Page 41 of The Temptation of Truth
But I can’t stop. I see their arms tangled. I see her hands grasping and tugging. I see their lips locked, and then my imagination goes rogue. I hear moans and gasps that never happened. I see roaming hands I never witnessed.
I seeme.
Me in Kat’s place. Me wrapped up with Mabel. My lips. My gasps. My skin.
My breasts are heavy. My core aches. I’m buzzing with an energy I’ve never felt before. My clit and nipples are so sensitive that even my cotton underwear feels tight. My heart thuds rapidly. Each inhale shakes with need. My body feelsalive. I’m aroused, but it’s more than that. This pressing, insistentneed.
Desire, I realize. This must be desire, and it’s completely foreign to me.
I can’t be feeling this now. Not with her. I have a husband. I should be feeling this with my husband. Why, why, why have I never felt this with him? Withanyone?
I shake my head again. I try to force it away. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
And then I realize that I don’t want to.
Quickly, as if this moment is a forbidden, stolen thing, I pull off my strapless dress, then drop my bra to the floor beside it. I cup my aching breasts with trembling hands and brush my thumbs over my nipples. I whimper, the sound barely audible, but I swear it echoes in the darkness. I slide one hand into my panties and gasp at the wetness I find there. There’s a twinge of shame, of embarrassment, and then it’s gone. Incinerated by this pressing, heady need. Without a second thought, I climb into bed and crawl under the duvet.
Safely under the covers, I waste no time returning my hand between my legs, and the moment I brush my clit, my whole body shudders.
“Oh God,” I gasp out, then I do it again.
Tentative, soft touches, exploring myself in a way I haven’t in years. Only in my mind, it’s not my hand.
It’s Mabel’s.
I watch, eyes shut and mouth agape, as her delicate fingers rub my clit. Her short, glittery black-painted fingernails sparkle as she moves over me. As she glides lower and swipes through me. As she pulses at my entrance.
“Oh, God,” I cry again, my hips bucking, fingers slipping into my pussy just a little. “Oh my God.”
I squeeze my breast, pinch my nipple, then dip my right hand into my panties to rub my clit as my left sinks into my wet, aching pussy. I writhe on the bed. The duvet tangles around my legs, and I imagine it’s Mabel’s legs instead.
Her thighs and calves wrapped with mine. Her mouth on my skin. Her fingers thrusting into my pussy, rubbing at my clit, making my muscles shake with the impending release.
My body bows when I come, and I choke out a strangled, almost silent moan. I’m sweating and panting. The bedsheets beneath my ass are wet with my cum. My pussy throbs withthe hot blood coursing through my veins. I’m floating, floating, floating.
And then I crash.
My muscles tighten, the shame returning with a vicious vengeance, and I want to be swallowed up by the mattress. I want to disappear.
I just masturbated to Mabel Rossi.
I’m married. I’m in love withBrady. I’m not into Mabel. I’m not. But I just masturbated with her face in my mind and her name on my breath, and my orgasm was so strong I saw white.
“Oh God.”
Once more, my whispered words echo in the darkness.
But this time, all I hear is dread.
10
AURORA
“Wait.”
Brynnlee scans the words on the page, her brows slanted so harshly I worry she’ll give herself a headache.
“I thought this was supposed to be a love story? They die. They areliterallydead. RIP them. This is depressing as hell.”
