Page 82 of Playboy’s Purgatory

I lean back in my chair and take her in. She’s wearing a Bunz Out shirt and black pants. It’s what she always wears to work.

“You’re gracing me with your presence?” I can’t help but tease her.

The smile she gives me is wicked.

We’ve been carving out little moments to spend time together. If we don’t see each other, we text. It’s how my days have been filled.

Lara. Vanessa. The club. My shop.

In that order and I’m more than okay with it.

None of my brothers have called me out for not spending as much time at the clubhouse. But they do love to give me shit about Lara and are always asking whether I’m out of the doghouse or not.

“Not yet, but I’m getting there,” is the only reply I give them, hoping there is more truth than I realize in my words.

The hardest part is not pushing my woman. I don’t want to go too fast. This isn’t something that can be rushed. The last thing I want to do is misstep and lose the progress I’ve made.

Not when what is at stake is my woman and my daughter.

Fuck, I’m not even sure when I started thinking about Vanessa that way. But I do; it’s real.

I can understand, only a little better I realize, what Lara must have felt the first time she held Vanessa. What I can’t imagine is doing it as a 17-year-old who is barely out of high school.

My woman is a fucking warrior. She doesn’t even know it.

With a nervous glance she looks down the hallway and back at me. She’s biting her lip as she steps fully inside the office and closes the door behind her before flipping the lock. My cock goes rock hard behind the fly of my jeans.

“Oh,” I breathe out, “you look like a horny woman on a mission.”

Lara glares while moving toward me, her hips swaying with every step she takes. “I think you did something to me, like drug me, or hypnotize me or something,” her words are snarky as fuck and filled with accusation.

Still, there’s no anger behind them and my lips curl up into a grin.

“I didn’t do anything to you. I just made you come really hard, multiple times,” I remind her while wiggling my eyebrows, “and then I stuck around.”

“You’ve been doing more than that,” she grumbles.

I don’t fight her on it, mostly because she’s right.

When she’s close enough, my arm shoots out and hooks around her waist. I roll back in my chair and pull her between my legs. My hands find her hips, and I push her until she’s sitting on my desk.

“So many possibilities with you in front of me like this,” my words are a taunt as my hands start to move over her body.

I knead her flesh and touch her gently, my movements rhythmic and growing in intensity.

“Were you hoping to have me on my knees for you again?” I look into her blue eyes and arch an eyebrow. With a tilt to my head, I add, “Or were you hoping I’d stretch your pretty pussy around my cock?”

The whimper that falls from her lips is a temptation I’m powerless against. When I stand up, the movement is quick, and my chair rolls back to hit the wall with a soft thud.

I take Lara’s mouth in a kiss that is pure possession and gratitude. She sought me out today. While she might not want it to mean anything, it does.

The moment I pull away, I turn Lara and press between her shoulder blades until she’s bent over my desk.

“Fuck,” my jaw clenches so tight that my gums ache, “you have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.”

Lara huffs out a laugh, her words filled with disbelief, “I’m wearing my work clothes.”

I press my hips against her ass to hold her in place against the desk. As I lean forward, covering her back with my torso, my lips find her ear. Skin brushes skin, my words a growl, “Did I stutter, Cupcake?”