Page 9 of My Italian Roommate

She says nothing but arches her back and extends her hands so that I can take them in mine. She bears down on my face and squeezes our intertwined fingers together tightly. She tastes like smooth honey and spring rain, and I can’t get enough of her so I plunge my tongue deep inside her. Her hips buck wildly, and she cries out as her muscles contract around my stiff tongue. She’s so close now that I can feel her body straining, pulsing, begging for the sweet release that only an orgasm can bring.

I lick my way back to her tiny button and take it between my lips. I suckle it hard and unapologetically as she shakes and screams, wetting my face with her warm juices. As her waves of orgasm fade and her body grows limp, I lift my face to hers and say, “Kiss me. I want you to know how good you taste.” She eagerly sticks her tongue in my mouth. Good girl.

“I need to shower and go to bed,” I tell her as I stroke her hair and plant another kiss on her forehead.

“What? You don’t want to…?” She stops mid-sentence, blushing as she catches herself.

“Have sex? I want that more than anything, princess, but I have a race in the morning. You never have sex the night before a race. Everybody knows that. You want to be a little on edge and full of testosterone if you want to win, that is. Besides, you deserve more than a quick tumble in the sheets. I’m gonna take my time with you, filling you up and making sure you can feel me for days.”

I excuse myself and head into the bathroom where I step into the shower and turn the water controls to cold. Smiling, I replay the events of the last few minutes in my head. I can’t wait to climb into bed with Mallory and watch her fall asleep in my arms.

6

RACE DAY

MALLORY

When I went to bed last night, I wasn’t sure what I should be feeling. Mario has just taken me someplace I’ve never been before. At first, I was mortified, feeling completely open and exposed, but with a swipe of his tongue, he erased every thought from my head and replaced them with the most lustful desire. What I don’t understand is how he could make me feel this good and expect nothing from me in return. I know he was aroused, but he just got up and walked away.

I clear the mess from dinner and rush to the bedroom to change. I want to be under the covers when he returns from the shower. Maybe, just maybe, that way, I can prevent myself from saying anything that makes me look like the inexperienced little girl that I really am. I mean, what am I supposed to say? Do I say thank you? God, this is so stupid, but the fact is I want him to like me. Now that I know he does, I can’t screw this up. This is definitely more than just a crush.

The light from the bathroom filters through the crack in the door as Mario steps into view. He’s shirtless and wrapped in his towel just like last time, but this time, he drops the towel in the doorway and steps into the room completely naked. I don’t want him to know that I’m looking, but I can’t take my eyes off him. I almost fall off the bed when he walks past me first, his huge dick, and then his plump bottom at eye level. My mouth waters at how ruggedly handsome he is, all the way to that massive package he has down there. He has to be doing this on purpose, but why? What reason would he have for teasing me this way?

My throat feels dry, my heart beating wildly.

He unzips the black bag that he’s left on the chair and pulls out a pair of boxers. I watch as he bends over to put them on and my temperature rises, like my whole body is on fire. He turns around and I close my eyes, hoping that my peeping has gone unnoticed. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me for a moment, and I take another peek at him. The light dances off the rippling muscles in his arms and back, and I long to reach out and touch him but he lies down and pulls up the covers.

“Mallory, come over here,” he tells me huskily. He knows that I’m awake and I pray that he isn’t planning on having a conversation with me.

I roll over and he places his arm around me, pulling me against his chest. I lay my head down on his bare skin and fall asleep with his hand in my hair.

* * *

“Mallory, wake up,”I open my eyes and see Mario dressed in his white racing suit, looking like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine. No wonder he needed a place to hide from his obsessive female fans. Even I am starting to get obsessed with him.

“Is it time to go?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Not yet. You have time to get ready and I made us some coffee.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. Coffee and a kiss in the morning? How lucky can a girl get?

He leaves the room and I hop out of bed. I chose my outfit in my head as soon as he asked me to come to the race. Grabbing the little, green sundress, I rush to the shower somehow terrified that if I don’t hurry, he’ll leave without me. I’ll probably invest the time to overthink my insecurity later, but for now, I just need to focus on looking like a girl who belongs on the arm of a man as amazing as Mario Marcetti.

I put on my dress and a pair of tan sandals then pull my hair up in a ponytail. I have no idea what the girlfriend of a racecar driver is supposed to look like, but I have an emerald green scarf that I’ve been dying to wear. I tie it up over my ponytail and grab a pair of cat’s eye sunglasses from my vanity. Tiny tan clutch and I’m about as ready as I can get. No, wait. I add just a touch of red lipstick to complete the look.

Mario glances up from his coffee when I enter the living room. He sets the cup on the table and stands up.

“You look amazing, princess. Like a movie star,” he takes my hand and spins me in a circle.

“Thank you,” I can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna keep my eyes on the track,” he grins and winks at me.

“Don’t say that. I don’t want to have to worry about that.”

“Please, it was a joke. I have a feeling you’re gonna be my good luck charm.”

Mario opens the front door and is about to step out when my brother Steve steps in front of him.

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Mario asks, scratching his head.

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