Page 69 of Peyton's Price

Giggling, Peyton sat on the edge, her arms wrapping around the back of his head. He kissed her hard before lowering until his mouth was level with her breasts. Her breath hitched as he took one of the hard buds, lathing it with his tongue.

The lace underwear Peyton wore didn’t stand a chance. One hard tug and they were gone, giving him access to her soft heat. His blood pumped so loudly he could barely hear.

“Please, I want you inside me,” she panted, kissing his neck.

He was more than happy to oblige. “Not going to be an issue,” he said before kissing her, sliding his tongue in until she stroked back with hers.

Breaking away, he took himself in hand, running his cock against her clit before sliding down to coat the head in her moisture. Already aching, he thrust his hips forward, driving deep into her velvety heat.

“Shit,” he swore, his lust roaring. Pants down around his ankles, he began to fuck her, pistoning in and out until he established a rhythm that made her moan and pant.

Peyton whispered in his ear, nonsense words of desire and praise. They stoked the fire higher until something inside him snapped. The last vestiges of his control slipped away, his thrusts coming rougher and faster. Every time he buried himself inside her, she squeezed him tightly, rocking in matching rhythm.

No woman before her had ever done this to him. Peyton seemed perfectly attuned to him, her every move like a choreographed dance designed to drive him out of his mind. Matthias was ready to explode. She was way ahead of him—her tight pussy shivered and pulsed around him, her nails breaking the skin against his back as she climaxed with a sob in his arms.

Matthias took her mouth, driving himself to the hilt before he let go, groaning and swearing in Norwegian. His dick pulsed, rapture blinding him as his hot seed poured into her waiting womb.

Too weak to hold himself up, Matthias let himself fall forward, controlling their descent with a hand on Peyton’s back. She lay spread-eagled beneath him, her breathing rapid and shallow as she came down from her peak.

Matthias moved as soon as he was able, collapsing into his chair so he wouldn’t crush her.

A few long minutes later, Peyton lifted her head. She leaned on her elbows, surveying him with an expression of smug satisfaction. “That’ll keep you,” she said.

Matthias laughed. He must have looked wrecked, but her flushed face was getting him hot all over again. Either that or her exposed breasts—Peyton was blessed in every way.

He pushed the chair closer, rising to kiss her. “It will—for now.”

A flash of guilt flitted across her face. “I know we’re not supposed to feel bad about doing this without Liam, but I kind of do.”

“Truly?” He stroked the soft skin of her leg, running it all the way up to her thigh. “Because I think I can learn to live with the guilt.”

She giggled, but he could hear the tinge of uncertainty in it. “Relax,elskling. There will be times when I’m tied up and you and Liam will carry on without me.”

“And I’m sure there will be times when I can’t partake, and you and Liam will finally get busy with each other.”

Her less-than-subtle suggestion made him snort aloud. “Are you still angling for some man-on-man, my little voyeur?”

She smirked. “Can you blame me?”

“Not a bit.” He reached up to stroke her cheek. “And don’t worry. Sooner or later, you’re going to get your wish.”

Peyton glanced down at the pile of papers he’d knocked off the desk. “Should I help you clean up?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do it.” He was only one who could put the mess in order—the contract was in Mandarin, one of the five languages he spoke fluently.

“Any chance of you being able to get away for dinner?”

“Sure…” He’d been downplaying the amount of work he had to do. At this rate, he was going to be here half the night, but if he ate quickly, he could manage some time away.

His tone must not have been convincing, because Peyton hurried off the desk. “Don’t worry about it. I understand if you have to keep going.”

“I could take half an hour to eat,” he suggested.

She dismissed the idea with a wave. “It’s all right. Don’t forget—I spent years in the upper echelon of the Caislean. All the Tylers work like dogs. Liam is the worst of the lot, so I get it.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. Peyton couldn’t get more perfect if she tried.

She bent to pick up her shoe, then hopped on the desk to slip the heel on. “Besides, I slept through lunch with Priya. She claims to have forgiven me, but I think dinner will go a fair way to making amends. Especially if we can raid your wine cellar.”

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