Page 30 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

No. If I gave in today, I’d set a precedent that I would always give in to them. Boundaries. I had to have boundaries.

“Thank you for last night. I’ll see you at work.” I pulled on my clothes as fast as possible and rushed out the door.

Shower and get to work. That was all that mattered. That and enjoying the constant pressure low in my belly from having them so deep inside me last night, they’d imprinted on my body.

12

MISHA

A week with Peyton, and three nights together made this one of the best weeks of my life. Of course, we’d tried something new last night, taking Peyton to the ballet.

It had been a wonderful night, made even better by our interlude in the limo on the way home.

Making Peyton come in new and different ways was quickly becoming my favorite obsession. I could live between her legs, fall asleep with her taste on my tongue, and never once wake with a regret.

Even now, hours later, I couldn’t forget the smell of leather and her perfume mixing in the confined space.

The city has flown past the windows, and she’d braced her hands against the seat as the car took a corner, laughing and breathless before the sound dissolved into something else entirely.

Lights had shone on her face, and not for the first time, I’d understood that Peyton might be the end of me.

She’d proven herself quick-witted last week, and again last night when she commented on the ballet with enough professional knowledge to leave all three of us gaping.

If only she saw her body with the same self-worth as her confidence in her mind. She had no idea how appealing she was, mind, heart, body, and soul. Her body seemed to be the only one she struggled with. I’d picked up on it a few times, but it had been more evident last night when she constantly picked at the dress and tried to keep her arms over her stomach.

I’d noticed it before last night. Weeks ago, she’d worn a green dress to the office, and she’d tugged on the hem all day, always when she thought no one was looking.

Once, she’d reached for something on the top shelf of the supply closet, and the dress had ridden up.

She’d yanked it down with what sounded like a curse that ended with her swearing she’d never wear a dress above the knee again. I’d wanted to say something, but I hadn’t known what might help.

I’d never known a woman who didn’t flaunt her body or try to rub it in our faces all the time.

Her sexuality showed up in the bedroom, but I had a sneaking suspicion that she had no idea her effect on us.

We were privileged, the only ones privy to Peyton’s sexual glory.

I would not have it any other way.

I understood why she wanted to keep things professional in the office.

Much to my dismay, I enjoyed the playfulness of trying not to give in to my urges while watching her work.

It teased me, prompting me to return the favor when we were together outside of work.

Like last night. It had started with a look on the drive home, then progressed to holding her in my lap, her body bent toward Leo in the opposite seat, while I railed my cock into her.

She’d made such delicious sounds, all those little whimpers and cries, her fingers clawing into the thick leather as she sought her release.

We’d painted the inside of the limo with our pleasure and coated Peyton’s thighs with our cum.

The agony of keeping my hands off her at work turned into nights where I did nothing but caress her, making our time together so much sweeter.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing Peyton sitting behind her desk.

If we didn’t fuck her on a desk soon, I might have to buy one for the playroom.

Viktor had more fantasies than he’d admitted, and I could see the appeal of using a desk as a fucking mat. One with just the right height to bend her over.