The Boss

by Abigail Barnette

  "Your trust in me, your ability to surrender totally and give yourself to me freely... that's the payoff for me, Sophie. It's an aphrodisiac."

  I leaned forward, brushing my lips across his with the small freedom of motion he let me have. Then, carefully, so our heads didn't knock together, he let me go, and I snuggled down beside him.

  He was so warm and naked and good-feeling against my skin. No matter how soft and fluffy the pillows were, they were nowhere near as comfortable as resting my head on Neil's shoulder.

  "So, you've done this with other women before, right?" I walked my fingertips through his chest hair. "I mean you kind of talked like you knew what you were doing when we were in L.A."

  He covered my hand with his, holding it flat to his chest. "Do you really want to know?"

  "I asked." I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. I would never get enough of his scent, the feel of him. "I'm not going to get jealous of the people you used to sleep with. They're not here right now."

  "Yes, I have had prior relationships where Dominance and submission were involved." He idly stroked the back of my hand. "But I've also had relationships where it wasn't."

  "Which way is better?" If I ever did get long-term with someone, they would have to be able to make me respond the way Neil did. I couldn't imagine it any other way.

  His hand stilled, pressing over mine. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palm. "Being with you is better. Either way."

  My chest squeezed painfully. But it was the good kind of pain.

  * * * *

  Waking up with Neil beside me was the most exquisite, perfect feeling.

  I was all comfortable and warm and safe - a demented thing to revel in, considering I'd never actually been in anything close to danger in my entire life. Sleeping with Neil's warm skin pressed to mine, his strong arm around me, made me feel protected, even if I didn't need protecting from anything.

  I wriggled in his embrace and reached for the single-use toothbrushes on the nightstand. I quickly tore one open and stuck it in my mouth, hurriedly scrubbing away my morning breath.

  "Vanity, thy name is Sophie," Neil murmured sleepily from behind me as he released me and rolled away.

  "Ish not vani-y," I muttered around the brush. I reached for the half- full water glass and quickly swished some around my mouth. "It's just manners."

  His hand closed over my hip, and I scrambled to replace the glass on the nightstand before he jerked me down in the bed, smoothly covering my body with his.

  "Well then, I have excellent manners," he said, his suspiciously minty breath in my face. "Because I've already been up for morning ablutions."

  "Oh, and that isn't vanity?" I wriggled beneath him as he reached over me to a remote on the bedside table. He hit a button and the shades over the windows slowly rose, flooding the room with daylight, unimpeded by neighboring buildings.

  "Now, we have the entire day to ourselves. And I haven't the faintest clue what to do with you." The head of his cock prodded between my thighs, making a liar out of him. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with me.

  All it would take was a shift of my hips, and he would be inside me. I held his face in my hands. "You didn't shave."

  "You like my stubble," he pointed out, rubbing his cheek against my throat.

  I sighed, totally content as he nibbled and sucked along my jaw, up to my ear, finding that totally weird and totally awesome spot behind it, the spot that could make me come when he paid it enough attention.

  "I do," I moaned, stretching my neck to give him more room to tease me. I lifted one leg around his waist and his cock slid into me, pulling sighs from both of us.

  "That... oh, that's lovely," he murmured against my neck. “But I should really get a condom.”

  He was right, I knew, but he felt so damn good, I didn’t want to stop. At least one of us had the presence of mind to be responsible.

  “Hurry, okay?” To punctuate my sentence, I squeezed him with my internal muscles.

  “Good lord,” he cursed, dipping his head to my shoulder. His breath on my skin, the prickle of his unshaven chin against me, the feeling of him deep inside me, with no particular hurry to be anyplace else... okay, I could now fully understood why he was into sleepovers. I couldn’t think of any better way to wake up.

  He pulled out and rolled away from me, rummaging through his nightstand, then quickly sheathed himself. He was back between my legs with a speed that both impressed and flattered me, and I giggled.

  “Something funny?” he asked as he rocked against me slowly, reaching down to hook his arm under my knee, holding me wide open so he could sink deeper.

