Sexting my Bratva Daddies (Forbidden Reverse Harem Fantasies #27)

1. Peyton

PEYTON

I did it. Finally. The dryness in my throat almost choked me, but I managed to complete the online profile and tap create before I changed my mind again.

The phone trembled in my hands, and I tightened my grip to keep from dropping it on the heavy mahogany desk where I worked.

I took a shuddering breath, then another one, and read through my profile. Intivibe was a new kind of dating app.

Built on intimacy first, it did not even have a place for its users to upload photos. Even in the messaging section of the app, it remained text only.

Of course, people could exchange phone numbers and share pictures that way if they chose to, but I’d picked this app expressly for the anonymity after years of dating apps that reduced me to nothing more than a picture for men to swipe away.

Not this time.

No sir.

The men on Intivibe would have to talk to me first. Then, only after I’d made sure they wouldn’t take one look at my curves and snarl their nose would I take the next step. I mean, what the hell was up with that?

I’d had one guy tell me my blonde hair and green eyes were wasted on a plus-sized body.

Fuck him. Right in the ass.

My face heated despite only thinking the words. I couldn’t imagine saying them out loud.

Maybe, if things worked out on this app, I could convince myself to release my frantic grip on the mask I wore. The one that turned me into a meek and pleasant woman who smiled and nodded instead of saying what I really thought.

Then again, if I did that sooner, I might not be in this place where I could only be myself on an incognito dating app.

My profile was bold, to say the least.

For once in my life, I’d gone all in with my full personality. No filtering this time. Whoever I spoke to would know from the beginning what they were getting, just not my body size or my real name.

A buzz vibrated the phone in my hands. I narrowed my eyes at the screen and tapped the notification from Intivibe.

You have one new message.

Already?

Was that normal?

Probably just a welcome message sent by some bot. I swiped it open and my lips parted.

Finally. Someone who doesn’t claim to love long walks on the beach and making love on the sand. Do you have any idea how much sand itches? And when it gets in your ass crack, it’s all kinds of uncomfortable.

I burst out laughing, then slapped a hand over my mouth to shut off the sound before my bosses heard me.

I really shouldn’t be doing any of this during working hours, but they’d been locked away in meetings all morning, and as their executive assistant, my job was to be on call for them.

Sitting at my desk making a profile on a dating app was the riskiest thing I’d ever done.

I peeked toward the closed office door.

The meeting had been running for three hours.

Every now and then, a voice pushed through. I’d learned the difference, learned their tones.

Viktor’s was always low and deliberate.

He never raised it.

Mikhail’s was always clipped, like he couldn’t be bothered to fully engage in the conversation.

Leonid’s always came through warm and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

I’d caught myself listening for it more than once without meaning to.

The blacked-out windows kept me from seeing inside, but they could see me if they happened to look in the lower left corner of the window where my desk sat.

My cheeks heated, and I tried to resist, but the quip was too tempting to pass up, so I thumbed a quick reply.

You’re saying you have sand fleas in your ass?

A laughing emoji popped up an instant later.

Not anymore. My ass is far too fine for those bastards.

Hmm. Gym bro trying to score a compliment or just a confident guy teasing me with his assets?

I scanned the user name. Lionheart. Cute. More clever than my Curvatious369, but I’d wanted to at least give the men on the other side a hint of my body type.

Okay, so I was a sucker for waffling. Part of me wanted to not give them any hint at all, and another part knew better.

Voices trickled out from the meeting room. I let out a squeak and jammed my phone into the desk drawer and spun around to face my computer, pulling up the calendar and typing some random shit so I looked busy.

Viktor, Mikhail, and Leonid walked out behind the four men they’d been meeting with. Tight lines framed Viktor’s mouth as Leonid slapped one man on the back and promised they’d get together soon.

I ducked my head and shifted to a real task as they approached.

Viktor stopped at the edge of my desk, dark eyes sweeping over me and my work station.

He was nearly impossible to read until he tapped one finger on the top of my desk three times. “It’s past lunchtime, Miss Stirling.”

“Yes, sir. I stayed in case you had any last-minute needs.” Rising heat eclipsed my cheeks when one thick black eyebrow arched. Of course it had come out sounding sexual.

Of course it did.

Not only were they intimidating, but they were all attractive as hell. I had about as much chance with them as a monkey did, but it didn’t stop my raging hormones every time they so much as stepped into a room.

Which was why this dating thing needed to work. I needed a sexual release, something profound that might help me survive the day-to-day as their executive assistant without my panties catching on fire.

I stood and tugged my shirt where it had ridden up in the back. “If that’s all, I’ll head out. See you in an hour.” It took the entire elevator ride and walk to the lunchroom before my face returned to normal.

My phone buzzed again, and I snatched it from my pocket while zigzagging my way to the table where Elena, my new-found best friend, sat with her salad and water.

You keep texting me during work hours and I’m going to think you’re unemployed.

I rolled my eyes and typed back. You texted me first, genius. Does that mean you’re unemployed? Please say no.

I’m so good at my job, I can multitask.

