Untouchable (Unexpected Love Book 1)

by Isabel Love

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

  He reaches behind me, touches the clasp of my bra, and looks at me for permission before unclasping it. I nod shakily. He undoes the clasp and my bra loosens, falling forward. My breasts feel heavy, achy, and they sway softly as he pulls the straps down my arms and off of my body. His jaw clenches as he looks at my nipples. I wish I were the kind of woman that could pull off dirty talk, but I can barely keep myself standing, let alone come up with some suave command to ask him to lick my nipples.

  The sound of my breathing ratchets up and fills the quiet room. My breasts move up and down with each breath I take, and I need him to touch them.

  I think he’s a mind reader because he does just that. He kneels down and this puts him at eye level with my chest. My hands hold on to the edge of the island behind me and I arch forward, silently telling him what I need. Warm hands start to caress me with feather-light touches. More. I need more.

  His hands mold to my breasts, as if he is a blind man trying to get a picture of their shape in his mind. Then he lifts them up, weighing them. Oh, God. His thumb and forefinger end up at my nipple and he pinches them suddenly. I gasp, startled by the sensation. My nipples are directly connected to my clit, and with each pinch and pull of my nipples, my center starts to throb and ache.

  The attention to my chest is no longer enough. My thighs shift, trying to soothe the ache between my legs. My pants, I think. Take my pants off!

  Instead of reaching for my pants, he licks one nipple. Mmmmm. He works it with his tongue, long swipes followed by nips and bites with his teeth while he continues to play with my other nipple with his fingers. I’m bombarded by sensation and my legs begin to quiver. He shifts across, licking the other nipple with his tongue and rolling the wet nipple with his fingers.

  “Oh, God,” I gasp.

  He pulls off my chest with a loud pop and looks up at me.

  “Can I take your pants off, Monica?” Fucking hell, does he have to ask?

  “Yes.” It’s barely audible. I’m breathing so loud and so fast I may hyperventilate. Later I can be embarrassed about how turned on I am; right now, I need relief. There is no room for embarrassment.

  He reaches down and takes off my shoes first. Then he undoes the button of my pants and pulls the zipper down, the sound loud and erotic. Grabbing both my pants and underwear at the same time, he rids me of the last articles of clothing I had on.

  I am now completely naked. In my kitchen. With Max Spencer.

  Who is fully clothed and staring at my naked body.

  Somehow this makes me even hotter.

  “Christ, Monica. I could come just from looking at you. You are a goddess.”

  I actually whimper. He picks me up and sets me on the island.

  “Lie down,” he instructs. I do as he says and my back meets the cold granite. I’m so hot, though, and it feels good. It’s a relief to lie back, my legs too shaky to hold me up. One large hand rests on my stomach as the other dips down into my pussy. The sound of his finger sliding through my wetness is more than erotic; it’s obscene.

  “Is this for me?” he asks. I hope he doesn’t want an answer because I have no words.

  My entire world is reduced to the feeling of his finger gliding through my wetness, finding my clit, and flicking it. “Ahhh,” I cry out, squirming. My clit is so sensitive, I want him to touch it, but not too much.

  “Too much?” he asks. I nod and sigh as he moves his finger down to trace my opening. Fucking hell. He is looking down, watching as he plays with me.

  “I need to taste you.” His bright blue eyes blaze with desperation. He really wants to.

  I nod jerkily.

  At this, he spreads my legs wide open, placing my feet on the edge of the counter, exposing me further to his gaze. I feel like I’m on display. Vulnerable. I’m reminded of my dream, when he just looked at my most intimate parts.

  I feel myself become even wetter from the intensity of his stare. My core clenches, wanting relief. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if the sight of me bared to him is too much. When he opens his eyes again, he tells me, “You have the prettiest pussy.”

  Holy fuck. My dream is coming true and reality is way hotter than I ever could have guessed. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my entire life.

