Page 63 of Sexting His Son's Ex
Santino guides himself to my entrance, his crown pressing against me. He must sense how nervous I am because he pushes my hair out of my face, bends down, and kisses each check.
“I have you,” he whispers, coaxing me to relax. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jovie. I’m going to take care of you and I’m never going to let you go.” He reaches between my legs and pinches my clit.
“Santino!” I cry and he presses in—just a little.
He continues to the assault on the nerves, paying attention to them in ways I never have before. He tugs, plucks, pinches, and rolls. He’s trying to take my mind off the pain and his efforts are working.
He looks between us, inching in again, and this time, my nails drag down his chest. Red lines are left in the destructive way.
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my best to remain relaxed and calm, but it feels like he is splitting me open.
He kisses my forehead. “Don’t ever apologize. Look at me. Jovie. Let me see you.”
I open them and he must see the panic within my wide eyes.
“This. Us. Me and you, this moment, don’t ever apologize. I’m here. I’m not in a hurry. I just love being the one you choose to be with. You’re trusting me and that means something, Jovie. To me, trust is everything. You can say you want to stop now and we will stop.” His thumb brushes over my cheeks. “I only want to be with you. In any way. Do you understand?”
Shutting my eyes, I nod frantic and in pain. He must swoop down because his lips are on mine, the softness of his kiss relaxing me instantly.
He slows the touch on my clit, letting go some of the desperation we both were feeling moments ago. “Take a deep breath for me,” he gently demands, his tone so soft, it’s like silk draping over my body.
I do as he says, taking deep breaths as he continues to ease inside me.
“Good girl,” he groans, his mouth parting in pleasure. “Fuck, Jovie. Oh, fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” he seethes through tight teeth. “So tight for me.” He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, his entire body quaking to control himself. Santino looks down, “Only a few more inches left, Sweet Girl.”
“More? There’s more?” I’m not sure if I can take anymore. For my first time, why did Santino have to be so big?
“Just a few more inches. You’re doing so good for me.” He cups my breasts, humming in pleasure.
He watches himself grab and cradle my heavy chest, toying with my hard, sensitive nipples with his fingers. He swoops down and sucks one into his mouth causing my back to arch and my arms to spread out, gripping the comforter.
“So sensitive. Good to know,” he smirks, sucking on the hard beads again. Santino pulls back, pinching the morsels with his teeth and I moan, my hips rocking for more.
It’s pure torture.
The pain. The pleasure. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to live through this.
“Jovie.” He presses his forehead against mine, his cock pressing against the only barrier left between us. Pulling away just enough to look at me, he asks, “You’re okay? You can still say stop. You can always say stop. No matter what. No obligations. Don’t feel pressured or forced to say yes because we’ve come this far. I’ll stop and we can wait.”
I grab the back of his neck and yank him to me. “I don’t want to wait anymore. Not when it comes to you.” And I slam down on his cock, wanting the pain to be over.
“Fucking hell, Jovie!” Santino shouts, tossing his head back in pleasure.
My eyes water from the pain. It stings and the fullness is nearly too much. I don’t want to stop.
I have no regrets. This is exactly what I want.
He kisses my cheeks with light pressure, reminding me of the gentleness of butterfly wings. Santino trembles beneath my grasp and hides his face between my shoulder and neck.
“Jovie, are you okay? Why would you do that? I didn’t want it to hurt.” He mouths against my neck, the innocent gesture turning wicked and sinful when he sucks my flesh into his mouth. “I wanted to take care of you.”
I can feel him wanting to move and he doesn’t, allowing me the time necessary to get used to the intrusion. He’s a master of control because not once does he break or become rough with me or lose control because of good he feels.
He is still thinking of me. He’s always thinking of me.
“I wanted the pain to be over sooner rather than later.”
His lips travel again, migrating to the middle of my throat, then drags them up to my mouth. “How do you feel now?”
