Creed, p.26
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       Creed, p.26

           Kristen Ashley
 

  Her brows drew together and she said, “I was wondering why you called him Creed. Only people on the job call him Creed.”

  Strange.

  I decided, since he hadn’t shared, I wouldn’t so I just said, “Throw back from the old days.”

  “Ah,” she mumbled but I got the sense she either didn’t get it or didn’t believe me but she let it go with a, “Well, see you, Sylvie.”

  “Yeah. See you, Chelle.”

  She took off.

  I waited for a bit before I left the room to check out. I wasn’t going to tell Creed about Chelle’s visit. Not yet. I didn’t know what his response would be and I didn’t want to piss him off or upset him when he had his kids. There would be plenty of time to tell him and not ruin the last hours he’d have with them for two weeks.

  Instead, I shook it off and took on Phoenix.

  * * * * *

  “She calls you Tucker.”

  Creed and I were back in Denver, at my place, in the back room and I’d just told Creed about Chelle’s visit. I was sitting on the couch, Creed was standing at the window staring out, partaking of one of his rare cigarettes (he was trying to quit, he was also trying to talk me into doing the same) and blowing the smoke out the screen.

  I waited until we were not on the go or in a public place to share about Chelle. Once I’d shared, he’d gone to his bag, grabbed his smokes, came back and lapsed into brooding silence, staring out the window.

  I let him have some time and did this studying him.

  It had been a long time since I’d seen this Creed.

  Back in the day, we both knew our clandestine time together was precious so we made the most of it. It didn’t happen often but he had a lot on his mind back then, us taking off, what would become of his mother when we were gone, what would become of us. So he could go quiet, retreat into his head, think thoughts he didn’t want to share. I knew this because I asked him to share and he didn’t, no matter how I tried to break through. Eventually I learned that I didn’t need to try. He would sort out what he needed to sort out and come back to me.

  Watching him, it struck me that it might make me a freak but I missed this and I suspected he hadn’t changed. He’d sort it out without me prying, let me in when it was his time and I just needed to roll with it. So I didn’t change how I dealt with it and let him have his time.

  Though, considering I wasn’t a patient woman and sitting in a silent room stroking my cat and watching a man smoke and stare out the window, no matter how hot he was or how much I loved him, was kinda boring.

  Therefore, I quit giving him time and mentioned his ex calling him Tucker.

  He turned his head, his eyes coming to me then he turned his body, took two steps, bent low and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

  When he straightened, eyes back to me, he answered, “No woman calls me Creed. Only men… and you.”

  “Okay,” I replied, not getting it but also thinking his somber mood meant he wasn’t up to explaining it.

  I was wrong because Creed kept talking.

  “Tried to keep the name, found women calling me that reminded me that I’d never again hear you do it. It reminded me of that night in the woods when we were kids and I told you I was who I was going to be. It reminded me of how you were there for me. How you were always there for me and how I’d never have that again either. So I went back to Tucker. Men call me Creed ‘cause that’s what men do.”

  I nodded then asked, “So Chelle doesn’t know you’re Creed?”

  He shook his head. “No one in my life knows but you.”

  Okay, it was dawning on me I was seriously a freak because I liked that, a lot. I liked having that all to myself. There was a day when Creed was all mine. Now, with our histories changing, his body was all mine but his love was shared. I didn’t mind that. Even back then, I knew when we started a family I’d have to share him. That didn’t mean I didn’t like us having a piece of our past that was unaltered, no one understood, it was all ours.

  “That wasn’t cool.”

  Creed’s words seemed to come out of nowhere and made me focus on him again.

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t Chelle. I’m surprised as fuck she pulled that shit on you and it wasn’t cool.”

