Page 63 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

I tightened my grip on her hips, lifting her up and sliding her down the front of my pants. Exquisite pressure built, and it took less than a minute to undo my pants and free my cock.

She groaned against the side of my neck when I pressed into her. “My car is not built for this.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” I stopped thinking and concentrated on her. Everything about her. From the way her breaths came out in tiny pants when I pumped into her to the way her eyes locked on mine when she raised her head. She’d always been easy to read. I banded my arm around her waist and lifted her knees higher, settling her hard over my erection.

She let out a low moan. “Car sex. Never thought it would be this much fun.”

“Oh, my sweet, innocent Peyton. It isn’t about the place, it’s about who it’s with.” I nipped the side of her neck and freed a breast, desperate to taste more of her skin.

She’d spent the night in our house, showered under our roof.

She’d done that before, but she’d also come home with us tonight. She would be there, maybe for weeks.

Forever, if I had any say in the matter. Our grunts and groans took over the space, our bodies moving together slowly at first then faster. Time and space were against us in the search for pleasure.

Peyton kissed me again, her laugh dissolving into groans.

The orgasm hit us at the same time, Peyton tightening around me and my head falling back against the headrest as my hips jerked up of their own accord.

I cradled her head against my chest, our breaths mingling in the same short, sharp bursts. “Can’t say that was my best performance.”

“I enjoyed it.” Peyton giggled and traced circles on my chest. “Awkward but fun.”

“More fun to come.” I kissed her neck. “Tonight, if you’re willing.”

She pulled her chin toward her shoulder, her giggles rising.

I worried my chin back and forth over the soft skin. “How am I meant to work knowing this is all it takes to make you laugh?”

My own laugh pushed out, the sound rusty and coarse.

Peyton pinched my ribs, her laugh rising when I scratched my chin over her collarbone. “I like your laugh, Misha. I don’t know what’s happened in your life to make you so serious, but I love hearing you laugh. It might be one of my favorite sounds in the world.” She stilled, her body going limp against mine.

“I would happily spend my days making you laugh.” I stretched my legs and palmed the back of her head, brushing her hair back so I could look at her face. I stroked the length of her spine over and over, my heartbeat slowing and a sense of comfort washing over me.

We sat that way for several minutes before she swung around and straightened her dress. “We should go inside.”

I stared at the concrete wall six feet in front of the car and tried to think of an excuse to keep her here.

I had nothing she would believe, but my desperation to keep this softness in my life a little longer prompted me to tighten my hold on her waist.

I’d spent years telling myself emotions were better off buried.

I was wrong.

“Did you really mean that about not being late to work?” Peyton checked her phone. “Because we’re really late to work. Will that be a problem?”

“No. Viktor and Leo have not called to ask where we are. We have not been missed.” I continued to rub her back. “But if you are ready, we’ll go in.”

Her mussed hair brushed my chin, her lips swollen from our kisses. “Almost ready.”

She buttoned my shirt and fixed my collar, smoothing it flat with both hands, then patting it when she finished.

“Feel better?” I let my laugh roll out and patted her butt.

“Much.” Her pert tone matched the way she lifted her chin with a sarcastic little tilt. “Let’s go.” She slid over and grabbed her bag while I opened my door and rounded the hood to open her door for her.

I held out my hand without thinking, a nervous flutter working up my arm when she took it.