by Isabel Love
“Someone is a little impatient.”
“Someone is torturing me,” I pout.
My complaint is cut off by a single swipe of his tongue, starting from my clit and licking slowly up to my opening, then up even farther still to my asshole. I clench, startled at the sensation, immediately wanting him to do it again. This is just like my dream—except it’s better, because he does it again.
And again.
Slow strokes of his tongue, up and down, create wet, slippery friction against my clit, but not too much pressure there—he remembers how sensitive I am. My nipples tingle, trapped beneath my clothes. His grip on my ass tightens, pulling my cheeks even farther apart, and I feel so dirty being on display for him like this.
“Mmmm,” he moans into my flesh, the vibrations making me even hotter for him. I feel my orgasm starting to build. “You taste so good, Monica.”
Fuck.
My pussy starts to flutter, orgasm fast approaching now, but I need something. I need more.
“Max, please.” I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
Then I feel it. A finger trails down my crease and rests on my asshole. Oh, God. The feel of it there makes me clench again. I have never wanted anyone to touch me there before. It’s gross. I want to think of it as gross. It should be gross—but Max sucks my clit into his mouth, taps my asshole, and I stop thinking altogether. Sounds escape my mouth and I have no sense of how loud I’m being. His finger leaves for a moment, dipping down into my wetness, and then dragging up over my pucker, making it slippery.
Oh fuck.
His finger pushes inside me and his attention to my clit intensifies as he licks and flicks and sucks and nibbles. The sensation of something being…back there is so different, but I’m surprised at how much it adds to my arousal. I moan, louder than I should. I look up at my office door—still closed. It’s locked, I remind myself. No one can come in here and see me like this, with Max licking my pussy and fingering my ass.
Oh, my God. He’s fingering my ass.
And…it feels good.
My eyes can no longer stay open as blinding pleasure builds up. One sharp pull of my sensitive clit into his mouth, one more intense push of his finger into me and I fall apart. My muscles clench around his finger and it’s so strange that I never noticed how sensitive that part of me is before. He slows his licks, pulling every last shudder out of me.
Then he stands abruptly and I hear him undoing his pants. His movements are frantic and purposeful.
“I need to be inside you,” he grunts.
“I need you inside me,” I agree.
He pauses a second, fumbling for something. He’s getting a condom, I think, and I know I don’t want him to use one.
I’m clean, he’s clean, and I’m on birth control.
“Max.” I find the strength to lift my head up off the desk and turn to look at him. He’s trying to get his wallet out of his pants but they are bunched up at his knees.
“Just a second, baby.”
“Stop, Max. I want you bare.”
He stills, his wild blue eyes meeting mine, questioning my sincerity. I love the look on his face; he’s desperate to fuck me. “You want to go without a condom?”
“Yes,” I whisper. My eyes are drawn to his cock. It’s so hard the tip is purple, glistening with pre-come. “I’m clean and I’m on birth control.”
Indecision flickers in his expression.
I muster up the courage to tell him what I want. “I want you to come inside of me. I want to feel your skin against my skin.” Then I resume my bent-over position, rest my head against the desk, spread my legs as far as I can, and wait for him to fuck me.
Max
Holy shit. She wants me bare.
Bare.
I have never had sex without a condom before. I never wanted to risk an accidental pregnancy or a disease, but I trust Monica, and I really want to fuck her bare.
Her slit is wet, glistening with her arousal and my saliva. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and decide I want this as much as she does. The vision of Monica Morgan bent over her desk with her pants down just far enough for me to see her desire, waiting for me to fuck her in her office…it’s unreal.
I stop fumbling for my wallet and let my jeans bunch down around my knees. Her legs are trapped by her pants, but I’m able to step in between her feet. I spread her cheeks again, giving me a better view of her most intimate parts. Fuck. I just fingered her ass and she liked it. The thought is enough to make me come, and I don’t want this to end before it begins.
