Chapter 29 Riley
Riley
“NEED SOME HELP WITH THAT?”
Watching Creed and Collins fuck in bed while I sat back and commanded the entire thing was single-handedly the hottest, most bold thing I’ve ever done or witnessed.
My girl is a beautiful, needy little thing, and we can’t say no to her…
like, ever. But it felt like a long lost puzzle piece finally snapping into place when I found myself paying close attention to Creed, too.
Things had already started to change between the two of us, and now those budding feelings seem to be rushing back with a vengeance.
Of course, his cock was a massive distraction with the way his piercing glistened in the low light with her arousal.
Collins had silently convinced me to grab his dick the same way he’d grabbed mine in the hotel room months ago—and I loved it.
The foreign feeling of touching a cock that wasn’t mine was just as exhilarating as fucking Collins.
More than that, I just couldn’t stop looking at him. For once, I did more than just look; I allowed myself to ogle him openly. I admired various parts of his body as my eyes roamed and explored, finding myself aroused at the most random things.
Like the way his tattooed fingers drifted over Collins’ body like an erotic dance.
The way the veins in his forearms popped when he held her tight.
The planes of muscle that flexed along his back with every thrust inside of her.
Even the soft, neatly groomed happy trail that led from his navel to his cock had me fucking drooling in my chair.
But what had me ready to come all over the towel that barely concealed my cock was the look on his stupidly attractive face.
Sure, there was lust there, but more than that, there was adoration when he looked at her.
When he looked at me, that look alone had my stomach flipping over itself, desperate and craving more.
Now, here I lie in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because I’ve got a raging hard on.
I couldn’t touch myself earlier. Or, more like I wouldn’t.
Even with continued therapy, it’s clear that my hands are so goddamned unsteady and shaky when I try to squeeze objects; my dick is no exception.
It’s embarrassing that I can’t jerk off in private, let alone in front of Collins and Creed.
They both seem to be healing well enough, both physically and mentally— meanwhile, I feel like I’m fucking stuck in reverse.
I was doing better… until I wasn’t, which is why Wilder will be coming out this week for an extra session to reevaluate and hopefully help me work through this highly irritating hiccup.
He’d already explained that some of my setbacks are psychological—my own brain working against me, but a part of me still needs his help.
While Creed and Collins showered, I donned my weighted gloves and got to work trying to change the sheets so that we had a clean place to sleep.
It was a feat in and of itself because not only was it a hell of a challenge to complete, I had to do it while keeping my towel in place, while simultaneously fighting a massive erection.
It hasn’t really gone down or disappeared, either.
I’m stuck in this seemingly permanent state of turned on because I’m surrounded by the events of the evening.
Despite having clean sheets, the smell of sex and soap lingers in the air with every inhale.
Seeing the two of them come together, Creed’s cock thrusting into Collins so hard that she soaked the sheets, is all that plays in an endless loop in my mind every time I close my eyes.
I refused to touch myself earlier because I was afraid that the tremors would’ve prevented me from being able to come. Joke’s on me, because here I lie, wide awake and still hard as a fucking rock.
Collins is wrapped around Creed like a tiny blonde koala, snoring lightly.
He’s got one hand on top of hers where it rests on his chest, while his arm beneath her head reaches for me.
Unable to help myself, I place a light kiss to his fingertips, then one to Collins’ temple before slipping out of bed.
I suck in a breath through my nose, and once again, I'm reminded of tonight’s events as the smell of citrus and sex lingers in the air, and my dick gives a little pulsing throb in response.
Shit.
I pad my way to the bathroom and close myself in before flipping on the dim lights.
My clothes are suddenly too tight with how wound up I feel, so I quickly strip out of my boxers and tee.
I do my best to ignore my reflection, but the shiny glint of the bullet wound in my shoulder pulls my attention.
Reluctantly, I turn and take in the man I see in the mirror.
My hair has grown just a little, but not enough to cover the half of my ear that’s missing. I thank my lucky stars that I didn’t lose my hearing because of it. Though for a while, everything did sound a bit muffled.