  I shook my head but said, “I didn’t like it at first either, babe, but it ended all right. She wasn’t there to be a bitch. She was there to –”

  Creed moved to the wicker chair, sat in it and lifted his long legs to put his boots on the table while interrupting, “I know why she was there and why she was there wasn’t cool.” He flipped out a hand. “Don’t know, haven’t lived through this shit, never expected to have a woman in my life I gave a shit enough about to live through it, so I don’t know how it should go. How I’d have liked it to go is me introducing you to her. Me having control of the situation. Me being at your back. Not you enduring a sneak attack which, luckily, because you are who you are and Chelle is who she is, didn’t go south. One or the other of you was having a bad day, it could have.”

  “I can handle shit like that, baby,” I said softly.

  He shook his head but replied, “I get that. I get you can take care of yourself. What you need to get is that I’m me and you’re you and no matter you can handle yourself and a gun and you got a tough skin, that doesn’t mean I’m down with you going it alone. Not with this. Not with anything. We always had each other. We lost that. We both feel that deep. Now we have that back and Chelle doesn’t get to take that away from you. No one does.”

  Seriously, could this guy get any better?

  I stared at him and he held my gaze steady as I did.

  No, he couldn’t get any better. Then again, he was always the best.

  I decided to move us on and asked, “So what are you gonna do?”

  “I’m gonna sleep on it, call her tomorrow and tell her how I feel about it,” Creed answered. “Then I’m gonna tell her not to do it again. Then I’m gonna tell her I want the kids to get to know you better and us to have more time to get settled before she and I sit down and figure out what’s next for our kids and while we take that time, she needs to back off. And last, I’m gonna tell her she never approaches you unless you invite it or there’s somethin’ necessary goin’ on with the kids and she has to do it.”

  “You don’t have to go that far, Creed. I liked her,” I told him. “She gave no indication we wouldn’t get along. Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  I watched as he took his boots off the coffee table, put them to the floor and leaned toward me, elbows to knees, his face turning from serious to “right now, pay some major fucking attention to me” serious.

  “As I said,” he started quietly, “I get you can take care of yourself. When I said that five seconds ago and explained, you didn’t get me. So I’ll make it clear this time. I get you can take care of yourself, Sylvie. What you need to come to terms with is, no matter how badass you are, I’m gonna take care of you, too. You can spout a bunch of bullshit about your experience, your skills, your fearlessness but that will not mean shit to me. You’re not only my woman, you’re Sylvie. When I say I have your back, I don’t mean it in the way you’re used to with the guys you work with. I mean I have your back as your man, I look out for you in all ways I can do that, including emotionally. So, you liked Chelle. This is not a surprise. She’s likeable. But I control that fuckin’ situation so I can control any hurt or upset that might come to you and I mean control it as in stop it. Now are you with me?”

  I held his eyes and realized I had a choice. I could hold onto my badass and make an issue of this or I could let Creed do what Creed felt he needed to do.

  I knew I could take care of myself and his protection was unnecessary. He just told me he knew it but he needed to make his position clear anyway.

  It meant more to him to take care of me as my man than it meant to me to retain my status of badass. I’d weathered a six year hurricane and didn’t c
ome out unscathed. Through that, Creed had not been there to take care of me. For him, that struck deep. Further, I was his Sylvie as I was now and still the Sylvie I was to him way back then.

  He needed this. I didn’t need to make a point that might be valid but, considering his emotion, however valid, it was unnecessary.

  Not to mention, it felt seriously fucking good to have that part of Creed back too, the one who looked out for me, protected me. I’d proved I could carry the burden but that didn’t mean it didn’t feel great to share the load and be back in the position to return the favor.

  So I made my choice and answered, “I get you. I also love you, Creed.”

  His face relaxed before he replied, “Right back at ‘cha, beautiful.”

  I closed my eyes, hearing those words, feeling them warm my skin, loving every syllable.

  It was a mistake. I barely had them closed before Gun suddenly scattered. This was because I felt a shoulder in my belly and I was up in the air. I rallied quickly but not quickly enough before I was falling backward toward the floor, Creed coming with me and automatically my arms circled him. One of his hands cupped the back of my head before I hit floor then both of his hands went to my shoulders. As his body held the rest of mine down, his hands put on pressure, pinning my shoulders to the floor.

