Filthy Sweet

by Frankie Love

  That shuts Mike up.

  “Well, fucking-A.” Mike lifts his beer and clinks it to the rim of my glass. “To Millie being her own damn boss.”

  I smile, appreciating the toast. “Thanks.” Then setting down my beer, I twist my lips. “I mean, he did pay for college, so I know I’ve got it good. But I don’t want to rely on my daddy for everything. He has already done enough for me.”

  “Who are you?” Moxon asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “You fucking blow me away, you know that?”

  “So your dad is some hot shot real estate agent?” Mike asks.

  I shrug. “Maybe? He does all sorts of sales though. Condos and houses. He’s done well for himself and gets a little protective of me.”

  “I can understand why,” Moxon says, pulling me closer. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

  Looking at my watch, I know he’s gonna have to let me go. “I have plans with my dad now, actually. I made them before we...”

  Moxon nods, not making me finish my sentence. His phone is on the table and it buzzes.

  Moxon’s eyes meet mine. “It’s not another woman, I swear. It’s my real-estate agent.”

  “Very funny. Don’t mind me, answer it.”

  “It’s okay, I want to walk you out first.”

  Slipping out of the booth, I tell Mike it was nice to meet him. I pull out a twenty to set on the table, but the guys shoo my cash away.

  Leaving the restaurant, I ignore the stares of the waitress and let Moxon lead me outside.

  At my car, I turn to him and his arms pull me close without pause. With our foreheads nearly touching, I breathe him in. God, I love his smell.

  “Is your daddy gonna hate that I’m not some finance guy in a suit, with a 401k and shit?”

  I shake my head. “My dad isn’t like that.”

  “You gonna tell him about me?”

  “You want me to?”

  Moxon nods, his eyes locked on mine. “I do.”

  He kisses me then. This time it’s tender and timid, almost shy. Like we are embarking on something more than hot and heavy. We are turning into territory that feels all too real.

  “So, can I have your cell number?” Moxon asks after he pulls away.

  My eyes crinkle. “No.”

  Moxon frowns. “No?”

  I shake my head. “If you wanna take me out, why don’t you write me a card, asking me. Old school, personal, romantic.” I pull out a notepad from my purse and jot down my address.

  “You making me chase you, dream girl?”

  I nod. “I think I am. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. A way to guard myself in case this is just a joke to you...”

  “It’s not a joke. I’m done with other women.”

  I smile, liking what I hear. “Good. Then prove it.”

  “You really won’t give me your number?”

  I shake my head. I don’t want to make this easy for Moxon, not after the booty calls he got the other night, and the way I have stripped to nothing for him two times in a row.

  “My words aren’t gonna be as clever or as cheeky as yours, dove.”

  I lick my lips. “I’m not looking for Shakespeare.”

  “I know,” Moxon says firmly. “You’re looking for a man who wants to fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after.”

  I swallow. Hard. “Did I say that too?”

  “You did.”

  I cover my face. “I was being silly.”

  He pulls my hands down. “I don’t think you were, not about that. And Millie,” he adds, “It’s not too much to ask for. You deserve all that and more.”

  Then he walks away, the paper with my address in his hands, a bounce in his step. Seeing him at his shop, with his brother, it reminded me that he’s more than a blue-collar playboy. He’s also a man. A real man.

  The kind of man I want.

  As I drive, I can’t help but wonder where this is going, wondering how it got so real, so fast.

  Chapter 11

  Moxon

  If I want her for keeps, I gotta pull out all the stops.

  “You are really taking her out for Valentine’s Day?” Mike asks as we walk out of the shop for the day.

  “Hell, yeah. She’s the woman for me.”

  “You know that after two evenings together?”

  I nod. “I wrote her a card, asked her out. She wants me to beg for it, so I will.”

  “Has she answered?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t expect her to. In the card I just said, meet me at Chez Monique on Valentine’s at seven.”

  “Fuck, man. You went all out. Chez Monique’s?”

  “It’s Millie we’re talking about.” I don’t tell him just how all out I went. Don’t want him to think I’m off my rocker.

  I’m wearing my suit and tie. The dozen roses are on the table. I ordered a bottle of champagne. Hell, I don’t even know if she likes champagne. But I’ll get her anything she wants.

  She wants to be wooed, I’ll woo her.

  “Sir, would you like to start with something?” the waiter asks. Thankfully, I don’t see a single person here that I have a history with. Good. I want Millie to know I only want a future with her.

  “No, I ‘ll wait for my date,” I tell him, looking at my watch. She’s ten minutes late.

  But then she’s twenty.

  Forty.

  An hour.

  By then I’ve finished three glasses of water and need to pee like a motherfucker. But I don’t want her to walk into this restaurant and not see me.

  Finally, though, enough is enough.

  She isn’t coming.

  I order a slice of cheesecake to go and the waiter must feel sorry for me because he tells me since the champagne is still corked I can have it too. Might as well, considering I paid for it.

