The Girlfriend (The Boss)

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The Girlfriend (The Boss) Page 17

by Abigail Barnette


  “Red! Please, red!” I squirmed in a panic, and he shut the vibrator off immediately.

  “Shhh,” he soothed. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

  I took slow, deep breaths as he pulled out, and I hissed at the soreness. “Ah, I remember this part, now,” I said through clenched teeth. “Feeling like all my insides are going to fall out.”

  “Are you all right?” He laid his palm against my thigh. “Well enough for me to clean up a moment? Or do you need me to stay here?”

  “Mhm. You can go, I’m fine.” I laid there, boneless and sticky with sweat. “Start a bath for me?”

  I was more than fine. I wasn’t sure I could move my legs. I wasn’t sure I could feel anything other than the dual throbs of pain and pleasure in my ass and cunt. It was like I had fallen off an underwater cliff, into a deeper pool of intimacy, a depth that I had never even considered. I’d let Neil do whatever he wanted with my body, had trusted him to take me into uncharted territory and keep me safe while we were there.

  I had submitted.

  I rubbed my face where he’d slapped me, and grinned to myself.

  Neil came back and helped me from the bed, into the bathroom. The bathtub was a basin sunk into pink marble steps and surrounded by mirrors with a frosted design. I stepped into the tub while the water was still running. The heat stung my raw skin, and I gasped.

  “Careful,” he said gently, still holding my hand to steady me, despite the brass handrail.

  “That was... intense.” I eased down and sighed. “You were not fucking around.”

  “Neither were you. Well done,” he said with a laugh, getting in to sit behind me.

  I leaned back, much preferring his warm body to the cold porcelain. “I can’t believe I could handle all of that.”

  “I had my doubts. I thought you would use the safe word at one point. I was considering stopping at that point.” He threaded our fingers together beneath the water, raising my hands with his as he wrapped his arms around me.

  I giggled. “Oh, with the flogger?”

  “Yes. Your eyes were the size of dinner plates. Just a second after I hit you, I thought, ‘oh, she didn’t like that.’” He laughed with me, trailing drops of water up my arm and over my shoulder.

  “You did it once more after that,” I reminded him.

  “That’s why I only did it twice. Once to try it out, and again to let you decide. I knew you’d tell me if you didn’t like it.”

  I sat up and looked back at him. “You knew I’d want to do it more than once to make a decision?”

  “I think I know a surprising amount about you, considering how new our relationship is.” He gazed up at the ceiling as he considered. “I know you’re terrified of needles and blood, I know you’re capable of becoming exceptionally angry on subjects you’re passionate about.”

  “I know you’re afraid of elevators and airplanes,” I interrupted.

  “That I am.” He stretched one long leg out to flip down the tap and turn off the water. “I know that when you let yourself love someone, you love them without reservation.”

  I thought the swell of emotion I felt for him at that moment would crush my ribs. “I know you give away more of your heart than you can stand to lose.”

  He pulled me back again, and I twisted to lay on my side, my cheek against his chest, just above the water.

  “That I do.” His deep voice rumbled beneath my ear, as did his contented sigh. “But I carefully assess the risk first. You’re a good risk.”

  “How romantic,” I said dryly.

  His arm tightened around me. “Take the damn compliment, Sophie.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I’d arranged to meet Holli at a cafe she’d fallen in love with, across the river from the Île de la Cité. Neil had gotten directions from the concierge for me.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a car to take you?” Neil asked from the bed as he watched me wind a pale pink patterned scarf around my neck.

  I shook my head. “No. Are you sure you don’t want to come with?”

  He wasn’t dressed to come with. He wasn’t dressed at all, and the lure of warm, sleepy skin was so tempting. But I hadn’t seen my best friend in weeks, so it was an easy temptation to overcome.

  “And impose on your reunion?” He lifted his gaze from the iPad screen he was reading and peered at me over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Never. Besides, I’ll be fine here. I have some final arrangements to make for our sight-seeing tomorrow.”