Cock in hand, I rub it up and down against her, coating myself in her desire. She moans and wiggles. Wet sounds fill the room, and it makes me even more desperate to get inside her.
Lining up, I push in, slowly.
“Fuuuuck,” I grunt, sensations assaulting me. She is so wet and ready for me, but I wasn’t prepared for just how good it would feel without a condom. I never want to use one again. She feels amazing. So fucking good. My orgasm starts to approach already, but I refuse to come so fast. Grabbing her hips, I pull out and thrust back in.
“Monica, this feels…” I can’t find any words. Instead, I moan and groan in pleasure.
“Max,” she whispers.
I need to be deeper. In and out, I fuck her, pulling her hips back to meet me. The sounds of sex fill the room, loud, wet, obscene. I love every whimper escaping her. The slippery friction against my shaft feels so good, and my orgasm threatens to take over.
Looking down at my dick disappearing inside her doesn’t help my control—it’s better than any porn I’ve ever watched. My cock glistens, wet with her arousal, and her ass fills my hands, bouncing from the force of my thrusts. My gaze wanders to her pucker—I want to fuck her there one day. From the way she liked my finger, I bet she would like that too.
My dirty, sexy goddess.
I touch her asshole and she clenches. Oh fuck. The feel of her muscles clenching around my cock almost makes me come on the spot, but I need her to come with me. Pulling her cheeks wide apart, I slow my thrusts so I can gather some wetness and spread it up and over her ass. I push my finger in gently; this hole is so impossibly tight and I don’t want to hurt her.
She gasps at the intrusion, then moans, low and sexy. If I wasn’t sure the hallway was empty, I’d be worried someone would hear us, but I checked every room on my way down to her office to make sure. Her sounds make my dick pulse.
“I need you to come, Monica.”
“Unnfg,” she responds, the garbled sounds making me smile. She is so far gone, she can’t even think of any words. This brilliant doctor is so worked up in a sexual frenzy that she’s speechless, and it’s because of me. I made her this way. My balls draw up and I know I won’t be able to hold off much longer.
Her pussy begins to flutter around me, a telltale sign that she is close. I roll my hips with every thrust, determined to stimulate all those pleasure points inside her. My thumb continues to stimulate her crease, rubbing over her pucker and pushing in slightly, just enough to make her writhe and wriggle against me. When she comes, I feel it. Her core clenches around my cock and it’s sweet relief to let go of my control. My thrusts become less coordinated as I chase my orgasm.
I come so hard inside Monica—bare, no condom, just me spilling into her.
My dick pulses and waves of pleasure rob me of any other sensation than being inside Monica, coming inside Monica.
My movements slow, but I continue to push my throbbing cock in and out, shuddering with each pulse of my orgasm. I bury myself deep inside her, hating the idea of leaving her body and losing this physical connection.
Spent and sated, I lean forward and bend over her body to hug her from behind. She’s boneless, lying on the desk with her head turned to the side. I kiss everything I can reach—her cheek, her temple, her ear, her neck. I want to worship every part of this woman. I lean down to reach her lips and capture them in a wet kiss.
“That was amazing,” I whisper in her ear.
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br /> “Mmmm,” she hums.
“I love being inside you,” I tell her. I don’t ever want to leave.
“Mmmm,” she agrees.
I chuckle softly. “You okay?”
“Mmmhmm.”
My woman is well fucked and satisfied.
While I would love to stay buried in her forever, my cock is softening and we are in her office.
“Let’s get cleaned up, baby.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
Reluctantly, I stand and slowly pull out. A box of tissues is conveniently sitting on the corner of her desk, so I grab a couple to wipe Monica clean. Her pussy is deep pink and just as I start to wipe her up, my come starts to drip out of her opening.
Fucking hell. My dick starts to stir at the sight. I came inside of her. The sight triggers a primal part of me and I want to come all over her body, mark her as mine.