  Leaving the restaurant, I drive through a burger joint, get a fucking quarter pounder and fries and then head to my new place.

  I let out a long sigh as I cruise down the highway, loosening my tie, wondering how I could have read her so damn wrong.

  I thought she was the one.

  Maybe should have said more in the card, tried harder.

  Guess no matter how much I try to polish myself up, she still sees me as a guy who sleeps around and has grease under his fingernails. I may have believed in love at first fucking sight, but it doesn’t mean she did.

  Chapter 12

  Millie

  The flight is delayed. Twice. And then I have a forty-five-minute drive back to my apartment.

  Except my car breaks down.

  Again.

  Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

  My stupid phone still doesn’t have reception in half the places I go, and so here I am, a week later, back on the side of the road feeling more alone than ever.

  I thought getting an all expense trip to LA to meet the card executives at Best Regards was going to be my ticket to a happily ever after. Turns out they wanted to buy me out, without offering me a job. Sure, I’d have a nest egg with the sale, but Filthy-Sweet is my company. I grew it from the ground up and I just started it less than two years ago.

  I’m not ready to hand it over in a buy-out.

  After the failed meeting, I stayed in LA for a few more days to soak up the sun and even went to Disneyland by myself because I’m just that cool. But now it’s time to return to real life.

  Which, it turns out, is not that glamorous. And by not that glamorous, I mean, not at all.

  I force myself out of my Beetle, feeling sorry for myself, and lean against the hood, staring at my phone and willing it to work.

  Every time I press send to call my dad, though, the call fails.

  I close my eyes, knowing it is over five miles to the next exit, and the idea of walking there, alone in the dark, is terrifying. But not as scary as sleeping here tonight.

  Bright tail lights force my eyes to open and for a split second I think, thank god.

  Except, th
en, fear overwhelms me. I swallow, scared of some stranger stopping with the pretense to help, only to put me in harm’s way.

  Tears prick my eyes, but then, as if I’m hallucinating, a figure cuts through the darkness, lit up by my headlights and his taillights.

  Moxon.

  “Hey, hot stuff, is this where you come to pick up guys?”

  I shake my head in disbelief. Of course, seeing him makes my shoulders fall with relief. If there was a single person on Earth I wanted to come to my rescue, it is him. I’ve been thinking, dreaming, touching myself for days with the memory of him pressed against me.

  “Moxon, what are you doing here? You... I... why are you in a suit?”

  He frowns, stepping toward me. “I had a date.”

  My face falls. “Oh. Right.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ears, feeling embarrassed. Of course, Moxon has a date. “I guess that makes sense, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  He runs a hand over his jaw and doesn’t say anything and the silence stretches out for longer than comfortable.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Are you upset with me?”

  He shakes his head, shrugging. “Sorry, I’m just a little sore, I’m not used to rejection.”

  “What do you mean?” I twist my lips. “Did your date stand you up or something?” Not that I’d believe it for a second. Although, even the thought of him with another woman, makes my shoulders tighten. I have fallen for this man in the space of a few weeks and he has no clue how head over heels I am for him.

  “Are you serious? Millie, I was sitting there alone for over an hour.”

  “I don’t know why you’re being snappy with me.” My face falls when I see the hurt in his eyes. “Look, I’m tired. I’ve been in LA all week for a job thing and just flew in tonight. The flight was delayed and then...” I point to the car.

  His brow furrows. “You haven’t been home?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’ve been gone for seven or eight days. Took the business trip and turned it into a mini vacation.”

  “So, you haven’t gone to your apartment?”

  “No, I literally just flew in. I left town, well, I guess it was just a day or two after we went out with Mike. The company I was in contact with was really anxious to meet me.”

  His face breaks into a smile.

  “Why are you so happy all of a sudden?”

  “I thought you...” He massages his neck, stepping closer. “I thought you blew me off.”

  My face scrunches up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I had sent a card, inviting you out tonight. Me. You. Chez Monique. A suit. Roses. I had planned on wooing you off your feet.”

  “Really, Moxon?”

  He lifts his brows. “You think I’d put on this monkey suit for any other woman?”

  I shake my head, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve all this.”

  “Like hell, you don’t, gorgeous.” He puts his arms around my waist, pulling me from the hood and planting me firmly against him. “You deserve a whole lot more than a manwhore. You deserve a real man.”

  I steady my breathing, wanting this but also having a hard time accepting it. “Moxon, we hardly know each other.”

  “What else do you wanna know?”

  “A million things. Heck, I don’t even know where you live.”

  That makes his face break into an even bigger grin. “Can I show you?”

  “You wanna take me home?”

  “It’s all I want.”

  I look back at my car. “It’s weird that you found me tonight, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not surprised in the least.”

  “No?”

  He places a hand on my cheek, drawing me toward him. “No, Millie. I think you and I were meant to be. I’m your filthy, you’re my sweet.”

