“New directive: suffocate me. Do your best. If I can breathe, you’re doing it wrong.”
He pulls me back down, and this time I listen, lowering myself completely. He puts his mouth back on me, licking and sucking until all my concerns for his safety fly out the window.
“Alex,”I cry out, and grind down against his face, my pleasure rising. I’m soclose—
He stops. Lifts me up a bit so he can speak.
“Keep saying my name,” he commands.
“What?” I ask, disoriented.
“Keep saying my name, and this continues. Stop, and this stops.”
“Alex—” I say, still confused, but not for much longer, because he returns his mouth to me, licking in circles until I see stars. When he starts to slow down, I remember his command.
“Alex,”I cry again, and again, and again, clutching at his headboard as I come in a loud, shaking mess.
Once I’ve caught my breath, he gently lifts me and lowers me to the bed so that I’m lying flat. He unbuckles his pants but doesn’t remove them, still fully dressed as he reaches over into his nightstand and grabs a condom, puts it on, and lines himself up.
He pauses, holding himself still. I blink up at him, our eyes locked together.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask after several agonizing moments, my voice a gasp.
“Beg,” he says.
My eyes narrow. I wonder if I heard him right. But then he repeats himself.
“Beg me to fuck you.”
I’m about to comply. It’s not like it would be a chore. Hell, I’m into it.
But then the weirdness of today rushes back to me. And suddenlyI feel like this is all a placeholder for some argument we’re not having. That we’vebeennot having since mini-golf.
So instead of giving in, I push him lightly until he flips to the side and lies on his back next to me.
“I don’t think you want me to beg,” I say, glaring down at him. I sit up and toss my leg over his waist so I straddle him.
So I’m on top.
“I think you like when I’m on top because you like when I’m in control,” I say, thinking of all the times I’ve wondered if Alex might have a little bit of a shame kink. “I think you’re the one that wants to beg.”
I see my words hit him. See him close his eyes, tilt his head back, and swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple in his tightly strained throat. See that I’m right.
So I rise up, reach down to grab him and line him up at my entrance, and then I wait.
“Jo,” he says, his voice strained like he’s got a tight rein on his control.
“Beg, Alex,” I cajole him, moving him up and down through my wetness, torturing myself just as much as I’m torturing him.
“Please,” he gasps.
“Please, who?” To make matters worse, I lower myself just a bit, so the very tip of him is inside me. He groans—in relief or frustration, I’m not sure, but I’m willing to bet the latter.
“Please, Jo.”
“No,” I say, unable to believe the next words out of my mouth. “Use my full name.”
“Please, Josephina,” he says, and the words sound like a breath of relief.