  I twirled in a circle, my floaty skirt flaring out as I spun. In ivory layers of silk with cherry blossoms printed on it, it matched the pink, fitted scoop-necked t-shirt under my white pea coat. “How do I look?”

  He pretended to regard me critically for a moment. “Like someone who wants to role play a very naughty ‘innocent virgin’ scenario when she gets back.”

  I grinned at him and went for my purse.

  “You’re certain you can get around the city all right?” he asked, a hint of nervous father in his tone.

  “Hey, I’ve lived in New York for the past six years. I think I can handle Paris.” I went over to lean down for a kiss. I meant to make it a quick peck, but his hand came up to cover the back of my neck and pull me down further. My mouth parted in surprise, and he sucked at my bottom lip.

  I moved away reluctantly. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “If you get lost or have trouble, just find a taxi stand, get into a taxi and say ‘emmenez-moi á hotel Plaza Helene s’il vous plaît’.” he advised.

  “What does that mean?” An uncertain smile tugged at my lips.

  “I’m lost, please do not take advantage of my nubile young body while helping me.”

  I snorted. “What does it really mean?”

  “Take me to the hotel Plaza Helene please.” He gave me another quick kiss and released me. “Go. Have a good time.”

  Riding down in the elevator, I felt a thrill of trepidation. Getting around a city where I didn’t speak the language was more daunting than I had expected when I’d tried to run away to Tokyo as a teenager. Now, I understood the importance of communication; I resolved to pick up Rosetta Stone or something when we got back to London. I would start with Icelandic.

  I reached into my purse to check for my pink Coach wallet and my passport. I could have had the doorman hail me a cab, but I wanted to be in the city, not isolated from it by glass and steel. I walked until I found a metro station.

  Subways are pretty much the same everywhere, I’ve found. It’s not difficult to get around so long as you understand the color-coding of the different lines and the destinations. The stop labelled Saint-Michel seemed like my best bet, as it would be only a short walk from there to the cafe on the Rue de la Harpe.

  Nothing could have prepared me for how gorgeous Parisian underground stations would be. I almost missed my train, soaking up the clean aesthetic. When I arrived at Saint-Michel station, I was almost convinced I had stepped into a stylish old movie.

  As I skipped up the steps, the cheerful winter sun greeted me. I walked down the street toward the red awnings Holli had described to me on the phone. Once again, I boggled at the weird twists and turns my life had made lately. I was in Paris. Six months ago, I’d made New Years reservations at my favorite bar, thinking I would be in New York to celebrate. If I’d had any idea...

  I would have probably freaked out and run back home to Calumet.

  When I pushed through the door, I looked around for Holli, but I didn’t see her. The cafe was pretty dead, with just a couple men sitting at a small table, hunched over their tiny cups of espresso. There was a blonde with short, razored hair and a tight fitting black sweater seated at another table, facing the mirrored back wall. Then she turned, her huge eyes wide in her head, and she squealed, “Sophie!” as she launched herself from her chair.

  “Oh my god! Holli!” I rushed at her, not caring about the withering stares of the men quietly chatting at their table. “You cut your hair!”


  “They cut it for the show.” She rolled her eyes. “I like it, but it’s going to be such a bitch to grow it out. Sophie, my god! Look at you!”

  I looked down at myself. “I... Don’t look any different.”

  “You look happier than you did when I left,” she argued, hugging me tight.

  “I am happier.” Oh my god, I’d missed her. “I’m happier now that I can see you!”

  “Um, you could Skype me, bitch,” she reminded me as we took our seats. “Deja Skypes me every day.”

  “I bet she does.” I raised my eyebrows. After I’d had raunchy Skype sex with Neil, Holli had shared all sorts of stories about her internet sexcapades. I knew what she and her girlfriend were getting up to online. “How are things going there?”

  “Things are going awesome.” She blushed and grinned. “She said the I-love-you word.”

  “I knew she would. Did she do it at the airport?” I’d had the scene already painted in my mind when they’d left for Holli’s flight.

