Just Breathe Trilogy Box Set (110 page)

“What?” I press.

“I’m just happy,” he shares.

“Happy about what?” I investigate.

“Happy about us. About you . . . you just opened up to me more . . . and from the sound of it, you don’t realize it,” he explains.

“How?”

“With what you just said,” he states.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing . . . and yet, everything.” He holds me tighter to his body. “Thank you . . . and, I love you.”

I moan only at the use of those words again because he’s starting to say them too freely.

Joe laughs as if he knows why I’m groaning. “How about we head inside in a few minutes?”

“Sure,” I agree. “But, I thought you wanted to stay away from . . . you know . . . the noises.”

“I do,” Joe laughs. “But . . . I also want to make our own noises.”

“Oh, really?” I giggle.

“Yep,” he confirms, kissing me.

“What kind of noises?”

“The good kind . . . where you’re moaning my name and begging for more,” he reveals.

“Hmmm . . .” I reply, standing up.

“What?” Joe inquires, shifting in the chair.

“I think we can do that . . .” I say, moving for the door. “But first, you have to catch me.”

Several weeks later, as we’re lounging in Joe's bed, he calls to me with his sexy voice, “Hey, beautiful.” He places his book down and slides closer to me on his bed.

“What do you want?” I muse.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Why?”

“Yes, you do. Spill it,” I return with a smirk.

Anytime Joe wants something, he uses the sexy voice outside of our
playtime
— which we just finished about twenty minutes ago.

“I was just thinking . . .” he begins, grazing my thigh with his finger.

“Uh-oh,” I goad.

“Watch it, beautiful,” Joe commands. “I’ll spank you for that.”

“Well, I do hope so,” I tease.

“Like I was saying,” he continues, ignoring my playfulness. “I was thinking, and just realized, that you don’t have a pet name for me.”

“A pet name?” I question with a chuckle.

“Yes, a pet name. You know, like a term of endearment,” he clarifies.

“What do you mean?” I inquire, pretending to be more interested in reading my book.

“I mean,” he says, inching closer and kissing my shoulder. “I call you beautiful instead of your first name most of the time, but you don’t call me anything other than Joe.”

“Yes, I do,” I challenge with a grin.

“You do?” Joe speculates.

“Yes,” I confirm with a giggle. “I call you Joseph.”

“That’s only when I’m in trouble, and those times are still debatable, which don’t occur that often,” Joe mentions.

“Sure it does,” I answer smugly.

“It doesn’t count . . . it’s still my name,” Joe rebuts. “So, pick one.”

“What? No,” I laugh.

“Yes,” Joe insists, pressing down on my leg, just above my knee on my ticklish spot.

“No,” I repeat, jerking my leg away.

We go back and forth with our debate, ultimately only repeating the words
yes
and
no
several times while Joe continues to tickle me into submission. Then, he tries to persuade me with other means — his mouth. Suddenly, Joe shifts in bed and resumes reading his book.

“What the hell was that?” I question, shocked by his sudden change of behavior.

“Pick a pet name. When you do, you can have me,” Joe commands calmly.

“Are you trying to use sex to get your way?” I inquire, shocked at his attempt.

“Yes,” he answers confidently.

“You remember what happened last time?” I ask.

“Yes,” Joe confirms, keeping his eyes on his book.

“You lost,” I remind.

“Not this time, beautiful,” Joe replies with a poised smile while keeping his eyes fixed on his book.

Two seconds later, I’m kneeling over his body, inching my way closer. I lean in to kiss him, but Joe turns his head. I try again, but he looks the other way.

“Do you mind,” he says flatly while resisting the urge to smirk. “I’m trying to read.”

Confident myself, I dance the edges of my tank-top up and over my head, tossing it to the floor.

Joe looks up at my breasts. He gazes at them for several seconds and then looks to my face. Joe smiles sweetly before returning his attention to his book.

“Joooooe,” I call, pressing my body into him more. “Joooooe.”

With a grin, Joe puts his book down, grabs me by the hips and moves me off of his lap and back onto my side of the bed. “I’d really like to finish this chapter before bed.” He gets up, kisses the top of my head and moves to the bathroom. “Love you,” he says over his shoulder.

Seriously? He’s not going to win without a fight!

I’m quick to follow him, removing my underwear so he can take in the sight of me through the mirror. He walks by me with something in his hand. Kissing my cheek, Joe steps by me as if it’s nothing. My body remains frozen in the doorway for a few seconds before it’s able to turn. I did hear some noise behind me, but by the time I’m facing the bedroom, Joe is sliding back on the bed.

