The Sister (The Boss 6)

El-Mudad’s warm, wide palm made gentle circles over my ass beneath my nightgown, raising goose bumps on my skin. Slowly, he pushed the silk and lace up to my waist.

“Are you ready, Sophie?”

Was I? After we tried it, was there any going back? If I didn’t like it, we wouldn’t do it, again. But what if I liked it and Neil didn’t? What it really upset him?

He gave my leg a reassuring squeeze. As usual, he could feel my doubts.

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Not, “Yes, Sir.” That would always be only for Neil.

El-Mudad’s palm landed with a sharp, loud crack.

The impact rang through my flesh the way the sound rang off the walls, and I bowed up, my pussy clenching rhythmically. Oh, my fucking yes.

“Too hard?” he asked, his fingertips rubbing the burn deeper.

“No.” It had been so much harder than I’d expected, and I hoped it was only a warm-up.

The next slap came with the same intensity as the first, on a totally different part of my ass. I gasped and jumped, and Neil held my ankles tight.

“Thrash as much as you like, you won’t get away,” he warned.

“Why would I want to?” I asked, the final word ascending in volume as El-Mudad spanked me, again, harder.

“I may not be your Dom,” he warned, landing another slap directly over the first, “but I do expect a little respect.”

I thrilled to the tips of my toes, an echo of that first night that we’d met.

Neil’s hand slid up my leg, inching toward my pussy. “Will I be in your way with my arm here?” he asked El-Mudad.

“Not at all,” he responded.

Neil’s fingertips parted me; two slid easily inside.

“She must be dripping by now,” El-Mudad guessed.

Neil chuckled. His fingers withdrew. “Oh, yes. Would you like a taste?”

El-Mudad’s palm fell, again, and stayed there, his fingers digging into my tortured flesh. I couldn’t see him lick Neil’s fingers clean, but I heard the deep, appreciative groan El-Mudad made.

“I can’t wait to fuck her,” Neil said, and his fingers, wet from El-Mudad’s mouth, returned to my cunt.

They spoke about me as though I was something to be played with. Something for them to share between them. Nothing more than a tool for their pleasure.

I craved more of it.

With every strike of El-Mudad’s hand, I lost myself, spiraling deeper into the blessedly blank state of my subspace. Neil knew exactly how to provide enough internal stimulation to make me wild for release, without getting me close to even the promise of relief. I moaned in frustration, and El-Mudad’s next slap was hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“You’ll come when Neil is fucking you,” he warned. “Not before.”

I lost track of time, like I almost always do in subspace. I stopped counting how many times El-Mudad’s palm fell—I rarely kept track unless instructed to do so—and every second became endless. Time and pain and obedience folded one over the other. Pain became past, present, and future—pleasure a promise. Tears streamed down my face, all the confusion and anger and self-pity from the day washing away with them.

I didn’t notice he’d stopped until he gently urged me up, to cradle me against his chest.

“Are you all right?” he asked against the top of my head.

I nodded and wiped my eyes. “I need a tissue.”

Neil leaned over to my nightstand and grabbed the Kleenex from the drawer while El-Mudad stroked my hair and pressed kisses to my forehead.

“Did I go too far?” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I should have checked in—”

“No, it’s fine,” I assured him. “This isn’t subdrop.”

“This isn’t unusual for her,” Neil said, adding, “is it, Sophie?” to avoid talking about me like I wasn’t in the room.

I nodded, grateful that he’d backed me up. “Crying is kind of a turn-on to me.”

“Ah.” El-Mudad didn’t sound as comfortable with that as Neil was. We could talk about that later.

I took a tissue, dabbed my eyes, and tried to blow my nose in the least un-sexy way possible. “And an emotional release. I have a hard time letting go, unless…”

El-Mudad nodded. “I understand. That surrender appeals to me, as well, sometimes.”

“I think you promised Sophie something,” Neil said after I’d composed myself.

El-Mudad’s chest rose with a breath of recognition. “You’re right. How could I have forgotten?” He gave my back a little pat. “On the bed, Sophie.”

“Wait.” Neil pushed himself back and swung his legs up. He patted the bed between them. “Sit here.”

I did as I was told, sitting in the V of Neil’s outstretched legs and leaning back on his chest, his erection snug against my spine. “You’re not going to jerk off while you watch? Because you can’t really—”

“No, I can’t. But I feel it’s a fair trade for the view.” He hooked his legs beneath mine and spread my thighs apart. “And it’s safer for him. Remember—”