Page 29 of Addicted to Santino


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“Hey, what?”

“I was trying to wash you off. You were very dirty today. Your pits, your feet. I’m surprised your dick tasted so good.”

His fingers run along my ribs, water splashes all over. “Forget about me, Bella. What were you so sad about earlier? Why change your mind about Italy?”

I hoist myself up when Santino squeezes my midriff. “Gina.”

“Santa?”

“Don’t make me angry. You don’t want to see me angry,” he says. “That reference went over your entire head, I can see . . . Gina, add TheIncredible Hulkto your collection.”

I laugh softly. My eyes land on his lips. The lust is so thick between us that Santino nips my lip—hard. “Okay!”

“Thank you, Bella!”

“You’re welcome, Santa.”

He splashes sudsy water at me as I climb out. “Really, how old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Humph.” I pull out of my soggy shirt, letting it hit the marble floor with a thud.

“How old are you?”

I stop working the latch on my skirt to glare at him. “A man shouldn’t ask . . .”

“Are you older than I am, Gina?”

“I will drown you, Santino Morelli.” I reach for the top of his head, to immerse him in the water.

“Wait—Bella, don’t dunk me.”

“Why should I spare you?” I giggle as he feigns intimidation.

“Black don’t cra—”

“Hey, how dare you know that stereotypical statement?” I’m falling into him, laughing. “Although I’ll accept on behalf of mypeeps, your muscles are ten times hotter, all wet. So, sorry . . .”

With my hands on top of Santino’s head, I dunk him again.

“I’m twenty-something, okay, Santino!” My lips find him with a hard kiss. The bubbles from the tub dance across us.

He clutches the back of my neck. “Tell me about earlier, Gina.”

Part of me craves Bad Santa, which will lead to me pleading for a gift—a humongous gift. Nodding softly, I grab Santino’s loofah and the fluffy vanity stool to sit down.

Pouring the creamy iridescent soap onto the soft, porous sponge, I imagine the taste of Santino’s cum. I swipe the scrubber along his waxed, golden pec. Damn, I could lick—

“Ahem!”

“Oh, yeah, the story.” I grin. “Once upon a time, my sister Gabriella married a toad named Steven. He had a special set of skills, such as his parentage, that afforded him a proper last name.”

Seconds later, I shift toward how Steven is now the bane of my existence. Santino is listening thoughtfully, and for the first time, I have a partner who is Team Gina. About five minutes later, Santino inquires, “Wowzah, Bella! How many times will you say ‘asshole’?”

“First, you asked for this story. This is the side of me you weren’t supposed to meet, Santino. I’m sure the secretary suggested . . .”

“Yup, The Grinch. Also met therealyou on day one.”

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