Filthy Sweet Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Filthy Sweet

  A Bad Boy Romance

  Frankie Love

  Copyright

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  Edited by

  Teresa Banschbach

  ICanEdit4U

  Copyright © 2018 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  PREVIEW

  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Millie

  Why exactly did I wear heels today? And stockings? It’s freaking February and I’m freezing my tush off.

  Standing here on the side of the road, I look desperate. Mostly because I am desperate.

  I love this car, but for I’m more than tired of it breaking down on me.

  Holding my phone up to the sky, I pray to the God of my provider’s 4G cellular network to show me a teeny-tiny bit of grace. All I need is to place one call.

  Zero bars.

  Gah.

  Blowing air out of my cheeks, I try to pull a plan out of my ass. The closest gas station is ten miles away, not to mention I still need to get to FedEx before it closes.

  I dig in the tiny trunk of my car for a tool, pop the hood, and hold the wrench in my hand like I have any idea of what I’m doing.

  Maybe someone will take pity on me and pull over and help.

  I’m overdue for an oil change. And I’m not just talking about my car. It’s been a long time, and maybe those iPhone gods who didn’t answer my call a minute ago, will find a way to deliver a mechanic who knows how to rev my engine.

  Chapter 1

  Moxon

  The powder blue VW Beetle perched on the side of the road has me turning my head as memories wash over me. But it’s the woman in front of it, that has me stopping my big ass truck. She’s bent over the hood, her round ass forcing me to pull over. As I get out of my truck, she’s turned to face me, wrench in hand as if she has a goddamn clue how to use it.

  Smoke billows around the sorry excuse for a car and it makes the situation appear more dire than it probably is. Truth be told, this is no life or death situation. I know that because I’m a mechanic and right now there is no fire to put out. In fact, the only thing I wanna do is scoop this little piece of candy up in my arms and take a bite. I’m guessing she has a soft center, with those generous curves and pouty mouth, and I sure as hell intend on finding out.

  “How can I help you, little Miss Thing?” I ask, crossing my arms, knowing I look a little worse for wear. I just got off work and considering that I spent my day under a car, changing oil, I know I’m not the clean-cut knight in shining armor she may be thinking she needs.

  “The name’s Millie. Not little. Not miss. And certainly not thing.”

  I give her a low whistle with a grin on my face.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asks, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

  She’d look like a wolf on the prowl, ready to bite, if she weren’t wearing such a cute ass dress and sexy black heels. Not to mention the sheer black stockings. They have me close to a hard-on just thinking about the garter belt holding them up.

  “I’m smiling because I’m looking at you, doll.”

  “Not doll, either. Millie, remember?”

  I saunter up to her, taking my goddamn time. The truth is, I’m in no hurry. I’m already where I want to be.

  “Millie short for something?”

  “Camilla. Why?”

  I shrug, reaching for her wrench. “Just curious about what I’m allowed to call you now that all those other names are off the table.”

  She frowns. “Are you always this cocky?”

  I pull back; giving her a smile that I know will get her all hot and bothered. I have dimples, two of them, and I know they will help smooth her rough edges. “Cocky? Me? Baby, this ain’t cocky. This is confidence.”

  “Not baby either. Millie.”

  My phone rings and I look at the number. Jenna. We went out last night and it was fun, but so are all one-night stands. Quick and dirty, and then I move on to the next. I don’t answer.

  Looking back at the woman in front of me, I smile. “Right, Camilla. So, I have a question for you, what were you planning on doing with this?” I hold up the wrench.

  “My dad’s the only one who calls me Camilla. And I was planning on... oh, I don’t know. My phone has no reception and I’m just trying to get to FedEx before it closes.”.

  “Well, it’s a signal to mechanics everywhere that you’re desperate.”

  Her eyes brighten. “You’re a mechanic?”

  “My shirt didn’t give it away?”

  “Well, you’re the answer to my prayers.” She steps closer, pointing to the name on my work shirt. “Mr. Moxon, I can tell by all the grease you must have been working hard all day. Thank you for stopping to help.”

  “Would you like to help wash it off?”

  She barks out a laugh. “Just how full of shit are you?”

  “Guess you’ll have to grease my monkey to find out.” My voice is playful and it’s obvious I’m nothing but a flirt. This woman, though, isn’t like other women. She stirs something inside me, something powerful. I want her in a way I have never wanted anyone.

  “So, your phone work out here?” she asks. “I just switched providers and apparently I chose one that’s crap.”

