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Miss Lia

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Lydia sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes flicking up to look at his, and then back down, narrowing. Did he do that on purpose? What the hell is he playing at? She's certainly no stranger to getting an advantage by playing dumb. With a little shrug, she takes her last move and defeats Peter in their game of chess, and looks at him again with big, round, innocent eyes and a sweet but humble smile.

"Well played, dear." His smile borders a grin but he's smooth enough to hide that behind a perfect bow and a kiss to the back of her hand. "I gotta say I had not expected to have this much fun today. Can I get you a drink?"

A drink? God, he has no idea who I am, does he? "Neither did I," she admits, flashing a little teeth in her smile at the way he addresses her. "I'd like a vodka cranberry. Please. And maybe we should take them somewhere guaranteed to stay a little quieter?"

"Works for me," Peter agrees and offers his arm as she gets up and they walk towards the open bar. She really is as beautiful as she is smart and he's very sure she's well aware of that. "How about the back of the garden? I saw a beautiful white bench there."

"Ah, perfect, as long as you know how to get there," she smiles, pretending she has no idea where that is. When they approach the bar, she keeps her head down a bit, attempting to avoid the gaze of any of her father's friends, and lets Peter do all the ordering.

Which he does with his charming smile and his natural confidence just like everything else. When Lydia takes a seat with her drink and he's sipping on the absinthe cocktail he had ordered, he nods towards the bride giggling with her bridesmaids. "Do you believe in marriage?"

"Like I believe in climate change," she states dryly. "I know it's real but I wish it wasn't, and I'll do my best not to participate."

Peter chuckles softly, opening his suit jacket to be a little bit more comfortable and turning towards her. "Lemme rephrase, do you believe in finding the one and keeping them with a wedding vow?"

"Maybe on finding 'the one', but no, you can't keep someone who doesn't want to be kept, vows don't change that."

Nodding, he takes a sip from his drink. "Agreed. I don't think I'm ever going to marry. Being engaged sounds nice though." Peter winks. "But I'm incredibly picky when it comes to my partners."

"Isn't engagement just escrow for people?" She quirks an eyebrow and takes a sip of her drink.

"To me it's like, every day I'm wearing that ring, I wanna be with them. But I can still actively make that decision every morning. It's not the same degree of long term commitment," Peter explains.

"That's a rather unique take, I think. It seems like most people use it as either the necessary time it takes to plan a wedding, or something one partner says yes to to keep the other partner happy even though they have no intention of actually getting married."

"I'm a very unique person, you may have noticed," Peter says with the subtle hint of a smirk. "My name is Peter, by the way."

"Lia," she smiles. Let's not give him any more reason to figure it out. "And I certainly have noticed."

"Good, I take that as a compliment." He raises his glass. "To you and the sad boyfriend who's probably waiting for you somewhere while you're here with me?"

"Hmm, and yet a very typical way of trying to find out if I have a boyfriend." She teases him gently. "I do, but he's probably spending his afternoon with another woman and she's probably considerable less clothed than I am." She's got no delusions about the 'dangers' of dating popular men.

"I don't think I wanna know for the typical reasons, though," Peter explains. "I like teaching people like him a lesson by 'stealing' their girl. Or boy, depending, of course."

She raises an eyebrow. "I'm just gonna gloss past the allusion to me being property, and also the insinuation of your bisexuality. What do you mean, 'people like him'?"

"Fools who don't appreciate a gorgeous miracle of a person like you are because of their own ego. Or dick," Peter replies shamelessly.

"Miracle of a person? God, you really are laying it on thick. But I get the distinct impression it's not from some sense of desperation, so what's the deal?"

"It's the truth. You're beautiful and smart. Actually smart. Probably intimidating for most men you've dated." He shrugs. "And you know it. I just wanna make sure you know I know it, too."

"The men I date have no idea," she admits readily, wearing a small smirk.

Peter nods and takes another sip from his cocktail. "Why?"

"Because it's intimidating, especially for guys who are my... usual type."

He arches an eyebrow. "Now you've got me intrigued." Peter grins. "What is your type?"

"Well-muscled, well-endowed, and dim enough to do what I tell them." Now she's sounding a bit cocky. "But that's usually, not exclusively."

Peter returns her cockiness easily. "Lucky me, I only fit two of these three criteria."

