I lower my left hand, and with a tormentingly slow speed, I pull up the hem of my dress. Just as the edge rounds the bottom of my ass cheeks, Joe lets out a moan as he jerks the phone away from his mouth. Instinctually, Joe reaches for me, but my left foot catches him in the chest. Wagging my finger at him, I mouth no touching and push him back into his seat. Joe growls with objection but complies.
I taunt him again, pulling my dress up inch by inch until my sex is completely revealed. I wait for a few seconds — watching him — baiting him. Joe raises his free hand to his mouth and bites down on one of his fingers. I unintentionally let out a moan of excitement, enjoying his anguish.
I raise my free hand to my mouth and begin to lick and suck my index finger from tip to base several times before dragging it down my chest all the way to my exposed folds. Joe’s teeth clamp down on his hand as I start to rub my clit. Round and round my fingers swirl as my heart races and throat softly celebrates the sensation. A moan cracks in my throat when I slide two of my fingers in, feeling the wet juice coating my soft, hot mounds. I glance at Joe as he shifts in his seat several times while I thrust my fingers in and out, taunting us both. His free hand is no longer locked in his jaw. It’s now gripping the chair’s armrest just below my foot.
I whimper when I pull my fingers from my needing pussy and lift them to my hungry mouth. I can’t help but groan as I greedily suck every drop off my flesh. Before I finish drinking up my sweet nectar, Joe’s hand grips my leg by the ankle. As his hand begins to slide up, I press my other foot to his chest, shaking my head in disappointment.
Joe quickly releases me, but he’s too late. I lower my legs to the floor, cutting us both off from the pleasure. Locking his freehand on the armrest with my weight, I straddle him and whisper, “No touching. Not until I tell you you can. If you touch me again without permission, I will tie you to this chair and you will not like the consequences.”
With my face only a few inches from his, Joe nods his understanding.
Smiling, I reply, “Good. Oh, and you are not allowed to end the phone conversation. You must stay on the phone until the other person hangs up first.”
Joe nods his agreement.
With my right hand, I start to loosen his tie. If I do have to tie him up, I’ll need something to use. Once the tie is released from his neck, I fold it in half and place it between my teeth and then continue to unbutton his shirt all the way down to the last one above his pant line. With my eyes on Joe, I unbuckle his belt. Once I’ve managed to get it free, I place it and his tie on the desk behind me. My left hand returns to his right, not taking any chances of him unconsciously touching me as my lips pursue his neck. I kiss, lick and nip at his flesh. Each time I am rewarded with a low groan in his throat. My right hand pulls down his undershirt, exposing more skin for me to taste. My mouth trails back up his neck, then to his jaw and it hovers an inch or two away from his lips. I tease him three times before I capture his lower lip gently between my teeth.
In a flash, I’m off of him, ready for my next pursuit. As I unzip my dress, I study Joe. He’s not pleased that I’m not touching him at the moment, but he is enjoying the game. After I let my dress drop to the floor, I remove my bra, leaving me wearing nothing but my Jimmy Choo shoes.
Joe shifts again in his seat. I can see the torment in his eyes. He desperately wants to touch me.
I lift a finger to my mouth, gesturing for him to stay quiet as I cautiously drop to my knees. Joe’s eyes widen with anticipation and curiosity. Carefully unbuttoning his pants, I slowly guide the zipper down until it can’t go any further. I can see his penis throbbing, begging to be released from its clothed cage. With a simple tug of cloth, his erection springs up. In one single, quick motion my mouth encases his swollen manhood and Joe lets out a loud, guttural sound before I see his hand clasp over his mouth.
I smile with amusement at my triumphant success. This is exactly what I wanted from him. Working his shaft from base to tip, I tease and taunt Joe with every lick. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grip the armrest of his chair as I thrust him deep inside my mouth over and over again. It doesn’t take him long before he’s so hard that he’s ready to explode.
