Just Breathe Trilogy Box Set

by Martha Sweeney

  Joe laughs and I can feel his smile press into my skin at his victory. “Well . . . at least I matched it.”

  Sadie joins us on the bed, but doesn’t explore. She just plops her head on my shoulder, wanting some affection.

  As we pet Sadie, Joe asks, “So, how do you know?”

  “Know what?” I check.

  “That we can’t keep going without . . .” Joe searches, but can’t finish.

  “I start next week. So, as it gets closer, a woman is highly fertile just beforehand,” I explain.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I return.

  “Can you show me?”

  “Show you what?” My brow furrows.

  “Your calendar and how it works,” he explains.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to understand,” he says.

  “Why? Are you going to keep track too?” I laugh.

  “Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to sync a calendar together for it . . . that is, if you want to do it again without protection,” he comments.

  “It is a form of protection,” I rebut.

  “I mean without condoms,” he clarifies.

  “I’ll think about the calendar thing,” I comment, not sure if I’m comfortable with the idea of him knowing my exact schedule.

  Joe nods his understanding, but I know he’s dying to know more about how it works. “Can I stay for dinner, or are you going to kick me out?”

  “Depends,” I tease.

  “On what?”

  “If you can keep your hands to yourself,” I say.

  “I don’t know if I can agree to that. Why?” he chuckles.

  “I might want more if you don’t,” I reveal.

  “I have other tools to use and I’m not afraid to ask for assistant from B.O.B. or his friends,” Joe offers with a smirk.

  “I’ll consider it,” I return with a smile.

  We get dressed and head to the kitchen to decide on what to eat for dinner. Joe offers to help cook, but I highly doubt he'll do much more than have his hands on me the whole time. We start prepping a few items, but don’t start cooking right away.

  When the time comes for Sadie to eat, Joe reminds, “Don’t forget to text Taylor.”

  “Text him what?”

  “That you’re going out,” he informs.

  “Shit. Seriously?”

  “Yes. Seriously. They need to know when you leave,” Joe explains.

  “Do I have to give them a detailed itinerary each time?” I question sarcastically.

  “No. But, on some occasions it does help,” he mentions.

  I roll my eyes.

  “If you were scheduled to be somewhere nice, I don’t think you’d want them showing up in their workout clothes,” Joe elaborates.

  “Fine,” I whine, taking out my phone and texting Taylor.

  We stop by Joe’s place so he can change and go for a run with Sadie and me. Taylor runs with us, about twenty feet behind the entire time, but I’m not sure where the rest of the guys are. Joe explains that Taylor is just getting a feel for what I do and then from there will make adjustments accordingly.

  When we get back to my apartment, there’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. When I check it, it’s Anna with a bag of clothes for Joe. Without a word or a look of judgment, Anna smiles, hands Joe the bang and is on her way.

  Jared calls to check in and before I answer, Joe heads to my bedroom, giving me some privacy. We talk about general stuff, both avoiding the topic of me still being in the news. Jared is pleased with the team that is keeping an eye on him and Nathan, but my sentiments are not the same about mine. I complain about having to report in each time I leave. Jared insists it’s necessary, which I understand, at least for right now, but it’s still creepy having four strangers know my whereabouts when I really prefer my privacy. We do decide to take some action next week if rumors don’t die down about Chris and me, but I have mixed feelings about the whole thing.

  Since I still hear the water running when I hang up with Jared, we only spoke for about five minutes, I decide that I might as well join Joe in the shower. On the way to the bathroom, curiosity snatches this kitten’s attention and makes her snoop in Joe’s bag that was left on the bed. When I get to the zipper section that has toiletries, each object is easily identified save what’s hidden in a small, black leather pouch.

  I peel off my sweaty clothes and prop myself up against the doorway to the bathroom since Joe left it wide open. I bite my lip, trying to stifle any sound when I realize that I’ve caught Joe masturbating. My eyes can’t look away — I’m completely mesmerized and I can’t decide whether I want to just watch or join him.

  Sadie strolls in with her monkey, making enough noise for Joe to turn and catch me watching. “Hey, beautiful,” he nonchalantly greets.

  I’m surprised that he’s not embarrassed. His hand continues to slide up and down his shaft without hesitation.

  “Hey,” I reply.

  “Coming in?”

  “Maybe,” I tease.

  “Enjoying the view?” he checks.

  “Yep,” I confirm. “But, I’m torn.”

  “Yeah? Why is that?” he chuckles.

  “Well . . .” I begin. “I liked the back view . . . but, then you turned. Now I’m enjoying the front view too. And, I can’t decide whether to keep watching or join you.”

  “How about both?” he suggests. “B.O.B. or one of his friends can join us too.”

  “Really?” I check playfully.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m surprised you want to include them,” I say.

  “Why?” he says confused.

  “Anna packed you four condoms,” I present.

  “What?” Joe opens the shower door.

  “I can’t believe you asked her to pack them,” I reply a little agitated.

  “I didn’t,” he asserts.

  “Then, how did a black leather pouch with four condoms get in your bag?”

  “You were snooping,” he announces with a wicked grin.

  “If Anna didn’t pack them, then who did? Jimmy?” I demand.

  “No, I did,” he presents calmly.

  “What?” I snap.

  “They’ve been in the bag since the wedding. I forgot they were in there,” he defends with a worried tone.

  My heart softens a little and my eyes look down to Sadie. “Sorry,” I sheepishly apologize.

  “Get your sexy ass in here and I’ll forget all about it, beautiful,” he says lightheartedly.

  “But, I’m enjoying the view,” I contend playfully, happy to see he’s not mad at my assumption.