  I pull out my phone to call the shop, noticing that a few other women have left texts during the roadside conversation. I ignore them, knowing none of those women hold a candle to the one in front of me.

  “The engine got wonky and now I’m going to be late,” she continues.

  “I can take you,” I tell her, already knowing there’s no way in hell I’m leaving without her.

  She twists her lips. “Take me where?”

  “Where do you think?”

  She doesn’t answer, and I run a hand over my jaw, looking her over once more. Damn, I like what I see. Curly black hair, tits that are full -- just the way I like them. Curves and a nice, round ass under that dress of hers. An ass that I could hold onto while she rides me. I can tell she’s taking her time looking me over as well. And when she licks her lips, I know she is imagining things.

  Filthy things.

  I force myself to focus and call the shop. I explain the situation to my brother Mike. “Yeah, it’s a powder blue Beetle. Vintage. I know, right? Anyways, looks like the timing belt blew. Yeah, saw her out here on Route 44. The Shell station’s a good ten mil
es away. Nah, it’s no problem, I’ll drive her home. See ya tomorrow, Mike.” I drop the phone in my pocket, rubbing my hands together, dreaming about rubbing them over her bare skin. “Let’s close this hood. The tow truck won’t get here for forty minutes and you’re in a hurry, right?”

  “You’ll drive me, you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, darling.”

  She narrows her eyes, pressing a finger to my chest, wanting me to know whose boss. “Millie. Remember?”

  I smile, unable to take this pretty thing too seriously. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 2

  Millie

  Okay, he’s hot. I admit that.

  But I am not some silly girl like he seems to think. And I know it’s what he thinks. I saw his lips curl into a smile when I put my hands on my hips and told him what’s what.

  “So, tell me,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, causing a tingle to run up my spine. “Why are you in such a hurry to get to FedEx?”

  He looks over at me, but I lower my chin, unable to meet his eyes. I’m focused on his strong hands holding the steering wheel of his impressive pickup truck. His thumbs tap on the wheel and I decide I wouldn’t mind those hands tapping me.

  The thought is ridiculous.

  Almost too insane to consider.

  He is wrong for me in every single way, including his chauvinistic attitude. And then there’s the fact his phone keeps pinging with texts. I see them coming in because his phone is perched on a stand to be used as a navigation device. Three different women’s names have texted in the three minutes we’ve been together. I saw the emojis--I understand the meaning. Hook-ups.

  Some of that is appealing... the idea of a one-time fling with a sexy stranger.

  But I’ve never dated a guy who works with his hands and I don’t know if I can handle such a real man. Somehow, every time I go on a dating app, I end up with a banker or an insurance agent.

  Stable guys who are boring... reliable. Predictable. Safe.

  And I get why I am drawn to the type. My dad is an amazing father. Always there for me growing up. He would be at every recital, every art show, every single thing. My mom died when I was young, and my dad never remarried. Instead, he devoted his life to raising me.

  I always knew that when I grew up, I would choose a man like my father. A man who was present, who was available, and who was honorable. I’m not trying to get ahead of myself but I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman and am beginning to think about what might be next.

  And even if my brain tells me I need a man who is safe, my body is telling me I need something risky.

  A part of me thrills at the idea of something totally unexpected.

  Something totally irreverent and... filthy.

  Even if for just one night.

  Long term, I want security over sexy. But tonight, why can’t I have a little fun?

  “Are you gonna answer?’ Moxon asks. “Or are you gonna make me guess?”

  I blush, not wanting to have been seen as rude. I smooth the skirt of my black dress and inhale. All too keen on the fact that there is a tight ball of desire growing inside of me.

  The fact is, my thighs are pressed hard against one another. Moxon may be rough and gruff and greasy, but he’s also so damn hot. His biceps pull at his work shirt, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to noticing the way his slacks were tight around his ass. If anyone was made for their uniform, it’s him.

  He looks more than a man. He looks like a man who knows what he’s capable of.

  “Girl, you’re making me crazy, you realize that?”

  I feel my cheeks redden. “How crazy?”

  “Am I gonna have to pull this truck over and show you?”

  I laugh, thinking that is exactly what I want.

  The thought is shocking. I never, ever get frisky the way I want. The way I imagine. Maybe I’ve just been with the wrong men. Maybe I need a man who wants to teach a girl a thing or two.

  “Sorry, I was just distracted.”

  At this he grins, knowing I was distracted by him. Am I that obvious?

