Filthy Sweet -A Bad Boy Romance- Frankie Love(ang.)

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
CO PY R I GHT
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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
W
PR O LO GUE
M ILLIE
hy 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.
T
C H A P T E R 1
M O XO N
he 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 miles 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.”
O
C H A P T E R 2
M ILLIE
kay, 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.”
I
C H A P T E R 3
M O XO N
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.”
“And you want to have dinner with me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re making me crazy,
you know that, right?”
She laughs, buckling back up. She had grabbed
her winter coat from her car before we left it, and I
hate the fact she is under an extra layer. “I’m not
trying to. But I have cell reception now, I can call
an Uber. You were getting lots of... invitations on
the drive here so I figured...”
I shake my head. This pretty thing is a piece of
work. “You wanna get a cab, you can. Sugar pie,
I’m not holding you against your will here. But I
have nowhere else I wanna be.”
She pushes her lips forward, forehead creased.
“I know. I didn’t mean. I just.” She exhales, pasting
a smile on her face, turning to me. “I didn’t want
you to feel obligated.”
At that, I snort. “Obligated? Sweetpea, you are
walking sex on a stick. I want you, you gotta know
that. I’ll take you home now, but what I’d really
like is to make you purr like the engine of my ‘67
Chevy.”
Her face flares red, her eyes wide and wild. She
did not expect that. But I can tell by the way she’s
back to licking those lips of hers, that she likes me
talking dirty.
“That sound good to you?” I lean in, my hand
on her knee, my eyes locked on hers.
“Sounds nice,” she manages to murmur before
leaning in for the kiss.
Her mouth tastes like cherry pie and I’d like
more than one slice. Her lips part and my tongue
finds hers. Her gentle moan tells me it’s been far
too long since she’s been taken care of.
I’ll fix that.
My cock is screaming in my jeans, and her head
falls back as I kiss her long neck, trailing kisses
from her earlobes to the top of her full breasts. I
could kiss every inch of this woman, right here,
right now and then some.
But a car honks, opposite of me in the parking
lot. Millie and I pull apart.
An older woman in a sedan waving at us,
shouting that this is lewd conduct. Considering my
hands are groping Millie’s perfect tits, I’d agree.
“Dinner?” I ask adjusting my hard-on and then
turning on the truck.
Millie doesn’t answer. She’s still catching her
breath. I look at her from the corner of my eye. She
presses her swollen lips together; smoothes down
her hair.
“You kiss a lot of strangers in parking lots?” I
ask, putting the truck in reverse and pulling out of
the parking lot.
She laughs, pushing my shoulder softly. “Maybe
not often enough. I think I’ve been missing out.”
I give her a once over, shaking my head. “Not
every stranger has lips like these,” I tease, kissing
the air and making her laugh again. The sound is
fucking beautiful, soft, yet generous like she
appreciates a good sense of humor.
“So, this isn’t an everyday thing? Finding a
damsel in distress on the way home and whisking
them off to the local office supply center?”
“It’s the way into my pants. Postage stamps
work every time.”
She smiles, scrunching up her nose in a way
that is so unassumingly delightful I have to check
myself.
Who is this woman that is causing me to think
words like delightful?
It’s freaking me the fuck out, to be honest.
But there’s something about Millie.
Something that makes me pause and consider
her. She isn’t some woman I’d pick up at a bar.
She’s different in ways I don’t really understand.
Both feisty and innocent. Smart and sincere.
“Handwritten letters are actually pretty
romantic. Hardly anyone sends them anymore.
Filthy-Sweet makes me feel like I’m helping people
pause and take the time to send more than a text to
the people they care about.”
“Filthy-Sweet?”
She nods as I drive toward a pub downtown.
“That’s the name of my card company.”
I park, and we head inside, sliding into a booth.
Sitting opposite her, I have to say what I’m
thinking. “Filthy-Sweet? I don’t get it.”
“It’s like, messages that are both cute and
sexy?”
A waitress named Cady comes over and we
order beers and burgers.
“Hey, Mox,” she says, “Long time no see.”
I nod. We went to school together years ago.
And after that, we hooked up a few times. “Yeah,
things are busy down at the shop.”
“Right.” She raises her eyebrows and looks
over at Millie. She’s sitting there in her little dress
and perfectly done hair, perched in the booth like
she’s never been in a pub before. Hell, maybe this
little thing hasn’t. “Anyway, you holding up okay?
Heard from some folks you still don’t know how to
return a phone call.”
I lean back in the booth, guessing Cady’s about
to make it real personal.
“Hey, sorry about--”
Cady waves me off. “Whatever, Mox. I’m
cool.”
When Cady leaves, wearing nothing but a sour
...