The thunderous look eases off Creed’s face. I stand like a deer caught in headlights—pinned in place and unable to move—as he closes the distance between us.
He found me.
Or is this a fluke chance meeting?
If it isn’t a fluke chance meeting, does that mean he has gone to great lengths to not only find out who I was, but tracked me to where I was? Stalked me?
A confusing blend of panic, fear, pleasure, and joy fills me.
“Creed,” I choke.
“Hello, angel.”
He looks down at me with those unique, piercing eyes that have filled my dreams. His attractiveness is devastating. The pull I felt to him that first night is back. I can feel the animalistic energy coming off him.
He is just as I remembered in the memories that haunted my days and dreams.
And the mornings after Ollie had gone to class, when I’d get myself off to the memory of him and what he had done to me. A blush warms my cheeks as I remember masturbating to the memory of us.
After each orgasm, though, an ache filled me at the thought that I’d never see Creed again, and I’d try to convince myself that I didn’t want to see him again.
But I know I was deluding myself. I wanted to see him again, desperately. I wanted him to pull me into his car and whisk me away to his penthouse and screw me mindless again.
I crave the orgasms he had given me and how he made me feel. I crave his touch. But I also crave his smile and laugh and want to learn everything about him.
He had been my distraction for two weeks without even being physically present. Now that he’s standing in front me, in the flesh, for me to see, touch, and smell… Sweet Mother of Mary, I am screwed.
He smiles, his tongue running along his bottom full lip. “Would you like to come with me?” He holds out his hand, his eyes twinkling as I register the double meaning of his words.
My cheeks flush hotter as arousal floods me, but I shake my head.
His thumb rubs the corner of his mouth. I want to feel that mouth against my skin. Everywhere.
“You’re Sophie Demeanus.”
My mouth falls open, and I stumble back.
Oh shit, he really is a stalker.
When he reaches for me, I don’t jerk away. Instead, I let him draw me to him, which confirms that my head is messed up when it comes to him.
“I knew your name most of that evening,” he admits. “When the dean of your school approached us and you took off into the crowd, I asked him.”
I groan inwardly at my stupidity, but his answer surprises me. “You asked about me?”
He tilts his head to the side, watching me. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted to know every little thing about you.”
My chest tightens, and my knees weaken. I basically swoon for this man in the middle of a busy city sidewalk, oblivious to the world that still buzzes around us.
But my mind warns me that this is too good to be true, and that I can’t forget my goals and plan.
The wind picks up my hair, and he smooths it back and cups my face. “I missed you, angel. I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to see you until today.”
I shake my head, the last bit of self-preservation trying to dislodge his touch because his touch is causing my brain to malfunction. “We weren’t supposed to… It was just one night.”
I wet my lips because my mouth feels devoid of all moisture—probably because it’s all pooled between my legs.
His thumb drags over my bottom lip. “You and I both know it could never be just one night.”
Between my legs throbs, and I can tell I’m wet. My skin sizzles. My brain is muddled, and stepping away to break contact with him, helps me think more clearly… Slightly.
“How are you here?” I ask, this time with more of a demand.
“I knew which university you went to and did a bit of digging.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his charcoal suit pants. “I found out the dorms are set up based on faculty of focus and was headed to the one where most of the business school students lived. I saw you catch the bus and followed you here.”
“So you did stalk me.” I frown, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “And hung around watching, like some cop on a stake-out for me to come back out?”
He laughs at my analogy, but nods.
“You’re a psychopath, aren’t you?” I groan. “This is too good to be true.”
“Me stalking you is too good to be true?” The corner of his mouth twitches, and I huff.
“No. You.” I wave my hand at him. “Everything. Hot, gorgeous, successful. There’s got to be something going on to explain why you’re here with me. I’m being punked, aren’t—”
My words are cut off as he pulls me into his arms and growls—legit, growls—at me, “You are a fucking walking wet dream, Sophie Demeanus. You’re extraordinary. It’s a gift to have your attention. You are never to disparage yourself again, understood?”
When I get my bearings and wind back—because he steals my breath with his words and the angry demand of them—I nod.
“Say the words, angel,” he grits. His icy-blue eyes feel like they’re going to burn my insides up with the fire being kindled deep within me.
“I’ll never say anything that deprecates me or my worth again.”
“Good girl.”
Cue pussy clench.
Oh, good lord, when he calls me that.
“Thank you, sir,” I breathe huskily. I don’t know where that breathy tone came from or ‘sir’ and why I added it.
His nostrils flare, and his pupils dilate. “Fuck me.”
His mouth crashes to mine, and I’m lost to the world around me. All I feel is his tongue diving into my mouth, tangling with mine, his lips devouring me, his hard length pressed against me, and each soft curve of my body fitting perfectly into his. His hands grip my face, forcing me to give him more access as he plunders my mouth until he finally pulls away.
He puts his forehead to mine, still holding my head. “Come to my place with me.”
It isn’t framed as a question, nor is it a command.