“Fine,” I say. “If you won’t budge, I have other methods for satisfaction. My body spins, heading back into the bathroom. “Hey!” I shout when I discover that the bag that B.O.B. and his friends reside in are missing.

I hear a soft chuckle enter the bathroom.

“Where’s B.O.B. and his friends?” I question speculatively.

“They’re . . .
safe
,” Joe comments.

“Safe?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“What do you mean by
safe
?” I ask, standing at the edge of the bed with my hands on my hips.

“
Safe
. . .” he muses. “Secure. Sleeping for the night.”

“What? Why?” I challenge.

“For collateral reasons . . . until I get what I want,” he states.

“B.O.B. and his friends are not collateral,” I argue. Completely unamused by the situation, I put my tank-top and underwear back on and then march into Joe’s closet to where I know his safe is located. I stare at it, trying to figure out what type of combination. How many numbers are needed to crack it open and what those numbers may be?

“You won’t figure it out,” Joe announces, scaring the crap out of me.

I turn my head to look at him standing in the doorway. “Wanna bet?” I challenge.

I put in our birthdate, but nothing happens. I should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. Next, my fingers type in our birthdate, but with last year being the last two numbers rather than our actual birth year — wrong again.

“You’re right on one account, beautiful,” Joe laughs, leaning against the wall. “It
is
a six digit combination.”

Focus, Emma. Focus. Breathe, Emma. Just Breathe. You can figure this out. What event would Joe have as his combination? One that most people wouldn’t know, pay attention to or think it could be — and wouldn’t be as obvious as a detail to most? Think, Emma. Think.

My fingers punch in the numbers of what I can remember when we had our first kiss. I don’t remember the exact date, but it was a few days before our Hawaii trip which makes it easier to guess the approximate dates. None of the four tries I punch in are correct. Then, I attempt the date of Nathan’s fashion show, thinking that that day, a day of us coming out to our friends would be it. Nope. Wrong again. I try Valentine’s Day since that’s when Joe told me he loved me and because I didn’t freak out and flee.

“Want a clue?” Joe asks deviously.

“No,” I rebut. “Besides, how would I know if you’d be telling me the truth.”

“Good point,” he replies with a laugh.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I remark.

“Are you really that horny?” Joe inspects, moving away from the wall and standing behind me. His hands caress my body in all the right places.

Despite his intent to torture me, I notice his arousal too.

“Looks like someone wants to play,” I comment, rubbing my ass against his cock more firmly.

“I never said I didn’t,” Joe answers.

“So, why torture yourself?” I search.

“Because, I know you’ll give in,” he hums into my neck.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. What was the date? It would be easier to remember because it was a holiday — a celebration. As Joe works to distract me, my finger punches in the last and final set of numbers it could be that I can think of.

One single beep makes Joe stop dead in his tracks. I got it. It was the day we first met — the Chinese New Year.

“Shit,” Joe exclaims, reaching into the safe faster than I can get it open. He yanks out my bag that is the home for B.O.B. and his friends.

I can’t help but giggle. Joe rarely curses — outside of sex, that is.

Oddly, my attention gets drawn to the other objects he has in the safe, wanting to know a little more about him. What would a man have in his safe anyway? A signed baseball from a game when he was a child? Dirty pictures? Odd trinkets that hold a significant memory to a time in his childhood?

I’m about to reach my hand in to inspect the first item, an envelope when I realize that Joe is no longer in the closet with me. Where did he go? Does he seriously trust me enough to not snoop while he’s not standing here?

“Joe?” I call nervously.

“Yes, beautiful?” he returns, rushing back to me.

“Where did you take B.O.B.?” I investigate.

“Nowhere,” he replies slyly.

I study him for a moment and decide that I can always find B.O.B. after I’m done exploring a part of him I’ve never seen before. My head turns back to the safe and my eyes focus on what it registers which is primarily only a few simple items. Several stacks of cash that are bound with a single strip of paper in the middle — most likely sets of a thousand dollars per stack. He probably has close to ten thousand dollars in here. A passport. A passport card. His birth certificate, a few pictures of us with Sadie and an envelope that has a little bulge to it.

Joe just stands there as I pick up each item aside from the money. When I move to grab the envelope, he quickly snatches my wrist, immediately pulling it back as he closes the door to the safe with his other hand.

“Hey,” I huff. “What’s in there?”

“What’s in where?” Joe feigns.

“In the envelope?” I press.