  Holli nodded enthusiastically. “It was very romantic.”

  A waiter came to take our orders, and Holli helped me out with some truly impressive French.

  “Wow, look at you, all Française with your bad self.” I slipped my coat off and arranged it over the back of my chair.

  “Well, I took it in college, and a lot of it came back once I was totally immersed.” She shrugged. “Hey, but speaking of romance, fill me in on you and Neil.”

  “Well, we didn’t keep the baby,” I told her, even though she already knew that. “And he has cancer, so... That’s not fun.”

  “I can imagine. Actually, I can’t.” Holli’s expression fell. “How bad is it?”

  “He’s had leukemia for four years, it’s just now getting to the point that they have to do anything serious about it.” I shrugged. I knew it sounded awful and shocking to Holli, but I was getting used to the reality of it. “He’s going to have a stem cell transplant and chemotherapy.”

  “Yikes. Are you okay?” Holli reached across the small table, and I gave her hand a squeeze.

  “No,” I admitted on a shaky breath. “I’m unemployed, I’ve moved in with my boyfriend of two months, and he might not live the rest of the year. I’m terrified.”

  “I don’t understand how you’re not visibly and audibly freaking out.” Holli shook her head. “I’ve never been as serious about someone as I am about Deja, and I know you feel the same way about Neil. I can’t imagine losing her, now that I’ve finally found someone I could consider spending the rest of my life with.”

  “I’m just not thinking about it. We have no idea what’s going to happen from here on out, so I’m not going to dwell on how sad I might be eventually.” Total lie. I dwelled on it constantly. I could make a career out of dwelling.

  “I kind of thought he might come with you today.” She scrunched up her lips. “Does he not like me?”

  “No, I’m sure he thinks you’re lovely.” I giggled. “Actually, he thinks you’re pretty hot.”

  “I am pretty hot,” she agreed.

  “He didn’t want to horn in on our time together, I thought that was sweet.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Holli agreed.

  The waiter brought our coffee, and we talked until we had to order another, and then another. Holli was having an awesome time in Paris, even if she was missing Deja like crazy. Between fittings and rehearsals for fashion week, she was attending parties with important designers and international publications. Her agent had gotten her a commercial for a brand of Russian vodka, which she happily showed me on her phone.

  “That’s crazy,” I said, watching the picture slowly panning over Holli’s bikini-clad body. “You’re on television in Russia and everything?”

  “I will be. It’s totally nuts. I mean, magazines are one thing... and I did that BBC documentary— oh my gosh, when you go home, you can probably watch it!”

  “Definitely!” I had a momentary thrill at the thought of seeing my best friend on TV. “Things are happening for you.”

  “They are.” She considered a moment. “Everything is changing, isn’t it?”

  I hated to admit, but it was. I could feel it. It was more comfortable to deny it. “Nah. This time next year, we’ll both be back in New York, sniping at each other over who left what dish in the sink.

  She laughed with me, but then she said, quieter, “No, we won’t.”

  I nodded, my heart sinking in my chest. “I know.”

  Holli’s phone alarm went off, and she groaned. I wanted to groan, too, but I knew she was super busy and we’d already been visiting with each other for three hours.

  “Already?” She made a disgusted noise. “Things are happening for me, all right. I never have any fucking time to do what I want to do. Which is just sit here and talk to you forever.”

  “Hey, you have Skype, bitch,” I reminded her with a laugh, parroting her earlier statement.

  “And it’ll be easier when I’m back in the States. I mean, the time change will suck—”

  “But we’ll totally still talk to each other,” I vowed.

  “Totally.” She even held out her pinkie finger to do the pinkie swear with me.

  When we parted with tearful hugs, I headed to the underground station. She was right. Everything was changing. If Neil survived the chemo and the transplant went well, I wouldn’t just go back to New York without him, would I? Would we still be living together?

