sexual tryst is written all over my face. Santino is calm and collected.
With the cameras in the lobby and corridors in working order, I started to shell out cash for the guard to delete various pieces of footage, but the giant intimidated the guard into doing our bidding for free.
Now, Santino is in my black, custom tub with silver, claw-feet trim.
I snort, “Damn, I was told ten linebackers could fit into the tub when I bought it—friggen lie.”
“You asked if ten linebackers could fit inside of the tub, Bella?”
“Yup,” I reply, kneeling at the edge. I unbutton my blouse. I collect water in the palm of my hands and let it trickle across his abdominals. With a blissful sigh, I repeat the process.
“You have no other names for big guys like me, do you?”
“Nope.” I cork a smile, grabbing a loofah. “Beast to my beauty. On occasion, you flip me in bed like an erotic dancer. Have you ever been a stripper?”
“Yeah.”
Shaking my head, I sputter on another laugh. Feels like I’m deliciously inebriated off Santino’s caring and attention. He catches my arm and pulls me into the tub, fully clothed. “Hey!”
“Hey, what?”
“I was trying to wash you off. You were very dirty today. Your pits, your feet. I’m surprised your dick tasted so good.”
His fingers run along my ribs, water splashes all over. “Forget about me, Bella. What were you so sad about earlier? Why change your mind about Italy?”
I hoist myself up when Santino squeezes my midriff. “Gina.”
“Santa?”
“Don’t make me angry. You don’t want to see me angry,” he says. “That reference went over your entire head, I can see . . . Gina, add The Incredible Hulk to your collection.”
I laugh softly. My eyes land on his lips. The lust is so thick between us that Santino nips my lip—hard. “Okay!”
“Thank you, Bella!”
“You’re welcome, Santa.”
He splashes sudsy water at me as I climb out. “Really, how old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Humph.” I pull out of my soggy shirt, letting it hit the marble floor with a thud.
“How old are you?”
I stop working the latch on my skirt to glare at him. “A man shouldn’t ask . . .”
“Are you older than I am, Gina?”
“I will drown you, Santino Morelli.” I reach for the top of his head, to immerse him in the water.
“Wait—Bella, don’t dunk me.”
“Why should I spare you?” I giggle as he feigns intimidation.
“Black don’t cra—”
“Hey, how dare you know that stereotypical statement?” I’m falling into him, laughing. “Although I’ll accept on behalf of my peeps, your muscles are ten times hotter, all wet. So, sorry . . .”
With my hands on top of Santino’s head, I dunk him again.
“I’m twenty-something, okay, Santino!” My lips find him with a hard kiss. The bubbles from the tub dance across us.
He clutches the back of my neck. “Tell me about earlier, Gina.”
Part of me craves Bad Santa, which will lead to me pleading for a gift—a humongous gift. Nodding softly, I grab Santino’s loofah and the fluffy vanity stool to sit down.
Pouring the creamy iridescent soap onto the soft, porous sponge, I imagine the taste of Santino’s cum. I swipe the scrubber along his waxed, golden pec. Damn, I could lick—
“Ahem!”
“Oh, yeah, the story.” I grin. “Once upon a time, my sister Gabriella married a toad named Steven. He had a special set of skills, such as his parentage, that afforded him a proper last name.”
Seconds later, I shift toward how Steven is now the bane of my existence. Santino is listening thoughtfully, and for the first time, I have a partner who is Team Gina. About five minutes later, Santino inquires, “Wowzah, Bella! How many times will you say ‘asshole’?”
“First, you asked for this story. This is the side of me you weren’t supposed to meet, Santino. I’m sure the secretary suggested . . .”
“Yup, The Grinch. Also met the real you on day one.”
He laughs as I pop his bicep. “Whatever, how many times did I say it?”
“A lot, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” I start up with a rant regarding my dad and how ‘sweetie’ and ‘sweetheart’ are terms derived from his perception of failure. Damn, this is what happens when you share. I’m now entering the transparency zone.
While I’m sitting on the stool, I drop the sponge into the water. I then place my palms on the edge of the tub before locking my arms. Sighing, my face rests between my hands.
I groan, “All I’ve ever wanted was to see my dad look at me approvingly