Page 61 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“You’re so wet for me,” he says in a way that’s similar to a praise. Santino drags his hand free, his finger shining, and his lust-filled eyes glide from me to his hand. He inhales the scent, groaning. “Mmm,” he growls, his lashes touching his brows when he peers up at me like a devil peeking through a doorway. “I wonder if you taste just as good.”
My own gaze falls to his mouth, wondering if he’s actually going to taste me. A throb builds between my legs watching his every move. I’ve never been more ready to take the next step in my entire life.
This moment. This person. This man. All the reservations I’ve had with other men are gone. The uncertainty in my gut, the voice in the back of my head that always told me to stop is no longer there. There’s no second guessing or no hesitation.
I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
He sucks his finger into his mouth, and his eyes roll to the back of his head when he lets out a moan that I wish I had the courage to swallow by kissing him.
I want to feel his sound in my throat and move down my body until I feel him everywhere.
“Better than I have dreamed,” he admits, his head rolling over his shoulders before he straightens.
“Santino.” I don’t know what else to say. God, I’m nervous. My heart is pounding so loud I can hear it beating in my ears.
He crowds me, trailing his hands up my body, skimming over my breasts, then grips my chin, his thumb tugging my bottom lip down. “Say it again.”
“What?” I can’t understand a word he is saying.
“Say my name again. Just like you did before.”
I lick my lips, unsure of what it sounded like. I don’t need to focus with him so close. I can’t. Saying his name as if I can’t breathe is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
“Santino,” I force from my throat the best I can.
“Fuck,” he thunders, gripping me back the back of the neck and yanking me forward, sealing his lips over mine.
The kiss is deep, his tongue slipping over mine in a forbidden dance. He grabs my thighs, my ass, lifting my leg to wrap around his hip, and then grinds himself into me.
No more words are spoken. I don’t think either of us can stand another second without feeling one another. With trembling hands, I unbutton his shirt—or try to. I can’t seem to steady my fingers enough.
I whine from impatience and a little embarrassment.What woman can’t unbutton a damn shirt?
He rips his lips away, grips either side of his expensive button-up and yanks. The buttons pop and fly, clinking onto the floor. One by one they roll away, getting lost in the room, and Santino tosses the useless fabric onto the floor. I’m left with a viewI’ve only ever seen in the videos or pictures we have sent one another.
I swallow, not knowing where to look when it comes to the masterpiece that is Santino Salvati. His shoulders are square, his chest wide, sculpted, defined, and his arms have just the right amount of muscle on them where I can see the vein that runs over each bicep.
I want to lick it.
Dark hair is scattered across his chest and abs, thinning to a perfect happy trail. He doesn’t allow me to appreciate him much longer. Santino wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and charges at me, picking me up with ease. His hand cups the back of my head, the warmth of his kisses heating every spot he chooses on my neck.
He lays me down on the bed, the mattress soft and giving, the sheets melting against my skin from the high thread count. Santino climbs up my body, kisses my stomach, between my breasts, then kisses me again.
I love his lips. If this is all we did tonight, I’d be happy. I love feeling him against me. Experiencing him is like a wish coming true or a fever dream. Both send a surge of lust in my veins, my nails clawing at his back as he settles between my legs. Our pants are still on, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling his thick erection pressing against me.
I gasp in his mouth when he rocks, the tip of his cock sliding over my jean-covered clit. The kiss is messy as we allow our want for each other to take over and to be in control.
“You’re so goddamn perfect,” he mumbles between kisses. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding himself against me. “I haven’t feltthis way in so long,” he mumbles to himself, kissing his way down my chest.
He kneads my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then sliding this tongue across to give attention to the other. “Perfect. So perfect. Look at you.” He kneels between my thighs, tugging my jeans off my hips taking my panties with them.
Santino drops the jeans to the floor, his eyes, heated and a bit wild, take their time looking at every inch of me. He takes his time too as if we don’t have a life or responsibilities outside of these four walls.
He lifts my right leg, and a piece of hair drops over his forehead as he bends down to place at a kiss at my ankle. Santino drinks me in. I don’t think anyone has ever analyzed me with such intensity. Santino handles me like I’m a rare piece of art, his hands caressing my feet, kissing the tops, tracing every toe.
I never knew being touched like this would feel so sensual.
Santino is in a trance, gliding his fingers up my shin, circling my knee, and he bends down again, kissing an area that shouldn’t be so sensitive. Peering up at me, he spreads my thighs a part, his gaze dropping to my pussy.
