“You and Neil had pretty clear boundaries about this stuff before he went into the hospital. Would doing what he’s asking you to do now violate any of those?”
“Well, not really. That was the whole point, we had to have permission. Which is why I didn’t fuck Emir when he was here.” I still didn’t use his real name around anyone but Neil. “But I don’t think he would have even cared if I did.”
“Well, if you’re not in the mood to go out and find another sex partner, then I guess the point is moot. Unless you had someone else you can make an international booty call to,” she mused.
My brain sparkled with copper-colored glitter in an explosion of hormones. “Not…international.”
“Oh?” One of Holli’s brows arched. “Someone local. Perhaps a hot longshoreman?”
“Are there actually fishermen on Long Island, anymore?” I asked, then shook my head. “Wait, that’s not the subject. I was thinking about Gena.”
“Oh, the double fuck chick?” Holli asked.
I tossed a small pillow at her. “Don’t be gross. But yes. Her. I’m not sure if she’d be down for a booty call, though.”
“Didn’t you just have lunch with her, a few months ago?” Holli tilted her head like a spaniel. “Did she seem…interested, then?”
“I don’t know.” I considered, running over the bits of our conversation I could remember. “She kind of just wanted to reestablish contact and offer me a shoulder to cry on, after Emma died. I mean, I told her I was attracted to her, but she didn’t make an invitation or anything.”
“Here’s what you should do,” Holli said, sitting up criss-cross-applesauce. “You’re going to give her a call and be like, “Hey, thinking of you. Wondering if you’d like to get together. And then, when she says, ‘Great, what do you want to do?’ you can be like, ‘I wanna fuck your brains out.’ Then, she comes over, you get all sorts of wild girl-on-girl action, you video it, then you send it to me.”
“No to sending you video. Maybe to everything else,” I said dryly.
“Pictures are fine,” she amended easily. “Seriously, I think you should at least try. It’s not like you’re going to ruin some kind of long and lasting friendship. And she probably won’t even be weird about it. You could always plead temporary insanity if she’s offended.”
I must have been temporarily insane, because this idea was starting to sound better and better.
“I think…” I took a breath. “I’m nuts, but I think I’m going to do it.”
“Do it, now,” Holli urged. “Before you lose your nerve. Go call her. If it goes badly, I’m already here to help you in the aftermath.”
“Good point.” I got to my feet and slipped my phone from my pocket. “Don’t listen in.”
“I won’t.” She crossed her heart. “I don’t want to do anything that would prevent you getting laid.”
I held my phone to my chest. “Aww. That’s really sweet.”
“That’s why we’re best friends.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded ziplock bag and a pack of papers. “I’ll roll us a J. Either a celebratory one, or a rejection one.”
Praying it would be the former, I pulled up Gena’s contact as I walked from the room. I hoped it would go to voicemail, because I wasn’t sure what I planned to say. If I could just leave a brief message—
“Sophie!”
Damn it.
“Hi, Gena,” I said, and I hated the way my voice sounded.
“I haven’t heard from you for a while. I was just thinking of you.” She quickly added, “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty.”
“I didn’t think you were. Actually, I feel kind of guilty for calling.” I hesitated. “Okay, this is a booty call. I realize how shitty that is of me, since I haven’t talked to you in, like, months, but just a lot of stuff has been going on, and I’m lonely and horny and I thought, ‘Hey, Gena said to call her any time.’ And I know that’s not what you meant by it—”
“It wasn’t not what I meant by it,” she said, then rephrased. “I mean, it’s okay. It was never off the table.”
“Oh.”
Silence fell between us, and I wanted to shrink down and hide in the carpet.
“So…you want to hook up?” she asked with a cute little laugh.
“Um, yeah. I thought maybe you might want to come over some time…soonish. Olivia is with her grandmother on a trip to London, so I’m on my own for a couple of weeks.” Oh, shit, I hadn’t told her about Neil, yet. This was going to be awkward as fuck. “And Neil is… He’s out of town, too.”
“Oh. Sophie…” Her voice trailed off, and I got weirdly defensive. Was the only reason she wanted to get together because she wanted to fuck Neil, again? “Is Neil okay with this? I mean, you’re not…”
“No! No, no, no,” I babbled. Of course she wasn’t trying to get to my husband through me. That was absurd, especially since I was the one who’d called her. “I don’t want to make it weird, but Neil is in some…let’s just call it sleep-away therapy. And, since he’s going through his own shit, he’s totally fine with me going outside our usual arrangement.”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply—”
“I get it. And I really appreciate that you were concerned about that. I’m not sure I’d want to fuck somebody who didn’t care about cheating.” One thing I’d noticed in my relationship with Neil was that fucking other people meant trust had to be that much more solid. Being able to trust an outside partner made it even better.
Still, I felt the need to add, “But I totally get it if you’re not comfortable with us not coming as a package deal.”
“No, I would…” Her voice lowered, as though she were trying to keep our discussion confidential.
Crap, what if I’d called her for a hookup at work?