She looks him over appraisingly, and gives a small nod of approval. "Yeah, I can believe that. And, you seem like the kind of man who's smart enough to do what I want, which is at least as good."

"I'd dare to say it's even better," Peter retorts with a chuckle.

Lydia glances at his hands, and although she notices a lack of band, she has to ask anyway. "No spouse or fiancee?"

He shakes his head but he doesn't actively say no. "You don't strike me as a person that particularly matters to."

She narrows her eyes and raises and eyebrow. "And you don't strike me as the kind of person to tell me what does or doesn't matter to me."

"I'm not, darling, I'm just telling you how I feel." Peter winks and focuses back on his drink.

Lydia gives a very skeptical hum. "I've learned well enough that men who dodge questions are almost always guilty, so I think that's enough of an answer. If she, or he, apparently, does exist, they at least aren't here, right?"

"I'm not married or engaged. I do have people I have fun with and I'm not stopping that for anyone."

"As long as there's no risk for a scorned partner causing me drama--because we are headed down the road where a partner would be scored, aren't we?--I definitely don't care what kinds of arrangements you have."

"Oh no, if anything they'd be scared and intimidated by you. Definitely not causing drama though, I'm very good at preventing that," Peter says with a shrug.

"... Well now I almost want there to be a scorned lover, if they'd be so intimidated," she laughs gently. She looks around a bit, realizing that the longer they stay in public, the more likely someone will be to recognize her and congratulate her on her new family. "Wanna explore the house?"

You mean find a place where we can be naughty? "Sure, lead the way, it's a beautiful mansion." As before, Peter offers his arm to her.

It's a risk, but what has she really got to lose? Chances are he'd screw her even if he knew, right? She takes his arm and guides him back to the house, and then shamelessly up the stairs immediately. She's got her own bedroom here already, but she's not going to bee-line for it, too obvious. "So, which room?"

Peter arches an eyebrow and smirks. Someone is knowing their way around this place. But well, even better. "How about the second on the right?" From what he can tell with his nose, it has the most comfortable scent to him.

On the right? Lydia worries for a moment that he does, in fact, know, but she decides it hardly matters if he's as delicious under that suit as it seems like he is. She leads him to the room he picked out, her room, and opens the door. It's pretty clearly a girl's room, all pastels and white, jewelry boxes and make-up kits on the dresser, a large and luxurious bed with white curtains draped around it. It's also apparently the room of someone fairly bright, with packed bookshelves, a desk filled with notebooks and a high-end laptop, chemistry and astronomy charts where most girls would have posters of pop stars or athletes. She closes the door behind them as soon as they're inside.

He can't help but chuckle softly. "Oh boy, I believe Mr. Martin has a daughter and we walked right into her room." Sadly, there aren't any pictures around because he definitely likes what he sees. "But if you don't care, I don't."

She just turns the lock and arches an eyebrow at him dangerously, smirking. "She's kind of a bitch, anyway."

"I have a thing for those." Pulling off his jacket, he carefully drapes it over the back of a chair. "But then, I'm a bit of a bastard myself."

"Well, maybe you should look for her when we're finished," she teases and closes the distance between them. "She might be a little too young for you, but I wouldn't judge."

"I don't really feel like talking about another woman when I have you right here," Peter replies softly and pulls Lydia against his strong muscular body.

"Fuck, you weren't lying," she groans quietly and sets a hand firmly against his chest. She rises up on her toes to kiss him while pressing her hips to his.

"Never about my body, my dear, never," he whispers heatedly against her lips before taking her mouth hard.

She moans softly into the kiss and begins to work open the buttons of his shirt. As soon as she has access, she feels and scratches over his chest and abs, the scent of her desperation becoming steadily heavier.

Peter grins into the kiss, showing her his skill and gently undressing her as well. "And here I thought you would make me work harder."

"We both know what we're here for, why play games?" Her hands move down to his belt quickly. Something about this being a revenge-fuck makes it so much hotter. "Plus, you'll be working plenty hard in a few minutes."

"Aww, no vanilla sex?" Peter teases and goes after her neck, biting softly.

"Harder," she demands, shoving her hand down the front of his pants to finally get a good feel of him. "Fuck," more emphatically than last time, "You really weren't lying."

"And risk leaving marks? No darling, I'm not ready to steal the show from bride and groom at a wedding. I'll go harder somewhere else," Peter growls into her ear and pulls down her dress with one smooth, strong motion.

