Creed, p.27
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       Creed, p.27

           Kristen Ashley

  I nearly slid off the front of the couch as I hurried to do what I was told and my whole body was quaking, ready, fevered. I felt the sleek, oil-slickened head of his cock prod, push, slow, firm, back, then more, gentle, careful until he pushed through with the tip then he slid slowly all the way in and he had me. Every bit of me. The one last part he didn’t have yet was now Creed’s.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful everywhere,” he groaned as he started fucking my ass. “Harder baby. Take yourself there.”

  I pressed harder, deeper, rolled, bucked, reared into his smooth, deep strokes, his hands curled around my hips pulling me to him, pushing me away at the same time holding me steady on the couch.

  It built and, God, it was too much. It was too huge. I couldn’t take it. It was burning through me. It was going to consume me.

  “Creed,” I panted into the couch, panic rising as the pleasure swelled. Wild, uninhibited pleasure that felt like it was going to destroy me and I lifted up onto a hand in the couch, arm straight.

  “Work yourself, Sylvie,” Creed grunted, going faster, getting impatient, one hand slid around my hip to cover mine between my legs, he pushed in, rolled then twitched our fingers as he kept at my ass and it overwhelmed me.

  My head shot back, my muscles seized and my cry pierced the room as I experienced the most intense, overpowering, extraordinary orgasm I’d ever had in my life.

  It kept hold of me as Creed kept fucking me, his fingers kept at my clit and one orgasm rolled into another. I was on my third when Creed’s other arm sliced around the front of my hips, pulling me to him, burying himself inside me and I heard his deep, rumbling groan.

  I kept still, staring unseeing at the couch, feeling him around me, inside me, never thinking this would be good, never thinking I’d allow this, not again, not ever and there it was. Like everything with Creed, I gave him my trust, he gave me beauty.

  Slowly and carefully, he slid out then I was up and turned, knees back in the back of the couch, facing Creed. I barely got my head tipped back to look up at him before the fingers of both his hands drove into the sides of my hair and back, fisting and his face dipped close so his nose nearly brushed mine and he was all I could see.

  “Now I have all of you. I own every inch of you. Every centimeter. You gave it to me when you were six and it took me twenty-eight years to claim all of it but now it’s mine, Sylvie. Every…” his fingers gave my hair a gentle tug, “single…” another tug and his eyes burned into mine, “inch.”

  Holy shit. How could he be turning me on mere minutes after I had the hugest multiple orgasm in the history of time?

  “I take it you really like ass play,” I noted softly and watched his eyes flare.

  Then his head shifted back, his hands slid down to the sides of my neck and he announced, “I’m gonna go deal with this condom. You’re gonna go to bed. Take the oil with you. We are far from done.”


  That gave me a full body shiver.

  I grinned before I reached up, grabbed his head, pulled it down to me and laid a hot, wet, long one on him.

  I let him go, jumped to my feet on the couch, jumped from the couch to the floor, snatched up the oil and dashed out of the room, my hair flying out behind me, knowing, every second, Creed’s eyes watched.

  * * * * *

  “Oh my God. Oh my God!” I cried as my sixth orgasm of the night tore through me, my fingers clenched in Creed’s hair as his mouth devoured me.

  Seriously, my man was the master of giving head.


  As I came down, I felt him nuzzling my belly with his nose and lips. I lifted up on my elbows and saw while I was still in the throes of my climax, he’d swung my legs off his shoulders and now he had his forearms in the bed on either side of me but my hands were still clenched in his hair.

  I tugged gently and his head came up.

  I drank him in.

  Scar and all, he was beautiful.

  To tell him this I slid the fingers of one of my hands to his face, running the tips along his cheekbone, down his nose to trail the path of the line of his lower lip. I trailed them over the scar on his upper lip then up again over the scar on his cheekbone, his temple and through the white streak in his hair. Once I’d accomplished this, my other hand slid the hank of hair that had fallen to his forehead to the side and, as expected, it fell right back to its original position.

