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He’s pulled my hair so hard, I’m close enough for his tongue to dip out and lick my face.
“Bad Santa,” I pant. “I need to taste you!”
A tidal wave pulses my walls, juices gushing from my core, washing over his cock.
“You want to taste Daddy’s dick?” Santino never stops with his powerful, long strokes.
“Yessss!”
“Yes, what?”
“Please let me suck your dick, Bad Santa.”
With his cock buried deep inside of me, Santino leans down to press his mouth to the center of my back. In Italian, he murmurs, “You’re mine, Gina. Forever and ever.”
He exits my quaking pussy, grips my ankle, and flips me back over.
Santino comes to the headboard. His extended ropy, long limbs have captivated all my attention. I momentarily forget what my intentions were.
“No more flipping me,” I murmur.
“As you wish,” he says, gesturing to his monster erection that he’s fisting in his hand.
Like a tiger ready to pounce, I move over to him slowly.
“I got this, Santi.” I remove his hand, placing my mouth as far down over the length of him as I can.
Santino’s fingers run through my hair, stroking instead of pulling. I focus on what he desires, whether it’s to polish his cock's crown or deep throat him as best as I can.
He groans from deep in his chest, at peace and satisfied. I want to tell him how much I’ve fallen in love with him. How much I’ve obsessed with how soon wastoo soon.But my mouth softly strokes down over his thick, rigid manhood.
“I need you, Gina.” His voice is low, gravelly, and filled with emotion.
I climb over all the hard bricks that make the good guy and straddle him.
“I need you too, Santino,” I murmur. My hips plunge me down on top of him, and I sigh in ecstasy. “Mmmm.”
My juice makes way for his size, and I rock steady on him. Head back, Santino’s eyes are barely open. Thick, long lashes brush his golden skin. Mouth agape, Santino hisses as I wrap my arms around him, riding him.
His muscular arms loop around me and he plants a delicate kiss on the tip of my nose then winks. A billion butterflies take flight in my stomach. After all the depraved sex we’ve had, we can still find a fresh, new way to love each other. We move in tandem out of pure instinct. Santino’s grinding his hips up to meet mine, and our bodies fit together, content. Soon enough, my fingertips dig into his shoulders, and his liquid love fills my womb.
53
Gina
It’s two daysuntil Christmas when Santino and I drag ourselves out of bed. He’s offering room service for dinner, and I quickly shake my head no. The five days I was upstate derailing through my mind.
“You dieting or something?”
I jump onto him like a raving lunatic. He deflects my every effort, bringing me into a bear hug.
“Gina, don’t make me put on the Santa hat.”
“Humph! I’ll fight you in that damn hat too! Let’s go out.” I pout.
Holding me close, Santino looks at me through a scrutinizing gaze. “You’ve never been body conscious, Gina.”
“I’m hungry, Santino. I’ll tell you why later.”
