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He says he loves me. Though I haven’t acknowledged it yet.
Or said it back.
Do I love him?
Yes. I do.
Will I tell him? Sure. When I’m ready.
The fire changed me. Overnight. I have a different perspective. I don’t feel the same constraints as before. Don’t feel the need to rush what we have. Life can change in a blink of an eye. I’m living proof.
For good. For bad. Doesn’t matter. Change is change.
What Joar and I have is good. Life is short. I like being with him. I like fucking him. Cuddling. Making breakfast. Going on his Hate Dates. Spending time when we can.
I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve been going about this thing with him all wrong. Confusing the dynamic of my marriage with what Joar and I have is like apples to oranges.
I’ve felt more in sync with Joar in the past couple months than I ever did with my ex. Thinking back to before London, when I called everything off, I was in a tailspin of self-doubt. Confused. Misdirected.
Joar and JJ are one and the same man. If I love part of him, I love all of him.
He lets me be myself. My strong self. Neurotic self. Sexy self. Scared self.
It’s time for me to embrace a new perspective.
What I’ve decided is this: if I don’t want to be controlled, then I won’t let Joar control me. If I want to work, then I’ll work. If I want to spend ten days reading, I’ll spend ten days reading.
I want to be with Joar. So, I’m going to be with him.
Despite what Kris told me.
He swore it wasn’t true—he’s not having me followed anymore.
I want to believe him, so I do.
Right now, I want something very, very badly.
I think he’ll like it too.
“I want to suck your cock.” I grab his belt and yank him to me when he’s within reach. I can feel nothing but the heat radiating between us as I make short work of his slacks and briefs. I’ve never loved giving head as much as I do to Joar.
“God, yessss…” His voice cracks.
When his clothes pool around his ankles, Joar kicks them off, leaving him wearing nothing but his shirt and socks. He wedges a knee between my legs. Plants his hands on the back of the couch above my head. Cages me in. His shaft bobs against my lips. “Suck me a little first then I’m dying to fuck your face, sweetness. I’m gonna push my cock all the way down your throat.”
“Mmmmm.” I dart my tongue out. Lick his crown. Suck it between my lips. Grip him with one hand and take as much of his shaft in my mouth as possible. My free hand skims along his hip around to his ass, where I grab a handful of his taut muscle and pull him closer.
“Fuck, yeah.” Joar pumps his hips into me. We keep eye contact. Soulful, reverential contact. Energy sizzles between us. Urgent. Frenetic.
I feel him gather my hair at the nape. He winds it around his wrist until it pulls at my scalp. Uses the leverage to hold me in place as he thrusts deeper, touching the back of my throat. I gag. Saliva pools and drips down his shaft. He watches me take him. “Good girl, Clover. I love what you’re doing, it feels so amazing.”
His encouragement gives me confidence. I allow myself to relax as he pushes past my gag reflex. I manage to stay calm and breathe through my nose when his cock slips into my throat. Joar’s face is awash in the type of pleasure that makes me feel invincible.
Still, he’s watching me. Making sure I’m okay. I am, it’s a lot, but I blink a couple of times to let him know it’s okay to keep going.
“Baby, holy fucking Jesus.” He slides back and forth deliberately, surely. Allows me to get used to this strange sensation. My mouth is stretched so wide it’s becoming painful. Inadvertently, I swallow against him, causing his eyes to roll all the way back in his head. He jerks, shooting his hot, creamy release down my throat.
Seconds later, Joar gently cups my cheeks and pulls out slow and steady. He sits next to me on the couch and gathers me against his chest. Massages my jaw with his thumbs. “Are you okay? That was intense.”
