Niamh was so fucking perfect.
The thought kept going over and over through Junior's mind as he admired his bird's—fiancée's—body in the pale blue light of morning that shone through the windows of her Bethnal Green flat. From her long limbs and neck, to her nearly-white angel's hair, she looked like a goddess in the flesh, and the best part was, she was all his.
Niamh O'Shaughnessy, his own personal Irish princess. She had model-like looks, and her family was Catholic, which meant his family approved. Her father owned a small chain of markets all throughout East End and made a decent amount of money for himself. They were good people, him and her mum, and naturally they opposed of the union, but Freddie Evans Jr didn't much care about that. After all, it didn't really matter what they thought. His and Niamh's children would carry his name, not theirs.
He wasn't in love with her, not really, but she was the type of girl he could fall in love with. She was a bit thick—no, that wasn't fair, she was naïve—but she meant well. And she was attracted to danger. She seemed to understand the implications of all what the family firm entailed, and after the showdown at his mum's place on Christmas, he supposed she was prepared, if anything, for the commonplace rows in the Evans family. She had comforted him by saying every family was like that. She made him feel normal, and . . . he enjoyed it.
He really enjoyed spending time with her. She was not only beautiful on the outside, but the inside, too. Best of all, which he and his uncle Freddie could both agree on, was the fact she was always up for a shag. Oh, she was a naughty little mare, his Niamh! While sexually inexperienced (and if he admitted to himself, they both were, really) she was always willing to try something new. He reckoned they consummated the engagement ten times at least; he couldn't wait for his wedding night. It was like the first time again each round they went!
He felt his body reacting to her again as he watched her laying beside him, breathing softly, the sweat shimmering against her milky skin from their last romp only ten or so minutes prior. He reached out and grazed his rough fingers against one of her small breasts, and watch as her rosy nipple slowly retracted against the familiar touch. She opened her silvery eyes lazily and looked up at him with a sultry gaze that almost surprised him, and in a moment she was climbing on top of him again. His cheeky Niamh!
Five minutes later, they were interrupted by the shrill melodic rhythm of Junior's mobile. Niamh outwardly groaned, but Junior held onto her with one arm and sat up just enough to blindly grasp the device off the end table near her bed.
'Don't answer that,' she whined in that childish way of hers. Normally it was endearing, but in that moment it slightly annoyed him as he read the number that appeared on his mobile's screen.
'It's me uncle, I have to. Sorry, love.'
With another groan, Niamh rolled off her fiancé's lap and flopped onto her back, fully exposed. Junior was distracted for a moment by her waif-like body as he answered the phone.
'Oi, Freds.'
Niamh was watching him as his uncle rattled off something over the other line, and her delicate features were screwed up in annoyance. Suddenly, a mischievous light appeared behind her eyes, and she purposely rolled onto her stomach and sprawled out spread-eagle, exposing her femaleness to him in all its glory, wiggling her arse back and forth at him.
To avoid any further distractions, Junior turned to face the other way without so much as another glance in her direction, to which the blonde huffed noisily like a petulant child and stood from the bed, slinking off into the other room, completely starkers.
Junior took a few more moments to listen to his uncle's orders before suddenly leaping out of bed and hurriedly throwing on a pair of pants. After hanging up, he grabbed the rest of his clothes off the floor and carried the bundle into the kitchen while hopping into his socks. 'I have to nip out, babe. Business down in Croydon.'
Niamh was putting on a kettle and didn't spare him a glance. 'Have fun, babe.'
Junior stopped hopping looked at his fiancée standing near the stove in the nude, her body perfect and slender, and said, 'Well, might as well stay for a cuppa. I ain't in a rush.'