Page 19 of Sexting His Son's Ex
My hands grip her hips, helping her rock them across my face, wanting her to ride me, to use me, to take what she needs so I can taste her pleasure.
“That’s it. What a good girl. Fucking come for me.”
I close my eyes, wanting to envision more. The dreams aren’t enough. I need her and I need to see her again and soon.
“Santino. Yes. God!” She cries out, her thighs shaking from the pleasure overcoming her body.
“Mmmm,” I hum to myself, pretending the water on my lips is her come and I lick it free, wishing I could taste her.
Does my son know what she tastes like?
I hate that. I hate that he knows. He must. Anger wells up inside me, wanting to stake my claim.She’s mine.She was never meant to be his.
“Don’t think about that,” I tell myself, not wanting to lose focus on Jovie, on how beautiful she is in my dream.
Her long copper hair flows down her back. My hands are needy, grabbing every part of her I can. Her breasts spill out of my hand, and her nipples are hard, taunt, begging to be teased and plucked.
I press my forehead against the wall, my lips parting, and my brows pinching when it starts to feel too good. I don’t want it to end yet. I want it to last forever.
“Jovie, fucking ride me,” I beg to my imagination, knowing that whatever I envision couldn’t possibly be as good as feeling her in real time.
My fingers ache to have the privilege of touching her.
I stroke myself faster, opening my eyes to see how red and angry the tip of my cock is. My thumb rubs across the head, precome dripping from the slit. Reaching down with my other hand, I tug and roll my sack, groaning from the pressure.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to come. I want to save every drop for Jovie, if or when I have the ability to lie her down on my bed and spread her legs. The thought of seeing my seed spill from between the valley of her thighs has me rolling my head around my shoulders. It’s too much to think about. Myorgasm hits me hard and fast, my cock jerks and tenses, come jetting down the drain.
The bliss of my orgasm doesn’t even last. The pleasure is fleeting. This isn’t good enough.
I want more.
Curling my fist against the wall, I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body flexing from rage. I shouldn’t be torn. My loyalty should be to Luca. I shouldn’t be giving Jovie the time of day, yet all the seconds and minutes and hours are dedicated to her because she has consumed every fucking thought.
I slam my fist against the wall, “Fuck!” I curse louder than I meant to, and it echoes in the expensive bathroom that should be used by Jovie.
Jovie. Jovie. Jovie.
Everything is her. She’s infiltrated my entire life. She deserves to soak in my large tub to the right that can comfortably sit two. There are lavish expensive oils, bath bombs, sea salts, scrubs, which can be hers if she lived here—if she accepted the life that I’m willing to give her.
It would mean having to be okay with Luca around though.
And Luca being okay with her around.
Sighing, I run my hand down my face. Exhausted, knowing I’m a bad father.
Bending my head, the hot water blasts my tense shoulders and neck, easing the knots and tension. The sensation reminds me to schedule an appointment with the massage therapist I always have on call.
“Mr. Salvati?” Kate, my wonderful maid’s voice cuts through the steam.
Still, I’m clearly in the shower and this is not the time or place. “Not now, Kate. This is inappropriate. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Apologies. I have fresh warm towels that you like. You told me to let you know when?—”
I perk up at the thought of freshly dried towels that are hot. “Oh, thank you. That’s fine. Please, set them on the warmer. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The tap of her shoes come closer and then they fade until the door closes, leaving me alone again. I turn off the shower, not wanting to miss the warmth of the towels. I don’t care what anyone says, towels and blankets right out of the dryer mean supreme comfort.
Swinging open the glass door, I step out on the mat, grabbing an oversized black towel. I feel like a kid again, remembering when my mom would toss all the warm laundry on me.
