Creed: Chapter 34

My life is amazing in so many ways—including mind-blowing sex and earth-tilting orgasms. I fall deeper in love with Creed every minute of every day. His family protects and welcomes me into their fold as if they’ve known me for years.

But it’s tainted, and I feel I’ve traded my family for this happiness, or at the very least, it will come to that.

If my family has tried to reach me and I haven’t responded, or if I don’t call Sylvie tomorrow for her birthday…

The longer this drags out, the more it will look to my family that Creed is keeping me from them. Coupled with who and what his family is, the hope that mine might accept him will be doomed.

I understand the risk—not only to me, but also to Creed’s family—but I’m at war between remaining off the grid and letting my family know what’s happening.

This constant internal war with myself adds to the dichotomy of being giddily happy and consumed with guilt, which ends up with me being anxious and on edge.

I’m with my soulmate but feel on the verge of losing everything.

My world teeters on the precipice of doom, and I have no control over it.

My eyes water with suppressed tears as Creed comes out of the ensuite. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to look away. His muscular hips and thighs are covered with the towel, and he rubs another towel over his hair. The ink covering his skin glistens with water droplets, and his piercing icy-blue eyes fall on me, lying on the bed in my pool of ruminating dread, anxiety, and guilt.

“Angel.” He frowns, walking over and sitting beside me.

He’s so gorgeous it should be illegal. I make a concentrated effort to ignore the heat blooming in my core. We had sex not even an hour ago—sex where I rode him so hard I may have cracked a vertebra, and he spanked my ass fifty shades of red until I came so hard I think I blacked out—but I’m insatiable when it comes to him.

I push up to sit, keeping the comforter with me and pulling it under my chin as I lean back against the headboard. “Sylvie’s birthday is tomorrow.”

He drags his tongue along his teeth. “I’m aware, Soph.”

“I have to call. If I don’t, the alarms will be raised.”

His jaw works. “Daniele and Crispin planted fake sightings of you in San Diego; that will hopefully flush out your father. Massimo’s contact in the FBI is also working to find him.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” I ask. He reaches to push my hair behind my ear, but I catch his hand. “If I don’t call Sylvie and actually talk to her, my family will know something is wrong. Maybe my father and Morales gave up and—”

“I’m not risking you with maybes, Sophie,” Creed snaps, his eyes like shards of ice, and he pulls away.

Anger flares in me—mine blazing hot to counter his icy rage. But I know his rage isn’t directed at me, and I know he’ll never hurt me.

“Fuck you,” I hiss and push the comforter away and get on my knees. “I’m not a prisoner here!”

“I know that, dammit, but your fuck of a father came for you!” Creed sucks in a haggard breath and visibly works to calm himself.

“I’m not doing this to be cruel,” he says, more in control. “I don’t want to keep you from your family. But, angel, your father has cartel men with him, at least one who is in fucking deep with trafficking. I’m not risking you. Don’t ask me again.”

“Don’t ask you again?” I flare and get off the bed, not caring that I’m naked. I fight the tears that burn at the back of my eyes as I feel even less control than ever. “This is my life, Creed.”

He steps toward me, and I mirror one back. His jaw hardens, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t continue coming at me. “You’re right; this is your life. But this is also our life, angel. We’re in this together.”

“And if my family involves the police because they think I’m missing?”

“Then my family will deal with it.”

“This isn’t how you chose to lead your life, Creed. If you manipulate and misuse your power, my family—”

“Will never forgive me,” he says gruffly. “They’ll never accept me. Trust me, angel, if that’s the trade-off for your safety, it’s a price I’ll pay without question. Every single time.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Creed—”

“Sophie, this conversation is over.”

“Fuck you!”

I have no control, no power, and the chains of helplessness and hopelessness that have been tightening clamp even tighter, threatening to crush me.

He rushes at me and pins me against the wall. His hand goes around my throat, not gripping it tightly, just holding me there as his body presses flush against mine. “I. Will. Not. Risk. You.”

“You can’t do this.” I push against him.

“I can and I will,” he grits.

“This isn’t how our relationship will go. This isn’t how marriage works. I won’t sign up for a life of being your docile, obedient—”

“Carrying you kicking and screaming to the altar isn’t off the table.”

His rigid length presses into my stomach from under his towel, and I fight to ignore the heat exploding like fireworks in my core. He reads my cues, every one of them, and pushes harder into me.

“You need control, power. I know, angel.” His tone is a contradictory blend of hard and soft. “But for your safety, I won’t relinquish my control. But take what you need from me right now so you don’t break.” He lifts my wrists above my head, pinning them in place with one of his hands.

Creed knows me so well, knows that I’m on the verge of shattering—on the verge of emotional ruin—as helplessness and hopelessness crush in. That taking control and power over something will act as a proxy to fend it off.

The hard press of his body against mine reminds me that I can gain control by giving him control. It’s another dichotomous contradiction, but it works.

“Please,” I whisper.

His eyes flare, understanding my plea. Submission. I need to submit. I need to submit to his dominance in terms of my pleasure.

In our relationship, I need to be Creed’s equal in our decisions, and he respects that, even though we are at odds over his protecting me right now. But in the bedroom, the hidden submissive—Siren Sophie—preens at handing him the reins over my pleasure because Creed doesn’t take; he only gives. He only feeds my whims and needs. He unleashes me and lets me fly.