“Shit, Emma!” Joe says through his clenched jaw. Only a few thrusts more and he cums deep in my throat.
Before I get to finish swallowing every last drop of him, Joe’s hands are on either side of my face and his mouth is greedily exploring mine to get a taste. He growls his satisfaction as his tongue curls with mine.
“What about . . .” I begin, pulling away, concerned about being heard.
“He ended the phone conversation a few seconds before you had me cumming,” Joe answers before kissing me again. “Does this count as touching? Or are you going to tie me up?”
“No . . . you’re good,” I say, continuing our embrace.
“Looks like I should disobey next time, just to get you to tie me up,” he wickedly comments.
“If you’d like,” I reply seeking more of his mouth.
Two seconds later, Joe has me sitting on the edge of his desk, ferociously kissing me as he yanks off the rest of his clothing. I gasp with pleasure when I suddenly feel two of his fingers slide inside me.
“God . . . you are so wet,” he remarks pushing his fingers deeper. “Now it’s your turn to cum.”
“Mmmmm . . .” I moan on an exhale. “I want you inside me.”
“Soon, beautiful. Soon,” he reassures.
“I . . .” my mouth utters after a few more thrusts. “More . . . .”
“More what?” he searches.
“Fingers,” I breathe out.
We both groan as he presses more of his hand inside of me.
“Right there,” I command after he changes position and hits a very sensitive spot.
“There?” he confirms, repeating the lunge of his fingers.
“Uhhhhh . . . mmmm . . . uhh huh . . .” I barely eek out as my body focuses on the sensation of getting closer to an orgasm. “Don’t . . . stop.”
My hips rock in the opposite direction to his hand diving in, ensuring maximum penetration.
“Cum for me, beautiful,” he directs.
“Yes . . .” I pant.
“Cum for me.”
“Yes . . . I . . . mmmmmmm . . . .” The rush of the climax engulfs my entire body. “I’m . . . .” The orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave. My fingers curl into the back of his neck and the edge of the desk for support. My body spasms as I ride the roller coaster of satisfaction back down.
“That’s it,” he sinfully comments as my torso convulses from the remnants of the pleasure that flows through me.
Joe sweetly kisses me as my breathing slows.
“Fuck me!” I command, pushing him back so I can shift to a different position.
I turn around, spread my legs, and prop myself over the desk with my elbows. The desperate need to feel him inside me is intense.
“Fuck me . . .” I whimper.
Once the condom is on, Joe steadies me with his right hand on my hip and the other guides the tip of his penis to my wet, swollen sex. He teases me, dipping just a small amount of his head past the threshold of my opening.
I moan from the sensation and at the anticipation of being filled by him. “Fuck me!” I shout, reaching back and grabbing his side. My hand yanks him forward and I whimper with rapture when his rock hard penis penetrates me entirely. “More,” I coax, pulling at him again.
With both hands on my hips, Joe holds us in place, repositioning my waist a few inches back from the edge of the desk. As he regains his momentum, I feel the heat from his hand as it sweeps under and find my clitoris, circling it with deliberate strokes. Using my arms to steady myself, I press back into his oncoming body, matching him stride for stride. Moaning uncontrollably, my body riles as Joe thrusts inside, bringing me closer to release.
“Don’t . . . stop,” I direct him, hardly able to mutter the words. “Yes . . . yes . . . .” My panting can barel
y bring in enough oxygen to my lungs as I sharply gasp, sucking in air that pains my chest as my orgasm explodes. “Mmmmmm . . . ” I let out as my cave becomes as slick as an oil field.
“Emma . . .” Joe mumbles as he grips my shoulder and thrusts in as deep as he can go.
“Don’t . . . stop,” I instruct, so close to another climax. “I’m going to . . .” I begin before a wail of a moan leaves my throat from the onslaught of another, more intense orgasm.
“Emma,” Joe cries.