  He pulls up a bar stool right in front of me as if getting ready to sit down for a meal. I close my eyes and try not to think too hard about this. Oral sex is so intimate, and not too many of my previous sex partners have enjoyed giving, so it isn’t something I’ve gotten completely comfortable with. What if it smells bad down there? Shit, we danced all night and I was so sweaty—it has to smell bad down there. Plus, I didn’t shave my pubic hair. What if he gets hair in his mouth? I should have showered—and where the hell are we? In my kitchen? I’ll need to sanitize the counter when we’re done. We should stop—

  The swipe of his wet tongue interrupts my thoughts. I can’t control the moan that escapes me.

  “Fuck, Monica,” he groans. His strong hands push my thighs wider apart and I feel his breath as he leans forward to lick me again. His tongue is flat, delivering broad swipes from my opening to my clit, making my head spin with sensation. I buck in response, my nerve endings firing.

  “Look at me, sweetheart. Look at what I’m doing to you,” he instructs.

  I prop myself up on my elbows so I can see. The image that greets me is enough fuel for all future masturbation sessions. My thighs frame this sexy man, and his hair is so dark in the dim light of my kitchen, but not his eyes. They are so blue around his dilated pupils. His face is tight with lust, gleaming wet from my arousal. Oh, God. He is covered in me, and he looks ravenous.

  He holds my gaze as he licks me again and my head wants to fall back, but I’m transfixed by what I’m seeing. I keep my eyes on him, watching him feast on me. Slow licks change into open-mouthed kisses, and soon he simply buries his face in my pussy, groaning his delight. My gaze snags on my nipples and I look down at my breasts. They fall to the sides a bit in this position, swaying with each breath. My nipples start to tingle, the tips harden, and I become distracted. I want his hands on them again.

  He notices what I’m looking at. “Touch them,” he tells me, his voice husky.

  My breath stutters. Me?

  “Pinch them. I want to see you touch yourself.”

  I hesitate. He stands up suddenly and leans over my body—with all his clothes still on. He closes one hand around each breast and brings them to his mouth, one at a time. He licks one, then the other, teasing the hard peaks. Fuck. Yes. The attention to my breasts makes my clit begin to throb. I wrap my legs around his waist and grind into him, seeking friction. I need to come, but his penis is trapped behind his pants and I can’t find the right angle.

  “I want you to touch your nipples while I make you come with my tongue, Monica.”

  That sounds like the best idea ever.

  He takes my hands and pulls them up to my nipples then goes back to devouring my pussy. My hesitation disappears and I play with my breasts, pinching, pulling, and rolling the tips around as I need more sensation. Yessss. My hips writhe back and forth uncontrollably.

  He touches my opening with two fingers and begins to pump them in and out of me as he tongues my clit.

  “Oh, God. Max.” I’m moaning. I’m groaning. I’m a pile of wanton desperation.

  I feel my orgasm approach and I chase after it, pinching my nipples hard. Max sucks on my clit and torques his fingers inside me, and the extra sensation is enough to push me over the edge. Pleasure slams into me and I close my eyes, not able to focus on anything but this feeling. My pussy spasms around his fingers. His tongue slows, soothing me down from my orgasm, caressing my stomach with his free hand. When I stop pulsing, he withdraws his fingers and gives me one more soft lick. I buck up, so sensitive from just coming.

  Oh. My.

  Max Spencer is a sex god.

  He stands up, wipes h
is mouth, and leans over me. “Monica, you are the sexiest woman I have ever seen.” His hands smooth my hair away from my face.

  I smile up at him and kiss him. He tastes like me, but I don’t care. The reminder of what he just did to me makes the kiss that much more intimate.

  The cloud of pleasure fades and the fact that he is still fully clothed begins to bother me. I want to see him. Touch him. I want to watch him lose control.

  “My turn.”

  Max

  My cock practically cries with relief at her statement. Watching Monica unravel, her own fingers playing with her tits, my tongue on her clit and my fingers buried in her pussy was the hottest fucking experience.

  She gets down off the island shakily and I steady her with my hands on her hips—her luscious, full hips. She takes my hand and pulls me down the hall to her bedroom. The surroundings don’t even register as I can’t take my eyes off of the naked goddess in front of me. She flicks on a lamp on her nightstand, illuminating the room with a dim light.

