The Bride (The Boss) (52 page)

“From a well-trained sub, I would expect the only response would be to obey my command.” His lips quirked, hinting at his amusement. “But you could say ‘Yes, Sir,’ as your Chloe does.”

That felt intimately wrong. “No, I couldn’t do that. Can we find another word?”

He leaned down, his lips a millimeter from mine, his breath teasing me until it felt as though he would steal my own. “You could call me… Monsieur. It is fitting, is it not? Since we met in Paris?”

“
Oui, Monsieur
.” Oh, he was very, very good. It was a struggle to tell the difference between my nerves and my anticipation now. He touched my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Relax.” His strong hand glided down my arm, then back to my neck.

How many times had I ordered Sophie to do the very same thing? I’d thought that my experiences as a Dom would make submission easy. I knelt there, the carpet biting into my shins, my skin chilled, even the rise of my chest with my deliberately slow breaths seeming as though I were moving too much. I hadn’t a clue how difficult truly submitting would be.

Sophie had been correct; this entire experience terrified me.

Emir said nothing, asked nothing of me, for what seemed an eternity. I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, occasionally closing my eyes to try and retain my focus on what I was meant to be doing. When he gave me another command, gently voiced though it was, I flinched.

“Clasp your arms at the small of your back.”

I wasn’t sure I knew what my arms were, anymore. I’d been to Bikram yoga classes that were less physically and mentally challenging than simply kneeling there, waiting for instruction.

Somehow, I managed to get my hands behind me, my clammy palms gripping my wrists. With my shoulders back and my chest raised, I felt even more vulnerable than before.

Emir stepped in front of me, idly toying with his zipper in the space between us. I wanted to look down, to see if he would unzip, but it seemed like something I shouldn’t do without an invitation.

He reached out, trailing his fingers down my cheek to cup my chin and lift my face up to meet his gaze. It was more uncomfortable than I would have imagined, being in such a, well, a submissive position. Was this what appealed to Sophie and the other partners I’d been with?

As quickly as my mind began to stray, the thoughts evaporated, lost under my responsibility to stay where I was and await instruction.

Beneath the tenderness in his gaze, I recognized a spark of the Dom. The same perverted, mean edge that was so funny and enjoyable to me when I was in charge. It was exciting, seeing it from this perspective, and comfortingly familiar.
You and he are just alike
, it promised me.
There’s no real danger here.

I’d never felt that with Stephen.

When it seemed the silence and the waiting would be too much, Emir pulled his hand back and unzipped his jeans. “Would you like to suck my cock?”

My breath stalled, longing building painfully in my chest as he pulled himself free. Emir had a penis that was really, objectively, beautiful. In length and girth, he was above average, but not ridiculously so, as I’m sometimes embarrassed of being. His skin was smooth, and although I preferred uncircumcised men, he was exquisitely shaped.

Would I like to suck his cock? What a needless question with a painfully obvious answer.

I watched, my mouth dry from anticipation, as Emir took one of the condoms and tore open the packet. He took his time inspecting it, as though he were considering a diamond he was about to purchase. Then, with the same intent focus, he clicked open the top of the lube bottle and added a few small drops to the inside of the condom, before rolling it on. He smoothed it down with a firm hand, and my fingers ached to touch him.

I leaned forward, reaching out to steady myself against his knees, and he pushed my hands away.

“Arms behind your back, and I asked you a question,” he admonished. “Follow the rules.”

“
Oui, Monsieur
.” I liked that phrase; it was apology and submission together, like one of Sophie’s whimpered Yes, Sirs. I was proud of myself that I was capable of it. I added, “I would love to suck your cock.”

Emir sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned me closer. It was awkward, shuffling toward him on my knees, but that was the point. I wondered if Sophie could see all the strings in the puppet show when we were doing a scene, or if it was merely that I’d had so much experience being the puppeteer.

“No hands,” Emir said, slowly stroking the length of his erection. “You may only use your mouth.”

