Chapter 20
Millie
Creed’s footsteps echo in the empty gym, every step pulling another sob from my mouth. Every inch of my body burns, aches, and pleads with me to do something. To make him stay.
The way he looks at me, the way he begs for my words... It’s a blessing and a curse. I’ve never felt this powerful and this defeated at the same time.
One second, I have a hold on him. I’m in control and it does dangerous things to my head. I want more of it... and the next, his voice hardens and something inside me locks down again.
It’s like he’s reaching too close to a part of me I barely recognize, one I don’t know how to give without losing whatever’s left of me.
His hands hit the swinging door, and I bolt upright, chasing after him, driven by instinct. My body moves before my mind can stop it and I grab his arm. He spins, jaw set hard, eyes cold and distant, but I don’t care. My hands move without command, grasping his t-shirt and yanking him down.
Our lips connect.
Nothing but a hard press, but the contact makes my heart stutter like crazy.
“Millie—”
No, I mouth, shutting him up.
It’s like a red rag to a bull. He bands his arm around my lower back, the other fisting my ponytail and pulling hard enough for fresh tears to sting my eyes.
He stares down his nose at me. “No what, baby? No talking? No explaining? No apologizing for acting like a bitch?”
That should hurt. I should feel insulted, but instead, I feel exposed. Whipping my head up, I ignore the pain screaming through my scalp and crash my mouth to his.
He freezes for a second, paralyzed in place, but in the next breath, he crushes me against him, his tongue forcing its way past my lips and into my mouth.
Nothing’s ever felt this good.
I gasp, desire taking me over with a vengeance. Every dream I’ve had since walking in on Abby loops inside my head, isolating his hands, lips, and cock, while redacting Noah.
Creed groans into the kiss that’s far from sweet or soft.
It’s nothing like the first kisses from movies or Abby’s rom-coms. This is a battle. A war between two mouths. We’re fighting to stay on top, to purge our frustration and anger, to hurt and punish each other for different things.
Me for the unwarranted trust he’s ignited, for how much I want to curl into him and stay there.
Him for my silence.
He bites my lower lip, tugging it between us, and groans again, sinking deeper into my mouth, his hot tongue tangling with mine, his hands bruising my body. I rake my nails down his back, intending to leave long angry lines.
I want his t-shirt off.
I want to break skin.
He catches my chin, steering my face, and the control in that gesture, the dominating possessive way he kisses me, melts every ounce of fear off my bones.
My head’s so quiet. Nothing there but Creed.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself in closer, clinging to him for dear life. He doesn’t stop kissing me, teeth nipping my lip, tongue soothing the sting, only so he can bite harder. I moan softly, and his fist yanks in my hair until it hurts, and my body sings with the control he takes.
He’s all I feel, all I see, all I smell, and I can’t stop the fire inside me from blazing into an inferno. I’ve been walking around needy and wanting for days. Now he’s touching me and I’m so wet it’s no longer just my panties.
My leggings are drenched too.
Breaking the kiss, I shift, my fingers working clumsily. I don’t think about what I’m doing until cool air hits my skin and my bra lands somewhere behind him. Creed’s pupils blow wide when my boobs spill out, nipples pebbled.
He’s on me like a savage, hand under my butt, lifting me into his arms, lips devouring mine again.
The next thing I know is forward motion, a few long strides, the personnel only door opening, and my back hitting a gym mat. I only manage a quick glance around, enough to realize we’re in a small room, surrounded by spare equipment.
Creed latches onto my neck, sucking hard over my pulse point. I’m panting, clawing at him, wanting more. His hastened breath and those growled grunts drive me incoherent.
Desperate for more, I grab the hem of his t-shirt, dragging it up. He sits up long enough to let me tear it off, then falls back down, hanging over me, his knee pushing my thighs open.
Oh God.
I whimper when the hard line of his cock, still tucked into his sweatpants, presses between my legs. I weave my fingers into his hair, closing a fist to guide his mouth over my breast, shuddering when he sucks my nipple, biting hard enough I nearly cry out.
“You might be quiet, but your body’s loud, baby,” he rasps.
Twisting my fingers in his hair, I keep pulling him in, raking my nails down his back, loving the hiss he lets out every time, his hot breath fanning my wet nipples.
“You feel what you do to me?” he grits out, grinding his thick erection into me through the layers separating our skin. “One kiss and I’m losing my goddamn mind.”
I shut him up with another kiss. Wrapping my legs around him, I take as much of his closeness as I can before he stops me. I suck his lower lip into my mouth, biting down while Creed grabs my waist, sinking his fingers deep into my flesh.
He keeps moving, pressing his cock between my legs, the pressure divine but not enough.
Not nearly enough.
I need him inside me right now. I need him to take, claim, do something to stop me from slipping back into that hollow place.
My vision tunnels as I tug at the elastic of his sweatpants, trying to get them off.
“Want me to fuck you, Millie Baby?” he asks, biting my ear.
Lust paints everything red, hot, and unbearable. I don’t answer with words, but I clench my thighs around his middle. Creed groans and whips himself up, tearing my leggings down and off, not far from ripping the thin fabric.
