Read this book if you want to f-k Tommy Shelby.
You're Billy Kimber's daughter.
You've been accused of stealing the Peaky Blinders' shipment of guns.
And now you're forced to work with Tommy Shelby to solve the mystery of who's framing your father...
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I doubt I could resist Thomas Shelby even if I tried.
I don't think. I don't allow any space for talking myself out of it. I cross the room, flicking off the lamp as I reach Tommy. My skin burns for him, my body craving his touch once more. He pulls me onto his lap, setting my knees either side of his hips so I'm sat on him.
Oh my god, I can feel him pressed against me.
He snaps the light back on. "I want to see you," he says, his voice low.
I whimper as his hands caress my hips, taking his time pulling the hem of my silk dress up to my waist, his gaze following everywhere he touches. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Apparently, he has the same thoughts.
His grip on my waist tightens as he kisses me hungrily. Heat rushes through my core as I run my hands across the lean muscles of his arms, his chest, my fingernails dragging across his skin all the way down his torso.
His head tips back in response, then his lips move to my jaw, leaving a trail all the way to the soft spot below my ear. As my head tips back to give him easier access, he buries his face into my neck. I moan, low and soft, as every place he presses against me sends volts between my legs.
Tommy groans in response and then he gets rougher, needing more. His tongue scrapes the soft skin of my neck, then he clamps with his teeth, nipping and sucking. My head spins, blood pooling beneath his lips, between his teeth. He'll release me from his assault, but before I get a chance to come down from the high, he'll find a new spot an inch away and begin again, quiet moans falling from his own lips.
"These are the only marks I want to see on your skin," he says, lips still pressed to my neck. "Nobody else fucking touches you."
I whimper, wrapping my arms around him, needing this just as badly as he does. My body reacts, cheeks flushed, hips beginning to move and grind into his lap. I can feel how hard he is beneath me, how easily he could slip inside if the thin layers of fabric weren't keeping us apart.
He seems to sense my frustration. Burying his head into my chest, he reaches between my legs. I can already feel the dampness there, anticipation building as I feel his need as great as my own. He brushes against my clit through the thin fabric of my underwear, and a small cry drops from my lips. Fuck, I've needed this, been craving him for so long. He murmurs into me appreciatively, encouraging me, as he rubs firmer circles over my panties. His own hips tense beneath me. I can feel his cock twitch in response.
My lips part as he sends waves of pleasure through every part of my body. I gyrate against his touch, feeling the pressure of him at my entrance, the ultimate tease. My body craves him like water. I've never been one for bible stories, but I think I understand Eve a little more now.
It tastes so much better when it's forbidden.
Tommy pulls his head back, cheeks flushed, watching with those bright eyes as I get closer to falling apart
"Who do you belong to?" he asks quietly.
It doesn't matter that I'm supposed to hate him, or that he still thinks I'm guilty. Nothing could change my answer in this moment.
It leaves me as a whimper. "You."
"Good girl," he murmurs. "That's right."
I feel the climax rise through me, my entire body beginning to tremble against his touch. Gasps fall from my lips, the sensation becoming almost unbearable — I need to come, I need to come so fucking bad —
His hand pulls away. Leaving me bare, slick with need, and edged. I pant shaky breaths, my eyebrows forming a scowl as my light head slowly returns to normal.
His gaze hasn't left me. His face brims with satisfaction.
No. I clutch at his wrist, trying to pull his hand back to finish, but he pulls away. Eyes glinting. Frustrated, I try moving my own hand down, but he pulls that away, too. He pins my arms at my sides and traps them there with his own arms, wrapping them around me.
He tells me, "When I make you come, it won't be in some overpriced hotel room. I hope you've learned your lesson."
I bite down on my lip. It's not fair — every part of me still burns for him, still craves his touch. Now I've received it, I don't think I can ever be the same again.
His face softens at my distress. He pulls me down, rolling us so we're lying beside each other, bodies still pressed close. I find solace in his arms. His hands are gentle as they stroke my hair, and he murmurs something in Romani.
I soften into his chest, my breath slowly returning to normal. Eyes closed. Savouring his touch. I've never been held like this before. Never felt so safe, so protected, so...
"Fuck you, Thomas Shelby," I mutter, grateful he can't see my face.
He kisses the top of my head. "Get some rest."
"I've never been an easy sleeper. That's why I usually read."
"Any books in here?"
"In my bag."
But apparently, that's too far for him. He rolls away, still holding me with one arm, and rummages through the nightstand. I wait as he pulls a book free and sighs, opening it.
"Holy Bible," he reads. "Placed by the Gideons."
I glance up at him skeptically. "You, reading the bible?"
"I'm a very holy man, Kimber," he replies. "In all the ways that count."
I settle against his chest as he lights a cigarette, opening to the first page and begins to read. "Genesis..."
