The Sister (The Boss 6)

“Bring me your panties,” he said, nodding toward the puddle of clothes at my feet. I reached down slowly to retrieve them and handed them to him.

He tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. “All right. What should we put on the telly?”

I frowned. “Sir?”

He pointed the remote at the television and changed the source. He had quite a collection of adult entertainment saved to a local server in the basement. I didn’t know what that meant, aside from being able to access it from any television in the house, but not over the internet. That was my number one main concern, and he’d allayed all my fears.

I wasn’t afraid someone would find out we had dirty movies.

I was afraid someone would find out we had dirty movies of us.

He selected that folder and scrolled through the several—okay, many—videos available.

“What do you think?” he mused, pausing on one. “Very rough, or…” He flicked to the next one. “No, something a bit more gentle.”

He clicked the button, and the screen filled with an image of me, stretched out on the creme-and-gold bed in the Pavillon. The lighting was warm, and I’d had a fantastic tan; my naked profile was burnished and glowing. A white sash covered my eyes.

Oh, I remembered that night.

That was my birthday last year.

“Are you excited to find out what your present is?” my Sir asked from the television.

“Yes, Sir,” I responded from the bed.

“This video was more a present to myself than to you,” Neil observed beside me. He tugged at my ponytail. “Take this down.”

I reached up and pulled my hair free. He took the hair tie from me and pocketed that, too.

“Now, hold very still and watch.” His hands slid into my hair, fingers splayed to cup the back of my head and rub circles over my scalp as he talked. “What do you see in the video, Sophie?”

“Myself,” I answered, and when he cleared his throat, I tacked on, “Sir.”

“That isn’t a very thorough answer. Describe yourself.” He combed through my hair with his fingers, gently loosening the places where it tangled, until the long, dark locks cascaded over my shoulders, breasts, and back.

I studied my image on the screen. “My hair looks good. And I look good naked.”

“Not the kind of description I had in mind,” he admonished. “Look closer. Tell me what you see.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry. “I see a woman who wants to be fucked.”

He touched the tips of the massager against my back, and I jumped. Somehow, the electric tingles made me feel more exposed than my nudity.

He leisurely traced the implement down my back. “How can you tell she wants to be fucked?”

“S-she’s waiting. Like she’s been told.” The intense tickles made my knees weak. “Her legs are spread, so she can be ready for whatever he wants.”

“He?”

“You, Sir. She’s ready for you.”

The massager moved in a steady trail around my waist as Neil circled me. “What does she want?”

“To please him.” I licked my lips and quickly corrected myself. “To please you.” God, the electric tingles the device raised on my skin were like a feather on steroids.

“And what do you want, now?” He drew the instrument up my side, around the outer curve of my breast, and I had to will myself not to move.

“I want you to touch me.” I squeezed my thighs together.

“Where?” He used the massager to tickle up the center of my body, between my breasts.

“Everywhere, Sir.”

“Sit down. Lean back and spread your legs,” he ordered. “As wide as you would with the bar. Expose yourself for me.”

The cool air hit my parted flesh, and a rush of heat flooded my cunt. The thought of how those metal tines would feel skittering over my spread vulva made me break out in shivers. Every nerve in my skin sent signals of anticipation to my clit, promising new and bewildering sensation.

Instead of doing it himself, Neil handed me the implement. “Now, Sophie, you’re going to use it on yourself.”

I made a noise of disappointment.

“What, you thought I would do all the work?” He clucked his tongue. “Sophie, I merely want you to pick up where I left off.”

In the video, my Sir brought out a long glass dildo. Ridges twisted up the sides, and it ended in an angled glass head, flat like the tip of a thumb but wider. He’d touched the surface to the skin between my breasts, and my body had bucked. Seeing it happen on the video brought back the physical sensation.

“Sophie,” Neil reminded me in the present. “I gave you an order.”

I placed the cool plastic tips at my collarbones and drew them down, between my breasts and over my stomach, closer and closer to where all my thoughts centered, where need lay heavy in my flesh.

“What are you doing?” Neil asked, and my eyes opened. He still stood beside me, gazing down with a disapproving expression.