Creed Page 8

  “Baby –” he whispered and I jerked up, slammed my mouth down on his and darted my tongue between his lips.

  He took it and let me take, hard, deep, fuck, fuck, he tasted of beer and ziti and Creed. I remembered that taste, could swear it tipped my tongue countless times for going on two decades. I missed it and I loved it.

  Loved it.

  The kiss went wild, his hands went into my hair, holding my mouth to his then he took his turn to take from mine.

  I gave him a taste then shafted up. His hands fell away from my hair. My hands went to my tank and ripped it off.

  He had one second to take in my torso before I bent back to him and it was done. Even if I had the strength to fight it, I wouldn’t have tried.

  We tore at each other’s clothes, shoes, tossing them aside, rolling, hands everywhere, mouths, tongues. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. I could only taste and feel.

  I eventually got between his legs and didn’t hesitate, didn’t play, didn’t fuck around. I sucked his hard, thick, long cock deep, the head hit the back of my throat and my lips hit hair.

  “Jesus,” he groaned then angled up. I lost purchase only suddenly to be flying through the air, twisted, brought down on his body facing his crotch, rolled and yeah, oh fucking yeah, he was over me. His mouth was between my legs, his knees at either side of my head, he was voracious, rabid, eating fierce, his tongue thrusting deep, his mouth sucking my clit hard.

  God, so good, so goddamned good, nothing better. No. Not nothing. No one. No one fucking better.

  I lifted my hands to his ass, pulling myself up and taking his cock in my mouth. He didn’t make me work, his hips moved under my hands and he fucked my face as he ate me and his mouth worked me harder. He went down to his forearms beside my hips, shoved his hands under my ass and pulled up so he could devour me. My knees cocked, thighs spread wide, I opened them wider and took his cock as he took my pussy until it built so huge I couldn’t take it anymore. I released his cock, dropped to my back on a low whimpered moan and I lost his mouth.

  I rolled to him instantly, hands on him, vaguely watching him reach for his jeans, yank out his wallet.

  “Creed,” I whispered and even I heard the depths of my need.

  His big hand fanned against the side of my face, gliding back into my hair as he looked down at me, his face hot, hard and fucking beautiful.

  “Two seconds, baby,” he whispered back, his hand went away, the condom came out and I spread my legs in preparation.

  He positioned on his knees between my legs, I watched him roll on the condom then I knifed up, curving my arms around him and he didn’t delay. His torso pressed into mine, I fell back, bringing him with me and he slid inside.

  My neck arched and my knees lifted, my thighs pressing deep into his hips as I moaned, “Fuck yes.”

  He moved. I rounded him with my limbs, righted my neck, lifted my head and ran my tongue soothingly along the angry bite where I’d marked his neck.

  I shifted my lips and in his ear whispered, “Harder.”

  “Soft, slow,” he whispered in mine.

  “Fast, hard.”

  “Soft and slow, baby.”

  I squeezed with three limbs as I squeezed him inside and dug my nails in his back, running them up.

  “Fuck,” he groaned and went faster and harder.

  “Yes,” I breathed and he went even faster and harder.

  “You like the taste of you?” he asked, his breath coming fast.

  “Is it on you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then yeah.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned again, lifted his head, I turned mine and he took my mouth.

  I took his.

  I tasted me on him and I whimpered into his mouth.

  He fucked me harder and faster.

  I pulled a leg from around him, shoved my foot into the floor and rolled him to his back. Then I rode him, even harder and faster, concentrating on giving it to him, to me, so he took over taking my mouth.

  His lips broke from mine and, his big hand at the back of my head, he shoved my face in his neck and growled, “Harder, baby.”

  I went harder.

  Faster.

  He kept growling. “Fuck, need more. I gotta fuck you.”

  “I fuck you,” I panted, my breaths hitching, my blood singing.

  It was building. Again.

  Yes, it was building huge.

