Filthy (Five Points' Mob Collection #1) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,35

it.

“Did you lick your top lip?”

The question came out of nowhere. “I-I don’t think so.” His cum had dried on me last night, which was both gross and delightful. I wasn’t sure why it was the latter and not just the former, but it made my insides turn squelchy and everything south, which had no business coming back to life, turning molten hot.

He hummed, then held out his hand. I stilled at the sight but took four hesitant steps toward him. When there were two left between us, he tutted, and I realized what that meant—I scurried forward, covering the distance. When he smiled at me, his impatience disappearing, it was like a cat purring its satisfaction.

With my hand in his, he led me to the bathroom. The elegance of the room looked even starker in the dull morning light, and he guided me to the shower, then switched on the faucet.

I stood there, just watching as he stripped. I realized then that he’d been working out because his chest gleamed with sweat, and he wore basketball shorts.

His cock was soft, and I was fascinated by the difference between last night and now, but as I watched, and he saw where my focus was aimed, it grew hard.

He grabbed my hand, making me jump, and curled it around his cock. Pumping it a few times together, his head tilted back as he released a guttural groan.

“How can you be this fucking potent?” he gritted out, surprising me by the admission.

I wouldn’t deny that it made me feel like a siren, but equally, I wasn’t actually doing anything, so it wasn’t as if I could take complete credit.

Rather than say anything, I tugged at his cock, applying gentle pressure as I walked backward to move under the spray.

I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to take charge at all, but fuck, this was the twenty-first century. If I wanted to feel him up while under the hot spray, then that was my prerogative. And boy, did I need that water. Not only did I stink of sex and cum and all kinds of nasty things, my body was aching like a bitch. I needed the heat to make me feel some semblance of human. Equally, though, I wanted to carry on touching him.

I liked the feel of him in my hands, loved the sounds he made as I touched him. I realized then that I’d never felt this empowered, this confident in who I was as I did at that moment.

I wore baggy shirts, loosely flowing camis, and dark jeans to hide my curves. I rarely showed that much skin, and I never, ever felt comfortable with no clothes on. That was when I was by myself, never mind with a man as handsome as Finn looking on.

But the way he made me feel?

It was like I was some kind of sex goddess, and I found that I loved that. Loved the way he made me feel about myself.

I didn’t have to hide my curves; he loved them. He’d squeezed all my bits, grabbed a hold of them and used them to fuck me harder, better, faster, deeper.

Like that was what my body was made for.

To be fucked by him.

I shuddered at the thought as he reached behind me and grabbed a bottle from the silver shelf suspended from the ceiling. When he poured gel into his hands, I enjoyed the scent of the masculine fragrance and let him rub it into my hair.

Moaning at how good it felt, I pressed my forehead to his chest and let him tend to me. He massaged my scalp then rinsed me clean, and then, with some soap, he cleansed every other inch of me. Not leaving a single part of me dirty.

I loved it. Loved the attention. Wanted more of it, if I was being honest, and knew that was foolhardy because this man was here to use me. Just because I felt like I was floating on cloud nine didn’t mean he was, too.

When he touched me between my legs, I released a sharp hiss. The sound was so raw that he jerked in surprise. I hadn’t meant to make him jump like that, and my cheeks burned in response, but he tutted me.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I fucked you hard last night, and you took me. Every inch. It will be better next time,” he promised, and, God, there it was again.

Those two dangerous words.

Next time.

He’d said that a few times, and