  “Pinned,” he whispered and I felt my eyes narrow as his lips smiled. “I win.”

  “I wasn’t ready,” I pointed out the obvious.

  “I told you we’d play out the challenge tonight. You had fair warning but doesn’t matter, you should always be ready.”

  He was not wrong and that sucked.

  I scowled up into his face as his eyes roamed mine then he rolled so I was on top.

  He lifted a hand and pulled the hair away from one side of my face as he said, “You’re not ready, baby, we’ll do something else.”

  “Can I tie you to the bed and do whatever I want to you?” I tried.

  He grinned and my nipples tingled but he answered, “No. You gotta win that.”

  Shit.

  His other hand came up to pull back the hair on the other side of my face and he repeated, “If you’re not ready, we won’t do it.”

  I wasn’t a squelcher but I didn’t know if that sucked or if I was in for the experience of a lifetime. What I did know was that I trusted Creed either to make it not only good, but phenomenal or to back off if it wasn’t working.

  To communicate all this, I stated, “I don’t renege on a deal.”

  His head tilted slightly to the side and he asked softly, “You ready?”

  “You gonna make me ready?” I asked back and got another grin, this one way different.

  “Oh yeah.”

  That got another nipple tingle but this one didn’t stop at my nipples. It traveled south.

  Therefore my, “Then… yeah. I’m ready,” came out breathy.

  His hands fisted in my hair, his face hardened with something that was seriously hot and his lips ordered, “Then up, get to the living room and get naked.”

  I was right.

  Seriously hot.

  “The living room?” I asked.

  “Baby, what’d I say?” Creed asked in return.

  I stared down at him still feeling the tingle.

  Then I did as Creed said.

  * * * * *

  I was naked on my knees on the back of the couch. Creed was standing in front of me wearing nothing but jeans. I had my legs spread and Creed had his hand between them, toying with my clit. I had my hand flat against his hard crotch and I was rubbing. Through this, we were kissing hard, wet and hot as we had been for a good long time.

  He was toying, taking his time, giving me nothing, hints, whispered caresses, making me go for it and taking it away, which made me happy for the scraps he was giving me at the same time desperate to have everything. He’d been doing this for a long time, too.

  Needless to say, I was primed. I had his tongue in my mouth and his hand between my legs but I wanted his fingers or other parts of his anatomy inside me and I was at a point where I didn’t care where he put them.

  Before I could tear my mouth from his and inform him of this fact, he tore his from mine and suddenly I wasn’t on my knees facing him. I was turned, my knees at the back edge of the couch and I had Creed’s hand between my shoulder blades, pushing down until I was face to the cushions, ass in the air. It was not a position I’d ever been in but, albeit somewhat acrobatic, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  “Stay that way, baby. Do not move. I’ll be back,” his rough growl came at me and I did a full body shiver.

  I didn’t like bossy. I didn’t like to be ordered around. I didn’t like to be controlled.

  That was to say, I didn’t like it from anyone, not anyone, but Creed.

  So this was hot. Phoenix hot. Remember for the rest of your life that time you did it in the living room hot.

  I did as he said and felt Creed leave the room then I felt him come back and position behind me. A second later I heard a soft “funf” of something hitting the couch then his hands were on me, oiled, slippery, warm, amazing.

  Oh yeah. I was right. This was hot.

  His hands traveled the skin of my waist, up my back, down my sides then they disappeared. I heard a cap pop, another soft “funf and his hands were back, slicker, warmer, roaming everywhere, oiling my entire back, my sides, ribs, waist and around where he rubbed the oil into my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples making me squirm. Back to the bottle and more oil, over my hips, down the outsides of my thighs.

  Those thighs started trembling.

  Back to the bottle, another “funf” then more oil over the insides of my thighs and up over the cheeks of my ass.