I finish wiping her up and help her stand. It’s amazing that all we have to do is pull up our pants and it looks like nothing ever happened. We stand facing each other with matching stupid grins.
“Did I get it right?” I ask her.
“What?”
“Your dream. Was it as good as your dream?”
She blushes, which is seriously cute. “Even better.”
I pull her into me, hugging her close, our bodies fitting together so well. We stay like this—her leaning into me, me resting my chin on her head—and breathe together for several minutes. Then her stomach starts to grumble.
“Sorry!” She clutches her stomach, embarrassed.
“You didn’t eat dinner?” This woman never feeds herself.
“I planned to grab something from the cafeteria but then got sidetracked with work,” she mumbles sleepily.
“Can I feed you at my place?”
“Yes.”
I only have so much willpower.
Monica
Lately, it’s a rare day that I don’t see Max at all, but that’s the case today. It’s my day off and we don’t have plans tonight. So, I’m home, and instead of appreciating time away from my busy life, I don’t know what to do with myself. My workout is done. My house is clean, courtesy of my housekeeper, and my refrigerator is stocked—also courtesy of my housekeeper.
As I’m debating whether to take a bath or read a book, my cell phone alerts me to a new text.
Quinn: Hey chica.
Me: Hey you!
Quinn: What are you doing?
Me: Not much, actually. What’s up?
Quinn: You’re coming out with me.
Me: I am?
Quinn: Yes! You’re coming out with me or I’m coming to get you.
Me: Okay.
We pick a time and place and I’m relieved to have something to do. As I get ready, I see signs of Max all over my house: his soap in my shower, his toothbrush in the holder on my bathroom sink, his clothes in my closet. Slowly, as he started staying over at my place more nights than not, he started leaving things here for convenience, and I like seeing little pieces of his life intertwined with mine. I like having him in my life—more than I ever thought I would.
What started out as pure lust and physical attraction has blossomed into more.
I want more.
I’m just afraid of how to get from this point to something more serious. The thought of everyone at work finding out about us still gives me anxiety. I don’t even know how to broach the topic. Who do I tell? What do I say? Hi, Dr. Finley, just wanted to let you know I’m dating one of the nurses in the ER. Don’t worry, we’re both conducting ourselves in a professional manner at work, except that one time he fucked me on top of my desk, but it’s okay—we weren’t officially on the clock that night. I sigh.
Then there’s introducing Max to my father, which is likely going to happen at the fundraiser tomorrow. I panic at the thought of what he might say to Max. What will he say to me? I want to protect Max from his condescension.
Other things worry me, too, like money. We come from very different financial backgrounds, but I don’t care how much money he makes. I’m so proud of him for being the first person in his family to graduate from college, even if it took him longer than most, but I wonder if he cares that I make more money than him. I also have a large sum that was left to me when my mom and her parents passed away. I could have easily paid for Max’s new car up front and I wanted to, but I knew that offer would not have been received well, especially when we were in front of Logan at the car dealership. Honestly, if the shoe were on the other foot and he was the one that had more money, I wouldn’t want him to buy me a car either. That’s way too much for this stage of our relationship, but what if we continue? What if we move in together? Would he be okay with me paying the majority of our expenses?
And now I have a headache.
I finish getting dressed, apply light makeup, and leave to meet up with Quinn. We haven’t hung out in so long, and I can’t wait to see her. When I walk into Piazza, I spot her wild red hair right away.
“Monica!” She launches herself at me. I hug her tight, grateful that we are still friends.
“Hi, Quinn.”
She pulls back to look at me, holding me at arm’s length. I’m wearing a pink sundress with a black sweater, nothing particularly fancy, but she raises her eyebrows. “You look amazing.”
“Oh, stop it.” We sit at the booth and give the server our order.
“I’m serious. You’re glowing,” she compliments.
“Thank you. You look amazing, too.” Quinn is effortlessly gorgeous. I used to envy this about her—maybe I still do. She wears red hair, fair skin, and freckles better than most. Her brown eyes are warm and they twinkle at me.
