Page 35 of He is… Creed: Part Three

Despite all of this, I’m bold with Creed in ways I never knew I was capable of. He steps into me, and my hand wraps the width of him, my eyes meeting his, my free hand settling on his chest, his heart thundering beneath my touch. He pulses in my hand, hard and inflexible, veins protruding. “God, I’ve missed touching you like this,” I confess.

“My restraint is paper thin,” he warns.

“You are the mighty Creed,” I tease. “I’m quite confident of your restraint.” I pin him in a seductive stare full of erotic promise and slide slowly down his body until I’m on my knees. And I watch the anticipation shudder across his strong features as I lick the bulging head of his erection and then draw it between my lips.

He moans, proof that I’m stealing just a little of his iron control, and I suck him deeper, harder, the salty-sweet taste of him filling my mouth. My free hand settles on his thigh, and I can feel him tremble and shake. Creed is shaking, vulnerable in a way I know he doesn’t allow himself to be at any other time.

And that’s why I came to love doing this to him. This act, these moments, are the only time I’ve ever seen Creed allow himself to let go and just take. The only time he ever lets go and forgets to hold back.

And so, I don’t hold back, working him with my mouth, my hand, and my tongue. Remembering what makes him hot—what drives him wild. His fingers tangle in my hair, another moan escaping his lips, the sound washing over me like a drug. Driving me to give more and take more. His hips thrust as I pump him, his cock sliding back and forth between my lips. I can feel the pulse of his impending orgasm gathering beneath my hand and feel the urgency in the convulsing of his hips.

But he doesn’t allow me to take him all the way.

His hands capture my shoulders, a silent demand that I stop, and he uses that touch to drag me to my feet.

“When I come,” he promises, “it will be inside you, baby.” With that vow, he gently lowers me to the bed, following me on his knees and spreading me wide. I lift up on my elbows, watching him. His hands trail up my legs, caressing a slow, teasing path upward.

He eases up my body in the wake of his touch and settles between my thighs. I collapse into the soft mattress the instant his warm breath brushes my clit, his tongue sliding delicately around the tip before he gently suckles. It’s my turn to cry out as he suckles me deeply, his fingers stroking along the slick, swollen flesh and then slipping inside me. Oh God, he’s good at this, I think, and my fingers curl around a down comforter, my eyes fluttering with the sensation of every lick and every stroke. At the same time, he stretches to palm my breasts, teasing my nipples.

And just that easily, the edge of orgasm is upon me, and I fight against it. With a herculean effort, I sit up and try to move away. He stops short and grasps my thighs, holding me firmly and staring up at me from that intimate spot between my thighs that only makes me ache a little bit more.

“Together,” I whisper. “Please. I really want that.” I press my hands to his shoulders. “You lie down,” I say, letting him know every moment of this is my choice, my willing decision. There’s passion and desire between us, but there is a decision as well. Mine, and his.

His eyes soften and then flare with newfound heat before he rolls to his back. I straddle him, the wet heat of my sex pressing to his stomach as I lean forward and crush my lips over his.

Possessively, he fills his hands with my breasts and then caresses a path over my waist, lifting me and holding me steady as I reach between us and grip his erection. There’s a frenzied need between us as I slip the tip to the seam of my body, and he presses inside me and pulls me down, hard and fast.

I gasp and lean forward, fingers flexing on his shoulders, our breath mingling, our mouths close. “I know you don’t understand this. I know you don’t believe me, Addie, but I missed you so damn much,” he murmurs, and before I can tell him he’s wrong, before I can tell him I know now, his hands slide under my hair and wrap my neck, the pressure bringing our mouths together, our tongues tangling.

A soft sound of pleasure slips from my mouth to his, and slowly, we begin to move, hips swaying in a sensual rhythm, kisses shifting from tender to desperate—passionate and wildly out of control. We want and need and can’t get enough. Creed sits up, wrapping his arms around my waist, rocking me against him, our lips close, breath mingled. I’m on the edge, and there is no holding back. I’m undone, shaking inside and out with my release. He pulls me down on him, buries his face in my neck, and quakes with me. The guttural moan of pleasure that follows is everything, I swear.

The room fades and only returns with us folded around each other in the aftermath of release.

And just when I think he’ll roll us back onto the bed, he smooths the hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “I love you, Addie,” he breathes out. “I love you so damn much.”

I am shocked and pleased, and my heart swells with all that I feel for this man. “I love you, too, Creed. Even when I told myself to hate you, I knew I loved you.”

“There are things about me you don’t know,” he says. “Things I can’t, I won’t, ask you to live with.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders. “Stop, Creed,” I plead, my hands pressing to his face. “Stop doing that. Stop judging yourself and then assuming it’s what I feel. Have you ever done anything that you didn’t believe was to save innocent lives? Anything you regretted later?”

“It’s not that simple,” he whispers. “Baby, it’s not.”

“I know you, Creed,” I whisper. “You’re only this tormented because you want to be a good man. Bad men feel none of this.”

He rolls us to our sides, facing each other, and hands me a tissue from somewhere—I don’t know where. I accept it and press it between my legs, but I’m more focused on him. “Creed—”

He brushes a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t overthink.”

“I’m a scientist. That’s what we do. But it’s what you do, too.”

It was Creed who broke the silence, sliding to the edge of the bed. Before he stands up, he brushes his lips over mine. “Bath and then sleep for you.”

“Only if you come to bed with me,” I negotiate.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I can almost hear him add a silent ‘tonight,’ and it’s killing me. I can’t live with the fear that he will always walk away, and I want to say that, but I don’t. He confessed his love for me only minutes ago. I think we both deserve to revel in our love just a bit longer before it's somehow stripped away.

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