“I would absolutely love to see you,” she whispered. “But I can’t plan things right now, my boss just arrived. Text me later?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” I told her. We hung up quickly, my heart beating so hard I got dizzy from my excitement. I braced myself with a hand against the wall before I went back to the theater.
“So?” Holli demanded, bouncing excitedly as I entered.
I held up my hands. “I’m getting laid!”
“Yes!” She bolted her feet and charged me, nearly tackling me with her hug. “Oh, my gosh, a casual hookup that will actually stay casual this time!”
“Hey, I’ve had casual hookups,” I reminded her, giving her a push back.
“Yeah, and you married this one, so…”
She had a point. But I wasn’t going to marry Gena.
I was going to do dirty, naughty, unspeakably graphic sexual things with her. And my body was one-hundred percent on board with that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A week later, I was getting ready to have sex with Gena. On our own, for the first time. Not in front of our partners, although that encounter hadn’t really been for their benefit, since we’d completely forgotten they were in the room. Still, I wanted this time to outdo that time by a thousand.
I was going to have to show her the Pavillon Français.
I dressed in a tight blue dress with off-the-shoulder straps and sculpted my hair in Agent Carter waves. I put on some gorgeous earrings, dahlia blossoms styled in gold and slivers of pearls. I’d gone light on my eyes to offset the bright red lipstick I’d carefully slicked on. I looked so good I grabbed my phone and did a mirror selfie.
I didn’t want to seem eager, but I was waiting in the formal living room when the bell rang, and I high-tailed it for the foyer before she could press it, again.
“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” she teased when I answered the door out of breath and teetering in my royal blue pumps.
She looked gorgeous, but I felt overdressed. She’d come in a long black maxi skirt and a dark tank top, her hair loose, the curls straightened. She looked like an art student.
Which I suppose made sense, since she
was on this whole new, artistic life.
“You look fantastic,” she said, her cheeks reddening. “I’m really sorry, I should have made more of an effort.”
I motioned her inside and shut the door behind her. “Listen, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve felt remotely hot. Let me go all out.”
“I am not complaining.” She looked around the foyer and rocked on her heels. “So…”
“Yeah, so.” And then, I walked straight to her, pulling her into my arms. She held my face as our lips met, as our tongues slid together hungrily. My hands wandered down her back, over her butt, bunching up her skirt in my fists.
Were we going to make it out to the Pavillon?
I pulled back. “Wait, wait!”
“Oh, right,” she said, flushing from neckline to hairline. “I can’t believe I forgot.”
She fished around in her purse and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper. “This is from a month ago. I haven’t been with anyone since then, but I don’t know what kind of precautions you want to take.”
“Oh, um.” I hadn’t thought about this part. “To be honest, it’s been a while for me. I’ve been with Neil and with our lover, and neither of them have been with anyone else, but it’s really up to you.”
Was it weird and self-destructive of me to want to say “to hell with it” in regards to protection? Or did I just feel safer because she had a vagina, even though I knew that had nothing to do with it?
“Do you want to just be bad?” Gena asked, clearly on the same track that I was.
“I do. I trust you, and I trust myself.” I shrugged. “And, to be honest, this feels like a risk. A safe one, but still. Being a tiny bit reckless feels good, right now.”
She took a step toward me, clearly leaning in for another kiss. I put my hand on her chest to stop her. “Not yet. I had something special planned.”
“This is pretty special,” she breathed. Then, she squinted at me. “Oh, my god, your lipstick hasn’t budged.”
“Long-wear. It’s Maybelline, but don’t tell anyone or I’ll lose my rich fashionista cred.” I motioned to the door. “Do you mind driving? We’re not going far.”
She raised an eyebrow but nodded, and we headed to her car.
“Go that way,” I said, motioning that she should follow the circular drive around. “But don’t go all the way over to the main road. Take that smaller one to the left.”
“You have honest-to-god roads in your yard,” she marveled as we drove.
“Yeah, and all sorts of little hidden secrets,” I promised. A part of me hoped Gena wouldn’t think we were total freaks once she saw our playhouse. But it was hard to imagine that she would. She’d expressed interest when she’d found out Neil was into dominance and submission, so she had to know at least something about all of this.
After my mom had moved in, Neil had decided that the best course of action to discourage her from poking around the Pavillon was to put up a length of dark green chain-link fence and a motorized gate with a sign warning about electrical equipment.
“Pull in there,” I said, indicating the gate. “Hit the red button on the box.”
“I don’t really feel like getting electrocuted today,” Gena said, her eyes cutting to me before she rolled down her window. “But I’m going to trust you, just this once.”
The gate rolled back, and she put the car in gear, rolling us forward.
“I’m letting you in on our big secret,” I told her. “The only people who know about it are me, Neil, and our…boyfriend.” That was the only word I could think of to describe our relationship with him.
“I’m honored,” she said, distracted as we rounded the curve and the Pavillon came into view. “Is that it?”
“It is. Wait until you see inside.” I motioned to the front of the building. “Pull up there.”
She stopped us in front of the doors. “I thought it was a folly. There’s really an inside?”