  “I’m trying to get out some samples,” I explain. “They need to be postmarked today.”

  “For your job?”

  “Yeah, I have a shop on Etsy?”

  “I’ve heard of that, artsy-fartsy shit, right? Crafts and stuff?”

  I purse my lips together. “As a matter of fact, I have a fine arts degree. And I take my job seriously.”

  My words cause the corners of his mouth to curl up into a smile.

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Just who does this man think he is? My nostrils flare. “Are you being condescending?”

  “Not at all darling. It’s sexy. I’m picturing you as a college student, hair in a bun, pencil between your teeth. I can dig it.”

  “I know you’re hoping for a quick lay, I see it in your eyes, Moxon. But I’m not interested. I don’t want a player, I want a real man.”

  “Oh, and what makes a man real?” His words are slow and steady and make my core buzz with exhilaration.

  I want what I shouldn’t. And right now, I don’t even feel bad about it.

  Yes, if I am talking about forever, I want the whole nine yards; but right now, I’m thinking Moxon is too much to pass up.

  But I’ll make him work for it.

  “Easy,” I say crossing my legs and leaning my body towards his. “I want a man with a big house and a nine-to-five job that comes with a retirement package. A man who owns a suit and tie.” All things my father expects for me.

  He rolls his eyes and for some reason I like it. The idea of pushing his buttons. I don’t mean what I say, I just want to see if I can rile him up. I don’t care about being a member of a country club. I just want a man who provides a life full of love and support.

  I won’t tell him that though.

  I continue, “A real man who is totally put together, who wants to mow the lawn on Saturday and have two point five kids and a picket fence. A real man is someone who wants to fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after.”

  If those words don’t scare a man like this, I don’t know what would. I’m guessing he’s more interested in getting a woman out of her pants than knocking one up.

  But it’s time to pull out all the stops and really make him squirm.

  “A real man would show up on Valentine’s Day with a dozen red roses and reservations. That’s the kind of man I want.”

  “You know Valentine’s Day is just a lie invented by the greeting card industry,” he says pulling off the highway and turning into the FedEx parking lot.

  At this, my lighthearted teasing turns to indignation. I scowl, pointing a finger. “Just so you know, I am in the greeting card industry. And I take offense to that.”

  “You’re in the greeting card industry? What does that mean exactly?”

  “I make greeting cards. For the industry. That’s my job.” I point to the FedEx envelopes in the tote bag at my feet. “That’s what I’m delivering. Greeting cards for a prospective distributor. A distributor who sends cards to customers. Customers who want to send sweet notes to the people they care about in this world. It’s not an invention, it’s my livelihood.”

  “Well, honey pie,” he says slowly, shaking his head. The grin on his face making me both hot and bothered. “I love that you take your job seriously. And I like that you’re so passionate about what you do.”

  He completely glossed over my “real man” monologue.

  “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

  He puts his truck in park and leans his head back on the headrest as if he’s never been more comfortable in his life. Meanwhile, my body is tingling, and I feel ready to pounce or explode… probably both.

  “Tell me,” he says. “When you went on and on about your real man, was there anything in that speech that was true?”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  He looks up and moans as he takes me in. �
��Oh, Millie, I know enough.”

  I purse my lips together, considering how I want to answer, knowing I am already melting. The way he said my name was so damn smooth. So absolutely sexy, that I forget all reason.

  I throw up my hands in defeat, I don’t want to play games. I want him to do whatever he likes.

  “I was just giving you a hard time. Trying to get a rise out of you. Did it work?”

  He looks over at me shaking his head so slowly that my pussy begins to tighten.

  I bite my bottom lip, and he adjusts himself with absolutely no sign of embarrassment. It’s like he wants my eyes to travel to his groin. And they do.

  I suck in a sharp breath, my heart racing.

  “It worked all right. But I don’t like girls who play games.”

  “Oh? What do you like?”

  “I like a woman who knows how to hold a wrench.”

  Chapter 3

  Moxon

  I watch her saunter into the FedEx office, her round ass doing all kinds of things to my cock. Namely, getting me nice and hard which is problematic when I don’t have her panties off yet.

  I turn my phone on silent because of all the damn texts I’m getting. I guess it is Friday night and women are wondering if I’m interested in being their man-candy tonight. Usually, I’m game but I already have plans.

  When she returns fifteen minutes later I ask if she’s hungry and wants to go get dinner before I drop her off at home.

  “Really?”

  “What do you mean, really? It’s six o’clock at night and I’m starved.”