Page 182 of Sinful Blaze

I cut Daphne off with a kiss that lets her know just how much I missed her while I was gone. Airport food and hotel breakfasts are nothing compared to the taste of her.

“We don’t have much time.” I lock the door behind me and yank my jacket off. “I have a meeting with my vors in about half an hour, and they’re on their way.”

Daphne’s eyes widen. “I could have brought you lunch or something.”

“You are lunch.”

The wheels of the jet hit the tarmac less than an hour ago, right on time for me to make the early afternoon meeting I’d scheduled with my men to go over the next few months of planning while I’m basically on paternity leave.

But there’s no fucking way I’m going to make it through that meeting if all I can think about is burying myself in Daphne. That’s why I texted her to meet me at my office.

I pull her with me toward the overstuffed chair. The dress she’s wearing is driving me fucking wild—the skirt is almost too short, thanks to our baby inside her, and her swollen cleavage is begging me to faceplant in it.

“Come here.” I yank her onto my lap. “I need my woman.”

Daphne purrs. “Miss me?”

“You have no idea.” I push her skirt up over her hips and tug at her panties. One rub between her thighs tells me she’s more than ready for me. When those damned panties don’t slide off as easily as I want, I grab them in my fists and rip them apart.

Usually, I’d take my time, work her into a frenzy, but we don’t have that luxury.

And we’re already in a frenzy as it is.

One hand fists in her hair, holding her to me so I can taste her gasping moan while the other hand guides me into her.

She’s so hot. So wet. So perfect.

So… mine.

The breath leaves her lungs for a moment when I pull her down harder in that single thrust. One choked moan, and then she’s riding me like it’s the only chance we’ll have for a while. All I have to do is grip her hips and hang on.

My phone buzzes. I shouldn’t check it. But with the meeting around the corner…

Shit.

“The men are… almost…” Fuck, she’s working all coherent thought from me.

Daphne bites her lip with a sexy, coy smile. “Then you’d better hurry up if you wanna keep me to yourself. I’d like to be able to look your brother in the eye tomorrow.”

I tug the collar of her dress down enough for one of her breasts to pop out. I don’t fucking care how close they are—I need to taste her. “Don’t talk about another man while I’m burying myself in you, moya plamya.”

“Why not? Don’t you want your men to watch you claim your woman?”

Good fucking God. I am not an exhibitionist and I’m definitely not okay with anyone seeing Daphne like this.

But the fantasy… the mental image of taking her, sprawled across my desk, naked and writhing and screaming my name, sobbing for more… while our Bratva watches…

When I shudder and groan my release into her, she joins me.

I’ll never have enough of this. Of her. Of her smell, her taste, her voice. Of the way she clings to me and yet soothes me all at the same time. Even now, as we both catch our breath, my face buried in her breasts, I feel her stroking my hair.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

I reluctantly peel my face out of her cleavage. “I missed you, too.”

She opens her mouth to tell me something else, but there’s a knock at the door. I fumble for my phone and type out a hurried text to Mak.

PASHA: Take them to the conference room. Order up some sandwiches. Bring in the bartender.

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