  I didn’t get to try again as Creed’s big body shifted up over me, settling in, covering me.

  He pressed one hand under me so he was braced on one forearm in the bed but still holding me while his other hand curved against the side of my head, thumb sweeping out over my cheekbone and he spoke.

  “To respond to your earlier comment, beautiful, yeah, like I mentioned before, I like ass play. But it’s not what you think. It’s tight, it feels good, absolutely, but that’s not it. It’s about trust. It’s about sharing. It’s about giving. For most people it’s about losing your inhibitions and opening yourself up to the next level of intimacy. And with you,” his face dipped closer as his voice dipped lower, “it’s about me giving back what was taken from you and you trusting me to do it. That wasn’t huge. That was something so big, there isn’t a word for it but the closest I can come to it is that it’s beautiful.”

  He was not wrong so I agreed, “It was beautiful, baby.” My arms slid around him and held him tight. “And so are you.”

  Creed’s eyes, already warm, warmed more, warming straight through me before he grinned and stated, “Glad you didn’t renege on your part of losin’ the challenge.”

  I grinned back. “Me too.”

  His thumb moved over my face, my cheekbone, down to my jaw and over my lips as his eyes watched and his grin faded.

  Then his gaze came back to me.

  “That month I was following you, watchin’ you, seein’ how you lived, dressed, what you did, I knew somethin’ had gone wrong. I didn’t know what. I thought you were with Dixon and he cheated on you, didn’t treat you right. The only thing I knew, your Daddy lied, you weren’t happy.”

  I contradicted him gently, “Actually, I was happy, Creed.”

  “Not the way you deserve to be happy,” he returned immediately.

  I didn’t have a reply to that mostly because it didn’t need one. He was right.

  He continued to hold my gaze and I knew he read what lay behind it when he whispered, “I’m glad you’re happy, my Sylvie.”

  He gave it to me, kept giving it to me, open, honest, putting it right out there so I licked my lips and gave it back to him. “I have the only thing I ever wanted lying on top of me, so thanks for making me happy, Tucker Creed.”

  Creed, being Creed, kept right on giving.

  “Right back at ‘cha, baby.”

  Okay, shit, God, shit!

  I loved this man. I knew it but way back when, being young, I didn’t understand.

  Now I did.

  I so did.

  It was time to steer us into waters that didn’t include me possibly bursting into tears and blubbering like a big girl.

  “So, you’re the boss tonight, what’s the plan? Are we gonna sleep all oiled up or are we gonna shower before we go to sleep?”

  “Sheets are fucked up. We shower, we gotta change them or we’ll get oiled right back up again.”

  This was true, so I gave him the info he needed to make his decision, “I know one thing, I’m not changing sheets tonight.”

  Creed smiled. “Then we sleep oiled up.”

  That worked for me.

  He rolled to his light, I rolled to mine and I barely had it out before I was hauled back to the middle of the bed, tucked close to Creed.

  My body, tired out, relaxed, loose, felt sleepy. My mind didn’t.

  I was thinking of him following me for a month and wondering, if the roles were reversed and it was me who found him again, how I’d feel. What I’d do. How difficult it would be to stay remote and not approach, especially if
I discovered he hadn’t left me of his own free will but had been coerced into it.

  “How’d you do it?” I asked his throat in the dark.

  “Do what?” Creed asked back.

  “Follow me, watch me, go through my shit and keep distant? If it was me –”

  His voice held a hint of humor and a hint of hardness when he cut me off. “You would have shot me.”

  I tipped my head back and grinned at his shadowy face. “Yeah. But if I figured it out, if I learned it was as it was, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

  His arms around me pulled me deeper into his warm, hard body as he replied quietly, “If it was you, except for the scar, I haven’t changed. Got older but not changed. There wouldn’t be a reason to delay approach. You…” he trailed off and didn’t speak again.

  “I changed and that freaked you out?” I guessed.