  “Spread wide, baby, give me all you got,” Creed murmured, his voice rough.

  I slid my legs wide without hesitation.

  I moaned into the cushions as his slick hand slid between the cleft of my ass, through my wet and over my pulsing clit. His finger rolled, gentle, soft, mind-boggling and my hands slid out so my fingers could curl around the edge of the couch cushion to hold on.

  “You can get a hand up here, Sylvie, I want your finger here. Soft, sweet, like this,” he kept touching me, showing me what he wanted. “You make yourself come, baby, I won’t be pleased.”

  This was another challenge that I was willing to accept but wasn’t so sure I could best it. Still, I was going to try. So I braced my torso on the couch and put my hand between my legs. Creed’s fingers gave mine access but they didn’t go away. Covering mine, he felt as I touched myself and I knew he liked it when he growled and pressed his hard, jeans covered cock against my thigh.

  “My Sylvie,” he murmured, his other slippery hand roaming my slick skin, “so beautiful, so sweet, so fuckin’ hot.”

  Shivers drifted up my spine, my hard, throbbing nipples brushed the upholstery of the couch making them throb harder and Creed’s hand drifted back through the wet then away. He went back to the bottle and I felt the oil dripping directly onto my skin, sliding down my spine, between the cheeks of my ass, drenching me. I felt more shivers and it took everything not to press harder, deeper, roll my hips into my hand, strain them to him.

  I was coated in oil, so were his hands as they moved over me, pressing in, circling, fingers curling so his knuckles could dig deep into my muscles, turning me on and relaxing me at the same time. A sexy massage. An erotic rubdown.

  So when it happened, I was ready to take him as his slippery fingertip slid inside my ass.

  My body tensed except the muscles of my legs quivered, my ass reflexively tipped up, pushed out to get more and his finger slid in a little deeper.

  Another moan into the couch.

  Oh God, that was good.

  Oh God, how was that good?

  “You want more?” Creed’s thick voice came at me.

  “Yes,” I breathed into the couch.

  “Say please, Sylvie.”

  Oh God, that was even hotter.

>   I took too long, enjoying how hot it was and I knew this because his finger slid out.

  Crazy, insane but I wanted it back.

  “Please,” I gasped, tipping my ass up, an invitation.

  His hand slid across my cheek, cupping it, the pads of his fingers digging in and his voice was husky when he muttered, “Good, beautiful. Now take your hand away, hold onto the couch. I’m gonna work you and when you want my cock, you ask for it and you do it nice. Yeah?”

  As I said, I didn’t mind this bossy Creed. No way. No fucking way.

  “Yeah,” I replied immediately.

  “Stop touching yourself, Sylvie.”

  Okay, shit. I didn’t want to do that but I did it.

  It was the right thing to do. I was rewarded immediately. When my hand slid away, his hand slid in and he finger fucked my pussy as I felt a finger slide slightly inside my ass.

  “You want more, say please,” Creed ordered, fucking me hard between my legs with his fingers.

  “Please,” I begged, moving my hips with his hand and he gave me more.

  God, shit, he was right. This was awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. So good, it felt like I was going to come out of my skin.

  “More?” he asked.

  Oh yeah. More. Definitely more.

  “More,” I gasped, holding onto the edge of the couch, the fabric torture against my hard nipples, my legs trembling so hard they were shivering.

  “What do you say?” Creed prompted.

  “Please,” I whimpered and he didn’t delay, he gave me more.

  He kept doing it without me asking and I was on the edge, so close, so fucking close and he pulled out, tweaked my clit then his fingers wrapped around the outsides of my thighs.

  “You don’t come like this, baby,” he growled. “You come with me inside you.”

  “Take my ass,” I replied instantly.

  “Ask nice,” he ordered just as quickly.

  “Take my ass, Creed, please.”

  I felt his hands clench my flesh before he demanded, “Finger to your clit, baby. Make yourself come while I fuck your ass.”

 
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