“Go on, Chloe,” Neil directed me.
I could safeword at any time. He could call the whole thing off, as well. I decided that I wasn’t going to keep worrying what he’d think if I went through with it. Neil didn’t play those kinds of mind games. We were in this room because we both wanted to see what would happen. We both wanted this. I really, really wanted it, wanted it so bad that my thighs were sticky.
With a last look to Neil, I sat on the soft bench beside Emir. For a long time, all he did was gaze into my eyes, his mouth bent in an easy smile. Slowly, with his ungloved hand, he stroked the backs of his fingers down my neck. I sat up straighter, unable to look away from him as his eyes traveled the same path as his hand, over my collar bone and into the top of my dress.
Fuck, this was actually happening. Some random stranger was feeling me up in front of my boyfriend. And Neil was watching the whole thing. I couldn’t believe how hot it made me. My legs shifted slightly apart as Emir’s hand cupped my breast beneath my dress. His gloved palm lay on my thigh. I squirmed, trying to draw him closer.
He released my breast, sliding his hand up once more to possessively tighten, ever so slightly, on my throat. Not choking me, but holding me, forcing me straighter up. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I moaned. I didn’t call him Sir. That was just for Neil, even if I was submitting to Emir at the moment.
Neil had noticed, I could tell by his half-smile. But he said, “No breath play, please.”
“I can breathe, Sir,” I reassured him.
Emir’s gloved hand slipped further up my thigh. “I can’t wait to touch you,” he purred in his deep, sexy voice.
The tips of his fingers brushed my pubic hair, and I moaned. He took his hand away.
“No, like this. Over my lap,” he urged me, and with some help from him, I found myself positioned with my butt and spread legs lying across his thighs, while my body rested on the bench. He pushed my dress up and snapped on the other latex glove, never taking his eyes from my exposed pussy. “Beautiful.”
There was something bizarrely clinical about the whole thing— maybe it was the gloves—, and that only made it seem naughtier. Before I’d propositioned Neil for no-strings sex, I had always kept up the pretext of a relationship with my partners. I would go on a date, then have sex. Or it would be one of those, “Oh, I asked you over to watch a movie as friends and look what organically occurred!” situations, in which both people knew sex was going to happen, but didn’t admit it openly.
This was all sex. No pretext. I felt more desired than I had ever felt, knowing that.
Neil watched us, leaning back in his chair with one ankle on the opposite knee. In the mirror behind him, I saw Emir’s hands touch me at the same time I registered the feeling. He gently spread me, revealing the tight red nub of my clitoris. One gloved fingertip gently probed me there, and my breath hitched at the contact. Slowly, he slipped his finger down to my vagina and pushed it slightly in.
“I like this,” he said with a chuckle of admiration as he lifted his hand, rubbing my fluid between his thumb and forefinger.
Then his finger returned to my clit and circled it with barely any pressure, and I couldn’t think straight. I moved my hips in small circles, and he pinched, gently increasing pressure as he held me.
“Oh,” I whimpered, catching my bottom lip between my teeth.
“You like that?” Emir asked quietly.
“Yes. Mhm.” I rocked my hips beneath his hand.
Emir looked up to Neil and nodded. “She is lovely. Is she collared?”
Neil’s expression shifted subtly, but I couldn’t tell what it meant. I didn’t really know what collared meant. I was a little distracted by the pressure of Emir’s fingers, and the sudden rolling motion they had picked up.
“Not collared but we’re... exclusive.” The corner of Neil’s mouth twitched.
How could they have a conversation at a time like this? I felt Emir’s erection against my side through his trousers, and the knowledge that he was turned on pulled a throaty groan and another flood of wetness from me.
Well, that and the finger he slid into my cunt, rubbing around my opening, searching for my g-spot. As good as he was with his hands, it took him a moment to find it, and I thought of how well Neil knew my body, how easily he found all the right spots when he touched me.
