Addicted to Santino - Amarie Avant Page 0,83

are not playing that game. You had your dick swinging for a reason, Santino. I want to reap the fruits of your labor.”

I start toward the sliding partition that separates the house from the lake. Over my shoulder, I reply, “I’m not proposing when you’re aware, Gina.”

“Okay, so sometime on my birthday, then?” She follows me, stopping at the threshold where fresh powdery snow covers the deck. “Wait, Santi. Let me grab my jacket.”

“Nope. This is a real man’s job.”

“Wait . . .” She calls after me, her voice growing smaller as I walk through the wilderness.

A few minutes later, I’m at a line of fir trees edging the lake when Gina shuffles over. She’s tucked her arms into the puffer jacket, jutting her chin. “That’s the one, Dirty Santa, that one!”

Glance up, then glance up some more. Cork a brow. “Bella, how many linebackers . . .?”

With an enormous smile, Gina runs into my arms, her puffer jacket thudding from the strain. “Kidding.”

Holding hands, we walk quietly for a while. When her dazzling brown gaze lands on the tree she wants, Gina cocks a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll start dinner. You got this from here?”

“Sure, I’ll make sure none of your amicas sneak into the house.”

“Funny,” she retorts. “If I see another possum, I have you. Especially if you anticipate eating well tonight.”

I’ve showered in a bathroom double the size of my apartment back home. In the kitchen, I find Gina. She’s stripped from the snowsuit from earlier. Chicken and herbs sizzle on a stainless-steel range stove. I love a thong between my lady’s cheeks just as any other man. But the panties I had selected for her earlier are high-cut. The lace material stretches across the round spheres. The plumpest parts of her ass fill out and overwhelm down below.

Gina clears her throat.

Aware, I arch a brow. “Chicken cacciatore?”

“Well, Santi, this place has every ingredient known to man. So, let’s hope it tastes familiar.”

I flick the button on the range.

She twirls out of my path. “Bad Santa, sit your ass over there. Or better yet, set two places at that huge dining room table.”

I cover the distance between her in a select few steps, pressing her against the shiny quartz counter. My groin strains between us as I reach behind Gina, cupping and kneading her backside.

“We have to eat, Santino.”

“I have to eat.” I lift her and plant her hard onto the smooth surface. “You’re not pregnant. You’re not eating for two, but we can fix that.”

Though I'd been excited when Gina finally took the test this afternoon, I’ll make it my mission to impregnate her one day. As I nip at Gina’s neck, she laughs.

“Yes, Santino, we can fix that. After you learn to stop throwing your weight around.”

My fingers slide beneath the seam of her undies and slither over her sex.

“Oh, dammit, Dirty Santa,” she groans. Expertly, Gina summits to the thrusts of my fingers with the swivel of her hips. “Santi, I’m trying to cook . . .”

“Then just a quick fuck, Bella.” I plant my mouth over hers, ceasing her pleading. “I’ll start with dessert.”

I drop to my knees, pushing her panties to the side. As I’m working my tongue along her slit, I tilt my head upward to watch Gina writhe and arch. My palms slide over her navel, then control her breasts, gently squeezing the plump globes before tugging her nipples. The combination of my hands and mouth makes Gina hiss through her teeth. My tongue works expertly over her clitoris, stimulating and unleashing a quick orgasm.

“You feel so good, smell so fucking good.” I groan against her throbbing lips, lapping at her wet walls.

While her fingers grip at my hair, she struggles to scream my name and rotates her hips. I leave her breasts, mouth not missing an inch of her pussy, as my hand searches on the countertop. My fingers graze across the chilled glass of lemonade she was having while cooking. I drink it down.

“Santino!” Gina shouts, hoarse, tiny hands gripping my hair back to her sex.

“Shhh . . . I’m not done making love to you, Bella. You were so close to losing control,” I say in a voice soft as silk. “You will be soon.”

With an ice cube clenched between my teeth, I reach down between her thighs. Unaware, Gina sucks in air as her pussy draws in the ice cube. Standing up, I drop my hands on her hips. There’s a quizzical, sultry look in