Page 80 of Forced By the Bratva

When she pulled my cock out, she smiled and worked me from base to tip, thumb circling the head.

“Your cock is so big,” she said. “I love it. I love how thick you feel in my hand.”

I groaned, hips shifting into her grip. She focused on the head, her tight strokes making my breath stutter.

“You like that?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She held my eyes while she worked me, slower now, more intentional. Then she bent down and took me into her mouth. Warm. Wet.

Iris bobbed her head, taking me deeper each time, the slick sound of it loud in the quiet car. She pushed too far once and choked, pulling off with a cough. A thin thread of saliva still connected her bottom lip to the head of my cock when she looked up.

“I’m your dirty little slut,” she said, voice hoarse. “Will you fuck my mouth, please?”

“You naughty little devil.” I reached down, fishing her chestnut hair.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m naughty for you, Daddy.”

“I like it when you call me Daddy,” I confessed, savoring the seductive look on her face. “Come here.”

I leaned down and kissed her—tasting myself on her tongue—before she went back down.

This time, she took me deeper. The wet, filthy sound of my cock hitting the back of her throat filled the car’s cabin.

She smelled like sex and leftover adrenaline, skin and saliva and the faint metal scent of the night air still clinging to both of us.

My thighs tensed under her hands. Low groans left me as she worked me with her mouth and hands together.

“Oh, fuck, Iris, yes.” My toes curled in my boots.

I buried my fingers in her hair and held on, not forcing, just needing something to grip while she ruined me with her mouth.

“That feels so good.” I tipped my head back, muscles stiffening.

When she finally pulled off, she climbed back into my lap and sank down onto me in one slow push.

Both of us exhaled hard, staring into each other’s eyes.

“You’re so hard and veiny,” she whimpered. “So deep inside my pussy.”

She started riding me, rolling her hips, and I pulled her forward so I could mouth at her breasts again—sucking, pressing them together, tongue dragging over her nipples while she moved.

She braced her hands on the roof of the car and fucked herself down onto me harder, the wet slap of it filling the small space.

“Uhhh…uhhhh, yes, Daddy– yes!” She threw her hands in her hair, her face a mask of pleasure.

I could feel every clench of her around me. She was soaked. Hot. Taking every inch like she needed it to stay grounded after everything that had just happened.

I let her set the pace for a while. Watched her face in the low light—eyes half-closed, mouth open, that soft broken sound she made every time she sank all the way down.

Then I took over.

I gripped her hips and thrust up into her, meeting every downward roll. The car rocked. Her tits bounced in front of my face. I caught one nipple between my teeth, and she cried out, louder this time.

“Fuck—Ilya—”

“Keep riding me,” I said against her skin. “Just like that.”