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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A/n: period sex bc y'all on insta said you like it and honestly writing smut for 3+ years is like being in a long term relationship u gotta switch it up sometimes to keep things interesting, if you're someone who doesn't like it or would comment 'ew' maybe sit this one out u have been warned :) xx
"On your knees. Open your mouth. And take it like a good girl."
Apparently it only takes three sentences to make me lose my mind and forget all common sense.
It helps that Tommy Shelby's the one saying them.
His eyebrows lift expectantly, his gaze heavy as he waits for me to obey. He's still blazing with fury, with anger. His hands move to his belt, fingers making deft work of unbuckling it.
I sink to my knees, hoping Alfie can keep everyone distracted a while longer.
"I don't know this is the right time," I say, breathless, transfixed.
"No?" Tommy runs a hand through my hair. Tingles spread all across my scalp, magnified when he tugs softly, then palms my cheek. "Don't want daddy to walk in while I'm fucking your mouth?"
My eyes widen as I shake my head.
"Shh." His eyes hold mine. "I'm not going to let that happen, sweetheart. The door's locked, see?"
He unbuttons his trousers. My breath comes faster, anticipation building as he drags down the zip. I want his hands in my hair again, so I reach forward, tugging down the waistband of his boxers, glancing up to gauge his reaction. He seems to understand, soothing touches across my scalp once more as I draw him free, taking him in my hand.
"What got you so hard?" I ask in a whisper.
His eyes flash. "When you asked me to punish you."
He pushes into my mouth and my lips part for him, stretched wide as my tongue brushes the underside of his cock. Unable to fit him all in, I wrap my hand around the base, drawing back as his eyes roll back into his head. His face is relaxed, free of worry, only a small crease between his eyebrows as his jaw loosens. The sight of him like this, without his usual glare and tense face, spurs me onward.
"Fuck, you're a good girl," he groans, tangling his fingers in my hair. "Can't wait to spread you across this desk and fuck you."
I go slightly still. His eyes snap to me at once, regaining his senses as he stops.
"What is it?"
"I think we'd better keep it like this," I murmur, taking him in my mouth once more.
But he holds me by the jaw, stilling me. "Kimber, what's wrong?"
My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. I try to think of the right words to use. "I'm... I'm bleeding."
Tommy continues to frown, confused. At first I think I'll need to undertake the mortifying task of explaining to him in greater detail — but when he lifts me onto the desk and parts my legs, I realise he understood perfectly.
He says, "I've had plenty of blood on my hands. Why would this be any different?"
"There might be a little more clean up involved," I manage to say as his touch grazes up my thigh.
"I've had murder scenes ready for the coppers in under an hour. And that was without the use of your accountant's fully stocked bathroom."
Tommy's gaze never falters as he pulls the fabric between my legs to the side, and dips his fingers into my core. I release a gasp, my sensitive flesh coming alive beneath his touch, the taste of him still across my tongue.
He murmurs, "What do you want, Kimber?"
"You," I whimper.
"Me, eh?" He pushes two fingers deep and I fight not to cry out. "Not Alfie fucking Solomons?"
"No," I moan.
"If he lays his lips on you again, I'll make him stand here and watch until there's no doubt in anyone's mind who you belong to. Now, get on your knees and bend over for me."
I obey, bent over the desk while Tommy lines himself up at my entrance. My legs begin to shake before he's even filled me up, my whole body coiled in anticipation.
"No one touches my property," he says, his voice ice cold before he buries himself deep inside me.
I cry out, soft whimpers falling from my lips as he ruts into me again and again, fingers squeezing at my hips and slamming me back onto him with each thrust. His drives send jolts of pleasure deep through my core, my mind going dumb with pleasure as it turns to ecstasy.
"Such a pretty little whore," he says, grunting with each breath. "Come for me. Go on, make a mess all over my cock. Like you thought a bit of blood would be enough to stop me."
Fuck — if this is Tommy's punishment, I need to piss him off more often. But then I remember his threat of making Alfie watch this. Maybe not.
Tommy leans over me, taking my face in his hand from behind. "And when you bleed, I can fill you up without making a baby."
All thoughts are pushed clear from my mind as he drives into me and I fall apart, shaking and trembling, crashing down in a torrent of bliss. He buries himself with his own release, pushing deep into me, a groan falling from his lips and disappearing with the sound of our desperate gasps for air.
I close my eyes, pressing my face into the polished wood. I don't want this moment to end.
Because when it does, I'll be faced with the truth.
If Roberts is telling the truth, one of the Peaky Blinders stole the guns. That means I'll have to choose between Tommy and my own pride.
