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With her trembling mouth, Gina can hardly get the words out. “Look what I’m wearing, asshole!”
“Shouldn’t be running around half-naked,” I snarl, jealousy burning through me.
“I’m wearing pants, asshole.”
I place the grocery bags onto the porch and step to her. She has nowhere to go, but still, the little minx tries. With an ass so delicious, her backside is at the door much sooner than any other woman would’ve gone.
“I could warm you up like I used to.”
“You’re saying . . .” Gina’s teeth clatter. “Saying it like I left you for months.”
“One day without you, Gina, is an eternity.”
My palm presses against her ribs, sliding up to cup her breasts. The chilled air from her lips teases my mouth. My thumb plays against the hardened point of her nipple. I press my body against her. My dick strains against my jeans.
Sparkling brown eyes look up at me. The sight steals my breath.
“Gina, I’m sor—”
Her hands catch my jaw, mouth clasped against mine. I look down at Gina, her voluptuous tits exposed through the opened blouse.
Gina purrs, “I’m so cold, Santino, warm me up, baby. Eat my pussy.”
I stop kissing my sweetness for a fragment of a second, just to see if it was this easy. If . . .
She thrusts her sex against me. I grip her thighs, locking them around my waist. I turn to the side and unlock the door.
Forget the groceries. The weather has formed an icebox.
Once inside, I lift Gina onto the smooth surface of a wooden table near the door, blindly swiping keys to a fishing boat and other discarded knickknacks on the floor. Her legs snake around my waist, arms looping my neck. I lower my mouth onto hers, body against hers, warming her curvy, freezing frame.
Gina groans about missing my mouth between her thighs. Licking my lips, I unbutton her tight pants, peeling them from her lush, dark skin. I step back, looking at my ripe present.
I trace the edges of her bra. Gina’s breathing is slow and uneven, causing her breasts to shudder.
“Fuck me with your mouth, Santino,” she moans, coming out of her bra.
I’m ignoring her, missing her body so bad that nothing will rush me. Not even her. I cup her tits. My palms close. She feels the heat of my hand, but not enough to touch and stoke the fire.
I catch Gina’s gaze, and hers lowers. I place my thumb on her chin, forcing her to hold steady.
At this precise second, I realize how she’s playing me.
Fuck. She’s telling me to eat her pussy. I would give anything to inhale her sex, tongue-fuck her clit. Give her head until her throat goes raw from screaming. But this is a game to Gina The Grinch. Carlos was paid by that bitch in New Jersey to give me ecstasy. This is a game to everyone butme.
“Santino, please,” she begs, dropping her fingers along the center of her body.
I continue to trap Gina under my gaze. She knows if she looks away, she’ll be caught. So I clutch her thighs in my hands and squeeze, with a cunning smile.
On my haunches, I’m kissing a trail along her hips. With her face, a mixture of sultry arousal and agony, Gina grabs at her lace panties. I rest my hands on hers, stopping her attempt to help me.
To entrap me.
To have me taste my addiction only to snatch it all away.
The indigo lace conceals her thick pussy lips, though the dusting of coils neatly lining her sex is implanted in my memory. Her fat little clit is so ready to please like a tiny button.
“Open your legs wider, Bella.”
