Page 32 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"Print those out and bring them up, now." His voice was perfectly even.

My eyes flew wide. I must've heard wrong. Now? Bring them up? He was going to have the woman on the phone deliver documents to him while I was—

"No, Varlam!" The news shocked me into spitting him out. "She'll—"

"I didn't give you permission to stop." Before I could finish, he gripped my jaw and pushed his cock back in.

They continued discussing work, but I couldn't process a single word. The uncomfortable friction against my mouth was a constant reminder of what I was doing. How utterly shameful this was.

Varlam finally hung up. His stamina was unreal—still no sign of finishing. My tongue was getting sore.

I'd heard men's sexual energy declined after thirty. Varlam was clearly the exception.

"Come here." He tapped the space under his desk with his shoe.

It was spacious. Just looking at it, I could tell it would easily fit me. I crawled over as he swiveled, keeping him in my mouth. Even as I settled on my knees beneath the desk, it twitched against my tongue.

The moment I ducked under, a polite knock sounded at the door.

"Come in." Varlam's voice had taken on a different quality.

I heard the door open, then heels clicking across the floor, getting closer and closer until they stopped right behind me. My back went rigid.

"Mr. Petrov, here are the materials you requested, sorted and printed."

Papers rustled above me. Varlam flipped through them with complete composure. I didn't dare slack off, working him with my lips, tongue, and hands. But my movements were careful, quiet enough that even I could barely hear the wet sounds.

"Good work," he said.

He might've been talking about her work, but by the time those words reached my ears, they'd taken on a different meaning. This secret thrill was something I'd never experienced before. They said more, but I stopped listening. Liquid pooled in my mouth. I didn't dare swallow, could only let it drip onto the carpet.

"You can go." Varlam's words fell like divine judgment.

"Yes, Mr. Petrov." The woman's heels gradually faded away.

The office returned to silence.

Varlam's chair rolled back, and that thick length withdrew from my mouth.

He hauled me out from under the desk and slammed me onto it. Papers and files scattered to the floor.

Before I could catch my breath, he crushed his mouth to mine. His hands were already shoving up my white t-shirt and bra, exposing my breasts to the cool office air. His palms cupped them, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened into peaks.

I gasped into his mouth.

"Christ, look at you." His voice was rough, almost reverent. "These curves, this body, you're fucking perfect. And so responsive. I barely touch you, and you're already shaking."

He wasn't wrong. My whole body trembled under his hands as they mapped every inch of skin. He kissed down my throat, my collarbone, then closed his mouth over one nipple. The wet heat made my back arch off the desk.

"Varlam."

His hand slid down my stomach, fingers tracing the soft curve of my belly before hiking up my denim skirt to my waist. When he pressed his palm against my pussy through my panties, I nearly came apart right there.

"Soaked." He rubbed slow circles that made my thighs shake. "Does it turn you on, getting played with while someone else is in the room? Knowing she was standing right there while you had my cock in your mouth?"

Shame flooded through me, hotter than before. The memory of it—her voice, her heels, the secret thrill—made my lower belly clench tight.

"You're such a dirty girl." He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and dragged them down my legs. "And you love it."