All of those prompts are SO gallya omg... but 11, please!! And be as... uh... imaginative... as you want ;-)! xxx
“We could get arrested for this.”
There is next to no room, he can’t move his legs and his shoulder keeps hitting the front seat. Sometimes Illya is sure Gaby chooses tiny stupid cars just to mess with him. If it wouldn’t be for Gaby and her ferocious attack against him, he would hate it.
But she is there, and her lips are hot and wet, and on his lips and then on his neck. She is kissing and licking and biting, and it makes blood rush in his veins. Her attack leaves him breathless and powerless to do anything to stop her. Her strong thighs tense up on both sides of his hips when she moves on his lap. Her hand grips his shirt, ripping it upward. Illya tries to help but she pushes him roughly against the door. Her kiss is wild and deep. She makes him feel like he is a mere prey, hunted down by a little but deadly predator.
When her kiss finally eases he has to gasp for air. He pants when Gaby sucks his neck, moans when her hand grabs him harder than he thought she would dare.
In the middle of all that he glances the windows, barely seeing outside from the steam coating them. He can’t even say is there somebody outside of the car, covered by the darkness.
“We could get arrested for this,” Illya manages to speak up before Gaby’s hand on his groins makes his words turn into a groan he stubbornly tries to suppress.
Gaby pulls apart from him. She pants, brows high on her flushed face, looks at him the way she does when she thinks he has said something ridiculous. “Well,” she breathes out, grabbing his shirt again, this time yanking it off, making Illya twist his shoulders, musses his neatly combed hair. “I don’t think there is anybody out there.” Her lips curl up into a grin somebody who doesn’t know her might think is sweet, but Illya knows better. “But you can arrest me,” she promises. “If you want.”
Her kiss prevents him from answering.
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