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“Tell Daddy what you need,” he orders.
“Lick my . . .”
“Say pussy, Gina. You haven’t shut your mouth tonight. Don’t start now. Say please, while you’re at it.”
“Santino, please,” I groan. Although I’m not a woman who begs, the second part of my statement is miraculously more challenging to say. “Please lick my pussy.”
“As you wish.” Jolts of electricity stoke my core as his tongue travels over my clit. With each stroke, he growls, and I grind against him.The flat of his tongue goes from clit to slit, causing a sensation overdrive.
Santino slips his hand along the mostly flat plan of my stomach. I lick my lips as his fingers caress my slick, wet curls. He’s already got me soaking in arousal, my entire frame sensitized byhim.
His finger touches my swollen clit.
“Taste . . .” I say mindlessly, as his mouth has stopped making magic against my core.
“Taste what?”
“Santino.” I writhe. “Please put your tongue on my pussy and clit.”
He chuckles then rewards me by moving the tip of his tongue in circles. The sheer act spins my clit around. I gyrate against his door. The air grows thinner than the South Pole, and I’m desperate to climb to an orgasm only his tongue can provide.
“Santino . . . Santi!” My voice reaches an octave I never knew existed. Santino presses his entire mouth along my slit, drinking me all down.
Hell, okay, if my thinking were once linear, this shit is a crooked line now, with devious intent. I’m half-blinded, eyes are closed as I groan in desperation, “Your fingers . . . Santino.”
His breath skirts across my aching folds. “My fingers, what?”
Did I tell him to fuck me with his fingers and his mouth? Were my supplications audible?
He reaches up to grab my breasts. Santino’s not listening, but dammit, I have lost my ability to curse him for it. He tweaks my peaks, and another shudder of release rips through me as his tongue continues its onslaught.
With my mouth open, I look like a gasping mess! Santino’s hands clamp my hips. He holds me through the initial convulsions but the muscles in my pussy wrap around his tongue.
His gorgeous lips are so fucking wet and beautiful. Santino looks up at me, his accent thickened by arousal. “It’s been a while since I had the joy of making a woman cry.”
“Don’t men-mention another . . .” I gasp for air, panting and biting back orgasmic tears. “An . . . another bitch . . .”
He continues to patronize me with,“But I must say, you’re the prettiest, who’s ever cried for me, Gina.”
A curse is at the tip of my tongue, but my hormones are as unexpected as the San Andreas Faultline. Tears of ecstasy turn into a soft sigh. I sniffle. A warmth burns along my throat, up to my cheek. I meet his heated gaze. “I haven’t orgasmed like this before.”
“You are so amazing, Gina,” he murmurs. “With me, you’ll never have to concern yourself. This perfect body was created to be worshipped.”
“Perfect?” I offer a muted snort-laugh.
He kisses the curve of my hip. “Gina, you’re so soft and gentle—”
Soft, sure. I have a fair amount of fluffy parts. But gentle. No. I reply, “Santino, you already have me—”
He’s smiling up at me, and I’m instantly silenced. “I’m going to sink my cock inside of you, wrap your legs around me, and make love to you.”
“Please,” I reply. I cannot attest to how understandable my speech is as his mouth draws to my pussy.
I wiggle against the door, palms descending on his shoulders. I revel in the strength of him. My fingers furrow in his hair, pulling softly. With two fingers, he joins his wet mouth along my slit, plunging them into my pussy. I work my thighs around his shoulders, feeding my core to his hungry, torturous tongue. My ragged breath fills an apartment that I couldn’t readily identify. If I were asked to name one object in Santino Morelli’s home tomorrow or lose a million dollars, I’d be signing over a check.
6
Santino