Marks where Daddy Dearest will see them is exactly what she wants, and Lydia is very good at getting what she wants, but she's also very patient. Her bra and panties are a matched set, white with crocheted lace around the edges. Her skin is smooth and creamy and devoid of any kind of mark or blemish, a perfect canvas that she goes to lengths to take great care of. She looks up at him, watching his features for approval. "Mark me wherever you want, Peter, just make it good."

"I will," Peter promises firmly. "On my terms." He picks her up easily and throws her onto the bed, peeling out of his shirt so she can see his whole upper body.

She grins and giggles at being manhandled, but keeps her eyes fixed on his body. "Where the hell have you been all my life," she murmurs, although it's a bit ambiguous as to whether she's referring to him or his body. Probably the latter. She sits up just enough to unhook her bra and toss it aside.

He grins and licks his lips. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you now." His shoes and socks go next until all he has to do is push down his slacks and show off his tight, black, heavily tented boxers.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes traveling over the lines of his body and then getting stuck on the thing she's really after. Lydia spreads her legs a bit and trails a pair of fingers between her legs, drawing attention to how transparent they've become from her wetness. "Please," she begs softly, eyes big and meeting his, jaw a little slack. Definitely the needy virgin act.

Peter just snorts. "Please? Really?" He uses his amazing swiftness and suddenly he's on top of her, hands on her waist, lips on her neck once more.

Lydia moans and pushes up against him, arms wrapping loosely around his neck. She tilts her head to give him as much access as she can and rolls her hips in his hands as much as he'll let her. "Fuck, yes," she purrs under his attention.

"That's more like it." He moves down, showering her beautiful skin with attention while never giving her the stimulation she's after. Peter wants his girls desperate.

It really won't take much to get her desperate this time. This week has been hard enough, her need for release is immense. She runs her hands through his hair as he makes his way down her body and spreads her legs wide, praying he's going after what she thinks he is.

But Peter starts kissing the insides of her knees, her thighs, her ankles, her wrists. Her begging before had been fake so now she'll have to get a little bit more serious.

As soon as he moves away from her thighs, he starts to get his wish. "Wait, wait, no, go back," she whines softly, hips pushing up, not that it does any good. "Fuck, Peter, don't tease me, I need this, please." It's much more earnest this time.

And if that's not a huge turn on. Peter's eyes darken and he brushes two fingertips over her panties, letting them circle her clit. "Tell me what you need exactly."

She moans and pushes against his fingers just the slightest. "I need you to fuck me, hard and brutal, fuck me until I can't even think. Please, please take me. Spread me open on your huge fucking cock."

He growls with pleasure, grabbing her panties and ripping them off with just one hand. "Such words from such a mouth," Peter teases, but he's already gotten rid of his boxers and strokes over his thick cock.

"Fuck yes!" She grins, delighted, "Jesus, you're gonna rip me open and I'm gonna love every second." She sits up just enough to reach into the drawer of the bedside table. She's sure she's got him on the hook enough she can explain how she knew where condoms were later. Pulling one out, she sets it beside her until it's time.

"I might ruin these sheets doing that. Little bit of prep will be better." Which is why he plunges two fingers into her wet heat.

And they're totally not her sheets to ruin, so she doesn't try to object. Instead, she decides to be quite pleased with what she's given. Lydia moans softly and rocks against his fingers, fucking herself on them. "I like it when it hurts, don't give me too much, please."

Peter smirks, for the first time there's a hint of that danger in his eyes. "And you think I'm one who likes to hurt?" He twists his fingers and scissors her open wider.

She's absolutely soaking, and opening up to him easily. "I think you like watching people when you give them what they want, whatever that is."

"Let's say I like watching people get desperate for whatever they want me to give them," Peter explains and adds a third finger. His free hand strokes over Lydia's chest.

"Now we're getting somewhere," she purrs at the inclusion of another digit. Her hips rock, instinctively seeking friction for her swollen, sensitive clit. She trails her hand up the arm closer to hers, and softly rakes nails back down

Grinning, Peter uses his palm to give her clit some more stimulation. "How often do you do this, fucking a guy an hour after you met him?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" She whines and pushes her head back. He's definitely good with his hands. "O-once," she stutters, finding it difficult to keep her focus. "Once before, and we ended up fucking regularly for like a year," she conveniently leaves out the part where she's only been having sex for two years, or that he's her current boyfriend.

