Page 61 of Filthy Little Games

“Oh god!” I groan.

“You taste even better than I remembered,” his deep voice rumbles from between my thighs. His tongue batters my flesh again as I squirm and gasp. “This is exactly what I needed. Now scream my name when you come for me.”

He’s so damn good at oral that it should be illegal. I imagined that a rich, powerful man like Creed Ferraro would prefer women to get on their knees for him, not the other way around.

But the way he laps at me leaves no doubt in my mind that he isn’t just doing this out of obligation. He thoroughly enjoys it. His grunts and groans every time I wiggle or moan sends me flying so high.

When I reach down to grab his head and pull him up after the last of the tremors, he resists. Instead, he keeps at it, making me come for him again. The second time, I do shout his name to the ceiling. It’s a plea both for more and for him to stop because I’m so sensitive down there...and empty. I want him in me, stretching me, filling me up.

But he doesn’t even shove his fingers inside me. He just keeps licking me until I come a third time.

After that, I’m incapable of doing anything except trying to remember how to breathe as my limp arms rest over my head.

“I can’t...no more.”

But Creed doesn’t move from between my legs. His damp lips press soft kisses to the insides of my thighs. Eventually, he says, “Seventeen to go.”

“Seventeen?”

“More orgasms for you.” With another kiss to my thigh, he says, “I thought Emilio would kill me on the spot today.”

“I’m glad he didn’t.” I lower my arms and run my fingers through his hair. He leans into my touch like he craves the non-sexual intimacy.

“I wish I could trust you not to tell him the truth. But now more than ever, I know I can’t.”

Sitting up in concern, I tighten my fingers in Creed’s hair, lifting his face as I try to reassure him. “You can trust me not to speak a word to him. Why would I want to tell Emilio the truth when he’s only going to blame me either way?”

“Because you could give me up in exchange for your daughter back.”

I’m momentarily speechless. “That thought never occurred to me,” I admit. “Not only because I don’t want Emilio to kill you, but because it would never work. There’s nothing I can say or do to get custody of Oriana, not while Emilio is alive.”

“I want to believe that,” Creed says as his sad eyes remain locked on mine.

“Since we’re talking about honesty…did you put Lorenzo up to the twenty-questions tonight?”

“Twenty questions?”

“He was asking me about my connections to Izaiah.”

“Fuck,” he mutters as he gets to his feet, then offers me a hand to help me stand up as well. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I told him I wouldn’t answer his questions unless you told me to.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. “He may be suspicious, but at least you didn’t give him any details.”

“So, you didn’t put him up to it as, like, a way to test me?”

“No. I haven’t told him, Dre, or Tristan anything about you and Izaiah. All they know is that we’re married.”

“Well, Lorenzo obviously suspects there’s some connection. Do you trust him enough to tell him what really happened?”

“I don’t know who the hell I can trust with this shit,” Creed grumbles. Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he says, “I’ll talk to Lorenzo and make sure he comes to me with any questions from now on rather than putting you on the spot like that.”

“Thank you.”

While my life has been anything but easy, I realize that it’s not all champagne and caviar in Creed’s world either. Well, he probably does have plenty of both of those things at every event he goes to, but he also has to live his life without knowing who he can or can’t trust.

Nobodypretty much sums up who I think he should trust.

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