There was something to be said for monogamous, long-term relationships. Not that Neil and I were long-term yet, but we’d learned each other’s bodies well. Being with someone else wasn’t just exciting, but it made me appreciate my sex life with Neil even more.
When Emir found the spot, he pushed up, harder than Neil would have, and I made a mental note about how much I liked it, to suggest it later. I curled up from Emir’s lap, my body going tight as he rolled my clit with the other hand.
Neil held my gaze, exuding a dark, hot energy. What was going on in his head? One hand rested against his cheek, his index finger against his temple. His expression was unreadable.
If he liked being jealous, then I would do my damnedest to make him jealous. I didn’t fake the breathy moans that escaped me, or the way my legs twisted and kicked helplessly as Emir touched me. But I didn’t hold back, either. I let Neil know exactly how much I enjoyed having another man get me off.
It was too much. The excitement and the forbidden aspect of what I was doing with this man, with these two men, sent red-hot pulses to meet Emir’s fingers. I clutched at his jacket, clung to him and howled as I came, pouring into his hand, clenching down hard on his fingers.
He hissed in surprise, then laughed, his chin nuzzling the top of my head. He caught me to support me and murmured, “I could have come just then, feeling you.”
I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. My cunt still fluttered with aftershocks, and a crashing sense of what I had just done invaded every part of my brain. Words like “slut” and “whore” came to mind, but they didn’t shame me. They only stoked the fire hotter. I wanted to fuck Neil, right now, right here in this room.
I guess I was more of an exhibitionist than I’d thought I was.
Emir helped me to my feet and stripped off his gloves, then reached for an antibacterial wipe from the table to clean his hands.
“Tell the gentleman thank you, Chloe,” Neil prompted, inserting some manners into my foggy brain. He was so still and calm, my pulse leapt into my throat. Something was going to happen tonight because of this. Emir was only a prelude.
“Yes, um.” I cleared my throat and straightened my skirt. “Thank you, Emir.”
Neil rose to shake hands, and pulled a matte black business card from the inside pocket of his jacket.
“If you’d be interested in any future engagements, please do contact us,” he said, as simply as if he were networking with another professional. Of course, judging by how swanky the club was, Emir was probably a billionaire, too.
Emir considered for a moment, then pulled out a brushed steel case and offered his own card, as well. “Yes, I hope to hear from you again.”
He left us in that small room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Neil grabbed me. His hand caught me around the throat and he slammed me roughly against the wall.
Yes. This was what I’d been hoping for. For him to stop taking it so easy on me, to truly push me to the limit of what I could take from him.
“Oh!” I yelped in surprise as, with his other hand, he jammed two fingers inside of me.
“Who does this belong to?” he demanded, his forehead pressed against mine.
“You, Sir!” I cried, clenching down on his fingers.
“And why did you let that other man touch you?” He drew those fingers out, a torturous slide that made my thighs quake.
“B-because...” I knew the answer he was looking for. And I knew the odds of getting punished for a wrong answer were high. My clit tingled as I imagined all the ways he could punish me in this room. With his hand, with his belt; by bringing me close to orgasm and stopp
ing, over and over. Or just by fucking me, hard and painful, until I was screaming and coming and begging him to stop and to never stop, all at once.
“Because I wanted to.” I knew for a fact that wasn’t the right answer.
His hand moved so fast, it shocked me. He’d slapped me, not a light slap, like the one in the hotel room. He’d slapped my face hard enough to hurt. The sting in my cheek echoed a throb in my cunt. Sweet holy fuck, I had never been so turned on in my life, and I laughed in disbelief.
That was also the wrong answer. He slapped me again, then held my chin roughly in his hand. “You did it because I told you to. Because this is mine, and I can use it in any way I want.”
“Yes, Sir,” I panted. His fingers plunged in again, and I groaned in relief. “You can use me any way you want, Sir.”
“Stand right there. Don’t move a fucking inch.” His words sent a stab of fear and anticipation through me. I was almost tempted to wriggle just slightly off my spot. I wanted to see how far we would go with this. But at the same time, I was mindful that we had to fly back to London in two days, and I didn’t feel like having a sore ass the whole time. When I saw he was going to the basket of assorted condoms on the table, I held very still, indeed.
