“Thought I made it clear you were mine,” he whispers.
“You hinted at it,” I tease.
“Ahh. Noted. Tonight, let’s have a talk about making all that clearer.”
I swallow hard, consumed with the vibration of his voice, the fullness in my vulnerable body, my throbbing clit. “I’m game.”
“Thought so. Now stand and let me see my handiwork.”
I stand, feeling a little foolish with my pajamas pooled around my ankles and my butt on display.
But when he frames my ass with his hands on either side and clucks his tongue approvingly, I feel… I feel like a goddess. Like he’s worshipping me.
“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he whispers. “Better than I imagined.”
“You’ve imagined sliding a butt plug in my ass?”
“For fuckin’ years.”
Oooo. Well then.
“Pull ‘em up and turn around. Lift your top.”
Hoo boy.
Slowly, I obey. The oversized pajamas pull easily up over my butt, even though it feels like nothing should fit comfortably right now. I lift my top, and watch as his eyes gleam appreciatively. “Mmm. Jesus, you’re a masterpiece, woman.”
I smile in thanks when he takes a small plastic sleeve out of his pocket. He crooks his finger at me to come to him.
I walk slowly, curious what he’s got planned next.
He wets his lip and swallows, before he slides his finger under the sealed zippered edge of the bag and opens it. Wordlessly, he removes two little things that look like suction cups.
I stare, unbelieving, as he laves one with his tongue and slides it on my breast. “What is that?” I ask. His wicked glare is answer enough. With a twist and wiggle, he eases the suction cup over my nipple. Sharp, delicious waves of arousal course through me, as if he’s licking and suckling my nipples.
A strangled cry comes from me when he eases the second cup over my other nipple.
“Santo,” I whisper. “Oh, fuck.”
He falls to his knees and tugs my pajama bottoms back down. Parts my legs and bends his mouth to my aching, sopping pussy.
I anchor myself onto his shoulders as his tongue meets my throbbing point of need. My head falls back. Every pressure point in my body seems centered between my legs. I’m vaguely aware of the plug in my ass, the suction cups on my nipples, and blissfully aware of his mouth on my pussy.
One stroke. Two. Three strokes and my knees go weak as I soar into climax. If he didn’t hold me, I’d collapse, right here against him. I writhe and come, spasms of pleasure wracking my body. It feels like I’ve got a harem of men working my body to climax with every little tool of torture he’s used.
Finally, when I slump against him, he gives me a wicked grin and wipes his hand across his mouth.
“Go, baby,” he says with a nod. “Keep ‘em on until I tell you otherwise. Let’s go watch a movie.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Santo
The Great Hall’s been transformed. The shades have been drawn, the lights dimmed. Large screens have been pulled down over the walls and comfortable chairs arranged for sitting. The popcorn maker of our youth sits against one wall, and a table set up with movie theater boxes of candy beside it.
Rosa walks in, holding a large fluffy blanket. She yawns as if she’s tired, but I know she’s tired because she just came on my mouth, and the plug and cups I have on her are working her to her next orgasm. That one will wait, though. I might be a kinky bastard, but even I won’t make her come in the Great Hall with her family nearby.
Could take her to a coat closet, though.
“Ooh, are those Raisinets?” she says when she sees the candy.
“You’ve always loved those,” I say with a smile.
I used to buy them at the school snack cart, back when they let you buy junk food and soda. I’d slide the boxes into my bag and surprise her when I got home. Those, and Junior Mints were her favorites.
“Hands off the Raisinets,” Mario says. “I want those.”
Rosa frowns and grabs the last box. “Nope. I saw them first.”
“Rosa,” he says warningly. It’s rare the girls get in on a Rossi family food fight, but it happens sometimes.
“These,” she says, tearing the box for emphasis and shaking some into her mouth, “are mine!” And to my surprise and probably everyone else’s there, she pops a few in her hand and whips them at Mario.
They bounce off his forehead while he stares at her, his mouth agape.
“Did you just throw candy at my head.”
“Duh. Not only did I throw candy at your head, my aim was spot-on, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, you wanna play that game?” he says, nabbing a box of nonpareils. “It is on.”
“Not the chocolate!” Elise protests. “C’mon guys, at least use the gummy stuff.”
“Not my Sour Patch Kids!” Marialena protests.
But it’s too late. Nonpareils and Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish and Starburst fly around the room like a downpour from heaven. Natalia comes in the room with Mama and squeals with delight. “It’s raining cannndddyyy!”