  "Just enjoying my morning," I gasped, my fingers fisting in the pillow beside my head. "That's good, just like that."

  "Just like this?" He withdrew slowly, until I was shaking and panting, desperate to have him back. But in the position I was in, I couldn't really move.

  I clamped my lips together tightly, a catch in my breathing the only sound I could make. It was odd, but the daylight made me feel a little self-conscious. Sure, my morning breath was taken care of, but my makeup was probably smudged, I didn't even want to think about what my hair looked like, and this close up he could probably see every pore on my face.

  And just like that, I was out of the moment. He went still inside me and lifted his head. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." Okay. It was difficult to lie to him when he was on top of me. "I'm just feeling a little... self-conscious."

  "Why? Is there an audience here that I'm not aware of?" He pretended to be concerned as he looked over his shoulder.

  "You know, you could be less sarcastic, with your dick in me." I wriggled. "Come on, let's just - "

  "No, we will not 'just.' There's no point in continuing if you've got something on your mind that's going to prevent you from enjoying yourself.” He moved to roll away from me, but I locked my legs around his hips.

  "Okay, okay.” I scrunched up my face. "I feel like it's different, at night. Night is supposed to be this dirty, wrong time. Mornings aren't supposed to be sexy. And I mean, I look- "

  "You look absolutely fucking gorgeous." He kissed me, smoothing hair away from my brow. "You look like a woman who was well and thoroughly shagged last night, and who's waking up all mussed and sweaty and - " he broke off to bury his nose in my shoulder and sniffed loudly - "reeking of sex to do it all over again."

  "Reeking? That's some sweet talk there," I giggled, but he did, strangely, make me feel better.

  "Sophie, I don't care if your makeup is smeared, or if your hair isn't perfect. The only thing I care about is that a beautiful, sexy, confident woman half my age wants to do depraved things with me in the bedroom."

  "And in the kitchen," I reminded him with a snort. "There might be some depravity we missed in the bathroom," he suggested, pressing deeper inside me. The motion dragged a long, slow shudder through my body. He covered my mouth with his, swept his tongue in to tangle with mine. The heels of my hands rested against his shoulders, my fingers curling and uncurling helplessly as our bodies and tongues writhed together. When he lifted his head, he added, "Perhaps we can find out after breakfast?"

  I nodded, breathless, and rocked with him as he thrust into me.

  "'Mornings aren't supposed to be sexy,'" he muttered, leaning his forehead against mine. "Really, I had thought better of you."

  "Oh, shut up and fuck me." I grabbed one of the pillows and smacked him with it.

  We had a brief, playful struggle, wrestling with each other until he held both my hands under his, pinned to the mattress.

  "Tell me what you want. Tell me what it is you need, and I'll give it to you," he pledged against my mouth. His hips lifted and he pulled out of me until just the head of him stretched my cunt.

  I looked up, into fierce green eyes that sent shockwaves of arousal through every cell in my body. I could have played the game, said something really racy to tantalize him, but I knew I would never beat him at dirty
talk. "You. I want you."

  He filled me again, so quick and hard it took my breath away.

  "Fuck me hard," I whispered, and it turned into a moan as I moved with him.

  He released my hands to sit up and grasp my hips. "What was that?"

  "Fuck me," I repeated, though he didn't need my urging. He surged in me, rocking my hips in his hands, pulling my whole body down the bed with the motion until my back was bowed.

  "I love to hear you say that," he groaned, grinding deep. “Louder, Sophie.”

  "Fuck me!" I shouted. I hoped there was good soundproofing between him and his neighbors. "Fuck me! I want you to fuck me harder!"

  He grabbed my arms and pulled me up, into his lap. We were caught in a tangle of my hair, our limbs and tongues, and when he pulled free of me he said gruffly, "Get on your hands and knees."

  I guess I really do get off on anticipation more than anything else, because switching positions seemed to take a lifetime, and I relished every second of it. He caught my hair and wrapped it around his fist, jerking my head back. "Is this all right?"

