The Affair: Week 5 by Beth Kery Page A

jealous.
    He lifted his left hand while he continued to pump his shaft with the other. He cupped the back of her head and brought her to him. She craned to take him, but he flexed his fingers into her hair, tugging back slightly.
    “I’ll instruct you,” he said. She heard the sharp edge to his tone and tilted her head up to see his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously seeing her startled expression. “I want to make sure this isn’t unpleasant for you, or it won’t bode well for the future. But it will also turn me on, to tell you what to do. To tell you what I like. Okay?” he asked more gently.
    “Yes,” she agreed, giving him a small smile. If he instructed her, there was less of a chance she’d fail. He was setting up the scenario, in fact, so that she was guaranteed to succeed. A rush of gratitude and warmth for him went through her.
    He stared down at her with a rigid focus. “Slip the head into your mouth. Lips nice and firm, hold me like a vice,” he said. “I want to
feel
that hunger I always see in your eyes firsthand. If you want to show me what I see there right now, you can’t be shy.
Suck
Emma.”
    I want to
feel
that hunger I always see in your eyes firsthand.
    Her lips strained around the head. She tongued him, curious and hungry, pressing to feel his shape. She wetted him, feeling that rim, laving it with a hard pressure . . . loving it. Finding the slit, she pressed, the salty taste of pre-ejaculate spreading on her tongue. He groaned and his pumping hand went faster.
    “That’s good. You have a strong little mouth. You’re showing me, aren’t you? How much you want to please me?” he murmured. She slipped her lips up and down on the head, clamping him, affirming her hunger. Her eyes sprung wide when she felt the buzz on her pussy amplify. He’d increased the power on the vibe. A moment later, he pulled gently on her hair, and his cock popped out of her mouth. She moaned feverishly at the deprivation.
    “Wet it down to the limit with your tongue,” he instructed gruffly, his hand still moving up and down on the shaft forcefully. She stared at his pumping fist as she licked his cock, tracing a distended vein, bumping against the thin silicone of the lasso—that limit to her hunger. Increasingly, she disliked that limit. She pushed at the thin silicone with the tip of her tongue. He was right; it wasn’t tight. She nudged it farther down his cock, the flavor of strawberries spreading on her tongue . . . sweet, forbidden fruit.
    “Emma,” he grunted in warning, pulling back on her head. She looked up at him, her tongue still bathing his cock. His face went tight.
    “Fuck,” he muttered, his fist moving faster. He tugged gently on her head and pointed his cock toward her mouth, inserting it between her parted lips. “Show me,” he demanded in a hard tone.
    She knew what he meant. He wanted her to demonstrate her desire for him. The realization hit her that fellatio was the perfect way for a woman to do that for a man, if she truly felt it. It was a true surrender, a total abandonment for the pleasure of another . . . a finding of personal gratification in return for giving it. Emma yielded, giving herself to the feeling. Placing her hands on his thighs to give her balance, she sucked him into her mouth, giving her hunger free rein. Her lips bumped against the thin silicone lasso again and again as she squeezed him into her mouth. He filled her, even with the limit, the tip of his cock sliding along the length of her pressing tongue. When she sucked hard, her cheeks brushed against his flesh.
    “Aw, yeah, that’s good,” he said in a choked voice. For a moment, his hand was gone from her head. The vibrator buzzed more strenuously, and his hand was back. She moaned in rising arousal and pumped him faster. It felt so good, the pressure on her lips, filling her mouth with his hard, pulsing flesh, the vibrator heating her . . . rewarding her hunger. In a frenzy of