Neil stood before me, gazing at me dispassionate and silent as he unzipped his trousers and pulled his erection free. He tore open the packet and rolled the condom down his shaft with one hand; I was convinced he’d practiced that move to perfect it. Then, without another word, he lifted me against the wall and drove into me with one brutal thrust.
The air went out of my lungs. He was so hard, it was like getting punched in every square centimeter of my vagina. My groan was one of pain mingled with pleasure, but it was definitely more pain.
“Who fucks you, Sophie?” Neil demanded against my ear, nibbling as I tried to answer him.
“Y-you do, Sir.”
“Tell me you love getting fucked, Sophie.”
“I love getting fucked by you, Sir!” My dress bunched and wrinkled behind me. That didn’t bode well for re-wearability, and I felt a little bad about that, but not enough to stop.
With my legs clamped around Neil’s waist, there was not much I could do but hang on as he pounded into me. I rode his hips, my ass slapping against the wall as he pulled me violently back and forth on his cock. I arched my back, forcing myself harder against him.
My nails dug into his shoulders, and he growled, “Careful, Sophie, don’t scratch me.”
That little sliver of reality shocked me to my bones. I couldn’t accidentally cut him with my nails, because he would start bleeding excessively. He was still sick. In the excitement of the moment, I had forgotten.
But this was what I needed. I needed to remember him like this, to carry the memory of it with me long after we’d left Paris. When the hospital visits and the medications took over our life, we would both need this memory: The Dominant in his element, virile and in total control.
That was why we were here, I realized. Neil wanted to show me that he was still capable. That he was still a man, and not a disease.
I rocked my hips, feeling the first flutters of another release. When I came, it was with a strength that shocked me, curling my toes and sending shivers of pleasure all over my body. I truly lost myself then, my head lolling against his shoulder, my mouth frozen open, helpless, high-pitched grunts bursting from me with every hard thrust.
He wasn’t far behind me, driving into me as he pinned my hips to the wall. I cried out and squirmed as his cock jerked inside me, the throb of his orgasm echoing the pulse pounding in my swollen cunt.
He let me down gently, setting me on shaking legs, threw the condom in the trash, and zipped up. The entire time, he tossed sideways glances at me. I don’t know what he was expecting to see.
“Was I too rough?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I loved it.”
I had loved it. Every minute of it.
He considered my answer a moment. “If something was wrong, if I had done something—”
“I would tell you.” I grinned at him as I rubbed my cheek. “This was perfect. But I’m a little tired now. I hope you don’t expect me to do much walking after this.”
I didn’t mention the revelation I’d had about the true purpose of this trip. I didn’t want to wound his pride. Not the pride of Neil the Dominant, but the pride of Neil the man who was facing a possibly life-ending illness.
They’re the same guy, I reminded myself, surprisingly gentle. It was pretty bad when my conscience knew I was in a fragile emotional state, because I was harder on myself than anyone.
Neil pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Okay, Chloe, let’s get out of here.”
It might not have been healthy for both of us to ignore the reality in front of us, but at that moment, it was the comfortable choice.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Have you ever been on a private tour of the Musée d’Orsay? I have. I’ve also got a great photo of me and my boyfriend sitting on the steps of Sacré-Cœur, taking in the spectacular view. Paris was absolutely magical, thanks in part to Neil’s obscene wealth. We’d dined at very expensive restaurants and, okay, I’d let him buy me a whole new designer wardrobe, but I rationalized it by remembering how happy it made him to buy me anything at all. Also, I’d promised him total submission, so I figured that extended to his wallet, as well.
One of my purchases had been an expertly fitted corset in a brocade made to look like the shimmering indigo and emerald feathers of a peacock. It didn’t quite match Holli’s art nouveau robe in terms of drool-worthiness, but I looked amazing in it. I’d worn it out of the shop, beneath the demure black velour Carven dress Neil had picked out for me, and all the way through dinner, though corsets do somewhat hamper your ability to stuff yourself on awesome bread.
