It’s all so… domesticated.
I sit on the cream-colored island. Creed is shirtless, barefoot, and wearing sweats while he makes us dinner. He had destroyed my shirt and bra and hid my jeans and panties, so I’m wearing one of his dress shirts. He had popped the collar on me, mussed my already-messy hair, then told me I looked perfect and plopped me here, ordering me to sit. I’m antsy, though. My family always works together to prepare a meal, so sitting and watching, not having a job to do, feels foreign and uncomfortable.
He tosses my phone as if he senses my discomfort, even though I try to hide it. He had gone down to grab my bag from his vehicle at some point. Probably when I fell asleep after our bath, and yet another orgasm.
“You’re still not helping with the food, but at least your phone will occupy you a bit. You have several missed calls.”
“You snooped on my phone?” I half-tease, half-scowl.
“I glanced at the notifications on your locked screen.” He shrugs a muscular shoulder, but there’s a tightness to his body. His expression looks like a mild version of the thunderous one he had when I had come out of the library with…
Zac.
“Shit,” I mutter, opening my phone and seeing multiple missed calls and texts from Zac. He had been watching for me to make it back to campus, and when I never did, he started to freak out. I dial his number, feeling Creed’s attention on me.
Is he jealous? Does he think Zac and I have something going on?
Zac answers after the first ring. “Thank God. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, sorry, Zac. I…” I glance at Creed, who looks like he’s trying to cool his expression and reaction but is one breath away from his control being annihilated. “I met up with a friend who’s in town.” I try not to wince when Creed’s jaw clenches at the word ‘friend’. But what the hell are we, anyway?
Zac’s sigh of relief is heavy. “Who’s the friend? Someone from back home?”
“He’s, ah, yeah…” I say, not wanting to lie, but I don’t want to come across as a slut.
“Will you be back tonight? You could come to the party—”
My laugh cuts Zac off. “What, out of everything you know about me, tells you I’d say yes to going to a frat party? One where you’d ignore me, anyway?”
Creed looks at me curiously, probably trying to assess if I’m being snippy or feeling hurt.
“You’re delusional as always, Zac. But don’t make stupid decisions tonight. You can try to salvage your relationship with Russ.”
Zac hisses out a breath. “That ship has sailed, friend.”
I bite my lip at the misery in his voice. “You always have a choice. You just need to decide who you’re living your life for.”
“It’s not that easy.” His sigh is heavy, resigned. “I gotta run. But are you sure you’re okay?”
I glance at Creed leaning against the counter, openly listening to my side of the conversation.
“I’m great.”
“I can hear the happiness in your voice, Soph.” Zac pauses briefly. “I’m glad your friend, whoever they are, gives you that. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
I hang up and meet Creed’s eyes. “Zac is who you saw me with at the library. We’re friends from school.”
“Why meet up at a city library far from the campus? Why take the bus to and from there if he drove?”
“We’re secret friends.” I pause, trying to think of how to explain. “Not because of anything dirty or shameful. He has a reputation he tries to uphold.”
Okay, I’m making Zac sound like the douche canoe he portrays himself as, and by Creed’s stiffening posture, I’m not painting him in a good light.
“It’s not because Zac deprecates me, but I’m not like the usual people he surrounds himself with.” I twist the hem of Creed’s shirt, thinking about the sadness in Zac’s voice. “He’s on track for pro ball, so he comes across as a jock who that’s his life. He’s been upholding that image for so long; he truly believes that’s all he is.”
“He’s gay and is hiding it,” Creed surmises, although that isn’t hard because I mentioned trying to salvage the relationship with Russ.
“I saw what Zac was hiding so well from everyone. Maybe it’s because of my uncle Antonio. He struggled with his sexual identity, at times only being attracted to females, other times only to males, until he realized he was more sexually fluid and a label or fitting into a category wasn’t needed.”
Antonio is happy now, both with who he is and who he loves; he and Miguel are perfect together.
Zac is the opposite of happy.
“Zac plays the role of what everyone sees him as, even if it’s making him miserable. With me, he doesn’t have to pretend or hide. We keep our friendship on the down low because hanging out with me would raise questions, and he’d likely have to act even more like a douche. For all the people who surround him, he doesn’t have true friends.”
Creed settles between my legs. “You’re good people, Sophie Demeanus.”
“You thought Zac and I were together,” I guess, thinking back to his reaction on the street and at the beginning of the phone call.
He nods, unashamed.
Thinking back to when he had seen me outside the library and the possessive gleam in his eyes, the hardness on his face, his fists clenched, and his body rigid, looking like he was barely restraining from causing violence…
My core clenches. His jealousy and possessiveness are the biggest turn-on.
