Page 115 of The Temptation of Truth
I will never forget the image of Mabel Rossi’s mouth on my body. I hope I see it every time I close my eyes.
She covers my pussy again with her mouth, and a carnal groan claws its way out of my throat. My body tries to move against her, to rub myself on her, but her tattooed forearm presses against my hips, stilling me. She hums on a laugh and her mouth vibrates on my skin, making me moan again, and then my muscles start to pulse.
“Mabel, I think...I think...”
I think I’m going to orgasm. I’m so close, right on the precipice, toeing the edge. And then Mabel’s body shifts and she snakes her hand beneath herself. It takes a breath for me to realize what’s happening, but when I do...
She’s touching herself.
She’s got her hands on her body while her mouth is on my body, and that’s all it takes to shove me over the edge.
A high, breathy moan tears from my throat, the sound so unfamiliar that it’s hard to believe it’s come from me. My body starts to spasm, but Mabel doesn’t let up. Her tongue continues to torture me, determined to drain me of all sanity with her talented mouth.
My hands fist into her hair, the duvet, my own skin. I grip and tug to find purchase, to find balance, as the room spins and electricity shoots from my core out to the tips of my fingers and toes. My eyes clamp shut and colors flash in the darkness. Starbursts and sunbursts and fireworks.
I feel like I’ve been shocked repeatedly, but in the most delicious way. My body goes rigid, and then contracts. My thighs try to close, and when Mabel finally takes mercy on me, my stomach muscles bunch as I nearly fold myself into a ball.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I chant breathlessly. “I can’t...I can’t...”
“You can’t what?”
Jesus, that voice. It’s enough to bring me to orgasm all over again.
I open my eyes and blink rapidly to bring the room back into focus, then peer up into Mabel’s smirking face. A face that isglisteningwith what I’m assuming is my arousal. Add that to the fact that her hair is mussed, no doubt from my hands, and her skin is flushed red, and she looks like a literal wet dream.
“How are you feeling?”
A laugh escapes me at her question. “How am I feeling?”
She grins, then slides her palms down her sides, stopping at the ties on her bikini bottoms.
“Yeah. You good to keep going? I want to try something else with you.”
My pulse starts racing again as all my nerve endings fire back to life.Keep going? Try something else?She wasn’t kidding. She won’t stop until I’m well and truly spent.
I might die, but I’ll die happy.
All I can do is nod eagerly and stare as she pulls on the cloth ties and her bikini bottoms fall to the bed. And then my jaw drops.
Jesus.
Not only is Mabel’s pubic hair trimmed into the shape of a heart, but she has a pink metal piercing in her clitoral hood. I look from it to the piercings in her nipples and back.
“They match,” I muse, and she laughs.
“I’m just a girl who likes pretty things, Roar.”
A giggle bubbles out of me, then another. My hand flies to my mouth to try to stifle it, but I can’t. Then she giggles too, until we’re both laughing gleefully. It’s ridiculous and silly, and I loveit. Never has a sexual encounter left me feeling this giddy. I feel sex drunk. Effervescent. I feel alive.
I smile up into her face and let the reality of this moment soak into my skin. The sun has started to set, casting the room in a warm, orange hue, and she looks almost alight from the inside. It fills me with a thick, warm feeling that I can’t quite describe. I just know that I don’t want it to end.
When our giggles have calmed, Mabel holds up a finger. “Do you need anything? Hydration? Pee break?”
I laugh again but shake my head. “I’m okay, thanks.”
“Good. Stay.”
She winks at me before climbing off the bed, snagging my bathrobe from the back of the door, and dashing out onto the terrace. My curiosity is thoroughly piqued, and she’s back in less than a minute with a box in hand and a devilish smirk.