I added a laughing emoji and slid into the seat across from Elena.

“That’s an extra-big smile today. Something good happen?” With her dark hair and eyes and model-thin physique, half the men in the company stared everywhere she went.

Elena ignored them and poked her fork toward my phone.

“What has brought out that smile?” Every now and then, a hint of an accent danced along her words, but I’d never been able to pin in down.

Every time I asked, she brushed it off with the excuse that she’d lived so many places that the accents often blurred together.

I showed her the text message exchange. “I’m trying something new.”

A low buzz of conversation started behind me, and the hairs lifted on the back of my neck.

Uh-oh. I knew that feeling.

They were here, in the lunchroom. I pulled in a quick breath just as Elena sat back, her chin notching up. She cleared her throat, and I yanked my phone into my lap as Viktor paused beside our table.

My nerves were already shot thanks to my faux pas upstairs. I absolutely could not let them catch sight of the message thread.

“You’re not eating?” Leonid spoke from behind me, too far away for me to see him without craning my neck.

“I haven’t had time to grab anything. I wanted to talk to Elena.

” Why was I explaining myself? It was none of his business whether I ate.

I sank my teeth into my inner cheek to stop the spiral and to keep from saying anything else out of hand.

“Did you need something? I’m sorry, I assumed you were taking lunch as well. ”

“We are.” Viktor remained close enough that his suit jacket brushed my shoulder. “There was a last-minute change after you left. Once you finish here, we need you to reschedule our meetings for the afternoon.”

“No rush.” Leonid spoke again, his voice a low caress on the back of my neck.

Mikhail cleared his throat. “We’re going to be late if we do not leave now. Apologies for disturbing your lunch.” He brushed past the table, his dark blue suit tight across his shoulders.

I might never get used to the sight of them. What was it about men in suits that I found attractive? Not the money. I had enough to take care of myself. The power? Maybe. They were all older than me by a decade, but sexy as hell. I mean, why shouldn’t I find men in their thirties attractive?

Viktor tugged his cuffs and stepped back. “Enjoy your afternoon.” He followed Mikhail. Leonid fell in step beside him, the two of them deep in conversation before they reached the far side of the room.

A collectively held breath rushed out, and the air in the room loosened.

I buffed my arms and set my phone on the table.

Elena chuckled, her own color heightened as she gazed after them. “You are some kind of crazy to be able to work with them every single day. Do you not find them intimidating?”

“All the time.” I tried to shrug, but my body refused to cooperate. “Can you imagine if they’d seen my phone?” I pointed at the black screen. “I’ve already embarrassed myself once today.”

“Who knows, maybe it would have made Viktor jealous.” Elena waggled her eyebrows. “Or Leonid. He seemed rather disturbed that you were not eating.”

“Right.” I snorted. “Gorgeous as they are, I can only imagine what their concern about my eating habits might be.” A wince pulled my cheeks. “Oof. That came out of nowhere. Guess I’m not as healed about my body and not projecting my insecurities as I thought.”

Elena patted my arm. “I do not know how you can work for them. They are untouchable. Terrifying.” She shuddered, her delicate shoulders trembling beneath her black shirt. Her eyes gleamed as she leaned toward me. “And I have heard that they’re Bratva.”

I waved her off. “People love to talk. It’s because they’re Russian. Like there aren’t tons of Russians in New York who are completely legitimate businessmen.”

Elena watched me, her expression curious. “You don’t believe they are Bratva? My sources are certain. Not only Bratva, but very high up in the New York sector.”

“No.” I refused to believe it. Bratva were akin to boogeymen.

They were cold and cruel. “I will agree that they’re intimidating, and they are in incredible shape for men who sit behind desks all day, but that does not make them Bratva.

” I’d sooner believe I’d wake up tomorrow looking like a supermodel than think of those three men behind all the heinous acts the Bratva were responsible for in our city.

My phone buzzed. I grinned and swiped once Elena indicated that she didn’t mind and went back to her salad.

Ah, I have offended you. Hence your sudden silence and rejection of me. It must be corrected immediately. Your profile states that you are a fan of Joan Jett and would love to go to a concert one day. This begs the question: Have you ever fucked to her music?

I gasped at the audacity and covered my face with one hand, peeking through my fingers at the message.

Elena laughed, one hand over her mouth. “You must answer him. And when you do, tell him all the things you want. Live your life, Peyton. There is no reason for you to hide your sexuality or your desires.”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Yes, it is.” She swiped my phone before I could stop her, her fingers flying over the screen.

I dove for it, but she was too fast, sending the message and handing me back my phone with a wicked grin.

“You can thank me later.” She stood, picking up her empty bowl and bottle.

“Elena.” Her name came out in a shocked whisper as I read her message.

No, but I’d love to ride your face to your favorite song.

What had she done? I mean, she wasn’t wrong.

I’d never been voyeuristic in my sexual exploits, and I longed to change that, but this on our first day of texting?

A message popped up, and I almost couldn’t bring myself to look, but temptation won.

My entire body flushed hot at his response.

Say when.