  “There’s a better view in here, beautiful,” he states, reaching his free hand forward.

  Eager for a comparison view, I enter the shower.

  Joe and I take our time, exploring each other’s body, winding each other up without allowing for release as we wash. Our borderline tantric foreplay, with the use of mostly our hands, takes longer than I expect, causing the hot water to run out. We dry off — okay, I dry off and Joe just helps me, before leading me back to bed.

  He scoops me up and lowers me, launching his mouth to my sex. Just the whip of his tongue over my clit has me on the constant edge of a climax and I know he can tell by the way I’m moaning. Without warning, Joe gets up and heads into my closet.

  “What are you doing?” I check, propping myself up on my elbows.

  “Nothing,” he replies, rounding the corner of the door.

  My eyes soak up the complete and utter sexiness of Joe Covelli as he stands there naked with his cock at full mast. It takes until he’s hovering over me to register that he has moved and my hands are above my head, tied with the same scarf I used to tie him up. My mouth hangs wide open in shock, unable to utter a word. By the time my throat eeks out a sound, Joe’s mouth has returned to my folds and my arms can’t move since he yanked my body down the bed low enough to take in any slack. My brain shuts off as delirium kicks back in, overriding
any and all logic. The orgasm cracks inside me, delivering the sweet rapture that my body has come to know from the workings of Joe.

  As my body violently convulses from the rush, Joe checks, “More?”

  “Yes,” I barely reply, panting.

  My arms tug at their confines as I watch him roll to the side and guide the condom on. Moisture forms in my mouth and between my legs at the same time, excited for the pleasure that is to come.

  “Ready?” Joe asks with a grin.

  My legs part wider and my teeth clench down on my bottom lip.

  “It’s my turn to bite that lip,” Joe informs.

  When his mouth is a foot away, my mouth opens, eager to comply. Joe slowly dives his tongue in and mine is happy to greet it. He kisses me deeply several times, tugging on my bottom lip ever so gently when he pulls away. I bite my arm, letting out a moan of approval when he repeats the very same act on my sex several times.

  Joe’s mouth creeps back up my body, spending a little time on each of my nipples. I gasp when his teeth clench down on my left nipple and his cock enters my soaked cave. He takes his time with each thrust, like he’s making sure we each feel every little sensation when he fills me all the way, as he pulls out, and then pushes back in.

  “Fuck me,” I beg.

  “No,” Joe declines, staring into my eyes. “But, I will make you cum . . . hard.”

  “Please,” I whimper as my eyes roll back into my head.

  “Please what?” he searches. “Please fuck you or please make you cum.”

  “Both,” I admit.

  Joe chuckles into my neck, nipping my ear. “You only get one of those tonight, beautiful.”

  “Please,” I whine.

  Joe ignores my request, continuing his leisurely pace.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “No,” he chuckles.

  “Please . . . fuck me,” I request in-between breaths as the buildup continues.

  Joe stares into my eyes, steadying me with his right hand grasping the nape of my neck as his left firmly grips my ass. “I don’t plan on fucking you, Emma.”

  I groan my disappointment.

  “But, I do plan on making you cum until you beg me to stop,” he reveals, “. . . until you’re so sensitive you can’t take anymore.”

  His confession sparks something in me and the orgasm arrives with a sweet, gradual release with the intensity of a volcano exploding. Joe’s mouth returns to mine, not letting me fully catch my breath as I come down from the sensation. He shifts my pelvis and moments later, the next release bursts through like a geyser — equally powerful as the first, but lingers longer in my veins.

  Joe slows his pace, finally allowing me a chance to breathe. My arms forcefully tug at the restraints, desperate to touch him. The next thing I know, Joe has rolled us and I’m on top. He sits up, pressing into my body to force my arms to straighten, not giving me any chance to break free.

  “Please,” I beg, yanking at my arms. “I want to feel you.”

  Joe pulls my hips down at the same time he thrusts up. “I know you can feel that,” he states after I whimper from the pleasure.

  “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?”

  Biting my lip, my head bows when I say, “I’ve gotten excited at the idea a few times . . . .”

  “With me?”

  “Yes,” my voice shakes.

  “Really?” he says, sounding a little more eager to talk.

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  We lay looking at each other for a few minutes not sure what to say.

  “So,” I begin. “You’re not opposed to the position . . . just the name?”

  “The name mostly. . .” he verifies, “. . . but, even the position bothers me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve seen some porn where the women look like they’re in pain,” he says.

  “I’ve seen some where the women look like they thoroughly enjoy it,” I gently counter.

  “You’ve watched porn?” he questions, shocked by my admittance.

  “We aren’t discussing that right now, but yes.”

  I can see the questions and desire flooding his brain by the look on his face.

  “So, if I’m willing to try, are you?” I ask nervously. I still see some contention in his face and an idea pops into my head. “What if we call it something else instead of doggy style?”

  “What?” he chuckles.

  “What if we call it . . . bunny style,” I giggle.

  “Bunny style?” Joe repeats with a smirk.

  “Yeah,” I support. “Bunny style.” I laugh, saying it again.

  “So, you’ve watched porn?” he redirects the conversation.

  “Yes,” I proudly state. “Why?”

  “I’ve never heard of a woman watching porn. How often do you do it?” he peruses.

  “Many women watch it. That’s how Maggie and I got comfortable with the idea of doing it before we popped each other’s cherry,” I say nonchalantly. My hand clasps over my mouth, shocked by my willingness to reveal so much.

  Joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, astonished by my sharing before he nervously chuckles. “So, you two . . . .”

  “That’s not up for discussion until we’re done talking about bunny style,” I deflect.