  “You are wearing way too many clothes,” she tells me. “I need to see you.”

  Not a problem. My clothes feel too restrictive right now, anyway. I strip, taking everything off. My cock bobs, jutting out in front of me as if trying to get closer to her. I stand still, making no move to touch her. She looks me over, starting at my head, then my chest, eyes lingering on my tattoos. Then she sees my cock and stares. My cock jerks from her attention and she gasps.

  Fuck.

  “Monica, you’re killing me here. Please, touch me.” Yes, I’m begging.

  She looks up at me, eyes glowing with desire, and pushes me back on the bed. I sit back, reaching out to position her in front of me. Her hands settle on my shoulders and move down my chest. I lean up to catch her lips in a kiss, but she backs away and I groan. Touch me.

  Her hands move down my stomach, feeling my abs. Leaning back on my hands, I give her full access to my body. She licks her lips and I can’t help but imagine those perfect, full lips wrapped around my cock.

  Shit.

  My cock jerks again at the thought and she chuckles.

  “It’s like he’s trying to get my attention,” she says.

  “He is,” I agree.

  She wraps one hand around my erection as she lowers herself to kneel in front of me. Fucking hell. I’ll be amazed if I last more than a few seconds.

  She gives it a tentative tug and I moan. This makes her smile.

  “You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?”

  Her cheeks pink at my statement. “I want to make you feel good, Max. Tell me what to do. How do you like this?”

  I wrap my hand around hers and guide it up and down, my grip stronger than hers. Her eyes widen at the sight of my hand helping her jerk me off, and I love that she’s turned on by watching this.

  Pre-come glistens at the tip. Before I realize what she’s about to do, she leans down and licks it off my cock.

  “Fuck, Monica.” I pant.

  She stares at my erection and leans down to lick it again, this time moving our hands out of the way and starting at the base. When she gets to the tip, she opens her mouth and sucks me in. My dick is surrounded by her wet mouth, her tongue lapping at the underside of my crown as if licking an ice cream cone.

  “Mmmm. Your mouth is amazing.” I stand up to get a better angle. Fuck. The view of her kneeling at my feet with my dick in her mouth and her eyes wide open, looking up at me is enough to make me come. I clench my fists and bite my lip to hold off my orgasm. I’m going to come and I don’t want to assume that she’s going to swallow. Her eyes are open, clouded with arousal, and she moans. The vibrations on my dick add another element of sensation.

  “Wait, Monica.” I don’t want to come just yet.

  She pulls back, leaving my dick wet with her saliva. Fucking hell. “What’s wrong?” she asks, worried.

  “Your mouth feels too good, baby. I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” She leans forward to lick my shaft again, and my cock jumps at her touch.

  “You want me to come in your mouth?” I clarify. If I get inside her mouth again, I won’t last.

  Hazel eyes meet mine and she nods. “I want to taste you, Max.”

  Damn.

  She guides my cock back into her mouth, moaning when I start to thrust gently. The tingle starts, announcing my impending orgasm. I struggle to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss one moment of this spectacular view. She takes me deeply and swallows. Oh, God. The back of her throat surrounds me with wet heat and I’m lost.

  “Monica, I—” I warn. She moans and nods, giving me permission again.

  I stop trying to hold back, thrusting my cock in her mouth again and again until the orgasm takes over. My cock erupts in her mouth and she swallows, but not fast enough. My come spills out, dripping down the sides of her face, and fuck if I don’t like the look of it. She continues to suck, pulling more spasms of pleasure out of me. Once she has licked me clean, I fall back on the bed, panting and sated.

  “Jesus, Monica. That was amazing,” I praise. She joins me on the bed, looking proud of herself. “Come here.” I grab a tissue from the nightstand to wipe off her face, then kiss her. We’re on our sides, facing each other, legs intertwined, chests touching. We’re skin to skin for the first time, and it feels amazing.