“Nothing?” he says, avoiding the question.

“Joseph?”

“Emma.”

“Joseph.”

“Emma,” he repeats, hoisting me up and carrying me back to bed, smacking my ass once as we enter the bedroom. Joe doesn’t say anything else as he settles back into reading.

“Where’s B.O.B. and his friends?” I explore.

“They’re safe,” he states, kissing my temple. “Don’t you worry.”

“Safe?” I speculate.

“Yes,” he verifies with a smile.

If Joe is using the word
safe
like he did the last time, that means he has another safe in the house. Where would it be?

I jump out of the bed and head out into the hallway. Joe’s laughter faintly follows me until I’m around the first corner. My bare feet walk casually towards the room I have in mind as the cool marble floor greets them. Standing in the doorway to Joe’s office with Sadie standing next to me, watching my every move, I glance around, trying to figure out where the safe is located.

His other safe takes a little time to find. It’s not in the desk or out in the open on the bookshelf or its lower section that has doors. There aren’t many pieces of furniture in the room beyond his desk, a few lamps and a sitting area that has a pullout couch he’s slept on and two leather seats. My only guess is that it’s behind one of the pieces of art that hang on the walls.

“You’re warm,” Joe chuckles. “I knew you’d figure out that I have another one.”

I’m directly in the middle of two paintings, so I take a step to the left.

“Ooo,” Joe breathes. “Colder.”

My feet step to the right.

“Warmer,” he announces.

I pull back on the left side of the painting and it moves fairly easily and without any odd weight to it as it swings away from the wall. Disappointment sets in when I notice that this safe is much larger and requires a fingerprint to open it — probably after the numbers are punched in.

“I’ve got what you want . . . what you need, beautiful,” Joe hums as his lips tease my neck. His hands glide down my breasts to my sex. “I’d be happy to give you what you want . . . what you need.”

“Really?” I check.

“Really,” he affirms. “Just pick one name and I’m all yours.”

“No strings attached?” I inquire, spinning to face him.

“Nope,” he confirms.

My hands dive down his sweatpants, gathering a fist full of his half-erect cock. My mouth takes his with force, hoping to sway him with my body.

Joe obliges the kisses, pressing himself into me as his tongue slips into my mouth. His hands run down my arms, tickling my skin as he groans satisfaction at my pursuit. Just as I think he’s about to pull his pants away from his hips for them the fall to the ground, Joe captures my wrists and pins me to the wall.

“Nice try,” he comments, returning his tongue to dance with mine.

“Please,” I whimper, knowing that he thoroughly enjoys the sounds I make for him.

Joe’s head gently shakes before he utters the word, “No.”

“I want you,” I profess.

“I want you,” he returns.

“Then, fuck me,” I moan when his mouth tastes my neck.

“No,” he argues, nipping at me.

“Pleeeeease,” I beg.

“No.” His words say one thing, but his body tells me another.

“Please, boyfriend,” I humor.

Joe’s head snaps back. “Seriously?” he laughs.

My shoulders shrug — it’s worth a shot.

“That doesn’t count,” he states. His mouth returns to my neck, trailing down toward the edge of my shirt before he abruptly spins me around and holds me against the wall with his body.

“Please,” I beg, dancing my ass against his fully erect cock.

Joe’s hand delivers a delicious sting to my left butt cheek. “No, beautiful.” He keeps my arms pinned above my head as his free hand fondles my sex over my underwear.

“Please,” I whimper.

“No,” he answers.

A yelp escapes my mouth when his hand hits me again.

“Tell me, or else I just might tie you up and leave you like that all night.”

“Please,” I moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jooooooe,” I groan.

Suddenly, Joe’s body is removed from mine. “No,” he presents calmly, standing back and perching himself on the edge of his desk.

My eyes trail down the length of his body and rest on his groin. “Why not?” I whine.

“You know why,
beautiful
,” he says, enunciating his last word. “When you’re ready, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

My mouth is left wide open as I watch him leave the office. I’m not sure how long I stand there, but at some point, I make my way back to his bedroom alone — Sadie decided to join him rather than stay with me.

I try to read, but I’m too turned on. Hoping that I can bug him, I purposefully do things to distract Joe while he’s reading — no success other than a few chuckles. My need becomes unbearable, so I begin to touch myself when I know he’s not going to bother to help. My left hand slithers down my chest, over my belly and slides under my bottoms. A moan releases from my throat the moment my fingers come in contact with the top edge of my lips. My other hand goes under my shirt and squeezes my right nipple.