"Awww, feels like you're almost innocent," Peter teases and pulls out his fingers to get the condom on. Not that he needs one, at least not to prevent STDs...

She whines at the loss, despite being quite eager for what will come next. "To everyone but you, that's a perfect description," she grins and adjusts a bit, trying to get as comfortable as possible for what will undoubtedly be a very uncomfortable stretch.

"Lucky me." He can smell her arousal lingering and mixing with nervousness. And that's exactly how he likes it. Slowly but not overly careful, Peter pushes inside her.

Lydia wraps her legs around him when he comes close enough, and as the push starts, she grips the blanket tightly with one hand and digs nails into her thigh with the other. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She gasps as she's spread open, tone as ambiguous as the sensation, as to whether it's pained or pleased. She's so tight, but still so damn eager. "Yes, fuck, Peter, fuck yes! Fuck me!"

"I'm about to," Peter purrs next to her ear and pulls our again, teasing her entrance and honestly, getting used to her tightness. It's almost too much. "Do you think they're going to hear us?"

Taking him as deep as he can go is amazing in its own way, but feeling him push past her entrance, the thick ridge of his cock rubbing over the first inch of her cunt over and over is phenomenal. She claws and grips at his back and shoulders and tries desperately to keep her hips still, to let him have control until they're really in it. "Fuck me right and they definitely will," she pants. "Unless you're gonna make me be quiet.”

His grin turns fully wolfish. "No, I think that would only be half the fun." And with that, he slams into her hard and starts fucking her with abandon.

She didn't think he would have to actually make her be quiet, but fuck, she couldn't possibly keep her mouth shut with him pounding her like that. She's all claws and bucking hips, moaning and cursing and begging. Peter is everything she's fantasized a man can be, and when she comes--which really doesn't take long--it's with a scream, body tensing and shaking and going nearly limp, cunt fluttering around his impossibly thick cock.

Peter isn't quite as close but who says he can't make her come twice. Growling softly, he keeps up his speed, using his hips to give her even more stimulation. "Oh, they definitely heard that, baby. Mr. Martin will be very upset if he finds us like this." And Peter would love it.

Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Whoever-the-hell-you-are. Lydia is quieter in the wake of her orgasm but holds to him close. Her hands travel over his back and through his hair as she pants softly against his neck. "Why? Because he's never managed to make any of the Mrs. Martins sound like that?"

"I imagine anyone stealing his show would make him a little grumpy. I don't know what happens in his bedroom exactly." What he does know is that he wants to see Lia again. And fuck her several more times. God, she feels good.

Her voice starts to pick up again slowly, pleasure cresting once more. It does strike her just how fucked up it is that she's getting off on having better sex than her parents, but she can hardly be bothered to care at the moment. "Fuck, fuck, Peter! Just like that, oh fuck!" Lydia's nails dig into his shoulder blade and the back of his neck as she begins to use her legs wrapped around his hips as leverage to fuck herself. Even on her back, she can't possibly be simply passive.

"Fuck yeah!" Peter captures her mouth in a heated kiss and bites her bottom lip. Her eagerness is making him turn more and more animalistic and she seems to love it.

The harsher he is with her, the more she adores it. Teeth sinking into her lip make her moan into their kiss and her hips jerk against his, rigid and frantic and seeking just the right angle to make her completely fall apart again.

When he finally feels her tight cunt contract around his prick a second time, Peter comes as well, his roar muffled against her collarbone.

She's absolutely breathless and glistening with sweat as they both come back down. Her grip loosens and hands fall to the bed, legs untangling from him in about the same manner. "Fuck," the word is low and drawn out, "I really fucking needed that."

"I deeply enjoyed being at your service, darling," Peter replies and drops down onto the bed next to her. He's not sweating but then again, he's a werewolf.

"Want my number? You can text me if you feel like hooking up again." She doesn't roll over to cuddle him, or initiate any physical contact at all. This was about fucking, not affection.

"Sounds good." He gets up and pulls his BlackBerry from his slacks, opening the contacts and handing it to her. "I think we should get out of here somewhat soon, by the way.

She takes it and starts adding herself, simply by the name of 'Lia', and takes a quick selfie for the contact photo. "Yeah, we really should. I have no idea what I would do if someone knocked right now," she laughs.