  I taste myself in our kiss, but I don’t care. It just reminds me that I was lucky enough to come in her mouth, and the memory makes me flush with heat. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, and she sighs. With cool sheets beneath me and Monica’s soft curves splayed over my body, I feel a deep sense of contentment.

  “Can I stay?” I ask her. I want to, but just the other day she was telling me she wanted to go slow. Tonight, I may have pushed her boundaries.

  I just can’t imagine getting up and leaving right now.

  “You can stay,” she whispers. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Be right back.” She gets out of bed and I watch her voluptuous backside bounce as she walks to the bathroom connected to her bedroom.

  It’s not until this very moment that my surroundings actually come into focus, and I look around at Monica’s bedroom. The sheer size of this room is impressive—my whole apartment might be able to fit in here. Rich, dark wooden furniture decorates the space, complete with a loveseat in the corner. The walls are decorated with beach-themed artwork; it’s too dark to make everything out, but I see waves and sand.

  The sounds of the toilet flushing and water running come from the bathroom and moments later, Monica steps back into the bedroom. She is still naked, and she seems less…comfortable in her skin, more aware of her nakedness. Her arms hug her midsection, and I can tell she isn’t sure if she should cover up or stay naked.

  I stand up and pull her into a hug. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure. I set a spare toothbrush on the counter.”

  Her bathroom is immaculate. Marble countertops gleam at me from a double vanity, a Jacuzzi tub is nestled in one corner, and a walk-in shower large enough for four people sits in the other corner. Where is the toilet? There are three doors in this bathroom. I try the one next to the Jacuzzi and find a walk-in closet. Door number two reveals a linen closet. Door number three is the winner, and I’m amazed that the toilet has its own separate room within the bathroom.

  The extravagant fixtures tell me what I already know: Monica Morgan is well off.

  I take a deep breath and let it out.

  That doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. She knows I’m a nurse. I know she’s a doctor, the fucking director—of course, she makes more money than I do. Still, I can’t help picturing the modest apartment I haven’t even had a chance to fully furnish yet, my bike still chained to the post at the hospital because I don’t even own a car. The thought makes my stomach churn.

  It’s only money. Money isn’t everything.

  After peeing, washing my hands, and brushing my teeth, I go back into her b
edroom, sink into her massive bed, and wrap my body around hers. I lean my nose into her neck and inhale—we still smell of sex, and I love it.

  “Goodnight, my goddess.”

  “Goodnight, Max.”

  Monica Morgan was a quivering mess of desire tonight, all for me.

  I’m going to enjoy every bit of her attention while I have it, because there is no way someone like me can end up with someone like her.

  I bet he could help clear out the cobwebs down there, dear.

  Monica

  Sunday is the next shift Max and I work together post mutually-induced orgasms.

  Orgasms—plural.

  Friday morning, we showered together before Max had to leave for work. The sight of him, so tall, muscles rippling and water dripping all over his taut body, was enough to get me close. Once he started soaping me up, it was all over; I came embarrassingly fast. After my legs stopped shaking, it was my turn to soap him up. There’s no hiding in the shower. Every part of him was on display, and he is spectacular. My hands explored his body, slippery with soap, and by the time I reached his cock, it was rock hard and throbbing. It didn’t take more than a few strokes to bring him to orgasm. What a sight that was, all straining muscles and deep groans, his face a picture of that heady combination of pain and pleasure. Unf. The memory makes me hot.

  Saturday, we didn’t see each other. Max had plans with his mom, but he texted me throughout the day. Each time my phone alerted me to a new message and I saw his name, butterflies let loose in my stomach and my heart fluttered.

  Jesus, I feel like a teenager.

  The thought of working with him today makes me jittery with nerves and anticipation. Will he act differently toward me? Will I be crushed if he doesn’t act differently toward me? Fuck. I need to snap out of it and stop worrying about this.

  I’m at a computer station when I hear his voice. “Morning, Dr. Morgan,” he greets. I look up and see Max and Kevin.

  “Morning.” There, I can be normal. I’m totally not blushing.