The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

We went through the gate and up the steps to the door, and I waited in silence as he unlocked it. Inside, the house was dark and quiet. The staff would have already gone home. Even Josh was gone. He wouldn’t be back until the high dose chemo started.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my voice too loud in the silence. I dropped my words to a whisper. “I think we’re actually alone.”

Almost before I’d finished the last word, Neil pressed me against the door. The ridges of ornamentation cut into my back, and my mouth opened, startled, under his.

His hands slid up my thighs, under my dress, to find my panties and pull them down.

“Right here?” I gasped as I stepped carefully out of the scrap of black satin.

“Call me boring and traditional,” he murmured against my neck. “But I want you in our bed.”

We made it to the bedroom somehow, pawing each other all the way. By the time we got to the bedroom, I was shoeless in addition to the missing panties, and Neil’s jacket and shirt were discarded on the stairs. He turned on the lights and dimmed them to a warm glow. I shimmied my dress down and stepped into his arms. I needed skin-to-skin contact like I was a premature baby or something. I almost cried at the relief when he was finally holding me.

Chemotherapy had changed his body. His skin felt different, dry and kind of fragile. He was a little thinner than before, and he had no body hair. I giggled and brushed my fingers over his bare chest, and he smacked my bottom.

“Don’t tease me. I’m a very sick man.” There was no actual recrimination in his voice. I laughed with him and reached between us to unbuckle his belt. He pushed me back to land on the bed, and I giggled breathlessly as I bounced on the mattress. I was so ready for him.

“I want you so bad,” I moaned, my clenched fist pressed against my mound to relieve some of the ache there.

He stepped out of his pants and knelt on the bed between my spread legs. “It has been far too long.”

“I think it was just two days ago, wasn’t it?” I teased. But it had been too long, before that. My body ached for him. Not just my cunt, which throbbed and flooded as he brushed his hands down my sides to grip my hips, but every part of me. My arms wanted to hold him, my legs needed to wrap around him. I needed Neil, healthy— as healthy as a man just off of chemotherapy could possibly be.

“No, I think it was three days ago. Or four. Ten days ago, I’m sure,” he joked as he kissed his way down my body. His teeth sank lightly into my nipple, and I hissed.

“Weeks,” I chided along with him, my fingers curling against his shoulders.

“Three months.”

“To a year,” I agreed, breathless from laughter at our exaggerations and from the path of his tongue down the curve of my breast.

He mumbled a shocked, “Two years?” against my navel, and I squirmed.

“I said ‘to a year’.” My sentenced ended on a groan as he settled between my legs and gave me a long, slow lick.

“Oh god!” I found fistfuls of duvet and held on. I felt his appreciative chuckle more than I heard it, and that was a fine trade.

“There. I’ve missed you,” He cooed to my clit as he pushed the hood back and stroked a finger over the bare, sensitive organ.

I squirmed and giggled at the over-stimulating contact. He leaned down, still pinching and exposing that sensitive organ, and thrummed his tongue over it.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, raising my hips against his face. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head. “You know that eventually I will stop.”

“Not right now, though!” I begged. “Just keep going!”

He laughed and dipped his head. Usually, he made me wait, intensifying my longing until my orgasm was almost painful in its intensity. Tonight, though, he let me have it, let me ride wave after wave of pleasure under his mouth. And when I was wrung out, sweating and panting, he got a condom from the nightstand, rolled it on, and fell between my legs, sinking into me with a groan I echoed. My legs locked around his hips, and I pushed against him, my face buried in his shoulder as he pumped into me.

“I love you,” I panted against his ear. I tasted the perspiration on his neck, inhaled the scent of his cologne— I’d missed that so much.

He leaned his forehead against mine, still moving within me and gasped, “I love you, I love you,” like a mantra as he pushed hard and deep and stilled inside me.

I clung to him, desperate to hold him as tightly as I could. As if that were enough to hold him here. Even if things weren’t exactly like they used to be, at least we could have the tantalizing promise that everything could be the same as it had been.