Page 87 of Creed

A humiliation kink isn’t my thing; however, the dominance in his tone and words make the little submissive hidden inside me eager and happy,so freaking happy, to follow his commands.

I’m sorry I’m clothed as I crawl across the carpet. The thought of doing this—crawling to my man, on my hands and knees, willing to do whatever is required to mend what’s been injured—completely naked, my breasts swaying, my hips rocking, my butt and pussy tilted up, makes my panties wet.

His eyes darken further as he watches me come to him, his hands clenching into fists, the tendons popping beneath his skin. When I reach him, he says, “On your knees. Sit back on your heels.”

Again, I comply immediately. Staring at the tattoo swirls above his collar, covering his neck to his chin, I lick my lips, desperate to trace the patterns and taste him.

“Undo my shirt.”

I lift onto my knees to pull his shirt free from the waist of his suit pants, then reach for his buttons. One by one, I undo them to reveal the perfection of his body beneath. Once his shirt is undone, I reach for his cufflinks, noting the stone’s color—deep amber with swirls of dark, rich tones of bronze and copper.

“Take my shirt off me,” he orders darkly.

I place my hands on his chest, relishing the feel of his hard, hot flesh, then push the shirt back and slide it off each chiseled arm. He relaxes back into the chair, and I place his shirt on the floor and return to sitting on my heels.

I’m wetter than before, and every shift and movement makes my nipples rub against the lace of my bra.

“Now, my pants.”

I lick my lips again, my hands reaching for his belt, deftly undoing it, before I turn my attention to his button and zipper. My breathing is ragged as I pull down his zipper and see the wet spot of pre-cum on his boxer briefs. He lifts his hips, and I pull both his underwear and pants down over his hips, his impressive erection springing free. I’ve dreamed and fantasizedobsessivelyabout this tattooed dick the past four months.

I stare at it, momentarily stunned at seeing it in the flesh again, my fingers curling into the material of his pants still on his thighs. He settles back into the chair, and I take in the beautyof his artfully decorated hard cock. Then my breath catches, and my eyes fly to his face.

“You tattooed the head,” I whisper, my eyes falling back to the broad head of his cock. Angel wings hug it and the furled feathers of the edges have my name.

“I told you this cock would only ever belong to you, angel.”

And hemarkedit with my name. I want to run my tongue over the bulbous head, trace the new mark—mymark—then swallow him whole. I want to lick that bead of pre-cum away. Drag my tongue into the deep groove of his head and up along the thick vein on the underside.

He catches my chin and lifts my head. His eyes are dark and his nostrils flare. “Finish removing my pants.”

My core clenches at his domineering tone, and I obey without question.

First, I slide his shoes off, then I drag his pants with his briefs down his legs and add them to his shirt on the floor. He’s fully naked, and I’m full of anticipation of what he’ll command me to do next.

This is the reverse of the kink I discovered I loved—with me being completely naked and him taking me while he’s fully clothed—and I’m just as turned on. With this naked devil who looks like a god before me. I may be on my knees, but somehow, I feel like I’m the most powerful being on the planet.

He tips my head back again and pins me in place with his intense gaze. “Do you deserve my cock, Sophie? My cum?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “You told me it’s mine.”

He chuckles, a sound of sin and darkness. “Tell me.”

“Your cock is mine. Your cum is mine. Mine. Only mine.”

His thumb strokes my cheek and jaw. “Suck me in. Swallow me right down the back of your throat like my good girl.” When he stops me from doing as he ordered me to, a soft noise of need escapes me. “I won’t last long this round. My balls are already sucked tight to me. I’m going to fuck your mouth and your throat. Shoot my cum into your mouth, and you’re going to suck me like you’re trying to drain my balls. But you are not allowed to touch yourself—not your pussy, clit, or tits.”

A burning ache is almost driving me mad, and I nod, whispering lustily, “Yes, sir.”

I love how his nostrils flare every single time I use that phrase. I moan in relief and desire when he tangles his hands in my hair, fisting it, then directs my head and mouth down onto him. I suck him in as he instructed, then swallow him right down the back of my throat with no gag reflex trying to force him out.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips bucking. “Good girl. Myfucking.Good. Girl.”

He uses my hair to lift and drop my head, pulling shallower every few strokes to let me draw in air. The thick fullness of himin my mouth, sliding in and out of my throat, makes me moan wantonly. Pleasure fills me for taking him so well, and at how he reacts to me and how he’s losing control so quickly.

That I can affect him this way—a man powerful not just in body, but in the position and success he's carved out for himself. A titan who broke the mold of his family's expectations. He is his own man—fierce in his love and unwavering in his loyalty.

And he’s mine. Mine to love, to please, and to worship.

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