The Ex (The Boss 4)

I leaned on him again and kissed a drop from his collarbone. “That, I can do.”

* * * *

I woke to the fee

ling of a freshly showered, still slightly damp body beside mine in the bed.

“I hate when you do that,” I mumbled into my pillow. “You get the bed all wet.”

“No, you hate it because it makes you self-conscious that you haven’t showered.” He had me there. I felt gross when his skin was all clean and soft and mine was sleep funky. Still, a promise was a promise. I slipped from the bed. The lovely blue Carine Gilson nightgown, the one he’d bought me for our first Christmas, fluttered to my ankles to puddle on the floor, and I gave him an arched brow over my shoulder.

“You’re not going to make me wait while you shower, are you?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, but I don’t want to go down on you with a dirty mouth.” I dashed into the bathroom, quickly brushed my teeth, swished some mouthwash around then came back.

“You are the only person I know who brushes their teeth before performing oral sex.” He threw the covers back and patted the bed beside him.

“I can’t believe you’re horny the day after your mother’s funeral,” I said, and then, I wished I hadn’t. “Sorry, that was meant to be funnier than it was.”

“I don’t fault you for trying.” He reached for me and pulled me in. His skin, warmed by the blankets, felt so good against mine that I moaned. He chuckled against my neck. “Oh, we’re already there, are we?”

“Hey, we’ve been a little stressed-out this week. Any small relief I can get, I’ll take.” I trailed my fingertips through his chest hair.

“Believe me,” he said as I kissed my way down his stomach. “You’ll get it.”

“You first, though.” I gazed up at him as I rolled to lie between his legs. “Are you my Sir, this morning, or are you my boyfriend?”

“Fiancé,” he corrected, reaching down to cup my jaw. “And Sir is far too tired to make an appearance this morning. Although, his sub is very enticing.”

“Even with bed head, huh?” I stroked my fingers down his hardening length then curled my hand around.

He sighed and crooked one arm behind his head. “Especially with mussed hair. And smeared eyeliner. In my opinion, women always look best if they appear freshly fucked.”

“I’m not sure women care how men like them to look.” I slowly pumped him in my fist and gave him a quirk of my lips. “But, if that’s what you want, then why do I bother getting all dolled up for you?”

“Mmm. Because I like making a mess of you.” He shifted his hips and relaxed into the bed. I sat up and grasped his thick erection in one hand. I rolled the foreskin up and over the head, then back again, and ran my nails lightly over his scrotum.

He gazed at me with a blissfully content smile, and my vagina clenched tight. I got so much pleasure from making him feel good, I almost felt guilty. But our sex always seemed cyclical; I got pleasure from giving him pleasure, and he took pleasure in mine.

With every stroke of my hand, Neil lifted his hips a little more. His breathing quickened, and he turned his face to the side on his pillow. I leaned over and let a thin stream of drool trickle from my mouth onto the head of his penis, stroking him all the while. When I parted my lips and let my open mouth hover over the head, he opened his eyes and smiled, the halfway one that would have been panty melting had I been wearing panties. I slid my mouth down about halfway and released him with sucking pressure. Then, I nibbled my way lightly down his shaft. He bobbed against my lips, twitching impatiently as I made my way back up to the tip to slip my tongue between his foreskin and glans.

“You’re a tease, Sophie,” he scolded in his sex-roughened voice.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I gave him what he wanted, closing my mouth around him and sucking him down until I gagged. What I couldn’t get into my mouth, I manipulated with my hands, circling him and squeezing as I slid them up and down his wide cock. His breath caught; he moaned. I maintained eye contact with him and lifted my mouth, strands of saliva bridging the gap between my puffy lower lip and his rock hard erection.

“I want to make you come, Neil,” I moaned. I shifted position, straddling his thigh and rubbing my sopping pussy against his skin as I tugged his cock. “I want you to come in my mouth and splash all over my face.”

His hips jerked. “Come here,” he growled, reaching down to dig his fingers into my hips. “I want that beautiful cunt on my face.”

It used to freak me out to let Neil go down on me when I hadn’t showered immediately beforehand, but that was always the time he most wanted to do it. I turned to face away from him and almost laughed at the desperate way his penis twitched, begging for sensation. He groaned and sniffed deeply as I lowered myself over him.

“You smell like heaven.” He pulled me down and sucked at my labia then pushed his tongue between to run it around my engorged clit. He sucked it, releasing me with an obscene slurping sound that made my thighs quake.

“I love that sucking my cock gets you wet,” he murmured against me. His dirty talk could get me to the edge faster than any sex toy ever could. I leaned forward, an elbow on either side of him, and took his cock in my mouth again. Now, sucking him off wasn’t the only thing getting me wet. Neil knew every sensitive spot to lick, when and how to increase pressure. He was the best thing that had ever happened to my cunt, oral sex-wise.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, pulling me harder against his face. His hips jerked upward, and he shot stream after stream into my mouth, panting and rubbing his face against my slick, wet vulva the whole time. His chin bumped my clit, and it was the very last straw; my orgasm pushed a long, shuddering moan from my throat, and I choked on his cum. I swallowed some, and some ran down my chin.

Exhausted, I rolled off him and reoriented my position to snuggle at his side. We kissed with the taste of each other on our mouths, and I rested my head on his shoulder.