  "Yes!" I pounded my hand against the mattress. "Please just fuck me already."

  He drove into me so hard that I lost my balance and my teeth knocked together, but he didn't let up. I'd asked for this, and a hard, punishing fuck was what I would get. I howled my relief as he pounded into me, my hands clenching the sheets until my knuckles were white. Every time I slipped down, unable to hold myself up under the force of his thrusts, he pulled me back up, going deeper, bringing inarticulate shouts from my throat.

  "Like that, Sophie," he growled, jerking on my hair. "Let me hear you."

  His other hand caught me around the waist, pulled me half up so all I could do was lean on his arm as he shoved two fingers between my folds to rub my clit.

  "I'm coming!" I gasped in total disbelief at the intensity building to a rapid breaking point. How could he do this to me? How could he make me want him so much, so fast? I was almost furious at him for his easy knowledge of my body. But it's really hard to hold a grudge during an orgasm. I came screaming his name, spasming all around him.

  He let go of me, let me fall forward and followed me as I went down, pressing me into the mattress as he groaned with his release.

  "There," he said, out of breath, slipping from my body a little more with each heartbeat. "Isn't that so much better than a cab home in the dead of night?"

  I wiggled beneath him, and he rolled off me. I sat up, tucking the cushiony duvet around my chest and beneath my arms. "Okay. You proved your point. Overnights are pretty awesome."

  "You should respect the wisdom of your elders," he said with a tired chuckle.

  "Oh, the wisdom that sent me home with no panties on one of the very first times we fucked?" I reminded him.

  "And you learned an important lesson from that, didn't you?" He reached for a few tissues from the box on the nightstand. When he’d disposed of the condom in the small trash basket beside the bed, he pulled me down beside him. I happily snuggled in at his side. His arm was trapped under my waist, and his hand splayed at the small of my back, sliding down to squeeze my bottom. "You didn't wear panties this time, did you?"

  "No, but I did bring some." I nibbled my lower lip and batted my eyes at him. "More black ones. Boy shorts, very cute. I'm sure you wouldn't be interested."

  He pulled me up tighter, his fingers digging into my ass. "Why don't you put them on and see how interested I am?"

  "Okay, even you must have a refractory period, horny as you are," I pointed out. "Besides, I left my bag in the foyer."

  "Why don't you run out there and get it?" He kissed the tip of my nose. "Then come back and sit in my lap, wearing nothing but those panties. I will make it worth your while."

  I took a breath, the imagined picture of Neil's hand down the front of my panties searing through my mind.

  "Okay, but it's chilly in here. I'm taking your sweater." I rolled out of the bed with considerable difficulty. Seriously, I had no idea how Neil got up in the mornings at all. The damn thing was so comfortable and cushiony, I would call into work every single day and just lay around.

  I picked up his sweater from the floor in the closet and tugged it over my head. It hung to mid-thigh on me, and I had to roll the sleeves back.

  "You wear that better than I do," he quipped. "Go on then. I want you at least once more before breakfast."

  I giggled and hurried out of the room, sucking in my breath when my toes encountered the cold marble in the foyer. He really needed to get those floor-level heating things all around the entire apartment. I scooped up my bag, then stopped. I smelled coffee.

  Huh. That's weird. I thought he'd given his housekeeper the weekend off. Maybe he had one of those coffee machines with a timer on it. That would be amazing. I could take a cup back to bed for him. I set my bag down and sprinted on tip-toes through the living room and dining room.

  I was grinning like an idiot at the thought of having my morning coffee with a side of Neil when I pushed through the kitchen door. Then it all fell spectacularly apart. There was a woman seated at the kitchen counter. I gave a startled yelp at the sight of her.

  She smiled like a Bond villain and tilted her head to one side, warbling a falsely chipper, "Good morning."

  It was Emma. Oh god, it was Neil's daughter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Sophie?" Neil called from somewhere far off in the apartment, alarmed. He must have heard my startled shriek.

