The Baby (The Boss #5)

by Abigail Barnette

  She stopped just short of actually touching me below my belly button. I lifted my hips up, but even the few inches I moved couldn’t make up the difference.

  “Okay, I can see why Neil thinks this is fun.” She laughed, her fingers drawing a pendulum’s path from one hip bone to the other, moving lower with each pass.

  “This is why I think it’s fun, too,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Usually.”

  She scooted lower, finally resting her body against mine, her hips settling between my legs. “Am I not doing it right?”

  “You’re doing it exactly right,” I moaned as she took my nipple into her mouth. Her teeth closed lightly around it. “That’s the problem.”

  She giggled. I had a thing for giggles. It was one of the things that had turned me on about Neil when he’d first come back into my life. We’d been at a restaurant, having a very tense lunch during which I was sure he was going to fire me, and I’d made some crack about the size of his dick. And he’d giggled.

  Maybe I’d fallen in love with him, at that moment. But there had been so many moments.

  “Sophie?” Gena asked, shifting to look up at me. “What’s wrong?”

  I felt the tear spill down my cheek, and moved to wipe it away, forgetting my bound hands. So, I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I mean, it’s something, but…make me forget?”

  Her frown of concern took a long time to fade. When it did, she crawled back up to kiss me. And, even though she didn’t make me forget Neil, she certainly distracted me right back into the horny frame of mind I’d been in before. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I turned my thoughts to how I would retell this encounter when I did get around to describing it for Neil. Words flowed through my mind, but none of them could adequately capture the softness of her body or the slow stroke of her tongue in my mouth.

  She slid down, positioning herself between my legs. My body jolted as she spread my labia apart, and I gripped the chains securing my cuffs to the chaise. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Her tongue swept over my clit, and I was a goner.

  While I was very happy with Neil’s oral skills, Gena ate pussy the way only a person who owned one could understand. She ran her tongue up and down, then maddeningly switched to sweep between my inner and outer labia and over the hood of my clit. She traced the edges of my lips and sucked them gently into her mouth and dipped inside, tasting me as she’d asked to do. She pressed her lips to my cunt, coating them in my wetness before returning to suck my clit into her mouth.

  “Oh yes. Oh yes, oh yes, oh please,” I moaned, my body undulating to rock against her mouth. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. This was it. My breaking point was coming, after so much anticipation, so much teasing, so much stimulation from her warm skin against mine, her cries as she came, again and again. All of that sensory overload wound into one deep, bone-shaking orgasm I rushed toward with every muscle in my body tightened.

  She lifted her mouth just long enough to say, “No, don’t tense up. Relax everything.”

  Relax everything. Easy for her to say, when she wasn’t just millimeters from the best orgasm she’d had in weeks. But I trusted Gena enough to try her suggestion. It was hard not to strain, to not try to clamp my thighs around her head—the shackles on my ankles would have prevented me, anyway—but I made a concerted effort. I came. At least, I thought I did. Because what had felt like a burst of pleasure suddenly turned into a plateau on which I was trapped while her tongue swept and swirled around my clit. Again, I felt the pressure in my groin build and build to a shuddering peak that…wasn’t. I never crashed over the edge but found myself suspended from an even greater height. I was coming, but I wasn’t. I was so entranced by this one long overture of sensation I didn’t notice the start of the show. Suddenly, the finale reached its dramatic crescendo, and my body bucked and writhed in an ecstatic ovation.

  Gena made a long, slow “mmm” of satisfaction as she lazily sucked the hood of my clitoris between her lips, then released me. Her lips and chin shone with my juices as she looked up my body with a slow smile. “See?”

  “Okay,” I panted, my throat hoarse. I’d probably been shouting, but I wouldn’t have known. Every sense but one had shut down. “You were right.”

  She sat up and wiped her face, then knelt at the foot of the chaise to unchain me. “You can thank Ian for that one.”