  “You did and you didn’t but the way you did meant my approach needed to be cautious. That tough skin, those sharp edges, both of them you had in a way a man could work a lifetime and not break through, proceed with caution and still get sliced to shreds. I wanted you back and I needed to find the right way to finesse that. When I went through your house, I saw you’d kept my necklaces so I had hope but I knew I couldn’t go gung ho. I had to understand what forced the change in you and I had to get that from you so I could form a plan.” His hands slid up my still slick back. “Which is what I did.”

  And I was glad he did.

  I pressed closer and said softly, “It killed.”

  His hands stopped moving so his arms could wrap around tight. “Yeah, watchin’ you. Followin’ you. Goin’ through your stuff. Knowin’ your life didn’t go as I was promised it would but something went down that was not good, yeah. It fuckin’ killed.”

  I closed my eyes and shoved my face in his throat.

  “It’s also over,” he went on.

  “It’s over,” I agreed, holding him close.

  “And bottom line, it meant you weren’t in Kentucky livin’ a good life without me but open for an approach. It might have sucked for a while but now we got the future we both didn’t think we would ever have, so it was worth every fuckin’ minute.”

  I didn’t experience what he did, watching me, following me but I suspected he was right about that too.

  “Yeah,” I replied quietly.

  “Yeah,” he repeated, gathering me even closer.

  I lay in his arms and knew I’d been giving. I knew I’d let him in. I knew he understood this and it was making him happy.

  But I didn’t know if he understood it all.

  So I gave it to him.

  “Creed?” I called.

  “Right here, baby,” he whispered.

  Yeah he was. Right there. Now and forever.

  Now and forever.

  I tipped my head so the bridge of my nose rested along his jaw and whispered back, “No matter what’s in our future, no matter if our luck stays good or turns back to shit, from this moment to your last on this earth, know down to your fucking soul I love you. I trust you. You make me happy. There’s been no one but you and there never will be. Okay?”

  I felt him lift his head then I felt him move so he could bury his face in my neck and his voice was gruff when he murmured into my skin, “Okay, my Sylvie.”

  I drew in breath then reached with my lips to brush them against the skin of his neck.

  He settled back, kept me close and ordered gently, “Sleep, baby.”

  “Right, Creed.”

  In Creed’s arms, sated by his lovemaking, knowing I’d wake up to him tomorrow, my mind cleared and as I’d been doing all night, I did as ordered and slept.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Few More Months

  A cool spring evening in Kentucky, seventeen years earlier, Creed is twenty-three, Sylvie is seventeen…

  “I hate him.”

  Creed’s hand slid soothingly up my spine. “I know you do.”

  It was late at night and we were lying in the dark in Creed’s twin bed.

  I had not had a good day.

  It started with my Mom calling for the first time in ages to tell me she was divorcing her husband and asking me if I wanted to come out to California after I graduated.

  To this I told her that I’d lived without her in my life for years, she’d left me to Daddy and the stepmonster and now that she was again facing being alone and lonely and needed me, because she abandoned me when I needed her, I wasn’t available to plug that hole. I used different words but she got my drift and informed me that she wasn’t surprised, seeing as he’d raised me, that I’d turned out just like my father.

  Then she hung up.

  A totally awesome phone reunion with Mom.


  Since I’d called Creed to tell him about the conversation with my Mom before coming over, to make my day better, he drove us an hour and a half into the city so we could have an actual going out date and not be seen.

  This made my day better, obviously. It got even better when Creed shared his Mom had a new man and she was spending her nights messing up his house and life which meant our evenings would be clear of her.

  He also shared that he talked with a realtor about putting his house on the market. He further told his mother he was doing this and told her she was going to have to pull herself together, find a job and a place to live because he was moving into his own pad.

  Since she was drunk and she had a new guy to mooch off of, she didn’t react. She would, when she used her guy up and he sent her packing but by then, hopefully, it would be too late.