Within about five more strokes, Joe collapses his body over mine, wrapping his arms around my ribs and rocks his forehead between my shoulder blades. After several gentle kisses, Joe groans as he removes himself from me. Unable to move, I stay in place as I hear him head to the half bath that is connected to the office. A warm, wet sensation cleans my sex. Once he’s done cleaning himself, Joe sweeps me up and lowers us to his chair. My head rests on his shoulder and my legs drape over the armrest as Joe leisurely skims his fingers up and down my thigh.
“That was hot. You’re hot,” he hums.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, soaking in each other.
Joe’s lips trail softly along my cheek, but when I turn to give him easier access to my neck, my eyes catch something on his computer screen. “Where did you get that?” I ask, surprised to see the few pictures that have revealed themselves.
“What?” Joe replies, keeping his face attached to my neck.
“Those,” I answer, shifting in his lap and leaning forward to the computer screen. “How the fuck did you get them?” My voice goes up about an octave.
“What?” Joe returns, leaning into me. “Oh . . . those.”
“Yes, those,” I state, getting up and reaching for my underwear.
“I got them awhile ago. The day I came over and Mia was there. You had just gotten the photo books for Maggie, Henry, and the family. Why?” he says.
“Why?” I snap, stepping into my dress. “Because, I never gave them to anyone.”
Joe puts on his boxer briefs. “What’s the big deal?”
I don’t answer as I finish getting dressed, mad at how he’s had the candid photos of us from Maggie’s and Henry’s wedding all this time — the ones I haven’t shown to anyone.
“Emma,” Joe calls. “Why are you mad?”
My gaze jumps to his face, but I refrain from commenting.
“Emma, talk to me,” Joe requests, taking a hold of my arm.
I yank away, continuing to give him the silent treatment. The funny thing is, is that I’m not really mad at him for having them, sneaking copies for himself behind my back. I’m mad at myself for not being mad — does that even make sense?
“Emma,” Joe says sternly, almost on the edge of it being that authoritative tone that turns me on. He blocks me from moving. “Talk to me. Yell at me. I don’t care which one. I know you’re mad.”
“No,” I snap, pulling away, but he holds onto me firmly.
“We talk about everything, except if it’s about us,” he adds.
“Joe,” I sigh.
“We never argue, Emma,” Joe presents. “You get mad and walk away.”
“Joe,” I plea.
“Tell me how it makes you feel,” he presses.
I don’t say anything.
“You’re not going anywhere until we talk about it,” he charges.
“Let it be, Joe,” I direct.
“I can’t,” he replies.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because, why?” I press.
“Because, I need to know what you’re thinking . . . what you’re feeling. Usually, I can guess, but I can’t on this one and I’m not about to let you walk out the door without giving me something. I’m not letting you walk out on me, not again,” he presents.
“I don’t know what to say,” I return as a lump forms in my throat.
I wouldn’t be walking out on him — not like that — not like Christmas. I just need some time to think.
“Try,” he coaxes. “Something. Anything.” He waits patiently.
My head shakes and words fail to form in my mouth.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Joe offers.
“I’m not scared,” I reply.
“Then, why can’t you talk to me about it?”
I don’t say anything.
How am I supposed to talk to him about it when I don’t even understand it. I’ve never been good with my emotions.
“Emma, please,” he begs. Joe tugs me gently to follow him. He positions me to sit on the edge of his desk as he lowers himself in his chair. His warm hands gently but firmly hold onto my thighs.
“I’m . . . mad,” I state calmly after a few seconds.
“Mad is to be expected,” he replies.
“Not . . . not at you,” I continue.
Joe’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I’m mad that I’m not mad at you,” I explain. “I know that doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” he soothes. “It does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I challenge. “I don’t get it. Why aren’t I mad at you?”
Joe chuckles. “I don’t know,” he says with a cocky grin.
“That’s not helping,” I state, crossing my arms in front of me.
“Sorry, beautiful,” he laughs. “Please, continue.”
“This is weird and new for me,” I remind.
