Page 10 of Mr. Strategic

Drool pooled in my mouth, but Michael didn’t like me to stop, liked to watch me make a mess of myself, so I continued as it began to leak around the seams of my lips.

He drank deeply from his glass, my wide eyes taking in the way his Adam’s apple moved, the way the liquid slipped down his throat.

The textbook perfection of his face was almost uncanny, unsettling.

I continued the same gliding rhythm, with the exact pressure I knew he liked, my knees digging into the hard floor.

“Nothing is going to change between us,” Michael said, as his hand stroked down my hair, pulling one strand of the soft curls out of my braid and twisting it around his fingers.

My turtleneck felt hot and prickly around my throat.

“Eyes on me,” he said, and I obeyed.

I always obeyed.

Whatever he saw when he looked at me made him rougher, jerking his hips forward so I gagged on his cock, drool running down my throat to soak the front of my shirt.

“You are mine,” he said. “I don’t fuckingsharewith other men. I don’t want to hear you talk about such foolishness again. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but inside I still felt that spark of rebellion.

Reuben wanted to have sex with me, and it pissed him off.

Michael was pistoning in and out of my mouth hard, much harder than usual, and I had to grip his pants so I wasn’t knocked on my ass.

“Don’t ever fucking act like that again.”

His thighs tensed and I drew in a shallow breath, because I knew what was coming next.

A twitch, knocking his cock against my teeth.

Then floods of hot cum filled my mouth, and I closed tight around his cock to make sure none of it escaped.

He didn’t like that.

I swallowed every drop, tasting bitter and sweet as he let out a low groan.

When I licked to the last drop, I got up without looking at my husband and walked over to the side table to get my cross-stitch project.

My mouth burned from how roughly he had taken me, but I refused to let him see me touch my swollen lips, instead letting them sit there, sore and stinging.

Michael was not usually ever rough. Why would he need to be? I always gave him exactly the blowjob he wanted.

After a few moments he got up and opened the screen door to the backyard so he could sit on a chair a few feet away and smoke outdoors.

Still I said nothing, but I could feel his eyes on me as the bright spark of his lighter flickered. His face was hidden in shadow.

“Do you need any more of those?” he asked, pointing to my cross-stitching.

I felt a little startled. “No. Thank you. I have a ways to go on this one.”

“Get more of them,” he said. “As many as you want. They’re pretty.”

I said nothing.

I did not need more cross-stitching projects.

Michael sucked in on the cigarette in the growing darkness, shadows falling across his face as his cheeks hollowed in. Cold, remote, and powerful.