The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“Would you like to meet him?” Neil’s hand on my knee slid up my thigh, under my skirt.

“Um... not for full sex,” I whispered, leaning up so my lips grazed his jaw. “But I’m down for other stuff.”

I felt a shiver go through him.

“There might be nothing at all,” he reminded me. “Not everyone comes here looking for sex. Some just like the atmosphere.”

I considered the handsome stranger. He didn’t look like he was interested in atmosphere, at the moment.

“Let’s see what happens,” I said with a shrug.

Had I really just admitted to my boyfriend that I wanted to let a stranger do sexual things to me? And he wasn’t furious? He was actually excited?

Oh, Neil and I were meant for each other.

His hand crept up my thigh under my skirt, to the black lace of my panties. I looked over at the man, who was still watching us with amused interest. His gaze dropped pointedly to my exposed thigh.

“Take this off,” Neil commanded, snapping the band. I looked up at him, then around us. But I hopped off the stool and obeyed him, and nobody batted an eye. It must have been a fairly common sight, then?

Neil tucked the panties into his jacket pocket. “All right. Go over and ask him if he speaks English. If he does, I want you to ask him if he’d like to make you come.”

For a heart-stopping moment, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to say that to a stranger. Then, rational thought took over. Neil was here with me. The club was safe. Everyone here knew this was a sex club. And the worst that could happen would be that he could reject me, which didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like I was looking to even know his name. If he wanted to pass, it might prick my pride for a split second, but then I would go back to the hotel and fuck my hot boyfriend’s brains out. Either way, I was walking out a winner.

After that, the submissive mindset kicked in fully. My Sir had asked me to do this. It would please him to see me coming with another man’s hands on me. My pulse throbbed hard between my legs. I would never in my life have approached a stranger and so blatantly asked for sexual favors, but as Neil’s submissive, I didn’t have the burden of rational thought holding me back. I didn’t have to think at all. All I needed to do was enjoy the experience, no matter the outcome.

“What if he doesn’t speak English?” I asked Neil.

“Then raise your skirt, and I’ll come over and I’ll speak to him.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Like you do.”

“If there is anything you don’t like, say a strange vibe, or you feel unsafe and change your mind—”

“Safeword. Got it.” I tilted my head. “’Sécurité’, right?”

“Trés bon.”

I blew him a kiss and started toward the man, who unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back, his enigmatic expression darkening with a hint of desire.

I walked over, my heart racing, my thighs trembling. The guy was even more handsome up close. His neatly trimmed dark hair parted classically to the side. Beneath his jacket, his black shirt had silver pinstripes I hadn’t noticed from the bar, and the top two buttons were open. His eyes were a gorgeous, deep brown, rimmed by dark lashes. Silver rings winked on his big, square fingers, in sharp contrast to the dark hair on his knuckles.

He looked up at me expectantly, and I shook my hair back and hitched up my shoulders. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Would I get in trouble? I bunched my skirt in my fists, arms tight at my sides. “Anglais?” I asked, just as Neil had instructed me.

“Yes, of course,” he answered with a soft accent I couldn’t immediately place.

“My Sir...” I looked back to Neil, who was watching with cautious amusement. I gave him a confident smile, and turned back to the stranger. Slowly, I eased my skirt up my thighs. As my hem rose higher and my bare vulva was exposed, the man’s eyes widened. I continued, my voice almost too breathless to be heard over the music, “wants to know if you’d like to make me come.”

A slow smile spread over the stranger’s face. He looked young, probably in his early thirties, boyish but not innocent by any stretch of the imagination. He was wolfish, hungry, a bad boy dressed up in good boy clothing. He rose and nodded to Neil, gesturing him over.

And I stood there, my lower half exposed in a room full of people, trembling with need from the naughtiness of it all. Could I really let another man touch me? Get me off?

The stranger shook Neil’s hand. Neil seemed very pleased as he looked the man over. He wore a friendly grin as he introduced himself to the man, who called himself Emir.