  In hindsight, I should have yelled back, "I'm fine," or "It's just your daughter," but all I could think was that he would come stampeding into the kitchen naked before I had a chance to tell him anything at all. It was bad enough I was standing there in his sweater, and nothing else, in front of Emma. So I shouted a loud, hysterical, "Have pants on!"

  "Oh, that's lovely. Thank you, for that," Emma said, blinking and turning back to the magazine open on the counter. She had a cup of coffee beside her, too, and the dinner from last night had been cleared away.

  So... she had been there for a while. Great.

  Neil came into the kitchen behind me, tying the belt of a black bathrobe. His expression changed from concern to confusion to horror in an impressively short span of time. "Emma? What are you doing here?"

  "I was supposed to be here. We spoke earlier this week." Her gaze raked me up and down. "But you must have had other things on your mind."

  "You were coming in on the twenty-ninth," he asserted, as though just saying it aloud would somehow reverse the entire, horrible, situation we were in.

  "The twenty-eighth." She lifted her mug and sipped from it. "I suppose when Tony wasn't at the airport, that should have been my first clue that you'd gotten the date wrong. Again."

  "How, uh," Neil cleared his throat. "When did you get here?"

  "I got here right around, 'I want you to fuck me harder.'" She lifted her eyebrows and blinked innocently at him, challenging her father to some silent battle of wills.

  I heard Neil's sharply indrawn breath behind me. "I suddenly very much regret the way the morning has gone thus far."

  I tugged the bottom of the sweater down. It could have reached the floor, but I would have still felt way naked. Emma had already heard me having sex with her dad, she didn't need the full peep show. "I'm going to just... go."

  "You don't have to go," Neil said, following me into the dining room. He looked briefly at the swinging kitchen door, then back down at me. He lowered his voice so we wouldn't be overheard. Oh yeah, now he thinks of that.

  "Stay. Have breakfast. It's the least I can do."

  "No, you don’t owe me anything," I said quietly. "You mixed up some dates, no big. We can get together another weekend."

  "No, I insist. Please, there's no reason you can't be here, just because Emma is. We're all adults. I'm sure I don't need to explain myself to her." He put his hand on my upper arm, his thumb kneading my flesh through the sweater. "Look, go get dressed, and I'll talk to her. It could
be a blessing in disguise, the two of you meeting. You might really like each other.”

  Too late, I thought, but I didn't argue with him. This was the absolute worst way he could have introduced his daughter and me. It would have been preferable if we'd never met at all. Since Neil and I weren't serious, there was no reason to play 'meet the family'. I wasn't about to take him home to my mom or anything. Hell, I hadn't even mentioned I was seeing someone when I'd spoken to her last. It was just easier that way.

  But, he really wanted me to stay, for whatever reason, and I wasn't going to strain things between the two of us. I would get dressed and join them for dysfunctional family breakfast. I had a feeling Emma would make a stronger case for why the whole thing was fucked up than I ever could.

  I mean, really, I thought to myself as I donned the tight jeans and snug, long-sleeved, v-neck t-shirt I’d packed intending to look casually hot for Neil. Now, I worried about how much cleavage it showed.

  A lot. The answer was a lot of cleavage.

  If you'd caught your mom with some guy your age, you would react the same way. He wouldn’t even have to be my age. I'd run off a pretty impressive string of chronologically appropriate men when I'd been a teenager and my mom had dipped her toes back into the dating pool. Maybe if Emma and I had met through work or friends, we would have had no problem with each other. But once you threw in that whole pesky part about me fucking her dad? I really couldn't hold it against her if she didn’t want to become instant BFFs.

  I dragged a brush through my hair and pulled it back in a low ponytail. Neil came in just as I was about to brave the kitchen again.

  "Sue left a quiche in the refrigerator, it's heating up now. We can eat it while my vegan daughter judges us accordingly.” He went straight to the closet. When he emerged, he was wearing sweatpants and a cheap blue t-shirt from a half marathon.