My fingers lift, involuntarily skimming over the pink scarring on my cheek and temple, before dropping to touch the puckered skin of the bullet wound.
The stab wound in my leg is healed, though the larger scar is still tender at times.
My wrists are also scarred from the burns and cuts I’d ultimately given myself from pulling and jerking, and constantly attempting to free myself from the restraints every day for two weeks.
I fucking hate them.
They’re a constant reminder of how helpless I was to save Collins from so much pain.
“Choose, boy,” Guy’s voice flits through my head. “My name on her chest, or I carve this hideous fucking tattoo that’s tainting her perfect skin.”
I flinch at the memory of his slimy voice. Goddamnit.
Shaking my head vehemently to rid myself of those thoughts, I try to switch gears and focus my mind on something else. Something good.
Count the positives in your life, Riley.
So what’s the first thing I think of? Tonight.
But I’m curious, and want to test something. There’s no doubt that thoughts of my girl can get me hard and make me come. Instead, I let my mind wander to thoughts of Creed alone.
His voice overpowers the nightmarish memories, silencing their malevolence with his filthy fucking mouth. “I want your eyes on him while I fuck this perfect pussy, Stardust.”
He knew what his words would do to me. I was flaming red, yet so turned on. From the moment Collins climbed on top of him and faced me, it took one glance away from her glassy jade eyes, and instantly, my focus remained glued to the place where they were connected.
My cock throbs at the memory of watching his piercing disappear inside of her over and over.
Turning on the shower, I step under the hot spray, but it does nothing to stave off my ever-growing arousal. I’m so turned on right now, and it’s all because of these thoughts I’m having about my best friend.
About his body.
About his cock.
Yeah, his cock that’s perfectly thick with a big vein that runs along the underside. And that goddamned piercing.
I’ve never considered myself to be an overly sexual person. My attraction comes from the emotional connection I feel to a person, but there’s no denying Creed’s all-over…beauty. I’m relatively certain that’s the most appropriate way to describe him, because he truly is.
For the first time since knowing Creed, I find myself unabashedly fantasizing about him. Scenario after scenario plays out in my head, thoughts of touching him, and learning how to bring him the same pleasure that Collins does.
Would it feel the same?
I can’t seem to turn these thoughts off as the fantasies slam into me, one right after another; I fucking yearn for it. I don’t think I possess the balls or confidence to actually do it, so I’ll stick to my thoughts.
My dick is so painfully hard, and I can’t take the aching, throbbing need anymore. I give my hand a mental pep talk, willing my grip strength to return and for the tremors to stay away when I grip my cock in my hand and give it a few slow pumps.
I could cry with the relief of being able to touch myself again. But that relief is short-lived because I get about eight full strokes in before the muscles in my hand start to spasm.
“Fuck, no, please,” I hiss into the steam of the shower, dropping my head back against the tiles with a hard thump. I try to keep going, but it’s useless because I can’t hold myself tight enough for it to make a difference.
Raising my hands in front of my face, I glare daggers at the offending appendages. I squeeze my eyes shut. “You’re a couple of assholes—”
“Aww, c’mon, don’t say that,” Creed’s voice quietly cuts through the air, and I startle, my eyes snapping open to find him leaning one shoulder against the wall in nothing but his boxers, arms crossed over his naked, inked torso as he watches me intently.
There’s a teasing smirk on his face, but the roiling heat burning in his eyes and the very obvious strain of his dick against his boxers makes my face and chest flush. “You seemed to be doing so well.”
I swallow thickly, shaking my head. “My hands—I—” I blow a harsh breath through my nose. “They don’t fucking work right, and I’m…” Fucking horny.
He pushes off the wall and steps towards me. A single brow quirks when he says, “You’re…”
My face burns impossibly hotter, and I shake my head again. I’m used to Creed’s vulgarity, but I’m no dirty-talker. I tried earlier, but it pales in comparison to the way he just says whatever unfiltered, dirty thoughts that come to his mind.