I looked down at his cock, wondering how in the hell I was going to perform oral sex without touching him. I’d like to think I give very good head, but it’s a combination of stroking with the hand as well as the pressure of lips and a purposeful tongue. This would interfere with my technique. I glanced up at him, hoping he could read my preemptive apology in my expression, wetted my lips and leaned down.

To my relief, Emir took himself in his hand and helped me meet him; I pulled the wide tip into my mouth and almost groaned in relief, my own cock twitching as I imagined how Emir felt. His hiss of indrawn breath painted those imaginings with sharper clarity, and his other hand fell to the back of my head. I didn’t slip further down, but took my time swirling the loose, lubricated latex with my tongue. Quite considerately, he’d used a flavored condom, and the strawberry taste helped mask the rubber.

I tilted my head to slide my lips and tongue down the underside of his shaft, teased at the apex where the two curves of the rolled edge of his glans met. I tapped my tongue down the straining ridge there, and sucked, drawing the condom back and forth over the sensitive area.

I stole a glance at his face, and found his eyes closed, a small vertical crease between his eyebrows as they drew together. The sight of him enjoying my work sent my arousal into the red; I was painfully hard, and I knew my release wouldn’t come soon.

Lifting my head, I took him into my mouth fully, as much as I could manage. I don’t have my girlfriend’s particular talents where the act is concerned, but I did get about half of him in before he hit my soft palate, and I gagged slightly.

He moaned at the sound, the hand on my head pushing me gently down, choking me a bit more, just enough to color my reaction with a touch of fear. When he stopped exerting pressure, it was to grip my short hair as best he could to lift me off. I gasped for breath, drooling onto his cock, and he rubbed my neck in gentle circles as he tapped himself against my panting mouth. “How are you, Leif? Do you need me to slow down?”

While what sounded like a rational part of my mind argued that I should be frightened, because I
had
been frightened before, with Stephen, I couldn’t bring myself to dampen my excitement. “
No, Monsieur
.
I’m enjoying myself.”

“Good.” His fingers curled over the nape of my neck, and he looked into my eyes with such earnest tenderness that had I not already been so completely in love with Sophie, I might have had room to fall for Emir, as well.

He guided my head down, and I went back to work, slow and steady, alternating sucking and releasing with the bobbing rhythm of my head. I swirled my tongue around him when I could, and tapped the underside of his shaft and head the rest of the time. I knew I was doing well when he began lifting his hips in time to my motions, and short, sharp “ahs” of pleasure burst from him.

“That’s enough,” he said finally, when his erection was as hard as iron and twitching against the roof of my mouth. Any longer, and he would have come; I felt it in the insistent throb of his pulse against my tongue. I released him and sat back on my heels while he slipped off the condom and tossed it into the trash.

Emir tucked himself away and zipped up. “You have plugs, yes?”

I nodded. “In a cupboard in the closet. Would you like me go and get one?”

His expression didn’t change, but I felt his silent reminder.

“Would you like me to go and get one,
Monsieur
?”

“No. I will go. You will bend over the bed and wait for me.”

I did as he commanded, though my knees were beginning to ache. Perhaps submission was a younger man’s game.

Listening to him rummage through the toy cabinet was damned difficult. All I wanted to do was call out suggestions, but the evening was entirely out of my hands. My body seemed unable to come to a decision on holding my breath versus breathing at an alarmingly fast pace.

I’d hoped I wouldn’t pass out. It would have been a ridiculous thing to have to explain to the ambulance drivers.

The longer he made me wait, the more ultra-aware I became. It was a technique I used with Sophie sometimes. Anticipation sharpens the senses, tunes them in on their goal. At that moment, my goal was do whatever it took to get Emir to let me come.

His soles made a zip-shush, zip-shush sound against the carpet, and I marveled that I could hear it at all over the pounding of my heart. He gently toed my calves apart and stood between my naked legs, his jeans brushing the backs of my thighs.

“You have an impressive collection,” he said with a note of humor in his voice.

“
Merci, Monsieur
.” If he only knew how much more there usually was in that cabinet. I heard a wrapper opening; surely he didn’t mean to fuck me right now?

Perhaps he’s putting a condom on the plug,
I reasoned.

“Spread for me,” he ordered.

