Page 52 of The Unraveling

Our tongues touch for the first time, and hers tastes like vermouth. Hot and red, as juicy as a ripe peach. Suddenly I want to consume her desperately.

I put my glass down and push her back onto the couch. My thigh lands between her legs and I can feel that she is dripping wet. I can smell her, too. As psycho as she may be, Arabella smells like she got her pussy at Le Labo.

It makes me feel drunk with desire.

I pull my straps down and lie on top of her, our nipples touching, our breasts pressing together. I shut my eyes and kiss her, unable to resist thinking of Alistair.

I think of the way his mouth looked as he pressed the oyster shell to it. I imagine his five-o’clock shadow against my thighs.

Arabella groans and it brings me back to her. She takes my hand and drags it across her body and down to the wetness between her legs.

“Oh my god,” I say into her ear. “You’re so wet.”

“Everything feels amazing, just touch me.”

I play with her clit, putting my fingers inside her and feeling her soft inside. She writhes against me, her warm skin dewy with sweat. It clings to my dress and to my own skin.

“Jocelyn,” she says, “you are so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re so hot.”

I think of Alistair again as I touch her. I think of him touching me. Those hands, the ones that had such a hard grip—I remember them grabbing my waist, my breasts, cupping my jaw and drinking me in.

His hands on my ass, spreading me apart then entering me.

I let out a gasp of desire and she says, “Oh, yeah, baby? Does that turn you on?”

She pulls up the dress and moves aside the panties, her fingers entering me two at a time. The pressure of the width makes me want more as I think about Alistair.

I remember the taste and feel of his dick, hard as marble and hot as sun-soaked silicone. I picture it entering me, too big to be easy, but not so big that it hurts.

“Harder,” I whisper, breathless.

“Harder,” she responds.

We both press harder on and into each other.

I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her spicy scent. Kelsey Lu’s silky voice sings on in the background, mingling with the street sounds.

I hit the right spot on Arabella and I feel her tighten on my fingers.

“Yes, yes,” she says. “Yes. I’m going to—I’m—”

She climaxes, tightening and pulsing around the rhythmic motion of my hand.

After she finishes, she hurries out from under me, flips me over until I’m on my stomach, and pulls my ass up toward her until her mouth is on my clit.

I let out a primal sound of pleasure as she puts her fingers inside me and she manages to get her tongue around to my clit.

I remember my ass pressed against Alistair’s solid-looking frame. I imagine his strong sculpted stomach. I remember how he pulled me back hard again and again on his throbbing dick during round two.

I get close and I tell Arabella. She groans against me, and the vibration of the hum gets me there.

In my mind, Alistair bursts inside me. On Arabella’s couch, I reach climax and I yell out in orgasm.

She slaps a hand over my mouth, laughing behind my ear.

“Shut up, you silly girl, we have neighbors.”

I laugh when I can breathe again, and we both collapse on the couch, panting.

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