Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(80)

“No,” I challenge. “My hands.”

“Not yet, beautiful,” he counters.

“Please,” I pant as he continues to tease my nub with his fingers.

“Not until you’re begging me to stop,” he reminds. “Are you done?”

“No,” I reply.

Joe places his hands on my knees, spreading my legs further apart. He lowers his back to the bed, but I still can’t get enough slack on the scarf when I lean forward to relieve my arms temporarily from being tired of fighting. Joe’s hand returns to my clitoris, teasing me until a third orgasm writhes through me and I catch the sound of Joe being unable to deny himself any further.

Joe ends our connection, takes off the used condom and puts on another one while I’m still trying to collect myself. He kneels on the bed in front of me, ducking between my arms and props me up in the air before sliding himself back in. He continues to hold my body up, pumping into me until the forth climax breaks through my body. Joe removes himself quickly, lowering me gently to the bed. Fatigue begins to set in a little, forcing me to lay with my belly on the bed.

When he lifts my leg to rotate my body, a surge of energy courses through me, hoping that he’ll take me from behind. Joe repositions himself over top of me with me facing up. He sweetly kisses up my body from my navel to my mouth. Slipping back inside, Joe readies for the next round of pleasure.

His cock pulses in and out, fighting his own arousal as he provides me a fifth orgasm. All of sudden, from being over stimulated in every capacity, a sixth climax rises inside me and Joe can’t delay his own satisfaction, grunting confirmation into my neck.

Realizing that Joe needs a moment himself, I mutter, “I can’t.”

Laughing, Joe comments, “Me either.” He reaches up and unties the scarf and my arms flop to the bed. “Shit! I’m sorry, beautiful,” Joe apologizes, taking my hands and kissing them and my wrists.

“What?” I search. My gaze follows his and I see some minor red marks encircling my wrists.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he states regretfully.

“They don’t hurt,” I console.

“Really?” he questions, not fully believing me.

“Really,” I confirm with heat rising to my cheeks. “And, I kind of liked it.”

“Kind of?” Joe questions. “It sure sounded like it was a definite.”

Giggling, I turn my head and admit the truth. “Yeah.”

Joe continues to kiss my hands and wrists until practically each mark has vanished. “I think we might need to look into more comfortable restraints,” he suggests with a bashful look.

“Really?” I muse.

“For both of us,” he adds with a smile.

I shake my head, but don’t confirm or deny my thoughts.

“You sure they’re okay?” he checks again.

“Yes, my wrists are fine,” I soothe.

“Good,” he says kissing me.

“That was six,” I confess.

“Seriously?” he checks.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“I’ll add it to our list,” he mentions.

I laugh as Joe gloats over obtaining a new record.

“Can I ask you something?” I say hesitantly, not sure how to breech the subject.

“Sure.” Joe shrugs.

“Why haven’t we done . . . doggy style?”

I’ve never done doggy style with any guy I’ve slept with, yet there have been several times I’ve fantasized about doing it with Joe, and there’s a growing need to do it.

Joe’s eyes widen, and an uncomfortable look suddenly appears. He buries his face in my neck to avoid answering the question.

“Joe?” I search.

No answer.

“Joe?” I ask more softly.

Still no answer.

A smirk forms on my face. “I’m using the second of my three questions.”

He grunts, but doesn’t lift his head.

“Joe,” I state more than question.

“What?” he downplays, lifting his head, but refusing to look at me.

I can see that he’s blushing.

“That’s not fair,” he contends.

“How so?” I challenge.

He shakes his head but doesn’t say a word.

“I know guys like that position and . . .” I begin before he cuts me off.

“I don’t,” he sternly rebuts.

“Why?” I ask, trying to catch his eye.

“It’s demeaning,” he replies rapidly.

“How so?” I check, not understanding.


“The term. I don’t like how it’s demeaning to women,” he explains.

My heart melts. “You know a lot of women like it,” I mention.

His eyes dart to mine. “Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I offer more willingly than I would expect.

“What do you mean?” he questions.

“I’ve never trusted a guy enough to . . . try it,” I explain.

A smile flits across his face momentarily.

“But, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t enjoy it if I did,” I add, surprising even myself.

“Do you want to?” he hesitantly asks. “Try it?”