Handing that control over to him, I feel my emotional turmoil and the helplessness and hopelessness already start to ease. I no longer feel on the verge of shattering.

His free hand yanks his towel off. His thick, heavy cock slaps my stomach, and his knee knocks my legs apart. His fingers fall to my slit. “So fucking soaked for me, angel. This perfect pretty pussy, this needy cunt, is so messy for me.”

A low moan grows deep inside me, and my eyes roll back in my head. There’s something about his filthy, vulgar words that unravels me.

“On your knees,” he commands roughly.

I don’t think, I don’t question, I just obey.

I sink to my knees, and he wraps his hand around his thick, tattooed cock to angle it to my mouth. I whimper with need as the broad head with the angel wings and my name furrowed in the feathers crosses my lips and rests on my tongue.

“Take me deep like you can,” he hisses, staring down at me as I stare up at him. I work him into my mouth, opening wide to fit him, taking him deep into my throat. My nose touches his stomach, and he moans. “Good girl.”

It makes no sense how my mouth, filled with his cock, gives me so much contentment and pleasure, but it does.

Another chain of helplessness and hopelessness falls away. I reach for his hands, placing them on my head, telling him what I need.

He fists my hair, pulling it tightly, then controls my head to counter the thrusts of his hips as he fucks my mouth. I slurp and suck on him, tears beading in my eyes and saliva dripping down my chin, my eyes never leaving his.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he snarls. “My fucking angel. Jesus fuck.” His hips ram forward, his balls hitting my chin. “Touch yourself. Sink your fingers into that dripping pussy that needs my cock so much.”

My hand slides down my stomach, over my mound, and splits my lips, finding myself soaked and dripping for him. I sink one finger in deep, then add a second and moan around his cock, sliding in and out of my mouth and throat. When he pulls shallower, I breathe deeply through my nose before he plunges back in with a growl. I time my fingers to the pace and rhythm of his thrusts as he stares down at me like a god over his fallen angel.

The room fills with the sounds of his groans, hissed curses, and my moans as he fucks my mouth and I finger myself.

But I need more. I need his thickness filling me. I need my clit dragging on his skin. I need his naked flesh on mine, my nipples rubbing on his chest. I cup his balls and squeeze, making him hiss.

“My dirty little angel. You’re going to make me cum in your mouth.” He yanks me off my knees and up around his waist. My legs lock around his hips, and he drives into me to the hilt. My back slams against the wall, and I cry out as pleasure erupts and spirals all over my body.

“My cum goes in this pussy. I’m fucking breeding you. Fucking my baby into you.”

My pussy clamps around him.

He snarls as he starts to fuck me wildly. Like he’s going to fuck me within an inch of my life. A scream of pleasure rips from me, and my back arches as I’m slammed against the wall again and again.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls and bites my neck. When I don’t answer fast enough, he bites again, harder, as he hammers into me relentlessly.

“I’m yours,” I cry, arching and pressing to get closer to him. “Creed, I’m yours.”

Hot tears coat my cheeks—not because he’s physically hurting me, but from the release he gives me.

“No one,” he grunts, then his fingers bite into my ass as he pummels into me. “No one will ever take you from me. Do you understand?”

Fury, desire, and conviction battle for domination on his face as he stares at me like my dark god. “Do.” He slams into me and pulls almost out. “You.” He hammers back in. “Understand?” His finger presses into my back forbidden hole when he pulls out of my pussy and slams back in, and I shatter for him.

“Yes!” I scream as my body breaks with the intense climax. I jerk violently as the orgasm crests into a massive explosion, and the air sucks from my chest.

“Fuck, angel,” Creed snarls, fighting to move in and out of me as my pussy seizes around him. “Mine. Mine. You’re mine.” He growls like an animal, and his head falls back as he pours his thick cum deep within me, and I rake my nails down his back.

My body goes limp, and Creed slides us down the wall, still with me impaled on his shaft. He kneels, keeping me pinned against the wall, and buries his face into my neck. His breathing is as ragged as mine, and he kisses over the bite mark that will bruise, then buries his face again.

“I’m not trying to be a tyrant, Soph.”

“I know.” I thread my fingers through his hair. “But I need to know I’m your equal partner, Creed.”

“You are,” he says without hesitation. “However, with this…” He lifts his head, and his unique, beautiful eyes burn into mine. “I’ll never concede, compromise, or give when it comes to your safety, angel.”

In some ways, his words make me feel so loved, cherished, and safe. But therein lies my constant contradiction of late because, on the flip side of the coin, I want to scream, rant, and rave at him and his stance.

He rests his forehead on mine, holding my eyes. “I need your trust with this.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and speak hoarsely, “I need to call Sylvie tomorrow.”

“I’ll speak with Crispin again to see where he’s at with this. If your family’s phones are being monitored, he’s working to make it look like you’re in San Diego, which would reinforce the surveillance plants of you being there, too.”

I cup his face, keeping his forehead against mine. “Thank you.”

“I’m not making any promises, angel,” he warns. I stiffen, and he kisses me softly. “We’ll figure this out together.”

He wraps his arms under me as he stands—his strength always amazes me. I wrap my arms around his muscular back, resting my chin on his shoulder, and lock my legs around his waist. He carries us to the bed and sits on the edge, keeping me on him.

“Ride me, angel,” he whispers. “And tell me again how you’re mine.”