Page 124 of Sinful Blaze

“Did you call it in?” I ask Sofi once we’re back in the elevator.

She nods. “Paramedics are on their way.”

I nod and stare at the sliding doors. One loose end taken care of.

Now, it’s time to have a chat with my wife.

47

PASHA

“Hey, Pash—mmf!”

The kiss that silences her is brutal and crushing, but so is every emotion raging war inside me as I haul her onto the kitchen island and step between her thighs.

I want her.

I need her.

And I need her to understand how things around here, between us, actually work.

She’s changed out of her work clothes and into a more comfortable lounge set of sweatpants and a tank top that won’t quite cover her baby bump as well as it used to. It’s also stretched tighter around her breasts than I recall.

Just like that, all the blood pounding in my head rushes straight to my dick.

I already tossed my coat and tie aside, and was in the process of working my shirt buttons open when I came into the kitchen. Now, everything between her skin and mine is a barrier that pisses me the hell off.

With one swift move that makes her yelp with surprise, I yank her top off over her head and her pants down.

No panties. No bra.

Naughty plamya.

“Pasha, what are you—ohhh…”

Her confusion melts into pleasure the moment my tongue sweeps through her folds. With her legs draped over my shoulders and my hands firmly gripping her thighs, there’s nowhere to wriggle away to.

Just like I want her: at my mercy.

Ideally, I’d have her bent over the table and screaming my name as I plowed into her from behind. But she’s carrying my baby, and that swell has grown to the point where doing such a thing would be stupidly reckless and selfish on my part.

You know what else is stupidly reckless and selfish?

Not calling me for help when assholes like Ewing cause trouble.

The memory of him in his apartment reminds me of how pissed I am. How fucking possessive I am over the woman now panting and moaning as I devour her sweet slit.

Her naked body is mine to enjoy. Mine to worship.

Not his.

I’m so lost in my roiling thoughts, I don’t even realize I’m sucking yet another lovebite into Daphne’s inner thigh. She whimpers in a mixture of pleasure and pain, so I let go and kiss the hurt away wordlessly.

I won’t apologize for marking my territory.

“Pash,” she whines when I slid a finger into her. I press deeper, curling when I find that sweet spot. “Pash… please… I’m so close…”

She’s right where I want her. I stroke a few more times, savoring the way she squirms on the countertop and tries to grind herself against my face.

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