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Adamovich agrees to her terms.
My niece is such a fucking badass.
As we leave his office and head down the corridor, Zenya says to me, “I thought it was too good to be true that you wouldn’t steamroller all over my authority back there. I owe you an apology.”
“No need to apologize. Seeing my niece take that idiot down a few pegs is the best thing I’ve seen in two years.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Kristian Belyaev, feminist icon. Who would have thought it?”
“Me? More like you. You were absolutely magnificent.” I move closer to her, enjoying that I have her totally alone here. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
She raises her chin and meets my gaze boldly. “Of course I am. I’m a Belyaev.”
That daring look in her eyes makes blood rush to my dick. I glance up and down the corridor and take her jaw in my hand, playing my thumb over her full lips. “If you need more of what I gave you last night, all you have to do is ask.”
I feel her warm breath against my skin. I stroke her lips again and her tongue moves against the pad of my thumb. I groan and press my forehead against hers. Her back is against the wall, but she’s not the one who’s trapped.
I am.
Wild horses couldn’t rip me from my niece.
I angle my head until my lips are so close to hers that I’m nearly kissing her, and her gaze drifts to my lips. “I know you must be keeping yourself chaste for your husband…”
Me. I’m your fucking husband.
I’m just managing to keep myself from declaring that to her and everyone within a fifty-mile radius, but my resolution is hanging by a thread.
“There are so many things I can drive you crazy with that stop just short of giving up your innocence. And if you don’t give a damn about your innocence, I’ll happily relieve you of that, too. You deserve everything that’s good from this life, Zenya. And I want to give it to you.”
“Uncle Kristian, we can’t do that,” she whispers. Her hands slide up my forearms to cling to my wrists. We’re both panting against each other’s mouths.
“We can. My tongue was made for your pussy and you know it.”
Zenya is plastered against the wall, breathing fast, and her eyes are dilated.
I know her pussy is wet.
I just know she’s wet.
Not twenty-four hours since my return and we’re moving at lightning speed toward each other, hurtling so fast that our collision is going to be explosive.
My fingers drop to the hem of her dress because I have to know for sure.
Zenya shakes her head desperately.
“Let me feel, princess,” I murmur. “If you’re not wet, I’ll never touch you again.”
“I’m not,” she insists, but doesn’t stop me as I slide a hand between her warm inner thighs. I nearly groan at how silky soft she is.
I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tight against my body, and her hands land on my chest. With my nose buried in the nape of her neck, I breathe her in. I live to savor this girl. Every second without her felt like eternities stringing together, on and on. With my other hand, I stroke up her panties over her sex. They’re made of thin lace and she’s soaking right through them.
“Shit, you’re not wet,” I whisper.
“I’m not?” she replies, and I smile against her throat as I hear her surprise and just a hint of disappointment.
I grind her clit gently with my middle finger, and Zenya gasps and clings even tighter to me. “You’re soaking.”
I hold my finger up and show it to her. She has enough time to stare at it, and then I put it in my mouth and suck. With a groan, I pull my finger out and whisper, “You taste fucking delicious, princess. I’ve been starving for you.”