  “Gotta fuck you,” Creed ground out then he flipped me to my back and took over, hips grinding and that felt so fucking good, so deep, so rough. It was so goddamned beautiful, my mouth opened slowly, my head gliding back, exposing my throat and his lips and tongue took it.

  His hands went to my hips, yanking me up to take him deeper.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His hands slid up the sides of thighs to my knees and up, swinging my calves in. I dug my heels in and held on tight as his hands moved to my arms, lifting them up over my head. He circled my wrists, pressed them into the rug and I froze, my head righting, my eyes locked to his face.

  My voice was ragged and not with sex when I demanded, “Don’t hold me down.”

  His head was tipped down, his eyes to our bodies but at the sound of my voice, my tone, they shot to my face and his hips stilled on an inward thrust.

  “Creed, don’t hold me down!” I snapped and he let my wrists go as a flash shot through his eyes.

  He moved one hand to the side my face, his eyes also moving over it and his voice was ragged too, not with sex, not with what had been in mine but the emotion ran just as deep when he whispered, “Jesus, baby.”

  “Fuck me, Creed,” I demanded and his gaze came to mine.

  “Let’s slow it down,” he said gently.

  “Fuck me,” I repeated.

  “Sylvie, baby –”

  I lifted my head and took his lower lip between my teeth giving it a nip. I released it and, face close, eyes all we could see, I bit out, “Creed. Fuck me.”

  We held each other’s eyes.

  Then he moved, gathering me in his arms, he got to his knees then to his feet. His cock still deep inside me, he took two long strides then I was back to the couch and he was fucking me.

  He went for my mouth but I turned my head and shoved my face in his neck, holding on with my arms and legs, tight. Tipping my hips to meet his thrusts, I erased everything from my brain but what was going on between my legs. I searched for it, reached for it and found it, my head rearing back into the cushions as I cried out my release. The pleasure, as it always did, driving away the pain.

  Only bigger. Better.

  Much bigger.

  Way better.

  I kept tight hold of him, burying my face back in his neck and keeping it there until Creed found his.

  I gave him time, counting the seconds, waiting until his breath started to even then I ordered, “Get off me.” His head came up and I felt his eyes but I kept mine to his throat and repeated, “Get off me.”

  “I think what just happened proves we need to talk, Sylvie,” he said softly. At his words, I heaved, twisted, he slid out and I took him to his side, back to the back of the couch.

  I reared away but not so far that I couldn’t plant my hand in his chest and shove hard.

  He got up on a forearm, his other hand circled my wrist tight and held mine to his chest as his eyes kept mine captive.

  “You’re a total asshole,” I hissed.

  He didn’t reply, not for long seconds then he said quietly, “I had you but in the end, you checked out. I was just a cock.”

  “They’re all just cocks,” I retorted.

  He shook his head and his fingers tightened around my wrist as he leaned into me. “I had you.”

  “No one has me.”

  “I had you.”

  I leaned into him and snapped, “No one ever has me.” I ignored the flash in his eyes and I ignored how easy it was to read, how hard it was to see that in his eyes. I ignored all of it and yanked at my h
and.

  He didn’t release me.

  “Let me go,” I demanded harshly.

  He let me go.

  I jumped off the couch and moved to my clothes. I pulled on the tank and my jeans and left my panties, bra, socks and boots where they lay.

  By the time I turned back, he had his jeans up and half buttoned.

  I looked from his crotch to his eyes.

  “Guest bedroom is a pit but, you dig deep enough, you’ll find a bed. You look hard enough, you’ll find sheets for the bed. I’m going out. Sweet dreams.”

  I moved toward the door trying to decide if it was a bourbon or tequila night.

  “I couldn’t have you, I’d have that.”

  His words made me stop dead but I didn’t turn. I didn’t move.

  Years passed.

  Then he spoke again, quieter.

  “I never thought I’d see you again. I couldn’t have you, I’d have that part of you. That part of us. Kids named what we agreed so every time I said the names of the kids I loved, I’d remember you and I’d have that part of you with me.”

