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His dick hits me at such an angle, the intense pressure builds into its own kind of pleasure. He’s bottoming out inside me and still I clench around him. My pussy pulsates and he grunts as he picks up the pace.
The wet sounds we produce bounce off the walls, evidence of the mess we’ve made of each other. We’re two bodies in perfect sync with each other, riding the same pulse of carnal passion. Hot, sweaty, alive.
Salvatore smacks my ass and I grind back against him, asking for more. The sharp thwack makes my cheeky flesh ripple. The burn it leaves behind feels just as good as his dick deep in my pussy. A different kind of pleasure.
It sends me careening into my second orgasm. I’m so overcome, I go momentarily numb.
Except for the high.
I shudder and bite the pillow, riding out the rest of Salvatore’s hard strokes. I’ve become whole, so sated and full, I can’t want for anything else. I can do nothing else but savor the tiny aftershocks pinging through me right down to the tips of my toes.
For the second time, Salvatore withdraws already coming. His seed splatters my ass and the back of my thighs. It gets on the sheets.
Truly a mess.
He drags me down with him. We hit the pillows, a sweaty mess, barely able to breathe. He waits a few seconds to regain composure before he speaks.
“Guess Christmas Day is also laundry day.”
I snort out a laugh. “Whose fault is that?”
“Yours,” he answers. He wraps an arm around my hips and grins. “You’re the one who scolded me last night for coming in—”
“Salvatore!”
He laughs and pulls me tighter against him. “Kidding, Phi. I’m just happy you’re in my bed. I’ll come wherever the fuck you want me to come.”
We’re playing around as I shove at his chest and he draws me closer when my phone buzzes. The screen lights up with Dad’s name from where it rests on the nightstand.
Salvatore raises an amused brow. “Right on cue. He must have some kind of sensor for when we’re together.”
“Stop it.” Though I give him the scantest smirk, I can’t deny the allegation. Dadisthat inexhaustible.
“Sorry, Phi. Just can’t help thinking how pissed he’d be if he knew about all the X-Rated things I were doing to his daughter. The asshole part of me thinks it’s fucking hilarious considering he hates my guts.”
Men and their never-ending egos.
I roll my eyes and slide off the bed with my phone in hand. On my way out the room, I grab my robe and search for a part of the loft that’s Salvatore-free.
“Hello? Dad.” I step into the bathroom, ignoring the disgruntled glare from Salt perched on the hamper.
“Delphi sweetie, you sound out of breath. Everything alright?”
My cheeks flush. “Yes, uh, just got back from a run. Merry Christmas!”
“You’re running on Christmas morning? It’s freezing out.”
“Dad, did you call to lecture me about my exercise routine, or to wish me a Merry Christmas?”
“Actually, I called to check if you’re near a TV. Today’s the day.”
“Your surprise?”
“That’s right.”
It’s only as he answers I pick up on all the noise behind him—deafening whoops and hollers. The excited cheers of dozens of people.
“Dad,” I say slowly as I walk into the living room and turn on the TV. “Where are you?”