One thing I’d really enjoyed about Paris was that unlike New York, no one gave us funny looks when we committed small public displays of affection. When Neil had swept me up in his arms and kissed me in the square in front of Notre Dame, no one gave us judgmental glares because of our obvious age difference. In restaurants and shops, no one assumed I was his daughter. In fact, several had assumed I was his wife, and my discomfort and difficulty explaining otherwise seemed to be highly entertaining to Neil.
“So,” he said in the car on the way back to the hotel. “How have you enjoyed Paris?”
“I want to come back a million times.” I leaned against him, a little stiffly because of the boning in the corset. “This has been totally magical, thank you.”
“I wish we had more time to spend,” he said apologetically.
“I’ve spent my time exactly the way I wanted to.” Even if I hadn’t seen all the touristy and historical sites, I’d had experiences in the city that I knew I wouldn’t find in travel books. And we’d made memories together. It was the perfect way to end the year.
After our whirlwind day of sight-seeing, I thought Neil would be too tired to stay up for midnight, let alone get up to hanky-panky, but he surprised me when we returned to the suite and he immediately ordered me out of my clothes.
“I spent good money on that sexy undergarment, I want to see you in it,” he teased, tugging down the zip on my dress.
“Aren’t we getting a little close to twelve?” I asked him. “I don’t want to miss it, the concierge said the tower lights up.”
“It does. We can watch it from our balcony... if you don’t mind?” He had dark circles under his eyes.
“Just being with you is enough,” I told him, turning to bounce on my tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “I suppose I can always put a coat on over this.”
I let my dress drop to the floor and stepped out of it. I wanted to fall into his arms and let him ravish me... but the dress. It was too pretty and expensive to leave it on the floor. I’d let Neil gift me to his heart’s content, but I refused to overtly waste his money.
“Let me go hang this up,” I said, stooping to snag it.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the sitting room,” he called after me.
When I came back from the bedroom, Neil was seated in the wing chair before one of the long windows. I walked slowly toward him, pulling absently at one dark curl over my shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s one of my better purchases.” He was holding a wide, flat jewelry box.
“This is the final extravagant purchase of the trip, I promise,” he said defensively at my dropped jaw. “Come on.” He patted his lap.
I obeyed, sitting primly across his thighs. The corset made me sit up straight, and I wondered what kind of picture we made, him at ease, slouching back in the arm chair, me stiff and Victorian, my waist squeezed down wasp-style.
Neil held up the box and slowly raised the lid. I saw a wink of metal and a glimmer of diamond, and my throat squeezed shut.
“This is hardly a functional collar,” he explained. “But it isn’t meant for rough play. It’s meant to be a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” I asked, reaching out to touch the cool surface of the solid platinum band, which was about as thick as my thumb. A single row of fucking huge diamonds were set into it, all the way around, anniversary-ring style.
“A reminder of who you are, when we’re together like this.” He lifted the collar and unfastened the clasp, which locked down seamlessly to create a perfect ring.
I held up my hair, my breath catching as he placed the collar around my throat. It was surprisingly heavy, and it warmed to my skin almost instantly. When he closed the clasp, I had a moment’s panic at the tight fit, but it didn’t obstruct my breathing or hurt. It was like wearing a choker. A very expensive, very sexually tilted, choker.
He sat up and kissed my jaw, just below my ear, and whispered, “Mine.”
I shivered. He had that so right. No matter what happened outside of our sex life, in the bedroom I was totally and completely his.
“Yours, Sir,” I breathed. The touch of the collar at my throat did something to me on a psychological level. I had submitted wholly to him long before this gift, but something about it made our relationship different. We were different. This was a commitment, but not a frightening one. I felt secure, our bond seemed more tangible, but it wasn’t stifling. I didn’t have to doubt the future or dwell on the past. I just had to enjoy the present.
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