I reached behind me to comply, trying not to think about how utterly vulnerable the position felt. Embarrassing, even… I thought of all the times I’d given Sophie similar commands, and reconsidered; I’d never once found Sophie awkward or ridiculous in this situation. Just thinking of her in this context sent more blood pounding to my groin. I ached to be touched.

There was a click, and a few drops of something frightfully cold landed between my cheeks. I waited for the touch of the plug, wondered if he would be gentle or simply forge ahead. Perhaps I should have told him that it had been a very, very long time since I’d been the receptive partner in anal intercourse. It had been… good lord, it had been before my relationship with Elizabeth, over five years ago.

But I’d be damned if I let him think I was some kind of… well,
wuss
.

When the dam touched me, I nearly shot straight up from my bent-over position. When his face pressed into the cleft of my ass, I rolled my lips between my teeth to hold back my moan.

He leaned back. “No, no. You’re not going to stay quiet tonight.”

Then his tongue swiped over me, coated by the dam, aided by the lube he’d drizzled onto me. He could have shocked me with a violet wand, and I would have been less jolted. This was a rare pleasure; I wasn’t used to being on the receptive end of this particular activity.

He rolled his tongue lazily over the dam, alternating long strokes with a gentle tapping that sent a stuttering current of electric pleasure straight to the root of my cock. And then his tongue slipped in, stretched the tight ring of muscle, teased it from the inside, and I made a noise so pathetic that it startled me. My nerves were so raw and excited, I felt as though I could come just from grinding my cock against the edge of the bed. That I didn’t could be seen as a testament to my admirable willpower.

He worked at me for a long time, prodding and swirling, withdrawing to repeat the actions externally. The lubed rubber glided with his every flick and suck. All the while I held myself open for him, my fingers digging into my flesh as I writhed and humped, moaned and begged.

Begged
. I actually begged him, though I didn’t know what I was pleading for. My favorite word that crossed Sophie’s lips during our play was “please,” and the more desperate the better. Now that I knew how heightened her need must have been in all of those moments, I was only more aroused by the memories.

Pumping my hips against the bed, I rasped, “Please.”

He lifted his head, and I groaned in disappointment. It hadn’t occurred to me, somehow, that he would have to stop using his wicked tongue on me to respond.

“Please? What is it that you think you need?” He slapped my ass, not hard, but in my heightened state of awareness, I jumped.

“I need… I…” Nothing. I needed nothing else. I should have been content to lie there for hours and let him do that to me, if he would. But the anticipation of what he might do next wound me up, made me dizzy from excitement. I didn’t want to stop, but I did, just to see what would happen.

He got to his feet behind me, and I heard the rustle of the bin liner as he tossed the dam into the basket under the nightstand. My stomach clenched in disappointment and eagerness, a strange conflict to feel in the height of desire.

“Get on the bed.” His voice sounded different now, darker and far less humorous than usual. I knew the same happened to me when I focused during a scene. I had no doubt that in Emir’s head there was a plan, fully formed but constantly changing, a list of what he wanted to do to me with small adjustments here and there to make sure we omitted nothing; that he wouldn’t push me past the point where I couldn’t continue.

I got up, grateful for the reprieve to my knees, and laid in the center of the bed. My cock bobbed against my stomach, frantic for contact. Emir nudged my legs apart with a knee and knelt between them, dropping a handful of gloves and condom packets to the bed. In the other hand, he held a bottle of lube, and he checked that the top was firmly on before dropping it onto the duvet. He reached between my thighs to lay his hands on either side of my scrotum, then dragged his nails down the insides of my legs. Not so hard that he risked drawing blood, but with enough pressure that it scored my skin in delicious, burning trails that tickled in spite of the slight pain.

“Bend your knees. Put your feet on the bed,” he said, his voice still so low and serious.

I did as he asked, without hesitation. One by one, any worries I’d had during the day melted away. There was no need for me to be anywhere but here, laying back as Emir balanced my need and my pleasure, controlled every response from my body. I closed my eyes and pushed back the slightest notion of panic. What was the point of panic, when I was enjoying myself?