Page 12 of The Square

And so do I.

I take him further. Deeper into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat, which makes him tug on my hair and I love that.

I love that he wants me. Wants more.

So I give it to him and begin bobbing my head in a back-and-forth rhythm. Taking him deep, then pulling back, letting my tongue slide along the underside of his shaft.

It’s one of those messy blowjobs and I don’t care. It’s hot. So fucking hot. Saliva is pooling in my mouth until there’s so much it begins to drip down my chin. And when Danny grips my hair again, tugging me backwards, he smiles at the mess.

This is a side of him I don’t know, I realize. This erotic side wasn’t part of who and what we were before. And for a moment I’m filled with jealousy that he’s done this with other women.

But I’m stupid. I know I’m stupid. Because I’ve done this with other men. And he could be thinking the same thing right now, and he’s not. I know he’s not.

He’s smiling at me. He’s enjoying himself.

And then he’s pushing me back into the couch cushions. A little too hard, but I giggle at that. Because I like it. I like the dark beast inside him. Because I know that beast is blue and no matter how much he wants to lose control, he won’t.

Maybe I wish he would? Maybe I should push him harder? Make him?

But before I can finish that thought he’s kneeling down with his hands under my knees, pushing them up towards my breasts, legs open as he lowers his head between them and brings me out of this introspection and places me squarely in the realm of unthinking ecstasy.

“Oh,” I moan. Because the little flicks of his tongue against my clit are slightly overwhelming. “Oh, God,” I say.

I can feel his smile too.

And that’s it. Even if we stopped right now my night would be complete.

Because this has never happened before. We have never been this alone. Never this together, this excited—while not in the presence of Alec.

Is that bad? I wonder.

“Christine,” he says, his words vibrating the soft folds of skin between my legs. “Stop thinking so motherfucking hard.”

He pulls back, grinning wildly.

Which makes me grin too. “Sorry,” I say.

But he just shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’. You’re too perfect, that’s true. But I don’t mind.”

A laugh escapes. Because in no possible reality am I the perfect one in this couple.

He reaches down for his cock, fisting and pumping it a few times, then looks at me and frowns. “I’m gonna fuck you now,” he says in a gruff, heated voice. “Because I can’t wait another second. But I’m gonna fuck you again later and we’ll do it right next time.”

And with that he thrusts inside me. Filling me up. So deep it hurts, making me squeak out a little cry of pain.

But he doesn’t stop or apologize or ask me if I’m OK.

He doesn’t need to.

He knows.

He knows I love every moment of blissful agony when he’s inside me.