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“Oops!” she giggled.
“Big oops,” Anya agreed with a laugh, leaning up to rub her nose against Amala’s. “Do you want to hide in here with me and Glamma?”
“Can I helps make the mashed ’tatoes?”
“You’re in luck. We need a potato masher,” Kin told her with a grin.
“Yay!” Amala cheered. I set her on her feet, but she turned to look at me sternly. “Papa, don’t tell Tetka I’m in the kitchen.”
“My lips are sealed, dragotsennyy,” I promised.
“Come here,” she commanded, waving her hand for me to bend down. I crouched in front of her, and she grasped my face between her chubby little hands before smacking a kiss to my nose. “Love you, Papa.”
Heart melting with love for my precious little daughter, I left her to help her grandmothers, knowing that Samara was close by and would watch over her. As much as Abi loved Anya, I still didn’t fully trust her, and neither did my sister. That wasn’t likely to ever change.
As I left the kitchen, I spotted Samara by the patio door, her eyes trained on my daughter. On the list of people who meant the most to her, Elias was at the top, but Amala and Abi were tied for second place. I liked to think I was firmly in the third-place spot, but with Samara, I could never tell.
Pulling my phone from my slacks pocket, I swiped through the many security feeds I had around my house. My father and in-laws were in the theater room watching the football game, but they weren’t who I wanted to see.
When I couldn’t find Abi on any of the cameras, I paused midstep. Where had my wife disappeared to? Clicking on the least-used camera, my heartbeat finally settled when I saw her go into the hidden room Samara had designed. Our panic room that had never been used for emergencies.
Abi’s fingers danced up over the control panel before she looked directly into the camera, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she made a humming sound.
She knew I was watching. Fuck, I couldn’t help it. I needed to know where she was every minute of the day to keep the noise in my head at a low volume. She skimmed her thumb over the last digit in the code, and the doors slid closed.
My sweet girl wanted to play.
Not wasting time, I walked to the back of the house, unlocked the hidden entrance, and punched in the code before using my handprint to open the panic room. Samara might be a genius at designing buildings and safe rooms, but I was the security techie. She would never be able to crack the code to get inside.
As the wall slid back, my breath got trapped in my lungs at the sight that greeted me. My gorgeous wife in nothing but the tattoos that decorated her body. My name is cursive on her right ass cheek and then again in Russian down both sides of her ribs.
Stepping inside, I hit the button that would send the wall back into place, already stripping my shirt over my head. Abigail was written in different fonts over and over and over across my chest, down my stomach, all the way to the top of my groin.
“Are you hiding from me, wildfire?” I pulled my belt through the loops, the sound producing goose bumps across her body.
“No, Professor.” She turned slowly, her entire body glowing with the pink of her need. “I was just hoping for a little alone time. Before your other students required your attention.”
“Abi, zhizn moya, please don’t do that. You know how loud the noise gets when you don’t say my name.” I felt my hands tremble, not trusting myself to reach for her yet. “Don’t torture me like this.”
She stepped toward me and sank to her knees, her fingers working the zipper of my slacks down slowly. “I’m sorry, Professor.”
“Abi,” I growled, fighting the noise, the need to mark her. To hear my name spill from her lips as I came deep inside her wet heat. “You’re not being my sweet girl.”
Her silky hands pushed my pants and boxer briefs down. My cock sprang free, nearly slapping her across the face in his eagerness to get to her. She licked her lips hungrily, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, squeezing hard.
Taking me into her mouth, she hummed with pleasure at the taste of my precome on her tongue. Bobbing her head, she twirled her tongue teasingly, tormentingly. I lasted for only a few seconds before I pulled her head off me and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around my waist, I dropped onto the sofa against the wall, my tip already splitting her pussy lips.
“Give me what I want,” I bit out. “I need it.”
“Vaughn,” she whispered.
I slammed her down on my cock. Burying my face between her tits, I feasted on her sweet skin, sucking and biting, marking her over and over as her honey dripped down my cock.
She combed her fingers through my hair, her cries echoing throughout the room, satisfying the demon in my head. Licking up my neck, she nipped at my ear. “I stopped taking my birth control. I want another baby.”
Throwing my head back, I roared as my release surprised me. I kept bouncing her on me, my cock still rock hard inside her, despite having emptied so much come.
Whatever she wanted, I would give my sweet girl.
