Filthy (Five Points' Mob Collection #1) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,7

was as charming as the rest of him. His teeth were white, but not creepy, reality-TV-star white. They were straight except for one of his canines, which tilted in slightly. In his perfect face, it was one flaw that I almost clung to. Because with that wide brow, the hair so dark it looked like black silk that was cut closely to his head with a faint peak at his forehead, the strong nose, and even stronger jaw, I needed something imperfect to focus on.

Then, I sucked down a breath and remembered what Fiona had told me once upon a time. When I’d been nervous about asking Jamie Winters to homecoming, she’d advised me in her soft Irish lilt, “Lass, that boy takes a dump just like you do. He uses the bathroom twice a day and undoubtedly leaves a puddle on the floor for his ma to clean up. I bet he’s puked a time or two as well. Had diarrhea and the good Lord only knows what else. Just you think that the next time you see that boy and want to ask him out.”

Yeah. It was gross, but fuck, it had worked. Her advice had worked so well I hadn’t asked anyone out because I could only think of them using the damn toilet!

Still, looking at this Adonis, there was no imagining that.

Surely, gods didn’t use the bathroom.

Did they?

“The name’s Finn. Finn O’Grady.”

My eyes flared at the name.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Finn O’Grady?

No. It wasn’t a rare name, but it was a strong one. One that suited him, one that had always suited him.

I frowned up at him wondering, yet again, if this was a joke of some sort, but as he looked at me, really looked at me, I saw no recognition. Saw nothing on his features that revealed any ounce of awareness that I’d known him for years.

Well, okay, not known. But I’d known his mother. Our mothers had been best friends. And as I looked, I saw the same almond-shaped eyes Fiona had, the stubborn jaw, and that unmistakable butt-indent on his chin.

At the reminder of just how forgettable I was, my heart sank, and hurt whistled through me.

Then, I realized I was still holding his hand, and as he squeezed, the flush returned and I almost died of mortification.

Chapter Two

Finn

God, she was perfect.

And when I said perfect, I meant it.

I’d fucked a lot of women. Redheads, blondes, brunettes, even the rare thing that is a natural head of black hair. None of them, not a single one, lit up like Aoife Keegan.

Her cheeks were cherry red and in the light camisole she wore, a cheerful yellow, I could see how the blush went all the way down to the upper curve of her breasts.

She’d go that color, I knew, when she came.

And fuck, I wanted to see that.

I wanted to see that perfectly pale flesh turn bright pink under my ministrations.

Even as I looked at her, all shy and flustered, I wondered if she was a screamer in bed.

Some of the shyest often were.

Maybe not at first, but after a handful of orgasms, it was a wonder what that could do to a woman’s self-confidence, and Jesus, I wanted to see that, too. I wanted a seat at center stage.

My suit jacket was open, and I regretted it. Immensely. My cock was hard, had been since we’d shaken hands, and her fingers had clung to mine like a daughter would to her daddy’s at her first visit to the county fair.

Fuck.

Squeezing her fingers wasn’t intentional. If anything, I’d just liked the feel of her palm against mine, but when I put faint pressure on her, she jerked back like she’d been scalded.

Her cheeks bloomed with heat again, and she whispered, “Mr. O’Grady, what can I do for you?”

You can get on your fucking knees and sort out the hard-on you just caused.

That’s what she could fucking do.

I almost growled at the thought because the image of her on her knees, my cock in her small fist, her dainty mouth opening to take the tip. . . .

Shit.

That had to happen.

Here, too.

In this fancy, frilly, feminine place, I wanted to defile her.

Fuck, I wanted that so goddamn much, it was enough to make me reconsider my demolition plans.

I wanted to screw her against all this goddamn lace, which suited her perfectly. She was made for lace. And silk. Hell, silk would look like heaven against her skin. I wouldn’t know where she ended and it began.

When

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