17. Jovie #3
“Oh, fuck,” he draws out the words. “Look at you. Fucking beautiful. And all mine. What have I done to deserve such heaven?” He bends down, wrapping his tongue around my nipple.
He’s always finding a way to pay attention to my body.
“Nothing,” he voice deepens. “I’ve done nothing and yet, here you are.
I’m a lucky man.” Santino leans back on his knees, keeping my legs spread so he can watch himself slide in and out of me.
“I wish you could see this view. I’m going to get a picture painted just like this, of me filling you, your virgin blood coating my cock, then hang it above our bed so you’re reminded every fucking night who you belong to,” He flexes his hips, driving to the hilt.
There’s no pain. A little discomfort, but not enough to stop the pleasure from overcoming my body with every stroke he gives me.
“I can’t get enough of your body. These curves drive me wild, Jovie.” His hands fall to my hips and his fingers curl for leverage. The grip is tight. Bruises will decorate my skin tomorrow and I can’t wait. They’ll be like trophies or stamps of possession.
He changes the pace, faster and harder, the headboard smacking against the wall.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
There is no doubt the entire house can’t hear the rapid beat.
“Santino! Oh my God, yes. You feel so good.” I don’t know if I’ll be able to orgasm just because of the slight ache that’s still there, but it doesn’t stop how fucking amazing he feels.
My gaze becomes greedy, dragging it up and down his body, watching all the muscles tense as they work. Sweat glistens against his tanned skin and my attention wanders lower, the base of his cock disappearing with every stroke.
How is this my life? I’m being fucked by a god.
“So damn sexy,” I mutter more to myself, not thinking he is listening to me at all, but I should have known better.
He’s always listening to me.
“You like what you see, Jovie?”
My hand drags down the hard plains of his chest. “So much.”
I become wetter, the sounds between us becoming erotic and sinful. He growls, tilting his head down to watch.
“So fucking wet. All this from looking at me?”
“Yes,” I admit, pinching my own nipples between my fingers.
“How wet can you get when you’re not?” He slips out of me, and I cry out in protest, his cock shining from my slick and stained red from my blood.
Santino flips me onto my hands and knees, lines himself, and in one thrust, he’s stretching me again.
My shout bounces off the walls. His touch glides up my back, following the divot of my spine. Santino kisses the back of my neck, hooks his hand on my shoulder, and begins a brutal pace.
Hard. Fast. His sack swings and hits my clit. It’s all too much.
And not enough.
He yanks me back with my hair, using it as if it’s a rope or reins, and keeps tugging until I’m on my knees.
My back is pressed against his front, our mouths meet in an uncoordinated kiss.
His cheek rests against my head, his breaths guttural and mixed with groans.
He’s vocal and I love that. I love I can hear how good I make him feel.
Something changes between us in this position. He’s deeper, cradling me close to his chest, and every thrust he gives is long and slow. He groans in my ear, one arm around my waist to keep me close and I curl one of mine over his neck.
“This body,” he whimpers from how good he feels. “Fuck, I’ll never be able to get enough of you.” He slips his hand down, flicking my clit, adding more sensations.
Our skin slides together. The room becomes hot and humid from our bodies. He presses me down against the bed, my body flat, and the angle has his cock pressing against a spot inside me that has stars burst in my eyes.
“Santino!” I cry out his name for all to hear, reaching back to grab any body part of him. “It’s too much. Oh my God, you have to stop.”
“Do you want me to stop because it hurts or do you want me to stop because it feels so good, you don’t think you can take it.”
“That option,” I groan, clawing at the sheets.
“Then, there is no fucking way I’m stopping.” He continues the same pace, hitting that spot over and over.
There’s no way I’m going to orgasm. Not for my first time, but he expertly plays my body, hitting every nerve that has starts the brewing of an orgasm.
“Are you going to come for me, Sweet Girl? Already? Am I that lucky?” He presses my head against the mattress, ramming his thick cock into me.
“Am I going to be able to feel you grip me so tight that you make me come?” His hand lands on my right butt cheek, the slap loud and leaving a warmth in its wake.
I moan, pressing my ass against him for more. “Don’t stop, Santino. Don’t. I’m so close. Oh my god, you feel so good,” I practically sob against the mattress, burying my face in the covers so my screams are muffled.”
He tugs my head back, freeing my face from being covered. “I don’t think so. In my bed, in my home, I want to hear every scream, cry, and moan. They are mine,” he snarls. “Let me hear them.”
The bed inches its way across the floor with every hard thrust.
“Santino! Oh, yes! Oh my God!” My orgasm bursts from me, a slickness soaking the space between us. My body tenses, clenching around him.
Santino fucks me faster, curling over me, gripping my ass in his hand, ramming into me, moaning, gasping, and it all prolongs my own orgasm. “Fuck, Jovie. Oh, fuck. Jovie!” He comes, warm jets filling me, and he thrusts deeper with every rope that escapes him.
His hands slip down my arms, his fingers intertwining with mine. Santino kisses across my shoulders, goosebumps replying to his adoration.
We’re both trembling. Our breaths are unreliable, broken, and a loud silence hangs between us as we come down from ecstasy. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence. More like a ‘wow that just happened and it was amazing’ kind of silence.
He stays inside me as my eyes hood from exhaustion. “Are you okay?” He questions, kissing my shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”
I yawn. “I’m more than okay, and no, you didn’t hurt me. Not at all. I can’t wait to do that again.”
He chuckles, gathering my hair and moving it to my other shoulder. “You’ll be sore. We’ll need to wait. I won’t hurt you.”
We move to our sides, and he keeps me as close as possible, so he stays inside me.
The last thing I remember are his lips against my neck before sleep pulls me under. I’ve never felt more safe or loved.
I’m right where I’m meant to be.