The Girlfriend (The Boss #2) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
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“Uh...” I wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“Or would you like them to be rough and snagged when I put my fingers in your cunt?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shivered at the promise in the question. “No, Sir.”

“Then you can wait one moment while I get ready.” He nodded toward the bedside table. “Get yourself ready, as well.”

I looked over to the wand-style vibrator still plugged into the wall. He expected me to use that instrument of torture on myself?

“Lie on the bed and spread your legs. I want to watch you.” He kept casually filing his nails. There was an odd sexiness in the way he made even a manicure seem highly masculine.

I took the vibrator in my hand and turned on the switch. It roared to life; how did people use these without making their hands numb? I took a deep breath and pressed the tennis-ball sized head against my vulva.

“Spread yourself around it,” he told me, and I did as he asked. “You should see yourself, Sophie. You have no idea what the sight of you, like this, does to me. Your cunt wet and glistening, my collar around your neck... knowing you belong to me.”

“Only to you, Sir,” I said with a gasp as I did as he asked. I squealed at the intensity of the heavy vibration.

“Should you come without my permission, Sophie?”

I knew the answer.

“I don’t want you to come until I’m fucking you.”

Like I couldn’t come a second time? I wanted to snap, but I knew how much better it could be if I waited. Bone-shatteringly better.

“Are you done with your fucking manicure yet?” I snapped, writhing against the duvet. The whole point of his careful grooming was to drive me insane with wanting. It was working.

“Excuse me?” He tossed the nail file aside and strode over to the bed. My heart pounded faster with every step he took toward me, until he was right beside me, gripping my jaw painfully.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whimpered.

“Pets are usually more docile when they’re collared,” he scolded.

“Dogs maybe, Sir.” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted him to be as wild and rough with me as he’d been the night before.

“Bitches?” he asked, shoving my face to the side as he released me. “Don’t bait me, Sophie. I have plans for you tonight. Stay there. Do not move. Do not come. If you do, I’ll punish you. And not in a way you would enjoy.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I wouldn’t like. He’d once wound me up so badly that I’d had a near breakdown. I was stronger now, and I had a feeling he would have no problem getting me close to orgasm without letting me come, then leaving me stranded for a while.

“Yes, Sir.” I obediently moved the wand down my body and settled it against my vulva, gasping again at the sudden arc of tension it created. I felt like a line had been drawn through me, from my head to my feet, and pulled up at the navel.

When he returned, he had the leather cuffs. “Give me your wrists.”

I held them out, steadying the vibrator with my thighs. I was nearing a peak, and with my hands in his as he bound my wrists, I couldn’t move it away.

“I’m so close,” I gasped. “Turn it off!”

“You won’t come,” he said, totally unconcerned by my distress.

“I can’t help it!” I twisted and kicked.

“You won’t, because I didn’t tell you that you could.” He reached out and traced the line of the collar. “Have I ever asked you to do anything impossible?”

“No, Sir.” I held my breath. I hung suspended on the edge, but I didn’t go over. My body strained. Sweat stood out from every pore. I breathed like someone doing Lamaze. I tried to think about anything but the damned vibrations.

He closed the second cuff around my wrist and buckled it, then reached down and pulled the wand away.

“Fuck,” I panted, pulling at the cuffs in frustration.

“Watch your language, or I’ll wash your mouth out,” he warned.

I frowned. “With soap?”

“No.”

He stripped off his shirt and took his time folding it. He did the same with his pants and boxers. Because he’s a jerk.

When he was naked, he came to the bed and settled between my legs, but he didn’t enter me. The head of his cock brushed me, and I lifted my hips. He didn’t have a condom on, so I knew he wasn’t going to fuck me, and that only frustrated me further.

“There is nothing I dislike more than a bratty sub,” he said in a mocking tone. Then he trailed his tongue along my jaw and down my throat, over the collar.

One big hand cupped beneath my thigh and lifted my leg to fit around his back. His cock lay against my slit, rubbing over my clitoris with the slightest motion.


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