  I knew I shouldn’t feel that way about Winona Creed. I knew I shouldn’t want, even wish that Creed would scrape her off even before he would do it because we were leaving. I knew it made me not a nice person. But she’d never done anything for Creed, so I figured turnabout was fair play.

  After our date, after we made out by my car and after I went home, my day being salvaged by Creed (as usual), it went straight to pot again when Daddy and the stepmonster fighting woke me up.

  It was its usual loud and vicious then I heard the thump and I knew from years of experience it was the stepmonster hitting the wall thump not the stepmonster hitting the stairs or floor thump.

  So I did what I always did. Got up. Got dressed. Snuck out.

  And went to Creed.

  Now I was lying on my side in his bed, my cheek to his chest, my arm around his belly, his arm under me, curled around, fingers stroking and our legs were tangled.

  “I hate her, too,” I told him.

  “Shouldn’t hate her, beautiful. Pity her but no reason to hate her.”

  I lifted up and looked down at his beautiful face in the shadows. “She went after him. She broke up his marriage to my Mom. She didn’t get what she thought she’d get but she stayed so she could have what he could give her. She’s a drunk. She’s miserable and there are not enough shoes and purses and jewelry in the whole world to make it worth him treating her like garbage and beating her.”

  “She’s got nowhere to go,” Creed pointed out.

  “She’s got a brain and legs that work, she can find somewhere to go,” I returned.

  Creed’s arm curled tight around me and he pulled me up and partially over his body so we were face to face.

  “You see it as easy but your Daddy’s got a long reach,” he reminded me but I shook my head.

  “I told you what they were fighting about tonight, Creed. He’s got another new woman and he isn’t even trying to hide her. He won’t miss the stepmonster if she went. He’d just replace her. She’s willing to do anything to keep her position and that’s just crazy.”

  “Seems that way to you, baby, but it isn’t. It’s bigger than that, what he’s doin’ to her, for years, fuckin’ with her head.” His arm gave me a squeeze. “I get you, how she went about worming her way into his life. That was not cool but the punishment isn’t worth the crime. I remember her, way back then, before she connived her
way in and he dragged her down. She was somethin’. Now she’s broken. All she knows is the life she has with him. She has no skills, hasn’t worked in over a decade. She’s got a great house, a great car, great clothes, status in town and your Daddy’s a powerful man. We can look from where we are and say without a doubt the devil she doesn’t know is better than the devil she knows. She’s buried so deep under all that shit, no way she’ll see it that way.”

  I hated to admit it but Creed was right so I didn’t admit it and just settled, cheek to his chest again.

  Creed’s hand started stroking my back again.

  Then he asked, his voice cautious, “Your father still freaking you out?”

  I knew what he was asking.

  Daddy’s behavior had long since stopped freaking me out but he was different lately. Weird. Wired. His eyes bright in a way I didn’t like.

  I’d seen it before, for years it had been happening although not frequent. The change. Him being more energetic than usual, happy. Now, it was happening a lot more and sometimes, when he wasn’t that way, he seemed agitated, strung out.

  He would also have lots of phone conversations that were on the hush-hush, hidden. He’d jump if you entered a room he was in and he was talking on the phone and he did it like he was guilty or something.

  He wasn’t like that. Ever. He had swagger. He didn’t care what people thought about him, the way he acted, what he said. He didn’t hide anything.

  Now, he was and the fights with the stepmonster were far more frequent. They never went away but those two had settled into a routine animosity. It was usually only when he came home drunk or she found out he was cheating on her when things got ugly.

  It was happening all the time these days.

  “Yeah,” I told Creed.

  “Wide berth, beautiful,” Creed advised.

  I nodded, cheek sliding against his chest.

  I could do that. I’d been doing it for years. I could do it for a few more months.

  “You know,” I told his chest, “you’ve had this bed since you were a little kid. You should get a bigger bed.”

  “I will, in a few months, when we’re gone and I’m buyin’ one for the both of us.”

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