God, what this man does to me…
As if knowing my thoughts, he trails a finger up my leg toward my apex. Without pressing in, he runs it up my slit. “You’re wet again, angel. Does my jealousy turn you on?”
There’s no judgment or anger in the question, only curiosity.
“No,” I lie, biting my lip. He reaches forward and pulls my lip free with his teeth, then sucks on it before he bites it.
“This is mine to bite. Just like this pussy is mine.” He pushes a finger in, making my eyes roll in the back of my head. “You’re holding back something from me. Tell me.”
The command in his voice takes over, and I can only obey.
“The look of possessiveness you had when I saw you…” My head lolls to rest on his shoulder as he starts to pump his finger in and out of me. “The look when I was on the phone… That’s what made me wet.”
“Thank you for telling me and for being open and honest. Good girl.” He adds another finger, but when he touches my clit, I jerk at the sensitive, almost painful shocks. “Your perfect, swollen clit is too overstimulated for a clit orgasm, angel. We need to rest that.”
He pulls his hand away from me, and I whimper. Christ, I whimper with need. He sucks his fingers off, then turns back to the stove and the pot with steam rising. He puts the lid on and lowers the temperature.
“The sauce needs to simmer for a while.” He turns back to me, and his piercing icy-blue eyes are alight with fire. “On your hands and knees on the island, angel.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“You were a bad girl earlier, remember? In the car, when you were going to try to make yourself come. And bad girls get punishments.”
He licks his bottom lip, eyeing me like he’s a wolf and I’m his prey.
Hands and knees on the island…
Oh god, is he going to spank me?
Excitement ripples through me, and I scramble to get into position.
“Like this?” I look over my shoulder back at him, his shirt pooling at my waist, exposing my bare ass and pussy to him.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”
His large hand runs over the plump curve of my ass cheek. His other hand comes up and spreads my cheeks, exposing my tight, forbidden bud to him. His tongue licks up my seam, and I squeal in shock. He licks me again, pushing his tongue firmer against the tight hole, then bites my cheek. While running his finger lightly up and down my seam, he says in a low, gravelly voice, “This hole is mine, too.”
I shake my head.
The contact on my ass cheek makes me scream in shock, not pain.
“This hole is mine,” he repeats. “But I’ll never force you if you’re not interested, angel.” He kisses where he spanked my cheek. “However, you need to accept and know that nothing we do together is wrong, as long as it’s consensual.” He kisses my cheek again. “It can be dirty as fuck, and naughty as sin, but it’s a safe space between you and me.”
“A lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets,” I murmur, tilting my ass up a bit more. After the initial shock of the touch there, I’m not hating it.
“Exactly. Whatever your kinks are, you tell me.”
Hell, I have no idea what my kinks are—this is all new to me—but he makes me feel accepted and safe to explore it with him.
“What if something I want to try makes you uncomfortable?”
He massages my ass cheeks, and I envision him staring at my puckered hole and my very wet pussy, as he splays and kneads the flesh.
“I’ll always be honest about my boundaries, angel, just as I need you to be. Okay?”
He keeps talking and making statements that, without explicitly stating it, are long-term. Yes, he ‘claimed’ me, had staked ownership of my body, whispered that I was his home and his everything… But we haven’t spoken exactly about the long-term.
I realize I don’t need to label it or try to categorize it into a neat little box. I’m with him, he’s with me, and he won’t impede my goals and plans. That’s all I need at this point. We’ll explore and learn about each other and see where we end up. And I’m going to love the journey.
My body is already humming, ‘Yes, please,’ with sensations and feelings only he has ever made me experience.
“Okay.” I exhale the last of my resistance.
“Good girl.”
My pussy clenches. Then I scream as his hand lands on my ass cheek with more force than the first spank.
The sting… Oh god… But the pleasure that chases the pain…
I moan, pushing back toward him. “Again.”
The next one hits my other ass cheek, but my scream is choked.
“We didn’t establish a safe word, angel, but say stop if it’s too much.” He rubs over my stinging flesh, his rough, callused hands feeling so absolutely right.
I nod.
“More?”
I nod again as my cheeks burn and my core pulses. This is the oddest and hottest punishment ever.
“Are you sure?”
I look back over my shoulder. “I trust you.”
Emotions play over his stunning face, and his eyes and nostrils flare. He reaches forward and under me to my clit, making me jerk with the overstimulation, then drags his fingers through my wetness and pulls it up my crack. He repeats the movement but pauses on my pussy.
