I gasp as he squeezes one of my breasts, palming my achy nipple. At the same time, two of his fingers from his right hand stroke my clit to a burning fire of need.
I press my legs wider, arching against his touch, and he enters me with a single finger.
“Please, Santino,” I cry, though my breath is ragged.
He covers my breasts, where his hand just was, inserting two fingers into my core. He’s biting my neck. I’m moaning for him to “never, ever stop, Santino,” as he inserts three beefy fingers inside of me.
“You’re still so tight,” Santino growls.
“S-so-so?” I whimper in a static of spoiled restraint.
I’m grinding down, chewing my bottom lip in contemplation of how his thick fingers are breaking me.
Santino kisses my neck. “Gina, Bella, my lovely future wife, this will hurt.”
I run a shaky hand over my spiraled tresses. Maybe this isn’t love. This could be the affection of an Italian god, with a woman. And I’m that woman who deserves this. I huff, the definition of turned out. “Break me, Santino.”
The beast chuckles. His fingers work my core, stoking a flame of desire that can only build and burn me from the inside out.
“Santino!” My scream pierces the night sky. “It’s not enough, I needyou.”
He replies in Italian, “Gina, you’re ready.”
“Oh, thank you.” My head hits the pillow. I thrash like a druggy who scored a free high after attempting—and failing at—coming back down.
Santino pulls his fingers from my sex. In the heat of being sexed by the most erotic man in the universe, I forget to object. His fingers, slick with my own honey, slide into my mouth. My tongue is twirling around Santino’s fingers, then his mouth is all over mine. We moan, obsessed with the liquid aphrodisiac, now coating both of our lips. He lies on top of me. He lifts my hips. In desperation, I work my abdominal muscles to meet his erection. I’m ready to plunge when he swirls his dick head around my pearl. His crown collects the moisture. My lonely lips convulse.
The throaty sound of my next scream dies, “San—”
The world shifts as I end up on top of Santino!
As I straddle him, Santino lies down, with a bulging arm behind his head like this is his throne.
I retort, “Warn me next . . .”
“Shhh, Bella, ride Daddy’s dick.”
His cock twitches beneath me; he’s likely turned on as much as I am by his dirty talk. Tucking my knees against his muscular hips, I skim my slickness over his head. Santino then controls my hips, holding me so that his dick taunts the apex of my sex.
“Tell me you’ll never run away again, Gina.”
As my body screams for me to consent to any of his requests, I pant in desperation. Never in a million years have I made a promise to a man. “Just-just fuck me, Santino!”
“Soon as you promise me, Gina. I will let you fuck down on my cock with thosedrug-lined pussy lips.”
My sex shivers as I watch his mouth curve into a devious smile. I can’t fathom how he’s strong enough to hold my entire body over his cock. For a few precious seconds, I consider ‘waiting him out.’
Strong bastard!
I try to grip his hips with the insides of my knees and straddle back down on him, but it’s useless! Like I’m a hopeless rag doll. The lack of control is breaking me!
“Okay-okay,” I exhale the words.
“Fuck! I could take a picture of you right now. So gorgeous.”
Santino holds me steady above him with throbbing biceps. My pussy drips as my walls anticipate clenching around him, but his crown strokes the outer folds. I angle my hips downward, but it’s no use. I whimper. “Please!”Damn, I’m not proud of myself for this!
Our eyes lock; I’m hypnotized by his dark, knowing gaze. The torture and agony of it all has my heart ready to jump out of my chest.