Page 247 of Hate Mates

“Fucking hell, woman.” He brushes all my hair over my left shoulder, exposing the right side of my neck, and kisses along the column, sending shivers through me as he presses his hotcock between my ass cheeks. “I’ve dreamed about this every night.” Another kiss. “Having you in my arms again.” Another. “Your taste.” Another. “Your lips.” Another even higher. “Your hands all over me.” He finds that spot just behind my ear that makes my pussy weep. “My cock buried in this sweet cunt of yours and that breathy little moan you always release as I drive into you…”

I shudder against him, my nails scratching the metal surface under them, and he grins against my skin, reaching between us to glide his fingers through my slick folds.

“Jesus, Em, you’re so fucking wet for me. Did you dream about this, too? Did you miss me?”

Miss him?

The words seem insufficient for what I’ve felt.

The yearning that consumed me every day, battling the sheer rage I felt at him for his betrayal.

I nod my agreement, trying to push away any of those lingering feelings that don’t belong here anymore. Nothing should stand between us. No more secrets. No more lies. No more anger.

Will grips my chin in his rough fingers and tilts my head back until my eyes meet his steely gray ones. “Say it.”

“Yes.”

His fingers move through my arousal, slick and gliding but not stroking me where I really need it. “Have you let anyone else touch this cunt?”

Fuck.

I shake my head, a needy moan slipping out of my lips. “No.”

“Thank fuck…” He drags the head of his cock through me and nips at my mouth. “Because I haven’t touched another woman. You’re it for me, Trouble. You always have been. Do you believe that?”

I nod.

“Sayit.”

“Yes.”

He plunges into me in one long, hard thrust that rocks me forward against the keg. I cry out, the sound swallowed by the music playing out in the bar and the old wood walls and beams of the small room surrounding us.

Oh, God…

“Fuck!” He growls low in my ear and stills inside me, then pulls his hand from between my legs and slips his wet fingers into his mouth. “Just a little taste of what I’m going to have later. And Christ, it’s even better than I remember.”

He rolls his hips, making the head of his cock hit that perfect spot and drawing another low groan from my chest, then withdraws and slowly pushes back into me. Allowing me to feel each glorious inch of him as he fills me completely.

The tempo he sets of long, slow thrusts is maddening.

Each retreat has me arching to keep him close. Every drive and roll of his hips winds me tighter.

He somehow maintains control when I can tell he just wants to unleash. Wants to make up for all the time we spent apart. Wants to apologize in the best way possible for everything that’s happened.

And I will let him.

But not like this.

This is brutal torture.

I thought living without him, believing he betrayed me after a lifetime of loving each other, was too painful to bear. Yet, this is somehow worse. Being so close yet feeling so far from reaching that epoch.

If he keeps up this agonizing rhythm, I won’t make it.

I’ll die right here waiting for the orgasm he’s keeping from me.

His fingers tighten on my chin and hip. His ragged breaths against my ear come harsher, along with increasingly sharp thrusts.

---