The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

That was why we were here, I realized. Neil wanted to show me that he was still capable. That he was still a man, and not a disease.

I rocked my hips, feeling the first flutters of another release. When I came, it was with a strength that shocked me, curling my toes and sending shivers of pleasure all over my body. I truly lost myself then, my head lolling against his shoulder, my mouth frozen open, helpless, high-pitched grunts bursting from me with every hard thrust.

He wasn’t far behind me, driving into me as he pinned my hips to the wall. I cried out and squirmed as his cock jerked inside me, the throb of his orgasm echoing the pulse pounding in my swollen cunt.

He let me down gently, setting me on shaking legs, threw the condom in the trash, and zipped up. The entire time, he tossed sideways glances at me. I don’t know what he was expecting to see.

“Was I too rough?”

I shook my head. “No, not at all. I loved it.”

I had loved it. Every minute of it.

He considered my answer a moment. “If something was wrong, if I had done something—”

“I would tell you.” I grinned at him as I rubbed my cheek. “This was perfect. But I’m a little tired now. I hope you don’t expect me to do much walking after this.”

I didn’t mention the revelation I’d had about the true purpose of this trip. I didn’t want to wound his pride. Not the pride of Neil the Dominant, but the pride of Neil the man who was facing a possibly life-ending illness.

They’re the same guy, I reminded myself, surprisingly gentle. It was pretty bad when my conscience knew I was in a fragile emotional state, because I was harder on myself than anyone.

Neil pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Okay, Chloe, let’s get out of here.”

It might not have been healthy for both of us to ignore the reality in front of us, but at that moment, it was the comfortable choice.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Have you ever been on a private tour of the Musée d’Orsay? I have. I’ve also got a great photo of me and my boyfriend sitting on the steps of Sacré-Cœur, taking in the spectacular view. Paris was absolutely magical, thanks in part to Neil’s obscene wealth. We’d dined at very expensive restaurants and, okay, I’d let him buy me a whole new designer wardrobe, but I rationalized it by remembering how happy it made him to buy me anything at all. Also, I’d promised him total submission, so I figured that extended to his wallet, as well.

One of my purchases had been an expertly fitted corset in a brocade made to look like the shimmering indigo and emerald feathers of a peacock. It didn’t quite match Holli’s art nouveau robe in terms of drool-worthiness, but I looked amazing in it. I’d worn it out of the shop, beneath the demure black velour Carven dress Neil had picked out for me, and all the way through dinner, though corsets do somewhat hamper your ability to stuff yourself on awesome bread.

One thing I’d really enjoyed about Paris was that unlike New York, no one gave us funny looks when we committed small public displays of affection. When Neil had swept me up in his arms and kissed me in the square in front of Notre Dame, no one gave us judgmental glares because of our obvious age difference. In restaurants and shops, no one assumed I was his daughter. In fact, several had assumed I was his wife, and my discomfort and difficulty explaining otherwise seemed to be highly entertaining to Neil.

“So,” he said in the car on the way back to the hotel. “How have you enjoyed Paris?”

“I want to come back a million times.” I leaned against him, a little stiffly because of the boning in the corset. “This has been totally magical, thank you.”

“I wish we had more time to spend,” he said apologetically.

“I’ve spent my time exactly the way I wanted to.” Even if I hadn’t seen all the touristy and historical sites, I’d had experiences in the city that I knew I wouldn’t find in travel books. And we’d made memories together. It was the perfect way to end the year.

After our whirlwind day of sight-seeing, I thought Neil would be too tired to stay up for midnight, let alone get up to hanky-panky, but he surprised me when we returned to the suite and he immediately ordered me out of my clothes.

“I spent good money on that sexy undergarment, I want to see you in it,” he teased, tugging down the zip on my dress.

“Aren’t we getting a little close to twelve?” I asked him. “I don’t want to miss it, the concierge said the tower lights up.”