Page 9 of Filthy Savage

She lets out a dismissive laugh, fingers fumbling to push a long strand of hair behind her ear. Something I very much want to do myself.

“You’re sweet, but I know you’re just trying to be nice, which I appreciate. You don’t have to say anything. I know a man like you would never even consider a girl who looks like me.”

“A girl like you?” My tone turns rough. “What thehelldoes that mean?”

“You know…” She stares at me like I’m supposed to understand. “I’m not razor-thin. My stomach rolls when I sit.” She gives her midsection a glance. “And my thighs touch when I walk, so I definitely don’t look like a fashion model, which—let’s not kid ourselves—is probably the kind of women you date. Which is fine.” She raises both hands in the air, unable to stop rambling in the most adorable way. “I’m not judging. Those types of women are beautiful. Me? Well…I’m just me. And a man like you wouldn’t be caught dead with someone who looks like this.” She gestures at herself with a sway of her hand.

I chuckle dryly. “Wow. You have me figured out, huh, baby girl?”

How wrong you are, little rabbit. One night with me, and I’d show you just how gorgeous I think you are.

“Deny it, then.” The words fall out of her lips in a hurry, and her eyes widen for a moment like she’s surprised she even said it.

When I let out a small chuckle, her brow arches and she curls her arms over her chest, causing my attention to fall to her tits, just the right size at more than a handful.

Wanna do more than that. Wanna bend you over and fuck away all your bullshit insecurities.

The shock on her features expands the closer I get.

If she wants me to deny it, I’ll do just that.

The space between us evaporates when I force her legs apart, fingers tracing up her knee until her skin prickles and her breathing comes in gasps.

“Is that what you think?” I draw her dress higher until the thick strip of her white panties peeks through. “That I care what size you wear? Or what kind of clothes you own?” A slow, dark chuckle emanates from my throat. “I’d tear your goddamn panties with my teeth right now if I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Oh God,” she whispers, squeezing her knees around my legs.

My fingertips slowly slink up her arm, thumb brushing over her pretty lips, ones I want wrapped around my cock desperately. “The things I could do to this mouth.”

She shivers, inhaling deeply, gaping with equal part shock and lust.

“I’m not what you want,” she murmurs, and I hiss when I feel her tongue slipping between her lips, accidentally swiping across the pad of my finger. “Stop toying with me, Fionn.”

A growl rumbles in my chest. “Who are you trying to convince, little rabbit? Hmm?”

She bites her bottom lip, and I’m ready to just say fuck it all and take what I want.

When the hell have I ever denied myself a goddamn thing?

“If you knew how attracted I am to you, how badly I wanna fuck you, you’d run.”

Her eyes round, body shifting, like she’s trying to satiate the arousal building between those thick thighs.

Would be easy to slip her panties to the side and feel just how wet I’ve made her. I squeeze my other hand at my side, trying like hell to behave. But it’s never been in my nature.

She was right about one thing: I don’t know how it feels not to constantly have the attention of women.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt loneliness before.

Being an enforcer for the Mob means women are always throwing themselves at me or running the other way. But what I truly want is someone to come home to.

Sex is sometimes the loneliest thing when there’s nothing tangible to hold on to after it’s over.

Fuck, if I admitted that to my brothers, I think they’d have me examined. But being thirty-one now, I’ve realized I’m sick of the games and the clubs. I crave stability.

I want what Tynan and Elara have. What my sisters, Eriu and Iseult, have too.

And this little rabbit may be just what I need.

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