Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(28)

“Fuck me,” I beg.

“Hard or slow?” he asks with deep, shallow thrusts.

“I don’t care,” I admit. “I just make me cum.”

“All over me?”

“Yes,” I pant, eager for the release.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

Joe starts with slow, short bursts, barely pulling himself out. Every little movement feels like it could bring me to climax, but doesn’t. Then, Joe quickens his pace for several beats and then resumes his previous speed. He does this several times, heightening my sensitivity and causing me to moan on each breath out, desperate for climax. He works me up each time, just barely letting me hit that point and then changes, denying me full satisfaction.

Shifting my body slightly, which opens my legs up more, Joe presses deeper, harder into me.

“Right . . .” my mouth begins to utter, being cut off by the orgasm. My throat groans the entire time of my release.

Joe continues to pump relentlessly into me, making sure I drench him. A few seconds after my release, my lungs are able to suck in just enough air before another burst of euphoria takes over my body. Seizing my neck with his tongue, Joe’s hips pound me against the wall. I whimper satisfaction a third time when Joe’s cock hardens, causing him to orgasm with me.

He keeps me sandwiched against the wall, waiting for our lungs to finish pulsing. With his right hand cupping my face, Joe says, “God, your beautiful.”

I bite my lip, trying to hide a smile and uncomfortably turn away.

“Don’t hide, please,” he pleas, coaxing me to look at him.

Out of nowhere, my stomach grumbles.

“Looks like we’ve worked up an appetite,” Joe states.

I hear a faint noise from his abdomen. “Yeah,” I sheepishly admit.

Cleaning ourselves up and only putting underwear on, Joe and I head to the kitchen to fill our hungry bellies. We sit close together at his breakfast bar while we delight our tastebuds with the impeccable sirloin and the equally delicious sides of roasted garlic potato wedges, mashed cauliflower, steamed asparagus and tomatoes and a side salad. We hardly talk as we stuff our faces.

We head back to his bedroom, taking a big bowl of ice cream to watch a movie. Joe claims that I hog the bowl every time, so I’m not allowed to touch it or the spoon. Instead, Joe insists on spoon-feeding me the yummy goodness. Each time I get a mouthful, I purposefully engulf it.

“Keep that up and you’ll never get the spoon when we have dessert,” Joe directs with a devious grin.

I wrap my fingers around his hand that is holding the spoon. Then, I deliberately rotate it when the metal object is in my mouth so it is vertical. Joe’s eyes intently watch me as I suck and lick the utensil several times as if I am performing oral sex. I finish by running my tongue along my lips to make sure I got every last drop.

Joe doesn’t move. He just clears his throat.

Seeing an opportunity, I take the spoon from his hand and dip it back into the bowl. I consciously repeat the very same action of consuming the ice cream and spoon before scooping a third time and offering it to him. Joe cautiously takes the utensil in his mouth while keeping his eyes fixed on me. Letting go of gadget, I alter my position to where I’m straddling Joe. Without speaking, we take turns feeding each other the last few bites of dessert.


Before Joe finishes placing the bowl on the nightstand, I lean forward to taste his mouth. “What were you saying?” I check, moving my mouth to his right ear.

My teeth capture his earlobe, causing Joe to grunt. When I don’t get a verbal response, I migrate to his neck, gently applying my lips to his skin three times and then nip him.

Still not getting an answer, I ask again. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing . . .” he groans when my teeth apply some pressure to his right nipple.

“Good,” I commend, jumping to his other nipple.

Joe runs his fingers through my hair as my tongue explores his chest, neck, ear and chin. Once our mouths connect, Joe’s hands clamp onto my ass and sweep me closer to him. My fingers tousle his hair when his mouth inspects my neck and down into my cleavage. Eager for him to explore my breasts, my fingers reach back to unfasten my bra.

“No,” he mandates, capturing my wrists behind my back.

I fight a little to get free, but Joe’s grip tightens. He continues to tease and taunt me with his mouth as my hips rock over his groin. Shifting, he holds my arms with one hand and unhooks my bra with the other. Joe uses his teeth to yank at the straps and slide them forward until my breasts are free. He casually journeys back and forth to each breast, biting down just hard enough, imitating my teasing. My head droops backward as shivers scatter through my body. Joe releases my left arm temporarily to slide the bra strap off and then secures my wrist behind me again. He repeats the same process with my right arm and then his mouth resumes its exploration of my chest while his left hand strokes my sex over my underwear.

“Mmmmmm . . .” my throat celebrates the rush building inside.

My panting increases and my hips sway over him more eagerly. Right as I’m on the brink of orgasming, Joe removes his hand from my clitoris.

“Kneel up,” he directs.

I purposefully ignore him and continue to brush my sex against his, wanting stimulation.

“Kneel up,” he repeats. Not waiting for me to comply or object, Joe pushes up with his right hand that confines my wrists while pressing up on the outside of my hip with his left.