Page 237 of Hate Mates

Cristiano kisses his way down my collarbone, then lower, his breath hot against my skin. When his mouth closes over my breast, I cry out, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him there.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers against my skin, his fingers teasing circles around the swells of my breasts.

"You," I answer without hesitation. "I want you."

"You have me, Piper.”

The sound of my name on his lips pushes me over the edge.

He turns me around and bends me over the table just like he promised, then I hear the clink of his belt buckle.

Moments later his hard, thick cock is sliding into my pussy and my body welcomes him. We both gasp at the sensation.

Completeness. Homecoming. Every poetic cliché suddenly makes perfect sense as he fills me and stretches me to fit him, becoming part of me again. Then he starts to fuck me and I allow him to consume me.

I arch against him, crying out as waves of pleasure crash through me. He holds me through it, murmuring praise and endearments in a mix of English and Italian that makes my heart swell alongside my body's release.

"Piper," he groans, his forehead pressed to mine, his body trembling with the effort to remain still. "You feel like heaven."

I rock my hips, urging him to give me more. And he does.

He fucks me harder, setting a rhythm that quickly has me clinging to the edge of the table, meeting him thrust for thrust. His hands seem to be everywhere—cupping my breast, gripping my hip, sliding beneath me to give me more pleasure.

I give myself over to the sensations, to the building pressure, to the man who's claiming me so thoroughly I can barely remember the years without him.

"Come with me," he commands, his rhythm becoming more urgent. "Together, Piper. Like we used to."

The memory of countless shared climaxes, combined with his skilled touch and the relentless pressure inside, sends me careening toward the edge once more. This time, I take him with me, his name a cry on my lips as pleasure overwhelms me.

He follows immediately, burying his face in my neck as he finds his release, my name a reverent whisper against my skin. The sensation of his cock pulsing within me prolongs my own pleasure until we're both shaking with aftershocks.

As I come down, breathing heavily, he pulls out and turns me back to face him, holding me close. Then he looks at me with such naked adoration that tears prick behind my eyelids. How is it possible to feel so much for him after so long apart?

Cristiano presses gentle kisses to my shoulder, my neck, my jaw, before finally claiming my lips in a kiss so tender it makes my body ache.

"I need to know," he says against my mouth. "Will you give me a chance?”

The vulnerability in his question catches me off guard.

I cradle his face in my hands, making sure he sees the truth in my eyes. "Yes. I will.”

Relief washes over his features, followed by determination. “I will never let you down again.”

I believe him.

He follows that promise with a kiss, then he takes me upstairs to bed.

***

Cristiano makes love to me all night until I fall asleep. Drifting off worrying about Lana was hard, but I did so in his arms.

When I open my eyes again the morning sun greets me, but I’m alone in the bed.

I sit up and find Cristiano sitting on the window bay. He’s shirtless, smoking a cigar.

A bright smile fills his face when he looks at me and hope lifts my heart. “Morning, Bellezza.” That’s what he used to call me.

“Morning.”

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