I’ve never really experienced before.
When our lips break, he pulls back to look at me, and the hunger in his eyes causes me to inhale a shaky breath. His nostrils flare as his gaze dips to my lips, and when he angles and comes back for another kiss, it’s deeper and more urgent this time. His tongue sweeps between my lips, thrusting inside with a commanding force. I release his hand to rake my fingers through his hair, need trembling all the way through my fingertips. His free hand glides along my ribs and down the outside of my leg, his thumb curling in towards my inner thigh. The sensation strikes a nerve that I feel squarely between my legs and as we continue kissing, my legs part, aching for his touch.
Slowly, his fingertips slide up my inner thigh at a tantalizingly slow pace. I moan into his lips, and he interprets that correctly as he slips past the hem of my short dress and brushes his knuckles over the top of my knickers. I inhale a sharp hiss of air, pressing my forehead to his and holding on to his neck for dear life.
“You want me to touch you here?” Santino asks, his voice deep and thick with arousal as he presses his index finger over the silk of my knickers. “Do you like how this feels?”
I nod, biting my lip and physically unable to kiss him because all I can think about is breathing.
“Tell me,” he commands, his nose brushing mine.
“Touch me, Santino,” I croak, my voice an achy whisper. “God, please. Touch me.”
He glances down at where his hand is currently concealed beneath my dress and flattens two fingers over the fabric. He gently rubs side to side over my clit, causing a heady rush of pressure in my pelvis. My legs squeeze around his hand as I squirm and shift on his lap, my body practically coming undone from the incessant teasing.
“Please,” I beg, aching for more contact, my eyes struggling to open. “Please, Sonny.”
Suddenly, his finger slips past the strip of fabric, and when his bare skin touches my bare skin, it’s as if my entire body is on fire.
“You’re soaked for me, Tilly,” he groans, running his finger along my slit as his lips and tongue tease the space below my ear. “Fucking dripping wet.”
My head falls back as I release a deep moan and feel my pelvis thrust up into his hand. It’s like my body has a mind of its own right now and is revolting against me for keeping it alone for so long. It’s completely ignoring all common acts of modesty.
Santino inserts one long finger inside me, and I cry out loudly, my body tensing on top of him. I open my eyes to find him watching my face with greedy fascination as his groin hardens beneath my arse.
“So fucking tight,” he rasps as he pumps inside me in slow, measured strokes. “Christ, you feel incredible.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head when he inserts a second finger and strokes an area that feels very, very right. Too right. My God. Not even my best vibrator with the suction attachment gets me going this fast. But the feel of Santino’s hard, muscled body beneath me, the sensation of his warm breath on my neck, and the view of his muscled forearm contracting as he pumps inside me, stimulating that one particular spot over and over again…it’s all causing me to lose control.
He must recognise the urgency in my body because he begins pumping in and out quicker now. “Fuck Tilly, are you going to come for me like this?” His voice is awestruck and full of wonder.
I gasp, my hand grabbing his between my legs as I begin aggressively riding him, pumping my hips up to meet his fingers thrust for thrust.
“Jesus,” he replies, his voice gravelly. “I can’t believe you’re going to…”
“Santino,” I cry out, curling into his chest as all the tension I’ve been holding inside my body for five long years unfurls in pulsating waves of pleasure around his fingers.
He remains frozen for a long while as he hugs me to his chest, our breaths heavy as I recover from that out-of-body experience I just had. I grip the taut muscles of his chest as reality begins to creep back into my consciousness. Good God, I just climaxed from being fingered.
Mortification begins to pinprick in my mind. What must Santino think of me? When he