  Jesus.

  He could not be serious.

  Jesus.

  Someone kill me.

  I turned then and looked him straight in the eye.

  “You are so full of shit.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah,” I clipped.

  “You believe that, I’ll give you her number. You call Chelle. Ask why she divorced me.”

  I hitched a hip just as I put a hand to it and asked flippantly, “That’ll be interesting, Creed, what’ll she tell me?”

  “That she filed for the same reason you lost your mind tonight. She filed when she found out why I insisted on naming our kids. She filed because of why I named our kids those names. And she filed because she was done bein’ married to man who was in love with a fuckin’ ghost.”

  It took effort but I just managed to ignore his verbal blows pummeling the breath clean out of me.

  “So you’re an equal opportunity asshole, doing that to her at the same time you did it to me,” I noted.

  “Yep,” he agreed. “Still don’t give a fuck which is why it’s good she’s shot of me. Decent woman. Never should have done it to her. I got them, I got her part of them and I got you in them. The way I saw it, I had a lifetime of livin’ without what I most wanted, made certain I got all I wanted outta that. I like it like that and I’d do it again.”

  Seriously, this dickhead could not be believed.

  “You are an asshole,” I bit off.

  “Didn’t deny it. Live with it every day. You don’t have to repeat it.”

  “How’d she find out?”

  “I told her. On your birthday seven years ago. The one day she never got. The one day every year I’d get shitfaced hammered out of my mind, all alone, just me. Difference that year was she didn’t let me be. She pushed it. So she got it. All of it. Best thing that ever happened to her. Finally meant she could be free of the asshole that’s me.”

  “Lucky her, now she probably celebrates my birthday.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “For me it was you. For her it was me.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  I ignored that and stated, “I wasn’t a ghost, Creed.” I motioned to myself with my free hand. “As you can see, I’m alive and well.”

  “You were a ghost to me.”

  “Your choice.”

  “No it wasn’t,” he returned immediately. “Dig deep and you know it.”

  I felt my eyes narrow, I leaned in and hissed, “I don’t know shit.”

  “Know this,” he growled and turned his back to me. It was a move so surprising, I didn’t have a chance not only to retreat but even to brace.

  At what I saw, I couldn’t control it. I sucked in a sharp, audible breath.

  I’d drawn blood on his back as well as his neck and you could see other scratch marks.

  None of them marred the tattoo that spanned the entirety of his skin.

  A pier.

  A lake.

  A horizon.

  The sun shining.

  And along the pier a name spelled out in flowers up the indent of his lower spine.

  “Sylvie”.

  He turned to face me again but my eyes stayed at the wall of his chest, the vision of his back burned in my brain.

  “I been back not even a whole fuckin’ day, Sylvie,” he went on and my eyes cut to his face. “And we’re fuckin’ on the floor of your back room amidst a pile of fuckin’ ziti.”

  “You fucking motherfucker,” I whispered.

  He ignored me and asked, “You get yet that we need to talk?”

  I shook my head and ignored the pit in my stomach.

  “We’re not gonna talk.”

  He tore a hand through his hair and bit out, “Fuck, Sylvie.”

  “We are not gonna talk,” I repeated with added emphasis.

  His hand swept out in an arc indicating the couch and the floor. “So, that’s not gonna happen again?”

  “You’re really fucking good at giving head so, no. I won’t say that. I’ll take seconds. Even thirds.”

  His brows shot up and his escalating anger slithered through the room. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “I’m not.” I tilted my head. “Unless it wasn’t good for you. If it wasn’t then I’ll take my attention elsewhere.”

  His anger gathered, grew, built, filled the room.

  We held each other’s eyes in silence.

  Creed broke it by asking something that wasn’t his to have.

  “Why don’t you like to be held down?”

  It wasn’t his to have but still, in a way, he deserved it so I gave it to him.

  “He held me down. He also tied me down. I didn’t like it.”

  His hard jaw got harder and a muscle ticked there.

