Page 93 of Ivory Oath

He doesn’t seem to hear me. Or, if he does, he doesn’t care. He slides his hand up and down his shaft, timing it with the speed of his fingers in and out of me. He’s working both of us with his hands while he’s one thrust away from being buried inside of me.

I don’t understand it.

For years, I’d lie in bed with a toy between my legs, thinking about Mikhail in that bridal suite. The way he fit inside of me. The way he teased me.

Like this.

Now, he’s right here and I still can’t have him.

“I thought about you,” I confess. “Every time I touched myself. Every time I came. It was always you.”

A deep rumble moves through his chest. He drops his forehead to mine and lets out a ragged breath. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me, Viviana.”

So take me, I want to scream.

“I want you, Mikhail.”

He circles his thumb over his head and strokes again. He’s stretched so tight it looks painful.

Lord knows I’m in pain.

“I know you do. I can feel how much you want it.” He finds a spot inside of me and circles his finger. I buck off the desk and he holds me down.

I’m clenching, pulsating around his fingers, and I can’t stop. “I don’t want—I want—Please.”

“Tell me what you want, Viviana.”

There’s an urgency in his voice, but I can’t make sense of it. I can’t think about anything except the pressure building at my core. The way Mikhail’s abs are flexing, pumping his hips into his own hand instead of into me.

“I want you,” I whine. “Don’t you want me?”

I sound pathetic even to my own ears, but the sinkhole in my chest has apparently swallowed my self-respect. I need answers more than I need dignity.

He grabs my hand and wraps it around the velvet length of him. He’s warm and solid. He groans as he drags against my palm.

“Feel how much I want you. How hard I am, just thinking about putting my baby inside of you.”

I groan. I’ve never been this turned on and this frustrated at the same time. I slide my hips to the edge of the desk, taking his fingers deeper, willing them to fill me the way I know he can.

“You’re killing me,” I whimper. “I want you. You want me. What are we doing?”

“When I came inside of you six years ago, it was because you felt so good. Because this felt so good that you didn’t want me to pull out. It wasn’t because we wanted a baby. This time…” His voice trails off as he thrusts into my hand, losing his train of thought to a groan. “When you get pregnant this time, I want both of us to want it.”

“I want it, Mikhail. I want it.”

I’ve wanted it for so long. Months. Years, probably, if I feel like being dangerously honest with myself. There was always something about Mikhail Novikov that drew me in. Even before I was willing to admit it.

“You want me,” he counters. “You want my cock inside of you right now. I can feel how much you do. But when this is over, I don’t want there to be another doubt in that beautiful fucking head of yours about what this is and what we’re doing here.”

He’s worried that this is the lust talking.

I accused him of not wanting our baby and now, he’s making sure we both go into this with eyes wide open.

His concern for me would be sweet—if it wasn’t so absolutely ridiculous.

“I know what it’s like to carry your baby, Mikhail. I’ve done it before and it was the single greatest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.” I take his face in my hands and look him in the eyes. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have charged up here and walked through that door. Now, put another baby inside of me right now. Please. I’m begging you.”

His eyes flare just before his mouth crashes over mine, bowing me back. Our tongues slide together, tasting and teasing. I moan as he slips his fingers out of me. Then he pulls back and brings them to his lips, tasting me.

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