Addicted to Santino - Amarie Avant Page 0,21

rubbing my hips. “Look up at the sky. Those pretty stars are shining just for you, Bella.”

My fingers find the strength along his smooth caramel chest as I tilt my head upward. My pussy is burning as it stretches to capacity and strains further. I’m still working my downward spiral when Santino looks at me in awe.

“Kiss me, Bella. Kiss me.”

I tilt a little, and then I’m staring at him wide-eyed. The subtle shift has added more delicious yet painful friction to my swollen pussy.

“Kiss me, now, and keep working your way down on my cock, Gina.”

My fingers curl under, the nails digging into his skin. He’s alternating from Gina to Bella, becoming the dominant and then the caring lover. I’m shuddering on a hollowed breath of pain.

Santino scowls as I nip his lips.

This is power. An imaginary crown adorns my head. His body is my cathedra. The lounger became Santino’s throne. Well, his entire body is my throne room as I swirl my hips up and down in a delicious rhythm.

Santino closes his eyes, biting his lips. He’s dealing with his own demons. I slide my hands over his biceps and chest, loving the feel of him, the power beneath me.

“You’re teasing me,” he groans.

“You don’t like it?”

He leans forward. I’m overwhelmed by his cock again. “I love it,” he whispers in my ears, and then the world shifts again.

Santino is on top of me. I’d expected him to be so heavy that he’d crush me half to death, but he positions tons of muscles in his arms and legs, in a plank stance.

“Hold on,” he orders.

I cling to bulging arms as he frantically rides my pussy. And then I’m screaming as he smacks my ass and plows through me.

He’d said I’d say his name how many times? Can’t remember. But I know one thing for a fact. I say ‘Santino’ a million times over before he’s done with me.

Santino drives into me, and I shudder with each hard thrust. Our tongue twines as his hands slide up the sides of my aching torso. Santino grabs my breasts, plants his face between them, and drops a kiss at the achy spot there. He takes my pert nipple between his teeth, grinding into me at the same time. Pain on top of pain floods through me, fading into waves of desire. An incredible intake of chilled air cools my overheated body.

I’m growing hoarse when he tells me to cum for the trillionth time. Then Santino catches my mouth as his hips move violently over me. He chases my moans with his tongue, eliciting another hard orgasm inside of me. Santino settles deep, rocking in my depths. I’ll have to tell myself this isn’t love a thousand times over in my mind, as I completely surrender to him tonight.

Let it Snow . . . Somewhere else. (It’s only August)

14

Gina

I'm swiveling around in my chair; while, at the same time, grinding my teeth. At age ten, my last cavity was removed; I learned my lesson then too. But today, I’m about to grind my teeth into dust as I glare at Gabriella’s husband. Today, Steven has no right to call himself my brother-in-law. I’m glowering between his two eyes, imagining a bullet sinking between those dummy-headed eyes of his.

Well, I’ve overworked that angle today, and my neck is aching. So, I continue to look straight through Steven as he smiles and says, “Gina was in charge of that.”

My father regards me with disappointed dark eyes, at the same time rubbing his silver goatee.

“Da—Mr. Galloway.” I swallow my pride and decide against the use of familial greetings under the circumstances of ten pairs of eyes. “I spoke with Mr. Muston about the account. I had it in the bag. It was Steven who suggested that he seal the deal, since he was just promoted. ”

“Stop talking, sweetie.” My father tosses out the term he uses with secretaries, clerks, and female failures. “What is our first rule about accountability?”

Although I give the routine response like Dad taught me, I imagine following through with my usual hellcat response. Something more blasé like, “I’m hungry.”

Let’s presume that the power trip my father is on would inflate. The air in the room shifts as ten shocked eyes dart toward me for the offhanded response. I groan, only to feel the vibration traveling throughout my body, down through my squared shoulders. “I’m starving. Like eating pasta in Sicily starving.”

“Gina?” My father’s light brown skin flushes.

“I’m craving a huge