I answer without thought or hesitation. “Yes.”
He grabs my bag, grips my hand, and we run across the street when traffic breaks. He opens the door to his Ferrari for me, then runs around to the other side. He tosses my bag into the backseat, gets in, and takes off into traffic. The side windows are darkly tinted, seeming darker than I remember from that first night.
“Lay your seat back, angel.”
I feel on the side of my seat for the controls and do as he said.
“Undo your jeans. I need to see and feel that perfect little pussy.”
My eyes widen, and I glance at the side windows.
“No one can see in. I got darker tint.”
As in… he planned this. He planned to see me again. He planned to toy and play with me in his car again. He never intended for us to be a one-night stand.
Oh god, why am I not freaking the hell out?
Instead, I’m wetter than ever.
He smiles—a smile worthy of a devil and filled with sin. “Don’t keep me waiting, angel. I have a large orgasm debt I owe you, and I’m a man who always clears his debts.”
My fingers work the button of my jeans without conscious thought, then pull down my zipper. Lifting my hips, I shimmy my jeans and panties down.
“Take them all the way off.” His voice is gruff and deep as he shifts the gearstick, speeding up.
I toe off my canvas shoes, push my pants down, and kick them off. Never once questioning my sanity. Not feeling any hesitation at being buck-naked from the waist down in this man’s car while I lay back in the seat.
He glances at me and my bare bottom half. “Good girl. Now spread those thighs and give me that pussy that’s mine.” He growls the last word, emphasizing his claim of ownership, and that does something to me.
So much wetness coats my thighs, I’m going to make a mess of his leather seat. My thighs spread open, and his hand immediately leaves the gearshift to my core.
“Oh, my angel, you’re soaked for me.”
He dives a finger in, making me cry out, and my eyes close as ecstasy washes over me. For two weeks, I tried to recreate the sensations of when he touched me, but my fingers or vibrator couldn’t hold a candle to him. When he pushes two fingers in and scissors them, my hips buck, and I moan, my head writhing back and forth.
“You missed me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
His fingers leave me, and I cry out in dismay, my eyes flying open. His fingers glisten and are coated in my juices right up to his knuckles. He grips the gearshift, and I feel the car take a corner and accelerate. He shifts gears once more, then dives his fingers back in.
My eyes roll back in my head as pleasure spikes within me. “Your gearstick will need cleaning.”
He licks his lips, glancing at me, then to where we’re joined with his hand buried between my legs. “I like the thought of your wet cunt cream on here whenever I drive this car.”
To drive his dirty words home, he pushes in even more, and his thumb works my clit. He works me hard, somehow not crashing as he speeds toward his penthouse. But every time I get close to climaxing, his hand goes back to the gearstick. After the fourth time, I snarl because he doesn’t have to change gears that frequently, making his chest rumble with laughter and his eyes dance with delight.
As he lifts me toward the peak for the fifth time, the sunlight disappears, and the car slows, and I know we’ve arrived at his penthouse parking garage. Excitement fills me, and the need to orgasm is at an all-time high. I need it like air. I need it like an addict needing their next hit, and my hips bridge to put pressure against the heel of his hand, grinding on my clit. But then it’s gone once again.
“Motherfucker,” I scream in frustration as I drop away from the pinnacle of my release yet again. My chest heaves, and my pussy throbs.
Creed has parked the vehicle and leans toward me. “I promise you, you’ll get what you need in less than three minutes. Suck these clean,” he commands.
He holds up his fingers for me, and his hand glistens with my wetness. Then his fingers breach my lips, and they push deep into my mouth. I push his fingers in deeper so he’s buried right up to the knuckles on the back of his hand, and his wet palm presses against my chin.
Having no gag reflex is amazing, especially when his nostrils flare and almost all the blue of his irises disappear as his eyes dilate even more with desire. My tongue licks and laps up my wetness from his fingers, and I moan at the taste of myself.
Visions of him screwing me hard—almost violently—making us both come, and then me sucking our combined cum off his dick make my pussy throb.
He makes me want to do such filthy things.
And I feel no hesitation or embarrassment. It’s like he is my safe haven—a place that feels so right and natural that I can be anything I want. Instead of sweet little Sophie, I can be Creed’s dirty, naughty little porn star. And the fact that he won’t judge me, or better yet, that he wants me like that, is the most liberating feeling. As is being with someone you want to share that with. Someone you feel that level of trust and security with. I don’t question that I had just met this man because this feels right.
I pull his fingers out of my mouth, adding suction as they pop out. He stares at me darkly, looking like he wants to devour me as he undoes his jacket and shrugs it off. “Put this on. No one gets to see that beautiful ass or perfect pussy except for me.”
I sit up, do as he orders, and shove my feet into my shoes. He reaches into the wheel well and snags my jeans and panties, then jumps out of the car. Watching him walk around the car—his strong body shifting, bunching, and pulling under the fabric of his dress shirt and pants, the hard shaft that’s trying to burst free—makes me even wetter.