"Probably not answer." Peter grins and starts getting dressed, dropping the condom into the bin right next to the desk.

After a long stretch, Lydia follows suit, including stopping in front of the mirror to fix her hair, and 'borrowing' one of the lip glosses to fix her makeup. "Think anyone will notice we look like we just fucked?"

"Yes," Peter replies bluntly with a smug grin. "And I can't bring myself to be unhappy about that."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Well, at least you're honest." A moment later she's ready to go, and smacks his ass on her way out the door.

With quick reflexes, Peter catches her wrist and pulls her in for one last kiss. "I'll call you at some point, I'm pretty sure. Have a nice evening."

"You better," she grins, "I'm gonna need that again."

Chapter Text

Obviously she's getting the summer internship, her father is partner, but he still insisted on her going through official channels. A day before the deadline she comes into the office to submit her application and bring homemade donuts for all the partners as added incentive. On her way out, she freezes in her tracks and swallows hard. Her hookup from last weekend is talking to some paralegal as if he's... a... lawyer? Oh fuck.

"Thank you." Peter turns away from Donna and looks over to the young woman exiting his closest rival's office. Immediately, his eyebrow moves up but then some details click in place and he smirks. "Miss Martin, I take it? Your father speaks very highly of you." He walks over and offers his hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Peter Hale. Senior Partner."

Thank God I used foundation today. She would definitely be blushing without it. She offers her hand and smiles politely. "Lydia Martin. Good to meet you, Mr. Hale. I... think I'll be working under you this summer," the word choice is quite intentional.

"I take it you're not quite old enough to be an associate, so an internship?" Peter lets his fingertips linger on her wrist as they shake hands, just like his gaze lingers on her body for a moment. Oh this is just perfect. "It's nice to meet you, I haven't been at this firm as long as the other senior partners so my knowledge about our social circle is still lacking a little."

"Yeah, I'll be an intern. The promise of it helped my admittance to Stanford for my undergraduate degree in the fall." No point in hiding it now, right? "I think I may have seen you in passing at my father's most recent wedding?"

His smirk widens. "Yeah, that sounds about right, I do recall admiring your beautiful dress from afar, I believe. Lydia you said, right? Or was it Lia? I'm sorry, I'm so bad with names."

She subdues a laugh, because really, this whole situation is more funny than it is mortifying, and her smile definitely gives her feelings away. "It's Lydia. But if Lia is easier to remember, that's fine."

"Nah, I like Lydia, I think I'll remember you quite well, Miss Martin." Peter winks and gives her a gentle nod. He knows there's a chance now that she'll avoid him as soon as she finds out what her father thinks about Peter Hale exactly, but the wolf knows the added 'risk' will make things more interesting. "I'll see you around."

"I hope so," No, seriously, call me. She smiles sweetly and continues to see herself out, a hint of arousal certainly lingering in the air

 

He doesn't call, he texts.

 

My personal driver will pick you up after school. We'll have a late lunch at a nice café I think you would like. If anyone asks, I'm family. An uncle, maybe?

There are like, at least four things wrong with what you just said. Pushing a Martin around is a good way to get on our bad side. But yeah, sure, I'll give you another shot.

Peter ignores her displeasure and books them a table, making sure everything goes as planned so he can greet her with a friendly kiss to the cheek when she arrives. His words though...
"I really wanna devour you right here, gorgeous. So thank you for coming. Hopefully you'll give my cock another shot as well." Peter smirks and leads them to their table on the beautiful balcony, overlooking the city.

With words like that, she can't help the way she arches into him and raises on her toes to be just a little closer. She'd arrived irritated, arrogant, but now looks at him just like she had before she suggesting they get a room. When they get to the table, she waits for him to get her seat and then crosses her ankles as he joins her.

"You could have said something when we fucked in your room, don't you think?"

That makes her laugh gently and smile broadly. "I could've said something at any point, yeah. But, I mean, who fucks some girl at her father's wedding?"

"Apparently I did. And I don't regret one second of it. Well, maybe being careful with the bed." Peter licks his lips and orders some coffee. When the server is gone, he speaks again. "I could have fucked you harder."

"Well, luckily, the bed is still there and I've still got access to it. Of course, we'd need to be discreet." God, Peter was hot before, but now? Lydia shifts in her seat and tries to get a grip on herself.