  “I’ll bitch him out for not teaching it to Neil.” I looked up at her while she released my wrists. Something about Gena and nudity just went together. Not just because she had an amazing body straight out of a 1950’s pinup calendar, but because she was so comfortable. There didn’t seem to be any doubt or unease, any awkwardness at being here with me, though we didn’t know each other well outside of a sexual relationship.

  I sat up, rubbing my wrists, though they weren’t sore. It was a force of habit. I cracked my neck and groaned. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

  “I know you told me Neil’s been away for a while,” she said sympathetically. “Obviously, I’m not a substitute, but at least, you can get some good orgasms out of the deal.”

  Plural. I liked the sound of that. I ran one finger along the arm of the sex machine and raised my eyebrows. “So, as long as you’re here…”

  “I’m dying to try it,” she admitted with a laugh.

  The depth of penetration on the machine was pretty much dependent on the size of dildo used, so I showed Gena the options. She picked out something fairly conservative and, at the sight of my questioning expression, said, “Not all of us have skewed perceptions based on our partner’s huge dick.”

  I laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

  I got the machine set up and plugged in, and showed her how to work the controls. “You should do this one. It’s pretty intense the first time.”

  “Now, I’m nervous.” She giggled, but it was a little uneasy.

  “This is a piece of cake, trust me. And, once you try it, you’re going to want to visit me weekly.” God, I hope that didn’t sound too forward, like I was trying to push her into a relationship or anything. I didn’t know how to address it without sounding even more awkward, so I just gestured to the chaise. “It’s probably easier this time to lay on your back. You can do it doggy-style, but if you move around too much, there might be…accidental aiming issues.”

  “Oh, no. Definitely no.”

  “Right. Also, feel free to use as much of this lube as you want. The human vagina? Not made for this kind of friction without some help.” I wasn’t making it sound as fun as it was. I was like the downer announcement at the beginning of the roller coaster ride. “Trust me, though, it’s really great. And we’ll be sure to get it positioned just right.”

  She laid down on the chaise and spread her legs, and I moved the machine into position. She took a deep breath and reached down to insert the dildo. Remembering all the steps Neil took when he used the machine on me, I slowly rotated the arm, pushing it deeper.

  “Okay, this is about as far as it will go,” I said, studying her face for any sign of discomfort. “Does that work? Do I need to back it up?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Shallower is probably better for a first timer, huh?”

  “Yeah, I would agree with that.” I’d walked away from more than one session with Neil wishing I’d told him to back it off. A pulverized cervix was only fun while it was happening, not three days later, and I always got a lecture from him about knowing my limits. “You get to decide when to go. Just start off slow and only do what you want to do.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just stand there and watch?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m going to sit on that Sybian and watch.”

  “Oh god.” Her voice trembled.

  I got a new attachment for the vibrator and slipped it on while Gena hesitantly turned the dial on her machine. She jumped a little at the pump and hiss sound of the arm moving, then relaxed. “This isn’t bad.”r />
  “I wouldn’t tell you to do something that felt bad,” I chided her. I lubed up the vibrator attachment and climbed on, sliding slowly down. I moaned as the dildo slipped inside me, and I reached for the controller to turn the dial. The rotation was a totally unique sensation and not at all like having a real cock in me, but it had been so long since I’d even masturbated that I’d almost forgotten what penetrative intercourse was like. I closed my eyes then remembered that, if I kept them open, I could watch Gena.

  The machine chugged steadily away while she lay back, eyes closed, a placid smile crossing her lips. She toyed with the nipple of one breast, her other hand sliding down her stomach to touch herself. She parted her folds with two fingers, then rubbed both of them across her clit in slow circles.

  I turned on my vibration, startling myself like I always did. Even though I knew it was coming, it was powerful and heavy, and it didn’t ease in. It got right to the point.

