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I stared, transfixed at the image in the mirror. There was the man who so overwhelmed me with his sexual power that I would do anything he asked. His hands and mouth were on me, giving me pleasure because it pleased him, because in that moment I was the center of his world. He wanted me. He wanted to control me, to possess me, to make me surrender to him completely and take all that he had to offer. Yet at the same time he was kneeling before me, worshipping me, as enslaved to me as I was to him.
And that was when I realized. I had fallen for him completely.
It was my relief at finally acknowledging it that triggered my climax, and I sank my fingers into his hair, holding him to me, holding on for dear life as my cunt spasmed and my nipples throbbed. He held me up with his arms wrapped around my thighs, and I braced myself with my hands on his shoulders, never letting my eyes drift closed for a moment, taking in every detail the mirror could show me.
Neil looked up, and I looked down at him, my heart squeezing in the vise grip of his gorgeous green eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m...” I took a breath and reached for one of the clamps, sliding the ring down and slipping it off.
“No—” he warned, moving to stop me, but it was too late. The blood rushed back into my sensitive tissue, and it seemed to have brought its friend the knife gang with it. I grasped my breast and winced in pain, trying to ignore the fact that he was plainly trying to cover up his shocked amusement at the situation.
“Oh, Sophie, I’m so sorry, I should have warned you before,” he covered his mouth with one hand, his eyes squinted shut from laughter.
“You should have warned me that my tits were going to die?” I whined plaintively, but I laughed, because he was laughing and I knew this would probably seem funny an hour from now. “Shut up,” I giggled in pain.
“Here.” He brushed my hand away and bent his head to my other breast, slowly sliding the ring on the clamp back a little bit at a time. As the tension eased, he lowered his mouth over my tortured flesh, laving me with his tongue until I was gasping. It still hurt like a bastard, but it was an amazingly good pain, lessened remarkably under the gentle suction of his mouth. When the rubberized tips of the clamps released my nipple, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it had with the other one.
“There,” he said, lifting his head to brush his lips across mine. “All better?”
The tenderness in his voice, in the way his hand skimmed up and down my arm, felt like a fist to my ribs.
“Y-yeah,” I managed, my pulse skipping erratically.
I was fine. Better than fine. I was in love with my boss.
And I was totally fucked.
Chapter Fourteen
There are times when it’s appropriate to do the big relationship confrontation moment.
When you’re lying across your boss’s lap, naked except for high heels and thigh highs, getting your arms tied together with jute rope... That’s not the right time.
It had taken me all of five seconds to decide what I was going to do with this whole being in love with Neil thing. I was going to ignore it. Not because I thought I could make it all go magically away, but because there was no need to rush into anything. He’d made it clear to me that our arrangement was monogamous, and he wasn’t in the market for an actual dating relationship. There was no ticking clock on our attraction, so the pressure was off, more or less.
Besides, in love with someone or not, I had sincerely meant it when I’d told him that I wasn’t ready to share my life with anyone. I liked spending time with Neil, but I also liked having my own space, autonomy to make my own decisions, and freedom to come and go as I pleased. In a real relationship, you had to take the other person’s time and the investment of their feelings into consideration. I didn’t think I could do that right now. Besides, I wasn’t sure where Neil stood on the relationship front anymore.
Instead of running out of his apartment screaming in terror from my emotions, I decided I’d stay, and have a damned good time with him.
“This should keep your hands out of the way,” he explained as he looped and layered the rope to make a kind of braided sleeve around my forearms. I was positioned with my hands at the opposite elbows, my arms bent Barbie-style behind my back. He continued, pausing occasionally in his speech as he concentrated on the rope, “There is a danger... of an inexperienced participant reaching a hand back rather than using the safe word. The last thing I’d want is to accidentally… swat your poor fingers.”
