Gina
Igo from wanting to slap the domineering grin off Santino’s face to enjoying the smooth chime of his voice. His filthy behavior sends sharp strings of desire rushing straight to my core.
Now, on to my current predicament. Sitting in darkness has never appealed to me. A silk scarf covers my eyes. More silky cloths bind my wrists behind my back as my ankles are bound to the legs of a chair. Naked as the day I came into this world, I wait in anguish.
Santino challenges my sexual prowess like no other man on this earth has or ever will.
Turning my head in the direction where I heard Santino walking, I retort, “I said, no. Where’s my spanking?”
“Shhh . . .”
A delicious chill slithers across the opening of my sex and it’s revving with juices. I recognize the breeze, the greedy desire. Santino blows with purpose on my clit, and I swallow copious amounts of oxygen.
“Now, all that pride,” Santino says. I follow the sound of his erotic voice. “It has gotten you into a little more trouble than you bargained for.” His tone is disarming and disorienting all at once.
While behind me, Santino’s hard chest brushes my shoulder. The heady scent of his cologne surrounds me as he reaches down to palm my breasts. His hand continues to travel, and my thighs press wide open. Santino’s tongue draws along the slope at the side of my neck, then he’s engulfing my entire slit with his hand. He kneads at my valley. I don’t need the scarf over my eyes to see stars. Pussy begging for penetration, it pulsates and spasms as he smacks and smacks. The need to have him deep inside of me becomes unbearable as Santino spanks my pussy over and over. I gulp down every breath, moaning and panting and screaming.
“Oh, Santino!” I break. I feel his mouth on my neck again, kissing softly, mopping over the sheen of perspiration. Santino batters my pussy with his hand. His salacious slaps have left me spent, chin resting on my chest, parched for air and water.
“Do you have control over your body, Gina?” Santino asks in Italian. Over and over, I scream how he has all the control. I can feel his delicious fury. My core jumps like pop rocks with each hit until my honey flows like water.
My heart is pounding out of my chest and I’m delirious for a good fucking, yet I can’t bring myself to beg him to stop.
He groans in my ear. My tongue dips out to slide across my lip. I’m thirsty for him.
“Next time I say I’m about to beat this pussy up, Gina, and I’m speaking to you in Italian, you’ll know I’m not about to do it with my dick, sweetheart.” His slick hand runs along my cheek, and a pungent scent from my sex permeates the air. He licks the spot he just touched. “You’ll know exactly what I mean. Won’t you?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Now, would you like me to beat this pussywithmy dick?”
The arrogance in me has died. All that’s left is a carnal craving. “Please.”
Santino unravels the scarf over my head until the soft material falls to the ground. Without a word, Santino uses his right hand to unstrap me from each binding. He grips the small of my back and guides me to him. He holds up his left hand. It’s slick and dripping with my love. I instinctively gulp when Santino rubs his fingers across his glorious face, mouth, and square jaw.
“Gina, lick your cum from my mouth,” he orders while mounting me back on the bed. This time, Santino loves me gently, indulging my need for him to surround me with his protective arms. When I’m too weak to hardly scream, an earthquake erupts deep in my body.
* * *
Last night,we fell asleep in each other’s arms. This morning, I’ve forgotten that I’d taken an outfit that I specifically chose for Thanksgiving to Santino’s house. I’m tossing clothes around when he reminds me that we still had to go back to his place so that he could change anyway.
Next thing I know, we’re in traffic for the longest. The trip to the Hamptons seems to triple, and I’m wringing my fingers as Santino drives. He cleans up well in slacks. Although he passed on the button-down I’d purchased for one of his already owned, he looks damn good.
I’m picking imaginary lint from my lilac dress when Santino whistles. “This your parents’ place?”
I nod like a bobblehead. “If they try to make you feel small . . . Santino, don’t look at me like that. Just preparing you for the upper crust. If this were a silent movie, we’d look ready for a black debutante event. My sisters are . . .”
“Oldest Geraldine, the middle child is Gabby, with the asshole husband and children, check. Ahem, not the children.”
“Well, you may be on to something. Gabby’s oldest son urinates all over the place. His little dick flies everywhere, pee on the friggin ceiling. It’s baffling!”
Santino’s eyebrow rises in confusion. “How old is he?”
“Terrible three! Thatpervytoddler pooped in my Jimmy Choos. Doesn’t matter if it’s a $400 a plate function my mom is hosting, he’s pissing!”
Santino’s laughing when I fold my arms. “Because you think this is funny, baby, I’ll just let you be surprised by the other stuff.”
“There’s more?” He’s asking while I’m getting out of the truck.