The Bride (The Boss 3)

He moaned at the sound, the hand on my head pushing me gently down, choking me a bit more, just enough to color my reaction with a touch of fear. When he stopped exerting pressure, it was to grip my short hair as best he could to lift me off. I gasped for breath, drooling onto his cock, and he rubbed my neck in gentle circles as he tapped himself against my panting mouth. “How are you, Leif? Do you need me to slow down?”

While what sounded like a rational part of my mind argued that I should be frightened, because I had been frightened before, with Stephen, I couldn’t bring myself to dampen my excitement. “No, Monsieur. I’m enjoying myself.”

“Good.” His fingers curled over the nape of my neck, and he looked into my eyes with such earnest tenderness that had I not already been so completely in love with Sophie, I might have had room to fall for Emir, as well.

He guided my head down, and I went back to work, slow and steady, alternating sucking and releasing with the bobbing rhythm of m

y head. I swirled my tongue around him when I could, and tapped the underside of his shaft and head the rest of the time. I knew I was doing well when he began lifting his hips in time to my motions, and short, sharp “ahs” of pleasure burst from him.

“That’s enough,” he said finally, when his erection was as hard as iron and twitching against the roof of my mouth. Any longer, and he would have come; I felt it in the insistent throb of his pulse against my tongue. I released him and sat back on my heels while he slipped off the condom and tossed it into the trash.

Emir tucked himself away and zipped up. “You have plugs, yes?”

I nodded. “In a cupboard in the closet. Would you like me go and get one?”

His expression didn’t change, but I felt his silent reminder.

“Would you like me to go and get one, Monsieur?”

“No. I will go. You will bend over the bed and wait for me.”

I did as he commanded, though my knees were beginning to ache. Perhaps submission was a younger man’s game.

Listening to him rummage through the toy cabinet was damned difficult. All I wanted to do was call out suggestions, but the evening was entirely out of my hands. My body seemed unable to come to a decision on holding my breath versus breathing at an alarmingly fast pace.

I’d hoped I wouldn’t pass out. It would have been a ridiculous thing to have to explain to the ambulance drivers.

The longer he made me wait, the more ultra-aware I became. It was a technique I used with Sophie sometimes. Anticipation sharpens the senses, tunes them in on their goal. At that moment, my goal was do whatever it took to get Emir to let me come.

His soles made a zip-shush, zip-shush sound against the carpet, and I marveled that I could hear it at all over the pounding of my heart. He gently toed my calves apart and stood between my naked legs, his jeans brushing the backs of my thighs.

“You have an impressive collection,” he said with a note of humor in his voice.

“Merci, Monsieur.” If he only knew how much more there usually was in that cabinet. I heard a wrapper opening; surely he didn’t mean to fuck me right now?

Perhaps he’s putting a condom on the plug, I reasoned.

“Spread for me,” he ordered.

I reached behind me to comply, trying not to think about how utterly vulnerable the position felt. Embarrassing, even… I thought of all the times I’d given Sophie similar commands, and reconsidered; I’d never once found Sophie awkward or ridiculous in this situation. Just thinking of her in this context sent more blood pounding to my groin. I ached to be touched.

There was a click, and a few drops of something frightfully cold landed between my cheeks. I waited for the touch of the plug, wondered if he would be gentle or simply forge ahead. Perhaps I should have told him that it had been a very, very long time since I’d been the receptive partner in anal intercourse. It had been… good lord, it had been before my relationship with Elizabeth, over five years ago.

But I’d be damned if I let him think I was some kind of… well, wuss.

When the dam touched me, I nearly shot straight up from my bent-over position. When his face pressed into the cleft of my ass, I rolled my lips between my teeth to hold back my moan.

He leaned back. “No, no. You’re not going to stay quiet tonight.”

Then his tongue swiped over me, coated by the dam, aided by the lube he’d drizzled onto me. He could have shocked me with a violet wand, and I would have been less jolted. This was a rare pleasure; I wasn’t used to being on the receptive end of this particular activity.

He rolled his tongue lazily over the dam, alternating long strokes with a gentle tapping that sent a stuttering current of electric pleasure straight to the root of my cock. And then his tongue slipped in, stretched the tight ring of muscle, teased it from the inside, and I made a noise so pathetic that it startled me. My nerves were so raw and excited, I felt as though I could come just from grinding my cock against the edge of the bed. That I didn’t could be seen as a testament to my admirable willpower.

He worked at me for a long time, prodding and swirling, withdrawing to repeat the actions externally. The lubed rubber glided with his every flick and suck. All the while I held myself open for him, my fingers digging into my flesh as I writhed and humped, moaned and begged.

Begged. I actually begged him, though I didn’t know what I was pleading for. My favorite word that crossed Sophie’s lips during our play was “please,” and the more desperate the better. Now that I knew how heightened her need must have been in all of those moments, I was only more aroused by the memories.

Pumping my hips against the bed, I rasped, “Please.”