“Thank you, babe, but I need to hear all about you! What’s going on with your boy toy?”
I blush. “He’s not my boy toy, Quinn.”
“Damn. So you aren’t having all kinds of hot sex with the young stud from the club?” Her face falls.
I clear my throat. “You have such a way with words.”
“Oh, don’t be so proper. I need details.” She leans forward, props her elbows on the table, and rests her head in her hands, eagerly awaiting my response.
“Okay, yes, I’m seeing Max.”
“You’re seeing him?” She blinks. “I need more than that. Is he banging you or what?”
She would get along so well with Charlie; I laugh at that thought. “Yes, Quinn. I’m having hot sex with him. Is that what you want to hear?”
The server comes up with our drinks just as the words leave my mouth. He places our drinks on the table and leaves without a word, and I’m sure my face is tomato red right now.
She cackles at my discomfort. “Hallelujah! I was afraid you were going to pass up this chance after we talked. Does he push all your buttons?”
“He’s…amazing, Quinn. Really amazing.” I tell her about working with him. How great he is with the patients, like Mrs. Harvey. How thoughtful he is when he leaves me a sandwich knowing I don’t usually have time to eat at work. About our salsa dancing on Thursday nights and volunteering at the shelter together. I think I talk for 15 minutes straight.
She sits back. “Oh, fuck. You’re not just banging him. You’re in love with him.”
“No, I’m not in love with him,” I deny. In love? I am not in love with Max—not yet.
“Uh, it sure sounds like you are. You just had non-stop verbal diarrhea about how amazing he is, and not one detail was about the size of his penis. I’d say you’re more than just in lust with him.”
“Well. I just…I really like him.” I shrug. It sounds hollow even to my own ears.
She raises one eyebrow skeptically. “You like him.”
I sigh. “Yes, I really like him,” I say firmly, trying to convince myself.
“Well, that’s great! I’m happy you found someone, Monica. When do I get to meet him?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I can’t imagine what embarrassing things Quinn would say to Max.
&
nbsp; “What? Why?”
“You have too large of a stockpile of embarrassing facts about me.”
“Oh come on,” she says. “I promise I’ll be good. What’s he doing tonight?”
“I don’t know. He spent the day with his mom.”
“Wow, he’s amazing and takes care of his mom? Does he have a brother?”
I laugh. “No, he has two sisters,” I tell her.
“Let me see a picture of him. You’re shit with social media. You never post anything,” she complains.
“I don’t have time for social media. Besides, I have to be careful what I post because work doesn’t know we’re seeing each other yet.” I hand her my phone so she can scroll through some of the pictures we’ve taken lately.
“Holy fuck. This is Max?” She holds up my phone, displaying a selfie we took the other night. He’s behind me, chin resting on the top of my head, and we’re both grinning down at the camera like lovesick fools. Then she scrolls to the next one. Shit! I forgot I took that picture. Max is in my bed, hair a mess from my hands, lips swollen from kissing me, eyes blissed out from the orgasm I gave him. He’s shirtless, gorgeous chest and tattoos on display. He’s staring at the camera with sex in his eyes.
I blush. “Hey! You weren’t supposed to see that one!” I reach for my phone.
“You were holding out on me. This should have been the first picture you showed me—he is fucking hot! I think I just had an orgasm from looking at this picture!”
“He’s definitely gorgeous,” I agree. She swipes her fingers across my phone and it chirps one second later. “What are you doing on there?” I reach for my phone again but she holds it out of reach. It chirps a second time and she hands it back, looking satisfied with herself.
I look at my phone and see a text conversation with Max open.
Me: Hey Max! This is Monica’s friend, Quinn.
Me: I’ve heard so many good things about you that I think she’s making you up. Want to hang out with us tonight and prove to me you’re real?
Max: Hi, Quinn. Happy to provide proof of my existence. What are you guys up to?