  I reach down, my hand pressing against his cock. “I’m not so sure about that, Moxon. I’m pretty filthy myself. And you pulling up here in your truck like my knight in shining armor--you’re coming across pretty damn sweet.”

  Chapter 13

  Moxon

  My fingers tap hard against the steering wheel, suddenly nervous as I drive Millie to my new place. Maybe this is all a little too much. I don’t want to scare her.

  But she was there, on the side of the road -- a sign if I sure as hell ever saw one.

  “What was the business meeting for?” I ask. “Sounds fancy.”

  Millie sighs. “It was a letdown.” I look over at her and see worry lines on her forehead.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She sighs again, leaning back in her seat, and I love to see her so comfortable in my rig. “It was a card company, they wanted to buy me out.”

  “Oh, hell, that’s a big deal.”

  “I know. But Filthy-Sweet is my baby. It’s like, my heart and soul. I couldn’t imagine giving the reins over to someone and walking away.”

  “I hear ya. Malone Auto is a piece of me, of who I am.”

  “What else are you, Moxon?” she asks, her body shifting toward mine. The hem of her skirt is high on her thigh, and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road.

  “I’m a simple guy. In a lot of ways, I’m exactly what you’d think. I like cars, beer, football, and--”

  She cuts me off. “And your cat. Remember, you have some surprises.”

  “True enough.” I suck in a breath as I turn on my blinker to turn onto my new street.

  “Like tonight,” she says. “You got us reservations at Chez Monique. How did you even manage that?”

  “I fixed the owner’s car when he was in a jam.”

  “I see, you’re connected.” She smiles. “Is this your neighborhood?”

  I nod. “Is now.” I pull into a driveway and put the truck in park, trying not to stare at her reaction. God, I want her to like it.

  “What do you mean, is now?” she asks.

  “I just made an offer on it last week. George, my real estate agent, said they accepted. We close in two weeks.”

  “George? George James?”

  I nod. “You know him?”

  “He’s my father.”

  “No shit? Good guy.”

  “I know, the best.”

  “And you’re his daughter. The one he wants to move into a fancy new condo?”

  She nods. “Yeah, he told you that?”

  “Yeah, I think he just wants to make sure you’re safe. And I don’t blame him, Mils.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Mils?”

  “It suits you.” Our eyes meet, a small smile spreading across her lips.

  She looks out the window. “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I asked George for a place that a woman would call a home.”

  “Why?”

  I take her hand. “You said you wanted a man with a big house and a nine-to-five job. A picket fence. The whole nine yards.”

  She shakes her head slightly as our fingers lace together. “You can’t just hit every point on a list and add up to the perfect man.”

  “I know. But I can try.”

  “Mox...” Millie shakes her head. “I don’t care about all that stuff, not really. I just want a man who shows up.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Why me?” Her eyes lower like she genuinely doesn’t know the facts.

  Like she doesn’t realize she has captivated me -- heart, mind, and soul.

  “I’m a fucking mechanic, I work with my hands, and never think about beauty besides an engine that purrs and a paint job that shines. Then you come along, and one look, I was ruined. I saw real beauty for the first time in my life and I don’t want to lose it.”

  “You don’t have to buy a house to have me.” Her voice is soft and tender.

  “But it makes it a little sweeter, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe I don’t need sweet. Maybe filthy is all I really need.”

  “Maybe,” I say, cupping her cheek with my hand. “But let
me give you both. Let me give you everything.”

  I kiss her then, in front of the two-story house with a detached garage -- perfect for her studio.

  “Do you believe you can fall in love in a week’s time?” I ask her, my breath heavy and my desire real. I want to strip off her clothes and take her now, but I also want to hold her like this, forever.

  “I believe in all sorts of things, Moxon.”

  “Do you believe in us?”

  She pushes her lips forward. “I don’t know. You still haven’t checked out my trunk.”

  “That’s necessary in order to know?”

  She smiles then, nodding. “That scare you?”

  I laugh, pulling her to me, needing her ass in my hands and her heart against my own. “No, darling, you’re the kinda filthy-sweet girl I’ve been dreaming of my whole damn life.”

  Epilogue

  Moxon

  Valentine's Day, one year later:

  “God, baby,” she moans. “This is what I want.”

  I turn her around, taking a nice view of her creamy ass. She’s wearing a garter belt without any panties, her pussy dripping, my fingers coated in her come, but now I am taking her again.

  Harder.

  She wears nothing but heels and stockings. Her tits are pushed again the hood of my new Mustang that I’m currently restoring. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen–Millie naked across the candy-apple red classic. The shop lights are off and the doors are locked. It’s after business hours and the only thing I’m serving tonight is my Mils.

  “You are so damn filthy, you know that?” I pull her hair back, kissing her bare neck, a hand on one of her tits that look bigger and fuller than ever. God, this woman makes my cock rage with intention.