Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

My pulse pounds as he uses me roughly, not releasing my hands so my body scrapes across the bed with every thrust. It feels so fucking good, I think I might die. The friction of the bedding chafing my breasts as he fucks me mercilessly, pounding into me so hard I think he might split me in half.

“I’ve missed your pussy, sweetheart. I’ve missed using you.”

“Oh, god,” I manage on a pant, trying to free my hands again. His grip only tightens. “Oh, god, Mateo.” He thrusts inside me so deep and so fast, and I can’t take it anymore. I cry out, my pussy convulsing around his length, squeezing him as he continues to pump in and out of my body.

After my orgasm subsides, I wait for him, loving every thrust just as much as the ones that built to my orgasm, because now I know he’ll get his. My body will bring him pleasure, and that’s my favorite thing in the whole world.

I sigh with satisfaction when he finally groans, when I feel the shift in his thrust as he empties himself inside my body.

Finally, he releases my hand, rolling me over onto my back and lying down beside me. With a deep sigh of contentment, he drapes his arm across my waist and tugs me against him. Since he didn’t get to kiss me while he fucked me, he captures my mouth, lazily caressing my tongue with his. I lean over him, drawing closer. I close my eyes and kiss him back, wanting him as much now as I did before he fucked me.

I’ll never stop wanting Mateo. I’ll never get enough of him.

After a few minutes, I snuggle up on his chest and let him wrap his strong arms around me. To my immense relief, my connection to this man is untarnished, vibrating inside me, coursing through my veins like the blood that gives me life. Every demon in hell could try to pull him away from me, and every last one of them would fail.

I wouldn’t ordinarily say something like this to him, but suddenly a declaration bubbles up inside of me and I can’t keep it in.

“You’re mine, Mateo.”

My heart skips a beat, saying that to him. I dare a glance at him, feeling like I just put a collar on a tiger, but I don’t mean it that way. It’s not a restrictive thing. Our love isn’t restrictive, despite his personality. It’s like a rare gem protected by a force of nature, like priceless treasure stored safely in the calm center of a tumultuous storm. No one can ever get to it, because there’s a whole cyclone that would tear apart anyone who dared try.

No one can touch me, but him.

No one can reach him, but me.

Together we’re impenetrable. No one can touch us.

Chapter Twenty

Mia

Water beats down on me in the shower. Mateo’s hands come up behind me, lathering my naked breasts with soap. I close my eyes, tilting my head back against his shoulder, reveling in his touch.

He drops his head forward, leaving a few kisses along my shoulder. His hands travel down my torso, soaping up my abdomen, then dropping lower.

Smiling, I catch his hand. “Watch it, mister. I’m going to want an encore performance if you keep that up.”

“I’m not hearing a reason to stop,” he informs me, freeing his hand so it can move between my legs.

“We have dinner guests,” I tell him.

“Mmm, yes,” he murmurs, his voice a little less intimate. “Is Rafe going to be a problem?”

I’ve felt much lighter since Mateo’s pardon, but now discomfort reemerges. Guilt tries to gather in my chest, but I stamp it out. Mateo doesn’t want my guilt. With as much casualness as I can muster, I say, “I don’t see why he would.”

Mateo spins me around. I hold my breath, unsure what I’m going to see, but instead of any hint of resentment or jealousy, I see amusement in those beautiful brown eyes I love so much. “You have a tendency to make even the most self-possessed among us lose our goddamn minds.”

I’m inordinately flattered, and I can’t keep a slight smile off my face. I couldn’t care less about other men, but it makes me feel pretty powerful that he’s including himself in that statement. Draping my arms around his neck, I lean in to give him a lingering kiss.

“You have the strongest mind I’ve ever encountered, Mr. Morelli. I certainly haven’t made you lose it.”

“Well, you haven’t been here the past week,” he mutters, wryly. Switching back to the task at hand, he says, “I’m not angry, I just need the truth. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

I’m relieved, I guess, but the prospect of him not being bothered by the idea of someone else having sex with me actually bothers me more than the alternative. “Why aren’t you mad?”