  Then he whispered, “You didn’t like it.”

  “I didn’t like anything he did to me.”

  His entire face got hard and the muscle moved to leap in his cheek.

  Then he remarked, “So now they’re all just cocks.”

  I jerked up my chin. “Yup.”

  “And you want me to be one of them.”

  “Uh… Creed, hello?” I swung out an arm to indicate the room. “You already are.”

  He shook his head. “No getting in there?”

  I shook mine too. “Nope. Not you. Not anyone. But especially not you.”

  “You won’t dig deep,” he said quietly.

  “I know what’s buried there so no. No fucking way. I leave that be.”

  We both went quiet again.

  He broke it again.

  “It was good for me.”

  I nodded. “Glad I’m not losing my touch.”

  His eyes went cold but his lips said, “I’ll take seconds and thirds and whatever you’re willin’ to give me.”

  “That was hot, baby, so it’s good to know this partnership has all sorts of advantages,” I replied.

  He crossed his arms on his chest but didn’t for a millisecond release my eyes as he whispered, “Baby, just you wait and see.”

  “Oo, exciting,” I whispered back sarcastically.

  “You bet your ass,” he returned.

  “Are we done?” I asked then carried on. “See, something else to learn about me, when I’m done, I’m usually done and either he goes or I do. Since we’re both staying I’m still ready to go. So are you through with me?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Good news,” I retorted. “But just to be clear, I’m up for seconds. You seemed pissed. Angry sex works for me but I’m guessing you’re beyond that. So, what I’m asking is, for now, you through with me?”

  “Yeah,” he jerked up his chin. “For now.”

  “Best get supplied, baby,” I warned. “That was just a teaser. I get in the mood, I can go all night. The emergency condom in your wallet isn’t gonna cut it.”

  “Drugstore just got scratched on our itinerary for t
omorrow. First stop.”

  “Works for me.”

  “Right. You done bein’ a bullshit badass?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Good. But don’t lose the bullshit smartass. She makes me hard.”

  “I’ll keep her at the ready.”

  “You know the beauty of this?” he asked cuttingly.

  “No, handsome, tell me,” I invited mockingly sweet.

  “This was exactly how your father and stepmother talked when they weren’t fighting. Remember? You told me all about it.”

  His aim was true.

  Right through the heart.

  “I see,” I whispered. “We’re not fighting fair.”

  “Nope,” he confirmed and made his point by lifting a hand and touching the tips of his fingers to my mark on his neck. He dropped his hand and went on, “All’s fair. No rules. No holds barred. Winner takes all.”

  My shoulders straightened, I wrapped my arms around my belly and I kept my eyes locked to his when I said softly, “Six years, Creed, six years, every day, every minute, every second, I lost whole pieces of me. After I got loose, I made certain I don’t ever lose. Not fucking ever. You just entered a game you cannot win.”

  “You got loose, you get any of that back?” he asked.

  “Not that first fuckin’ piece.”

  “So you’re tellin’ me my Sylvie is gone.”

  His Sylvie.

  Motherfucking asshole.

  “Long gone,” I verified.

  “Right,” he muttered like he didn’t believe me.

  “Right,” I repeated firmly.

  “So who was that who smiled big at that Down’s kid this morning like he started her day and touched her forehead to his making him look like she started his?”

  No way I was going to let him get to me.

  “That was Adam’s Sylvie.”

  “You ran across the yard like you’d just received a bomb threat, baby, not like you were five minutes late to help your girl. You don’t miss a day even if you have to haul your ass over there hungover. You dropped a job when Josh got sick and your dead partner’s wife had to work so you could look after him. She doesn’t know it but it’s you that puts red and white roses with a blue ribbon on his grave every fuckin’ Sunday. And you took me on just so you could take Knight’s back. That wasn’t Adam’s Sylvie. It’s not Charlene’s Sylvie. It’s not even Knight’s Sylvie. It’s just plain Sylvie. The one I knew. She’s not gone. She’s standing right in front of me.”