"We do. Not just because of our slight age difference." He can't help but keep on smirking though, her arousal in the air is just too charming. "Your father and I get along great. Apart from the fact that we're both competing for naming partner. Pearson & Martin versus Pearson & Hale. What do you think sounds better?"

"Pearson & Martin, obviously. That way they won't need to change the sign in ten years." She shrugs, and immediately adds, "How old did you think I was, anyway?"

"Honestly? I didn't exactly care," Peter admits with a shrug. "I'm usually not attracted to girls your age but with your intellect it doesn't really matter."

"Ooh, good answer." She admits with a bit of a glowing smile. "I pegged you around forty. Am I close?"

Peter nods. "Thirty-eight. So close enough."

"Do you feel different about what we did, knowing what you know now?"

Slowly, he takes a sip from his coffee and thinks about her question. "I guess I feel even better. Does that bother you?"

Her eyes meet his, and they seem to insist she could fuck him right here, right now. Her voice, on the other hand, is calm and even. "No, it doesn't. I feel the same as you. It's better."

"Why is it better for you?" Peter asks curiously.

"Well, my reasoning is sure to shock you with how original and unique it is, so you may want to brace yourself." She pauses, then deadpans. "I can't stand my father, and you being his colleague makes it so much sweeter."

That answer makes him laugh and the warm but still somehow unnerving sound fills the air. "Rival," he then adds with a grin. "Not just colleague, rival. From what I've heard, asking him about me has a very fun effect."

"All the sweeter," she admits. "Is that what makes it better for you?"

"Partly, yeah. I like risks in general," Peter explains and takes another sip from his coffee.

"Oh?" Lydia quirks an eyebrow. "And what's risky about sleeping with me?"

"I'm pretty sure I could lose my job, my reputation, and with your father's skills in law, a big pile of money."

"Hm. I wouldn't be so sure about that. From what I've noticed, men love the idea of other men sleeping with teenage girls, especially when the men doing the approval are sleazy lawyers. You'd probably get high-fives and congratulations. I, on the other hand, would be the easy slut that they'll all try to feel up."

Peter raises an eyebrow. "You sure you're not Daddy's little princess and he'd ruin anyone who doesn't deserve you?"

"To the best of his ability. He'd definitely have you charged with statutory rape - at least for the next few months. But your reputation? Well, even he can't take down rampant misogyny." She just shrugs.

"I'm not really worried about my colleagues. It's the clients. Well, and Jessica Pearson, my boss." Peter looks over Lydia again. "Why me?"

"Why do I wanna sleep with you now, or why did I want you in the first place?"

He grins. "Yes."

"Initially, because you're gorgeous. Since then, because you're incredible in bed, probably only going to get better the more we see each other, and because if my father finds out--I have no intention of telling him, by the way--it won't matter what he tries to claim about you being some predator, he'll know that I chose you and I wanted every second we fucked."

Yeah, that's a really damn good answer. Peter smirks and finishes his coffee. "God, I can't wait to fuck you again and make all your depraved little dreams come true."

"Got any plans tonight?" She answers with a smirk equaling his. "I blew off my boyfriend for homework, so I've got time."

"I'm the best closer in this city, I can make time if I want to. What do you have in mind?"

"Depends. What do you drive?"

"On my own? A BMW. But usually I let myself be driven. The Jaguar that picked you up. Custom interior work," Peter replies with an expectant look on his face. What is she after?

"Jaguars are too small. What's the BMW? Unless fucking in a car somewhere is too juvenile for you." She's certainly not about to presume he'd wanna take her home.

He pulls a face. "It really is. Why use the car if we can just take a hotel room. Or my apartment?"

"Because it's kind of hot to fuck in a luxury vehicle?" She smirks. "But yeah, your place works for me."

"It's uncomfortable and unnecessarily complicated," Peter states drily and waves for the bill

"It's uncomfortable to sit in a cushy seat and get ridden by a hot girl?" She keeps smiling, enjoying this.

"I prefer to be more in control than that. And with the car roof over your head I can't use you as a fleshlight as much as I'd want to."

That sends a pleasant shiver up her spine. "Use me as a fleshlight, huh? Well, I suppose that's a fair way to put it," there's that smirk again.

And Peter returns said smirk easily. "Let's get out of here."

“Please." She stands and follows him, staying close but not too close.