Page 108 of Ivory Ashes

He growls as I do, a sound so animalistic I break out in goosebumps. Then he spins me around, bends me over his desk, and drives into me in one thrust.

I arch my back, taking every inch of him.

Mikhail drags his hand down my spine before he slaps my ass. “Good girl.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss. But the words devolve into a moan as he slides out of me slowly, making sure I feel every inch. When he slams back into me, I can’t even remember why I was upset.

“This pussy is mine,” he grunts, driving me further and further across the desk. I’m practically lying on my stomach, legs wrapped around his waist. “Now, everyone will know.”

I reach for the edge of the desk but I hit something cold, instead. The vase is there, condensation gathering on the glass.

He wants me to be his? Fine.

But that means he is mine.

I don’t even think before I push it off the desk. It shatters on the floor, water splashing onto the wall.

“Viviana.” My name tears out of his throat. I feel him twitch and pour deep inside of me.

The fact that some other woman is sending him flowers, but I’m the one he’s buried inside of now is enough to send me over the edge with him.

Once I can stand without falling over, I clean up as best I can, but it’s not looking good.

“I walked in here looking nice. Now, my shirt is wrinkled and my hair is a mess.”

“I’ll fix it.” Mikhail reaches over and plucks the clip out of my hair so it falls in loose waves around my shoulders. “Your hair looks better down.”

My face flushes. You’d think I’d be beyond blushing by this point, but apparently not. “That’s nice, but the trouble is that my hair was up all day. But after fifteen minutes in your office, it’s suddenly down? That’s going to raise some eyebrows.”

Mikhail leans against his desk, legs crossed at the angles. “If you don’t get out of here, you’re going to raise a lot more than eyebrows.”

He looks down at the front of his pants and, what do you know? Another blush.

“I have work to do,” I remind him.

“Tonight, then,” he says, a sultry promise in his voice. “After dinner.”

“Dinner with who? Just you and me?” I ask.

“Everyone. Anatoly and Raoul, too.” He swallows, and I could be mistaken, but Mikhail Novikov looks nervous. “It’ll be a true family dinner.”

My heart leaps as if he just invited me on the world’s most romantic date night.

He might as well have.

Mikhail follows me out of his office and then leaves for the rest of the afternoon. He and Anatoly have Bratva business to attend to. It’s for the best—I wouldn’t trust myself not to repeat what we just did several more times today.

A few of my coworkers eye my loose hair and rumpled shirt with suspicion, but no one mentions hearing any wild moans or cries of passion coming from the area of Mikhail’s office, so I take that as a good sign that we got away with it.

Hopefully.

Either way, I ride my orgasmic high all the way home.

Everyone is already in the kitchen when I get there.

“You’re working your wife too hard,” Anatoly proclaims, throwing his arm around my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen. “Viv is the last one home.”

“Mama!” Dante throws his arms around my legs, squeezing tight. “We’re having pie for dinner!”

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