  Watching Gena, I could have gotten off without any assistance. Neil had made a video of me using that machine, and while it had been hot, it was nothing like watching another woman use it, knowing what she was feeling but viewing her own unique reactions to it. She upped the speed, her face twisting into an expression of tortured surprise. She wiggled her hips, and I had to remind her, “Remember to stay still, though.” With a grin, I advised, “Just relax. Someone gave me that tip recently.”

  She laughed and held up her middle finger, but that was as much of a response as she could give me. The speed of her hand picked up, as did the speed of the machine. The dildo pounded in and out of her faster than anyone with a cock could have moved, and her face scrunched up hard before she let out a shout that grew so high in pitch it ascended into silence. That, and the vibration and motion of the Sybian, were all it took to make me come, again. I pumped my hips and rode out my orgasm, then slumped over and turned the Sybian off.

  Gena cut the power to her machine and laid back, panting, the dildo slowing to rest at the entrance of her body.

  “That. Was awesome,” she gasped, rubbing sweat from her forehead with the heel of her hand.

  My legs were jelly as I rose to stand. I moved the machine and helped Gena to her feet, and she was equally wobbly.

  “Come on,” I said tilting my head toward the door. “Let’s get something to drink.”

  I took her to the aftercare room and got us both a bottled water. She leaned on the counter and took a long drink from hers. A little ran from the corner of her mouth, dripping off her jaw to land on her chest, and I couldn’t help but follow its path. When I looked up, she was watching me from the corner of her eye, and I laughed, embarrassed.

  “Sorry, you caught me.” I held up my hands. “What can I say, you’ve got great tits.”

  “So they tell me,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “I don’t know what your plans were for the rest of day,” I said, nibbling my bottom lip anxiously. Suggesting that we hang out more today could either sound like a sleazy come on, or like I was desperately lonely. I wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  “Well, I’m covered in lube and Sophie. I could really use a shower.” she said with a saucy smile that curled my toes. “What did you have in mind?”

  I want to listen to Lana Del Rey and smoke a joint naked with you. God, I still wanted her. It wasn’t just because I’d needed human touch for a long time. She had some kind of hormonal leash on me. “Did you…need anybody to make out with you in that shower?”

  She tapped the corner of her mouth as she pretended to consider. “Now that you mention it…”

  I said the only thing that sounded like an appropriate response. “I volunteer as tribute.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gena’s visit put me in a good mood for the entire next week. An obnoxiously good mood, Deja informed me as I flitted around the office like a hummingbird on meth. Though I missed Neil and still worried about him, having just that little bit of intimate human contact had healed some of my sadness. I made it through the week without crying even once.

  The very best part of the week was that Olivia finally came home. I greeted her and Valerie at the airport, practically snatching the baby from her grandmother’s arms. Olivia squealed as I hugged her, and my heart melted.

  “How was she?” I asked Valerie without looking at her, because I was too enraptured looking at Olivia. “I think she grew while she was away.”

  “It’s very possible. She ate like a tiny horse.” Valerie paused, then asked, “How are you?”

  I glanced up. I felt too much joy to bring everything down talking about my absent husband. I settled for a simple, “Fine. And Neil’s doing fine.”

  “Still in hospital?” she asked sympathetically.

  “Yeah, but I’m getting used to it.” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I bounced Olivia in my arms and cooed, “Things are much better now that you’re back.”

  When I looked up, a sad, wistful expression crossed Valerie’s face. She forced it away with a fake smile. “Well, I’m knackered. Let me give this wonderful girl a kiss.”

  She leaned in to kiss Olivia’s head, then hugged me, probably because our close proximity seemed weird without it. “Grandma will come see you, soon,” she promised Olivia.

  I carried Olivia to the car, where Tony, freshly tanned from the Cabo vacation, loaded the last of Olivia’s luggage into the trunk of the Maybach. He opened the door for us, and I leaned in to strap Olivia into her car seat. Then, I remembered the very important day that had passed only a few days earlier.