  What would happen to my apartment? Would Deja move in there? Would Holli move out? Would two new girls, fresh out of college and excited to live in the big city, inherit the spaces we’d inhabited and form a friendship like ours?

  Would it hurt them just as much when life separated them?

  * * * *

  After dinner, which had been prepared by a private chef and served to us in the dining room of our suite, Neil said, “I think we’ll go out tonight.”

  I sipped from my water glass. I knew that the lack of wine was a sign to me that he had something planned. Neil didn’t like to play when I was intoxicated.

  “Oh?” I feigned disinterest, but I wondered if we were going where I expected.

  “Are you still interested in visiting my club?” He was trying to pose the question casually, but I knew he was dying to take me there. After our initial conversation on Christmas, we’d discussed it a few times. I had definitely warmed to the idea even further; curiosity and the forbidden drove my libido like nothing else.

  “Sure. But I don’t know what I should wear.” I looked down at the same outfit I had worn earlier. I wasn’t sure the look that Neil had described as “innocent virgin” would fit in at a BDSM dungeon.

  “Don’t be furious with me,” he began warily. “I bought you something today.”

  He stood and I pushed my chair back, dropping my napkin on my plate while I gave him a little bit of side eye. Though I’d given him free reign to spend money on me, I could never be sure exactly what he would dream up.

  He pulled me with him toward the bedroom, saying, “I hope you like it. I know I’ll like seeing you in it.”

  The dress was laid out over the bed. It was a short, black number in layers of sheer chiffon, more nightie than dress. Delicate, glittering beading along the hem of the top-most layers gave it the appearance of an upside-down flower dripping with dew, and the top of the dress was similarly ornamented, with a plunging v that arched gracefully into two thin straps.

  “Oh wow. I would be afraid to put this on,” I said in a reverent hush. “It looks so fragile, it could just tear right off.”

  “I can help with that,” he growled against my neck, his arms encircling my waist from behind. “You get changed, let’s be ready to leave in an hour. Is that enough time?”

  “More than enough,” I promised, though I knew I would be rushing to do my hair and put on darker makeup. I wanted to look knock-out hot on his arm tonight.

  After an hour and fifteen— not too far off the mark— I stepped into t
he suite’s living room. Neil was distractedly flipping through channels on the television. When he stood up, my throat went dry. His black suit was exquisitely tailored, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and back. Beneath the single-button jacket, he wore a white shirt with an open collar, no tie. His trousers were crisply pressed and broke over the tips of his black, square-toed shoes. His hair was carelessly mussed, and all I could think was how much I wanted to touch it, to ruffle it a bit more, possibly against a pillow while I was riding him.

  “You look amazing,” he said, his voice low and deep. “I knew you would.”

  The dress stayed surprisingly close to my body, considering how floaty chiffon is. The beading at the bottom helped hold it down, and the petals of the skirt moved, revealing a flash of my pale thigh as I walked.

  “Okay, maybe you can pick out clothes for me all the time,” I said with a weary sigh. “You do have good taste.”

  “I own two fashion magazines,” he reminded me.

  “Oh, then I bow to your superior knowledge.” I rolled my eyes. “I only have a degree in fashion journalism.”

  After crossing the room toward me, Neil reached out, sliding his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. “In my professional opinion, you should always wear the least amount of clothing possible.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I leaned up for a kiss, then he helped me with my coat and donned his.

  The Rolls-Royce Phantom was waiting at the curb in front of the hotel, and he opened the door for me. “When in Rome,” he explained.

  “At this point in the trip, I feel like Cinderella, so I don’t mind if you play the footman,” I quipped, getting into the car carefully to avoid over-exposure. “As long as you don’t turn into a mouse later.”

  “Oh, the very last thing you can expect from me tonight is to be timid.” He closed the door behind him, gave the address to the driver, and leaned back in his seat. “But I need to know, is there anything that’s entirely off the menu?”

  “Nothing public,” I answered automatically. I could see myself being into a lot of different stuff, sexually, but exhibitionism was off the list. “I can still safeword, right?”

 

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