“This pussy is mine. Say it.”
“My pussy is yours.” We’ve already established that, but saying the words again hammers home the reality of how right this feels.
His breath seethes out of him as he drags my wetness up my crack again; only this time, he gently presses the lubed tip of one finger slightly into me. “This ass is mine.”
Heady sensations fill me as he pushes in a little further. “My ass is yours.”
He leans forward, his finger still halfway in me, and uses his other hand to pull on my hair, using it to control my head and tilt it back and to the side. His mouth hovers over mine. “This mouth is mine.”
I lick my lips. “My pussy, ass, and mouth, my everything, is yours, Creed. And that beautiful cock, rock-hard ass, and ripped body of inked muscle and flesh are mine. Only mine,” I lay claim to him.
“Only yours.” He brushes his lips over mine, a touch so gentle and out of place for the increasingly dirty things playing out.
He pulls back so suddenly, and then his hand thunders down on my ass six times, three on each cheek. In the end, I’m almost sobbing in need, with the throbbing between my legs overtaking the throb and sting of my ass cheeks.
The need to come is destroying me; however, I know stimulation to my clit is too much, and I’ve never orgasmed from penetration alone before.
He gently rolls me over onto my back—my ass cheeks relishing the cold of the island top—and starts rubbing my breasts over his shirt that I wear.
I smile up at him towering over me. His deft fingers undo the buttons and slip in to free my breasts and work that erogenous zone for me. “I thought I was being punished.”
His smile makes my core clench, and my heart flip. “Is your ass not on fire yet?”
I squirm because it is burning, but it feels wonderful. I stare up at him like a god towering over me. “I quite liked my punishment.”
“Hmm.” He looks down at me with need darkening his eyes. “You want your reward now, angel.”
I know what I want. I shimmy my body and place my head on the island’s edge. “I want you in my mouth.”
The image of him looking down at me, his eyes blown with lust and his nostrils flaring, will be forever imprinted on my brain.
I reach over my head to pull his big, thick cock out of his sweatpants. When I slip him into my mouth, pushing my body to hang my head further over the island so he can go deep inside my throat, he groans, long and hard.
I’m at his mercy. In this position, I can’t move up and down his shaft or pull back for air—he controls all the movement. He starts to fuck my mouth, pulling back to let me get more air before plunging back in.
“Fuck,” he groans. “My dirty, perfect little angel. My siren hidden from the world.” His hands bury into my hair and grip my head, thrusting harder and faster. “You like swallowing my cock?”
I nod and hum around him.
“Good fucking girl.” He pulls out, and I gasp a deep breath, my pussy clenching at his words and praise. Then he plows back in. “Christ, I’m sliding right down your throat.” He palms my throat.
I’m so turned on right now that wetness from my pussy slides down my ass crack to pool on the island. When he works my breasts and nipples—a heady combination of teasing, squeezing, pinching, and twisting—I cry out in pleasure around his cock stuffed in my mouth. My orgasm comes out of nowhere, and he pulls out as the shock of it hinders my ability to do anything except ride out the waves of bliss.
As soon as I’m coherent and able, I reach back to grip his hips and pull him deeper into my mouth again, urging him to shoot his cum down my throat. It doesn’t take long for him to finish after that, and I feel him thicken, then start to pulse as he groans and continues to hold and touch my body like it’s his lifeline.
Finally spent, he slumps over me, pulling his cock from my mouth as I suck the last of him down. He supports the back of my head as he nestles his face into my neck. Then he gathers me up and walks with me to the sofa in his living room.
“Stay put,” he orders. “I’ll be right back.”
True to his word, he returns shortly with a container and a blanket. He cradles me in his arms again, then spins off the lid of the container and rubs the ointment on my burning skin. “This is a cooling gel with some shea butter. I use it for strained muscles when working out. It will do for spanking aftercare today, but I’ll get some actual stuff for the future.”
I nestle into him, loving the cuddling and care he gives me. “You’re dangerous, Creed Santoro.”
He stiffens, then relaxes and kisses the crown of my head. “You told me that the first night.”
“I know. But that’s when I thought you were a danger because you’d be a distraction.”
“And now?” he prods when I don’t continue.
I swallow against the thickness of my throat. “Now you’re a danger for so many more reasons.”
I’m falling hard for him, so fast. Without even knowing hardly anything about him. It’s insane. It’s stupid. But it’s happening.
“You feel it, too, don’t you, angel? Who and what we are. Together. To each other.”
I can’t answer. Because if I do, that will make the feeling—the one in my gut and in my soul—a reality. And I’m not sure if I’m ready to admit that.
