Home > Filthy Sex (Five Points' Mob Collection #4)(7)

Filthy Sex (Five Points' Mob Collection #4)(7)
Author: Serena Akeroyd

“I can’t!”

Whatever I’d expected today, without a shadow of a doubt, I hadn’t thought I’d be talking about my sister getting her vajayjay shaved by her husband. Did she have to be so stubborn about this?

“He might need to take you to the ER,” I pointed out.

“I refuse to go to the ER over a—”

“A, what?” I countered, even though I got it. Well, not entirely, but I was a woman. No one wanted to go to the ER over something like this.

“You know what,” she snarled, and in her voice, I heard humiliated tears that made me annoyed at myself for being amused earlier.

Uncertain about what to do, especially when we were this far apart and knowing she was really desperate to be calling me, I said, “I’ll tell him. Let me break the news. That’ll spare you.”

“You’re kidding, right? Then he’ll know I told you I let him shave me last night. H-He—” A sob escaped her, one that was quickly choked back.

“Malyshka,” I soothed. “What is it?”

Her gulp was so loud, it was audible. “H-He doesn’t want anyone to see my vagina. That’s why he shaved me.”

I blinked, then rolled my eyes. Then winced as a wave of misery hit me.

The green kind.

I’d have loved for Nyx to feel that way about me.

To not want anyone to see my pussy.

To feel that possessive of me that not even an esthetician could prod me between the legs.

That was how things had gotten so complicated, and gone so wrong. I’d thought he wanted more from me, more than any other woman when he’d told me no other brother was allowed to fuck me. I just hadn’t realized he did that with all the clubwhores he’d slept with.

He used them exclusively until he was bored with them.

Just like he’d grown bored with me.

Squeezing the wheel again, the physical pain easier to deal with than the emotional, my throat clogged with tears as I rasped, “Is it really that bad?”


She didn’t reply, not for the longest time, and only the fact the SUV’s dash remained lit up with her name on it let me know she hadn’t cut the call.

“Yes,” was her miserable whisper as she accepted her situation.

“Sweetheart, you and I both know things are dire if you called me. You have to go to the doctor’s... You know you have to. Embarrassing or not.”

“I don’t want to,” came another miserable whisper.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how an allergic reaction would unfold down there, neither did I want to know, but Inessa was my baby sister. She needed my help, and I couldn’t give it to her. My support, on the other hand, was something I could freely offer.

“I know you don’t, malyshka, but hey, it might bring you closer! You should be able to share anything with the man you care about and who cares about you, shouldn’t you?” And it was evident to anyone with eyes that Eoghan had strong feelings for my sister.

Oddly enough, I wasn’t jealous about that. Just the possessiveness.

I didn’t want to be loved. Love was toxic.

I wanted to be owned. Owners looked after their property.

I just wanted to choose who I belonged to.

“Yes,” she said thickly. “I know you’re right... But it’s so mortifying.”

“I know it is,” I soothed. “But I promise, it’s no worse than how itchy you are.”

Every woman knew how godawful that kind of thing was. Never mind without an allergic reaction ramping things up tenfold.

She sucked in a breath. “The service is over so maybe we can cut out soon.”

“Screw politeness, Inessa,” I grumbled. “What if you go into anaphylactic shock?”

“That would have happened last night,” she replied absently. “But it is bad... Okay. I’ll tell Eoghan.” A groan escaped her. “Thank you, Cammie. I guess I knew I needed to talk to him all along but I’m not sure if I would have.”

“What are big sisters for?” I queried lightly, even if my heart ached for the years we’d lost, the time and the closeness that we’d never been destined to have. Where she only called me when things were bad, not when things were good...

I half-expected her to reply with all the bitterness she felt at my abandonment, but instead, she whispered, “You’re right. They’re for calling with post-depilatory disasters.”

My lips twitched. “Let me know when you’re at the ER?”

“Okay. I-It might take a while. You know how long it is before you get seen.”

I snorted. “Malyshka, if you think Eoghan isn’t about to move heaven and earth for you, you’re crazy.”

A soft laugh tittered down the line, one that told me she knew I was right.

As we parted ways, the ache in my heart was strong.

I was glad for her. Truly, I was. I just...

A sigh rushed from my lips.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I was no beggar, but I’d spend the next few hours riding. That wasn’t much consolation, but it was better than the alternative—spending another moment under the same roof as Svetlana the Slut.









“Where’s your mind at, Bren?”

I tried not to yawn, especially not at the moment when Ma was scowling down at me, because she had the uncanny knack of reading every cue I gave off with an accuracy that was practically mystical.

If I yawned, she’d think I was stressed. Not tired.

If I shivered, she’d think I was feverish. Not cold.

And the bitch of it was, as crazy as it seemed, as nonsensical, she never got it wrong. I didn't know if that was because we were close or whatever, but she always knew.

My yawn might be founded in a lack of sleep, but mostly it was forged from stress.

The last month or so had not only been a nightmare on the work front but on a personal front. Especially when the past and present were colliding and not in a very helpful way.

My regrets were coming home to roost.

In more ways than one.

I’d made it a practice not to regret much in my life. As a general in the Irish Mob, there was plenty to turn me maudlin, but Mariska was a memory that was pretty much laying eggs in my fucking head.

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