Sophie (The Boss 8)

“No, Sophie,” he scolded. “Inside.”

I pushed my middle finger into my cunt, my heart fluttering and flipping against my ribs.

“Add another.”

My ring finger joined the first.

“Fuck yourself with them. You have my permission.”

I curled and uncurled my fingers inside, pumping and coaxing more fluid onto my hand.

He groaned softly, still stroking his cock. “I may never understand the depths of the control you hold over me.”

“Sir?” Once I slipped into my submissive role, it was easy to forget that Neil got as much out of our games as I did. That I wasn’t the only person hungry for our encounters. As much as he could feign disinterest or disregard during our play, he wanted me as desperately as I wanted him.

“I don’t know why I can have you whenever I’d like–-and I can, Sophie, never forget that–-yet I never get my fill.” His voice hitched. “I crave your obedience as much as you crave my dominance.” His voice took on a deeper, darker tone. “Take your fingers out. Come to me.”

I took slow steps, my cunt aching with need.

When I got close enough, he grabbed my arm and jerked me nearly off my feet. He didn’t just taste the juices glistening on my hand. He devoured them, weaving his tongue around my fingers, sucking desperately, as if he couldn’t get enough.

He got to his feet and gave me a push. “Kneel on the chair and bend over the back.”

I must not have done it fast enough for Sir’s taste because he gripped me by the back of the neck, startling a gasp of pain from my throat. He swept my feet from under me with a sharp nudge of his feet, not a kick but enough to thrill me with the violence of his desire. I tumbled forward, my knees stuttering across the leather cushion. I landed hard, smashing my face against the padded back of the chair.

In an instant, Neil was on me, physically hauling my body up until I lay over the chairback, supported on my elbows.

“Can you breathe?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then consider yourself lucky.” He didn’t mean it; Sir just liked to make his routine safety checks threatening to keep us in our roles. “Arch your back. I want you exposed to me. I want to see the pussy and ass that I own.”

I did as he commanded, tilting my hips back, and the cushion beneath me dipped slightly. I assumed from the fact that I couldn’t feel his cock grinding against me that he hadn’t wholly joined me but leaned on the cushion while kneeling on the floor.

My theory was confirmed when I felt his breath on the curve of my ass cheek. His thumb slipped into my cleft and brushed over my hole, but he didn’t push inside. “I’m going to eat you, Sophie. I’m going to lick every drop from your pussy. Worship your ass. You’ll take every moment of it, no matter how you scream for mercy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” I trembled, goosebumps of anticipation growing tighter over every inch of my skin while his thumb still circled in place.

“Am I a merciful man, Sophie?” He chuckled. “Answer honestly.”

“No, Sir.”

“Remember that when you’re screaming.” His hand moved, gliding over my skin to my waist. The other joined it, both palms working up my body, forcing their way between my breasts and the chair. He caught both my nipples between his fingers and pinched so hard I couldn’t help but cry out. “Remember,” he went on, cruelly twisting and rolling my hyper-sensitive flesh, “when I’m hurting you, when I’m ramming so deep in your cunt that all you feel is agony. Remember that I am not merciful.”

I sobbed. It was fun to be scared when I knew it was all a game, so I let myself go, whispering under my breath, “Please, Sir. Don’t hurt me.”

“Do you mean that?” Another check-in. Another adjustment.

I shook my head. “No, Sir. But may I beg you to stop? I remember my signal. But I want to beg you.”

“Oh, you most certainly will.” He slapped my ass hard and jerked my hips back, spreading my cheeks wide. His tongue took up the work his finger had been doing, shocking me with the warm, wet softness. Rimming was not high on my list of things I enjoyed. It was difficult to relax and get into it after years of being told how dirty that area was. And that just made it more humiliating and hotter.

And I knew that Neil loved it; it hadn’t been until El-Mudad had become a part of our lovemaking that I’d realized just how much.

Sir swirled his tongue over my hole, kneading and rolling my cheeks to bury his face deeper. What began as tender torture swiftly devolved into something frantic and wild. His lips dragged over my labia and rested on my clit to suck it inside. Frenzied, he rubbed his face up and down the length of my slit, coating himself. He still gripped my ass, but his hold became painful, his finely manicured nails cutting into my flesh as he growled and plunged his tongue into my cunt.