The Sister (The Boss 6)

“Losing a parent is still traumatizing,” I said, hope he knew that he could talk about it to me if he needed to. I had no idea how long that grief took to process. “But so would be losing a child. A teen daughter?”

Using his children as a weapon against him in the argument felt a little low, but like Neil, it gave him a reference point.

“I support any decision you make,” El-Mudad promised. “But I can support you without being happy that you’re putting yourself at risk.”

“You weren’t going to tell me that, though?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Because I’m afraid of crossing a line and ruining what we have. Do you remember that I told you that you were Neil’s north star?”

Goose bumps raised on my arms at the memory. At one of my lowest points, El-Mudad had been there to lift me up and reassure me. During that week, I’d trusted him almost more than I’d even trusted my best friend. He’d rescued me from depression and heartbreak and stayed by my side until I was whole, again.

He went on. “You’re both mine. I have guided so much of my life by a course I set the moment I fell in love with you. With both of you. Now, I feel as though I’m reaching a destination. I can’t take the chance that I won’t find my way to you.”

I rose on my knees and took his face in my hands. “You’ve already found your way to us. And we’re not going to lose you, either.”

His eyes searched mine. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. His cheeks were stubbly beneath my palms, against my face as his lips wandered down my jaw.

“Is Neil asleep?” El-Mudad whispered, his tongue tracing the curve of my ear.

“He is. Should we wake him up?” I wondered aloud.

“No. Let him sleep.” El-Mudad stood and slipped his arm beneath my legs to boost me up, to cradle me against his chest. “We’ll go to bed. If he wakes up, he’s welcome to join us.”

“Oh, my god, that’s so bad.” I giggled.

But I didn’t stop him.

Chapter Eleven

The marble floor was cold and cruel under my knees. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, waiting for them. Every second stretched beyond time, endless, mindless, until all that remained was me, kneeling in the darkness, my hard nipples tormented by the tulle of my black Marchesa V-neck gown, my diamond collar heavy around my throat.

It wasn’t dark in the Pavillon’s center room—just behind my blindfold. I knew that beyond, warm candle-like light filled the octagonal space. And I knew they were there, my Sir and El-Mudad, watching me. Circling me. Considering what they would do to me.

They’d likely planned it out already, of course. Tonight was El-Mudad’s last night with us, and Sir did not like to disappoint guests.

He finally spoke, his voice deep and serious. “On any other night, Sophie, I would offer you as a gift to my friend. I would let him use you temporarily. But tonight, it won’t be quite so temporary.”

Heat flooded my belly. Of course, we’d discussed all of this before. The change to our sexual relationship, the new roles we’d all agreed upon and were eager to try out. El-Mudad was a switch, able to perform and desiring the roles of both Dom and sub, depending on the circumstances. Because of this, there would be some adjusting and arranging. Neil wouldn’t concede his total ownership of my submission, but he was willing to share. Though I wasn’t yet sure how I could handle the idea of someone else submitting to my Sir, I was sure that the only person I’d be willing to try it with was El-Mudad.

We’d tried to talk over and preemptively solve any problems we anticipated, and everything had felt right. But that had been Sophie and Neil and El-Mudad drinking our morning coffee on the beach. It was so much different when it was happening, when the platinum of my collar still felt cool against my skin and I’d been deprived of the privilege of one of my senses at their will.

Their will. Not just my Sir’s will.

“Have you decided what she’ll call you, yet, El-Mudad?” Sir asked, his footsteps stopping just beside me. I swayed on my knees, hoping that millimeter of movement would bring my body into contact with his, however brief.

It didn’t, and his hand connected with my face in a sharp slap.

“You were told not to move.”

That was something else we’d discussed at length. How far we would go, how hard they would push me, what I thought I could handle and what I wanted to experience. The sting suffused my entire body with a wash of anticipation; it wouldn’t be the only pain I felt.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whispered. No matter how aroused I was, no matter how much I knew in the back of my mind that this was all a game we played, I still wanted to please him. Knowing that I’d displeased him hurt more than the physical punishment.