Sophie (The Boss 8)

Wow, going for the super expensive option worked out for you, didn’t it?

Damn. I’d wanted to stay in subspace, to please my Sir, but already I felt that peaceful fog fading.

Then he returned, fully nude, yet somehow more powerful than he had appeared fully clothed. He held a bottle of lube that he tossed into the chair and said, “On your hands and knees on the coffee table, please.”

I looked doubtfully at the low circular piece of furniture. I almost suggested we pick a location I’d had the foresight to reinforce for weight, but he placed a hand on the back of my neck and growled, “Now,” beside my ear, and I scrambled to obey.

“I’m going to fuck your pussy, Sophie.” His bare calves brushed mine as he climbed on behind me. “But I’m going to come in your ass. What do you say to that?”

“You can come wherever you want to, Sir.” That answer would please him. And that was what I wanted to do. It was all I wanted to do.

At that moment, it was my sole reason for existing.

The massive head of his cock spread my bruised inner flesh; he wasn’t needlessly rough, but he wasn’t cautious, either. He slid in smoothly as deep as he could go, in no hurry to spare me the sting in my swollen tissues.

“There, there,” he mocked me when I could no longer stifle my sobs. “Don’t worry; I won’t draw it out. I don’t want you to take any pleasure from this.”

That was good because I wasn’t sure I could feel my clit anymore. Another orgasm seemed out of the question.

Sir’s strokes quickened; I must have been an excellent sub indeed. He’d barely been inside of me for a few minutes before he pulled out, grabbed the lube, haphazardly applied it, and brutally drove into my ass.

Fireworks of agony exploded behind my eyelids. My guts cramped, and my arms gave out. I collapsed, but Sir held my hips in place. He thrust once, twice, then cursed and stiffened over my back. The twitches of his cock were all the more pleasurable, knowing that he’d promised me he would fill me up. He made good on that promise, grinding and flexing his hips as if to wring every last drop into me.

“What do we say, Sophie?” he panted, still joined to me, supporting his weight on his hands on either side of me.

“Thank you, Sir,” I responded obediently.

He slipped from me and stood, offering a hand to help me up. The kiss he dropped on my forehead was laughably innocent.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he instructed firmly, steering me with an arm around my shoulders. “Do you need anything?”

“A shower?” I asked hopefully.

He chuckled archly. “No. I already told you, you’ll be sleeping in this state. Am I not a man of my word, Sophie?”

“You are, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” I leaned into his body and let him half-drag me along; every fiber of every muscle in me was pulled. “But I do need to use the bathroom.”

After Neil started the shower for himself, he gave me privacy to use the toilet–-of course, we weren’t intensely private people, so his sole purpose for not hopping right into the water was likely to tease me with something I wanted, but couldn’t have. And while I could still safeword and get a shower if I would subdrop without one, it was going to feel so abjectly degrading to climb into bed sweaty and sticky.

When I emerged, Sir waited for me with a nightgown. A barely-there silk chemise that dipped low over my breasts and didn’t clear the bottom of my behind.

“Put this on,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb El-Mudad, who slept peacefully and loudly, his grinding teeth filling the room with near-metallic screeching. “Raise your arms.”

I let Sir dress me and take me into his arms. His lips brushed my temple. “You pleased me tonight, Sophie.”

My heart soared; pleasing my Sir mattered more than anything else in the world.

At least, right then.

“Thank you, Sir. That’s all I needed to hear.” Tears crept into my voice.

Lifting my chin with two fingers, Neil asked, “Do you need anything else?”

Did I need any more care, any more love? That was the true meaning of his question.

I shook my head. “No, sir. This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He kissed my cheek. “Go on. Climb into bed and dream about all those wicked things you let me do to you.”

The day had been exhausting enough that there wasn’t even time for me to remember that I’d had sex once my head hit the pillow. Sometime later–-it seemed like hours instead of the minutes it likely had been–-Neil climbed into bed beside me, pulling me into his arms. I roused enough to tuck my head beneath his chin. His skin smelled clean and damp, and I breathed in a happy sigh, intending to drift off again.