  “Happy birthday, my sweet girl!” I exclaimed, and she grinned up at me. I assumed Valerie had spoiled the bejeezus out of her, and I trusted that Olivia already associated the word “birthday” with “mounds of new toys”.

  I wasn’t about to teach the kid a lesson in moderation. I looked over my shoulder at Tony. “You know what, cancel that ride home.” I turned back to Olivia. “We’re having a Sophie and Olivia big-girl birthday-shopping day!”

  * * * *

  The beginning of June came and went, and so did my first wedding anniversary. The day was brutal. I should have been spending a romantic dinner with Neil, maybe a weekend trip to Paris or even the Venice apartment I’d yet to see. Instead, I’d thawed out our wedding cake top and eaten it with Mom while I’d cried and she’d done her best to comfort me.

  I’d just climbed into bed with all of my pathetic adult lonely bedtime supplies—box of kleenex, tablet, phone, extra blanket, bottle of water, remotes—and clicked on the television when my phone rang. The screen showed “Arbor Rest”.

  My hands shook as I answered. It was late. Why would he call so late? Before I could even say hello, I’d thought of myriad ways this could be bad news. I expected a nurse to get on the line to tell me that Neil had somehow harmed himself.

  Instead, I heard the best person possible.

  “Sophie.” There was an audible hitch in his tone. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “It’s good to hear yours, too, baby,” I said, biting my lip to keep from bursting into tears.

  “I’ve missed you terribly today,” he said. “I’m sorry that I’m not there to celebrate with you. Happy anniversary.”

  He hadn’t forgotten. But he’d certainly taken his time.

  “Happy anniversary.” If we couldn’t be physically together for the day, at least we could talk. His calls were few and far between. It hurt, even though I knew the reason for it, now. “How are things going?”

  “Remarkably well, as it so happens.” He cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “To leave.”

  I threw back the duvet. “I’m getting my shoes on, right now. I’ll call for a helicopter—”

  “No, no.” He halted. “I can’t come back to New York. That would be far too much.”

  My hopes plummeted. He was ready to leave but not to come home?

  “I was wondering,” he beg
an, almost like a child too afraid to ask for something he really, really wanted, for fear of being turned down. “Would you considering coming to Iceland? With Olivia?”

  “Iceland?” Pack up all the baby stuff and haul ourselves all the way to Iceland?

  For Neil? “Absolutely.”

  “Oh, Sophie. Oh, that’s wonderful.” He laughed. “I’m so excited to see you. And Olivia. God, I can’t wait to hold her.”

  “She’ll squirm right out of your arms.” I hoped like hell that she would remember him. Though he would understand the limitations of baby brains, it would still crush him if she didn’t. “When do we do this?”

  “Well, Dr. Harris is going to accompany me there in two days,” he said. “You could meet me on the weekend. Would that be enough time?”

  “No, it’s going to be a mess trying to get packed,” I told him, and it would be. I added, “But, yes. I would swim us there.”

  “Or you could take the jet,” he teased back. “I’ll have it on standby at JFK on Saturday?”

  “Yeah, I’ll figure out a time frame.” This was so weird. Just casually talking about how in a few days, we would uproot and haul our asses to Iceland.

  And we were uprooting Dr. Harris, as well. “Is Doctor Harris staying with us?”

  “Oh, no. No, he’s coming for a week, and I’m putting him up in a very posh hotel. It won’t be a terrible hardship. After that, we’ll do some Skype sessions until I’m ready to come back.” Neil sounded relieved, and my heart loosened up. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been carrying my stress in a non-physical, fully metaphorical body part.

  He was ready to leave the hospital. Ready to come home and be with us. Well, not to this home. “Why Iceland, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “There are too many chances at home to fall into my old problems, again.”

  “I flushed all your cocaine,” I said flatly.

  “Oh, thank god.” His deep exhale was audible. “I promise we’ll talk about all of this in Reykjavik.”