“Talk to me like I’m Jared or Maggie,” he suggests. “What would you say to them?”
“How are you not mad right now?” I ask in the hopes of evading expression of my own feelings.
“Because,” he starts. “There isn’t anything you do that really makes me mad . . . other than not talking to me . . . which I get mad at the situation rather than you because I know that it’s challenging for you . . . and, you’re talking to me right now. At least, you’re trying to.”
My body fidgets as I try to explain, but I’m left with nothing and offer a pleading expression.
“Are you mad that I have them?” Joe checks.
“Yes . . . and no, not really,” I answer.
He nods. “Are you mad that I found them and didn’t tell you?”
“A little,” I huff. “I’m mad at myself since I’m not really mad at you. I don’t understand why I’m not mad at you.” My head jerks up from a thought that pops into my head. “Has anyone seen them?”
“No,” he reassures.
“Are you sure?” I check. “Jimmy, Allen, your dad or mom could have used your office at some point and saw them.”
“The only person who may have seen them, other than me and you, would be Anna when she’s cleaning,” he states. “Anytime I knew someone would be here, prior to us coming out to our friends and family, I changed the screensaver.”
My lips purse and my head bobs.
“Would it matter if someone saw them now?” he checks.
“As in who?” I ask nervously.
“As in our friends and family?” he answers with a chuckle.
“No,” I comment. “I guess not. Not since we’re a . . . couple.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“What?”
“Did you hide them because you didn’t want people to see them?” he inquires.
My shoulders shrug.
“I know from a number of those photos that they give away . . . .”
“No,” I cut him off. “They don’t give away anything.”
I know they do, but I don’t want to admit it.
Joe tilts his head to the side and raises a brow in disbelief to my comment.
“Okay, fine,” I huff. “Yes. Happy?”
“Thank you,” he says sweetly.
“For what?”
“For being honest with me,” he answers. “For trusting me. For letting me in. I know it’s not easy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, trying to brush it off.
Joe stands up, continuing to hold my hand as he mov
es closer. “How about some lunch?”
“Okay,” I sigh. “But, Anna’s not here.”
“Good,” he states with a smile. “Maybe it’s time to break-in the kitchen.”
“Depends on how good lunch is,” I return with a smirk.
Joe steps more into my body, pressing himself firmly against me. His cock pulses against my belly. Is he still hard from before, or is he getting aroused again? He proceeds to kiss me — my mouth — my neck. I’m instantly lost within his arms and I suddenly don’t care about the photos, more happy with the thought he’s had them this long and wanted them too.
One Hundred Thirteen
The next couple of days I’m doing research online about either what company to consider investing in or starting, but nothing comes to mind. Most days, Joe and I are together and we’re able to discuss a variety of options even though we get distracted from time to time and end up getting naked.
Last night, Joe stayed at my place since we’ve spent the past couple of nights at his penthouse.
“Come back to bed, beautiful,” Joe groans, rolling over onto his back.
“I can’t,” I reply, putting on the rest of my workout clothes.
“Please,” he begs, reaching for me.
“No,” I return flatly while trying to hide a smile.
“Pleeeeeeease,” he repeats, pulling me on top of him and rolling us so I’m underneath.
I peck him on the lips. “No.”
Joe takes my mouth with his, in an attempt to sway me. “Why not?” he complains.
“I have things I need to get done,” I answer.
“Things. What things? What’s more important than doing me right now?” he asks, sucking on my neck.
“I don’t have time,” I counter, doing my best to not be persuaded by his sexiness. “The New Year is almost here and I have some prepping to do. Besides, Sadie needs to be fed and taken out.”
Joe blows raspberries onto my skin, causing me to laugh and squirm. “Just give me a key to your place then.”
“What?” I ask in a serious tone.
“For Anna to come and take care of Sadie when I stay,” he explains.
“No,” I argue. “She does enough by taking care of Sadie when I’m at your place. I’m not expecting her to come here on the days you stay over.”
Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set) Page 104
