Page 7 of Untouchable
“Did I pee on you?” I’m horrified.
“God, no. That was your body ejaculating.” I burn with embarrassment. “You write romance for a living; you’ve never researched that?” His chuckle is assuring.
Peeking through my fingers, I glare at him. “I didn’t even know that was possible!”
His head shakes as his hips settle against my naked flesh. I can feel him leaking through his boxers. “Glad to be your first, but you should know I’ll be aiming for that every time I eat your pussy.” Oh. My. God. This man. I’m going to die of embarrassment before the day is out.
“What, uhm, what about you?” I whisper, glancing down between our bodies. I can feel how hard he is.
Moving a hand between us, I gasp when he pushes the material down his thighs, and I feel how hot he is against my skin. Moaning when his thickness thumps against my clit, which is still extremely sensitive. Pushing my shirt up with both hands, his lips latch onto a nipple as he moves to wrap my legs around his hips.
“Don’t move,” he demands around a mouthful of my breast.
Seconds is all it takes for my body to sync with his. From his pistoning hips to his suckling lips, I’m ready for whatever he has planned, and I can’t contain my moans of delight this time. My body moves on its own to match his thrusts, holding him to my chest. For the first time in my life, I wonder what it’s like to be with a man, and I realize I want that with Braxton. I want him inside my body, and I beg for it shamelessly.
He lazily kisses up my chest before our lips touch, and he tells me, “I’m going to come all over this virginal alter you’ve kept safe for me.” Our eyes meet, and I hold my breath as pleasure washes over his face, and I feel the warmth of his release against me. His guttural groan makes me squirm until I feel his hand move between us, rubbing across my clit before his fingers shove inside me again. Pulling out, then pushing in, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s slipping his sperm into my channel.
“I’m not on the pill.” I gasp just as he pinches my clit, and a slow orgasm rolls through me.
“I know,” he whispers down to me, capturing my lips in another possessive kiss, stealing any rational thought from my brain as I finally become sluggish enough to fall asleep and forget all about the fact that he’s inside my body.
* * *
I feel Braxton’s eyes on me as I sit on the patio of our room, legs crossed in one of the lounge chairs and typing away. It’s mid-afternoon now, and from the moment we woke up, twisted up in each other and naked, I haven’t been able to look him in the eye.
My body, however, is begging for more of his touch, more of the way he absolutely dominated me and gave me things I didn’t even know to ask for. Which is why I spent an hour this morning researching sexual anomalies. I needed to know more. And now, I’m six pages deep in a sexual encounter between my two main characters, who can’t get enough of each other. The troubling part is, it’s not even for the book Ishouldbe writing. It’s for a sequel of the characters I wrote for our love story.
It’s him and I.
Me and Braxton.
Told through the eyes of two fictional people who deserve love more than anyone I know. And thanks to real-life Braxton, they’re now getting a second story, and apparently, they fuck like rabbits because they haven’t stopped since I opened the fresh document.
“Why are you blushing?” he finally speaks, startling me into nearly dropping my laptop.
“Just writing a spicy scene,” I confess. It’s not a lie. He just doesn’t need to know it’s about us.
“Need more inspiration?” The cocky bastard has the nerve to grin at me, those straight pearly white teeth mocking me with false innocence. This man knows how good he is.
“What have you been doing the last few years?” His smile falters as I save my document and close my laptop, wanting to know more about what he’s been up to.
“Same as now.” That’s not entirely true. I can see it in the way he shifts on his feet and turns his head away from me.
“Did you meet someone?” It’s the only reason I can think that he’d be uncomfortable.
Pulling out a chair, he sits across from me, pushing his sunglasses up his face to sit on his head. “Sort of.” That stings. “I was her sister’s keeper. Things were…complicated.”
“How so?” I can tell he doesn’t really want to talk about this.
“Royal, the girl I was watching, was born to be her older sister’s donor—spare parts she used to call herself. Leia was sick for almost her entire life. When they finally came to the realization that they had both been forcing themselves to accept Royal’s constant physical sacrifice, Leia was told her time on this earth was coming to an end.” He takes a deep breath and sits back. I can see that talking about this is hard on him.
“You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want.” Though I really want to know. I can’t imagine what life had been like for either girl or for him to be an outsider looking in.
“I want to. They were an important part of my life for a while.” I nod, giving him my undivided attention. “Their parents weren’t ready to accept that Leia was dying and asked Royal to carry her baby so they would always have a piece of their oldest child.”Holy shit.“Both girls refused. It was too much to ask, and neither wanted that burden put upon Royal, who hadn’t even experienced life outside of school or the hospital. When she finally met a man who didn’t see her as the spare parts she felt like, it went fast. Even I couldn’t keep up.”
“That sounds amazing.” I sigh. A true love story.
“It was. Eventually, Royal and Leia had a heart-to-heart, and Royal helped her die in peace—witnessing her sister get married, snorkeling, living just a little bit before dying.” The emotion in his voice is unexpected, so I wait silently. “The day after Royal got married, I took Leia to Paris so she could visit the Eifel Tower, and…” He pauses, and the look he gives me is complex.