My hand goes between my legs. I need to get off. Immediately.
The door opens, and he barks, “Get your hands off my pussy.”
I glare at him. “It’s my pussy, and I—”
He slaps my mound, hitting my clit and swollen lips. “Oh my god.” I nearly shriek as lightning bolts of pleasure hit me, and I fall back against the seat. “Do that again.”
He leans in and pulls me to sit up, his face close to mine. “When you touch yourself, does it feel as good as when I do it?”
“No.”
“Has any other’s touch made you feel like mine does?”
“No.”
“This pussy is mine. Say those words with my name.”
I want to glare at him, hiss and tell him to screw himself, but I need that orgasm. Goddammit, he makes me a needy, gushy mess.
“This pussy is yours, Creed.” When he smiles with a cocky smirk, I add, “For now.”
He tongues his cheek. “Bad girl.”
His dark look makes me burn with anticipation. God, I hope he spanks me.
My legs shake as he helps me out of the car and ensures his buttoned-up coat hides all my lady bits.
If anyone sees us, though, it’ll be obvious what’s going on. I mean, come on, my bottom half is naked and barely covered by his jacket. He carries my jeans, and the bulge in his pants is obscene.
His fingers—the ones that had been deep inside me—interlink with mine, and he walks us to the private elevator to his penthouse. After he does the biometrics and enters the code, he turns to me once we’re inside the lift.
“Bad girls get punished. However, I promised you an orgasm in less than three minutes, and time is running out.”
Leaning up against the elevator wall because my legs aren’t stable, I lick my lips. “Tick-tock, loverboy,” I taunt like the last time I had been here.
“Challenge accepted, angel.”
He drops to his knees, throws my leg over his shoulder, and falls on me like a man starved, making me cry out and hold on to the wall bar for support.
His fingers dig into my ass cheeks as his tongue pushes in between the folds of my slit, using long, hard licks with the flat of his tongue. His groan pushes me up one last notch, and when he sucks hard on my clit, I’m a goner.
I scream out as my climax crashes through me, intensified by being brought to the edge and denied five times, delivering me the most powerful orgasm of my life. My legs give out as my whole body spasms and relaxes, then spasms again as wave after wave courses through me. His hands gripping my ass are the only thing that keeps me from collapsing as his mouth continues its conquering of my pussy.
The ding of the door announces we’ve arrived at his penthouse. He made me come in seconds.
I need this man.
“More.” I somehow get the word out from a mouth that doesn’t want to work. “Creed.”
He stands, sliding his body up mine. I feel like I’m drugged. My limbs don’t want to obey my commands to move.
“What do you need, angel?” He kisses my neck, my lips, and chin, transferring my wetness there. He licks up my wetness, wanting every drop for himself, then bites my earlobe. “What do you want me to do to you? But before you answer that, remember what I told you our first night together: never hold back from me. Never be shy about what you want or need. I’ll give you everything.”
I’ve never felt more liberated, safe, and loved, and I share one of my secret fantasies. “I want to fuck you in this elevator. Me completely naked, you fully clothed.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver coursing through me.
I’m not expecting him to fist the lapels of his tailored-made jacket I wear and rip it open. Nor am I expecting it when my T-shirt is torn down the front. He shoves the destroyed material off me, then rips my bra in half and pushes it off me as well, like it offends him.
I reach for his zipper and pull it down. The material of his boxer briefs is wet from the pre-cum that’s been seeping out of his cock. He hisses as I pull his hard, thick, tattooed cock out through his zipper.
“Christ, I love this cock.”
“That’s music to my ears, angel.”
He spins me around so I can see us in the mirror. One of his hands is around my throat, the other cups my pussy. His eyes hold mine in the mirror. “You didn’t realize the full ramifications the last time I told you this, but now I think you do.” His eyes burn into mine with a possessive but protective flame. “Sophie Demeanus… you’re my good girl… You’re my angel… You’re mine.”
Each word vibrates within me, and my eyes stay on his as the truth hammers home. This man… one I still need to learn about… to get to know… However, no other words have ever rang more true in my mind, heart, or soul.
“I’m your good girl. Your angel. Yours.”
He kisses the side of my neck, then breathes in my ear. “Eyes stay on us in the mirror while I claim you, Sophie Demeanus.”
I listen. I obey. Even if I didn’t want to, and trust me, I very much wanted to, I don’t think I could resist the command. My eyes stay on his as he spreads my legs. The coarseness of the fabric of his clothes sparks a myriad of sensations along my stimulated flesh.
He bites my neck when he pushes the tip of his broad head between my soaked lips, keeping his eyes trained on mine in the mirror as he slides deep inside my channel so I’m sheathed tightly around him. Claiming me. I can feel the binds of him holding me firm.
“Mine.” Then, he moves within me. My body, mind, and heart feel like it meddles with his as he whispers, “My home. My everything.”
And that’s when I fall over the edge for a man I only know as Creed and know there’s no turning back.
