wet tip of my tongue.

I held up my hand and deliberately showed it to him before dropping it between my legs again.

“Forty-five seconds,” he said, trailing his fingers between my breasts.

Oh, that just wasn’t fair.

By the time we reached fifteen seconds left on the clock, I was panting and sweating. I’d stopped three more times, and each time it had felt like I would never be able to breathe again without coming, I’d gotten so close. My clit was painfully engorged; I imagined it looking like a ripe strawberry nestled between my folds.

And I still hadn’t actually touched it. Always, there was a barrier between my straining flesh and my fingertips. It was through sheer force of will that I didn’t come before the fifteen seconds was up.

“What do you say, Sophie. Heads or tails?” I heard the soft slap of his palm against the back of his hand.

“Heads?” I asked, pleading. If I had to touch myself any more, I would come. There would be no avoiding it.

“Heads,” he said, sounding a bit disappointed.

I shuddered in a painful mixture of mental relief and physical need.

“As I was saying before, I want to prolong this evening for as long as possible. But I’m so damned impatient. I’m worried I’ll rush to get to the end.” He tickled his fingers down my throat, between my breasts, down my stomach. Every muscle in my body clenched, all except my jaw, which stayed perfectly still because I did not want him to take his cock away.

“You understand, I’m sure,” he continued, pulling his hand back. “I know that you’re just as impatient as I am.”

But you’re going to make me suffer much longer, I’m sure, Sir.

“Do you know what it is I’m going to do, Sophie?” He lifted his cock off of my mouth so I could answer.

“You’re going to come.” The words plucked at something deep inside me, some thread of longing and desire twisted with resentment for the way he made me wait, made me work for it.

“I am. And you...” he slipped that fingertip down my body again, over my belly button and the rise of my pubic bone. He stopped at the border of my low-cut panties, so close to the top of my slit that it took all my strength to not raise up to meet him.

He pulled his hand away and affectionately tapped my nose with one finger. “Are not.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. It seemed like a dangerous thing for him to tease me so cruelly when his dick was this close to my teeth.

“Get up, and get on your knees on the floor.”

I did as he ordered. The carpet looked lovely, but it was rough on my knees. He stood in front of me, and I opened my mouth obediently. With one hand on the back of my head and one guiding his cock, he pushed past my lips. I wanted to suck, to swirl my tongue around him, but I couldn’t do any of that. Not without his permission. So I waited, feeling the hot throb of his pulse against the back of my throat.

The hand at the back of my head pressed forward gently. “I wonder how much you can take.”

If my mouth hadn’t been full, I would have told him exactly how much. Everyone has his or her own particular set of skills. Mine just happened to be sucking dick. I gratefully opened my throat, using the same muscles as if I were yawning, and mentally forced away my gag reflex as I took more of him in.

“Very nice.” His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me back and forth with slow, careful pressure.

The praise filled me with a flush of ecstatic warmth. In my current headspace, I wanted to please him more than anything; his pleasure became my pleasure. I undulated my tongue against the underside of his shaft and swallowed, flexing my throat around the head. After two weeks of waiting, and being so, so close now, the point of no return was rapidly approaching, just from sucking his cock. I breathed hard through my nostrils, groaning around his hard flesh as my pulse accelerated rapidly.

“Don’t come,” Neil warned. “I don’t want to have to stop to punish you.”

I moaned as he slid back and forth between my lips. I had no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t last long. He was suffering the effects of anticipation as much as I was. Although of the two of us, he was probably way better at waiting. I took my time, letting him push and pull my head, flicking my tongue when I could and savoring every rough, panting breath as it burst from him. He pushed too far, and I gagged, then I moaned. I was going to come. I could feel it winding tight inside me, could feel the throbbing pulse of my clit through the now-soaked material of my panties. My thighs clamped together and I squirmed.