“There is.” I pushed open my door and got out. I knelt beside one of the carefully trimmed hedges and found the “rock” that held the key. I pulled it free.
“So much secrecy,” Gena teased.
I hadn’t been in the Pavillon since before…well, since before my entire life had fallen apart. I didn’t know how I would react seeing it, now. I unlocked the door, stepped in.
During the day, the center room didn’t need any lights. The sunlight brightened the whole space in a clean white glow through the filmy curtains. The heavy drapes were pulled back, meaning our cleaning company—a discreet one that Neil assured me could be trusted to keep their mouths shut and our proclivities out of the press—had been in. That also meant the aftercare room would be well stocked, the bed made, and every surface immaculately dusted.
“Okay,” Gena said, nodding slowly as a smile grew on her face. “This is swank.”
“Yeah, it was a wedding present,” I told her, then revised, “Well, not really. The building was here already. What’s in the building, though—”
“I think I understand what it’s for.” Gena pointed to the metal bondage frame and the rack of canes.
I blushed. It had been my idea to bring her here, but suddenly, I was shy? “Let me show you around.”
“Please do.”
I took her to the aftercare room, first, and pointed out all the supplies there. Even though we wouldn’t be engaging in hard play—I was too emotionally fragile to even consider it—I thought it was cool enough to point out.
“The building is designed with four rooms off this central one,” I explained as we walked back to the middle. “Like a cross, but the lines intersect here.”
“It’s stunning,” she said as we entered the bathroom. I flipped on the lights in there, because it was a bit dimmer; half of the windows were just façades, now, covered inside by the shower.
“Are those shackles?” She pointed to the cuffs on the wall.
“Yes, they are. The water pressure in here is fantastic.”
“I would expect nothing less from the two of you.”
I snorted. “What do you mean by that?”
Gena shrugged one shoulder. “You’re so into each other. I envy that. I want to find someone who looks at me the way Neil looks at you.”
“How does he look at me?” I pressed, like I was trying to find out if my crush really did like me. Every day that Neil and I were apart, I became just slightly more pathetic.
“Like you’re the only thing he’ll ever need.” Gena’s tone was a little sad as she said it. Had Ian never looked at her that way?
No matter how shitty our life was, right now, Neil and I were in it together. I was thankful for that, and I hoped Gena would find someone herself, since she wanted to.
“Come on,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the door “You haven’t seen what I really want to show you.”
I led her to the weirdest, most wonderful part of Neil’s wedding gift to me. “Ta-da!”
Gena stepped into the machine room, her eyes widening as she realized what she was seeing. “Oh, my god.”
“Yeah, that’s was pretty much my response,” I said, remembering my reaction when Neil had first showed me the three mechanical wonders he’d gotten for us. A Sybian, the classic saddle vibrator I had fantasized about for years stood on its own raised platform. Neil had added ankle cuffs to the dais, as well as loops to bind my arms. More than once I’d found myself trapped while orgasm after orgasm painfully seized my muscles.
Farther back, a black leather bench, also modified for bondage, stood in front of an H-shaped bit of machinery that could work two independently motorized arms at ridiculous speeds for double penetration by interchangeable dildos. But my favorite of all was the simple, elegant mechanism that stood in front of a black leather chaise in the center of the room.
“Does this do what I think it does?” Gena asked, tentatively running her fingers over the gleaming steel rod.
“Yup.” I nodded and crossed my arms ove
r my chest. “That is a fucking machine.”
“Holy shit.” She giggled.
“Well, technically, they all are. But this one is my favorite. See this?” I pointed to the flywheel that created the thrusting motion of the rod. “It goes crazy fast. I have squirted so many times using this thing.”
Wow, it was kind of awesome talking to Gena like this. Maybe it was because she was a woman, but I didn’t feel like I had to be coquettish or polite with my terminology around her. She was a chick, she knew how her body worked, and she wouldn’t be shocked.
“Do you think I could try it?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
“Um, obviously. I wouldn’t show you my toys, and not let you play with them. But have you been on a Sybian before?” When she shook her head, I added, “You have so got to try it, first.”
“They’re as good as everyone says?”
I nodded silently, my eyes wide to convey the intensity without words.
She grinned. “Okay. Well, saddle me up, partner.”
I went to the chest of drawers against the wall, between the windows, and found a bottle of lube and one of the penetration attachments. “How about this? You don’t have to use the dildo, but it’s really—”
When I turned, I saw Gena already shimmying out of her skirt. She pulled her tank top over her head, as if in slow motion, and stood before me in a black satin bra that barely contained her lush breasts, and black panties cut high on her hips.
God, she was gorgeous.
“You pick,” she said with a sly smile, because she knew, she had to know, how fucking hot she looked.
“Well, now, I really feel overdressed,” I said with a nervous laugh. I had to touch her. My palms tingled for want of feeling her skin under my hands. Every step I took increased the nervous butterflies that didn’t bother with my stomach and dove straight between my legs. I placed the attachment and the lube carefully on the platform, then turned back to her.
The Baby (The Boss #5) Page 22