He’s rushing and so am I, rising with him, latching onto him, pulling him back as soon as he throws the offensive scrap aside. He pushes his hand between my legs, swiping two fingers over my cotton panties and I arch into him, desperate for more.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers, biting my lip again.
I’m drenched and needy and he’s fucking stalling, so I tug his sweatpants and boxers down, my breath punching out of my lungs when his cock springs free.
It’s long and thick, the crown swollen, leaking precum.
He’s so big and I... I’ve never even pushed one finger inside me. Rationally, I know he’ll fit, but my heart’s not far off breaking my ribs. Still, beneath the pang of fear, desire sends my mind into overdrive. I don’t care if it’ll hurt. Pain makes you stronger.
I want it to hurt. I want more of his touch, lips, those brutal kisses and fingers marking my body. I want to feel powerful, not fragile, and Creed can give me just that.
I grab his cock, pumping up and down, awed by how silky he is to the touch. I barely stroke him three times before he cinches my wrist, falling forward to cover my body. His fist replaces mine at the hilt and I tug my panties aside.
He doesn’t waste more time, greedy and feral, fucking primal as he guides the crown to my entrance and drives his hips forth, filling me in one hard thrust.
I cry out, pain screaming down my thighs, my nails breaking the skin along his shoulders.
“Christ,” he grits out, pulling back then slamming in, as he settles for a punishing rhythm. “You’re so—so fucking tight.”
I don’t let him scrutinize my face or he’ll notice I’m pushing through the pain of losing my virginity so abruptly.
A little pain never killed anybody.
But shit... it hurts more than I expected.
I can take it.
I’m not fucking fragile.
I don’t want to stop and think and wonder again.
“Fuck—” he rasps, every thrust scooting me up the mat. “Jesus, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
I drag his lips to mine, moaning as he rocks into me. The sharp pain retreats within moments, replaced by a sting that borders on pleasure. I’m crawling out of my skin beneath him.
I can’t get enough of this feeling, Creed’s mouth, or his possessive touch. He bruises my thigh while I dig my nails into his scalp, desperately pulling him closer.
I meet him thrust for thrust, tongue for tongue.
We move together, fast and rough, and I don’t feel broken.
Creed’s not gentle, not careful in the least. The lust between us, the reckless desire pulling us under, is the most erotic thing I could hope for.
He palms my ass, holds me still and fucks me into the gym mat like he can’t get enough of me.
My moans and gasps fill the room, the slap of our skin ricocheting off the wall. Pain mixes with pleasure. Everything inside me tightens and my mind switches off, not registering anything save for Creed and how free I feel while he ruins me.
My orgasm builds as he buries himself deeper and deeper, like he wants to crawl under my skin.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” His teeth graze my jaw. “I can feel it. Come for me, Millie. Let go, let go.”
I’m not the only one who’s close.
He swears under his breath, shuddering in my arms, and as if that was the secret ingredient, my back bows off the mat. Everything inside me detonates, pleasure and pain shooting every which way. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming, fucking beautiful.
I never want that bliss to stop.
My thighs shake, my abdomen cramps and my mind soars somewhere unreachable for a few blissful seconds.
“That’s it,” he rasps, his cock dragging over my inner walls, his thrusts less rhythmical. “Fuck, you’re a sight.”
Another few seconds and he’s coming too, his panted breaths and broken grunts in my ear. He buries his cock deep a little harder, then a little slower. His abdomen pulls tight and teeth close over my shoulder as he spills with a guttural sound.
I hold him through it, completely spent and mellow, my legs barely cinching his waist. I’m breathing hard, my mouth’s dry, and my pussy throbs, sensitive and swollen.
Creed kisses the spot where he bit me, then kisses my lips a little softer. His hand tangles in my hair as his cock goes limp inside me but he doesn’t move right away. We stay like that, catching our breaths and calming our racing hearts.
“How are you doing?” he asks after a while, nudging my nose with his. “Because you look wrecked.”
I smile and nod, eyes closed, body wrung out in the best way. I’ve never felt this exhausted, no matter how many miles I’ve run. All I want now is to crawl under my comforter and sleep.
Creed pulls himself up, his cock slipping out of me, and I smile at how deliciously sore I am and not broken.
“What the fuck?” he inhales sharply.
My eyes fly open. He stares between my legs, his hands shaking on his thighs. I follow his gaze.
Oh... blood.
Not much, a few specks on my thighs and pussy, a bit more on his cock, but the message is clear. He knows exactly what he took. What I gave him.
His dark eyes snap to mine, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.”
I sit up, adjusting my panties, body still humming pleasantly with the aftermath of the orgasm, but my head’s far from calm.
What am I supposed to say?
I don’t know what he wants from me. This is the first time I’ve felt like I’m not drowning since I woke up at the hospital, machines beeping around my bed.
It’s the first time I’ve felt like maybe, just maybe, I can move on.
Like I’m strong enough to do so, but Creed looks furious, and anxiety slithers through my heart.
“You...” He breaks off, and then, as if electrified, he scoots away, tucking his cock into his pants. “You were a fucking virgin?”
I flinch at the accusation in his tone.
He doesn’t just sound mad.... he sounds betrayed.
I reach for my leggings, tugging them on while Creed towers over me, chest heaving, hands ripping his hair.
“You should’ve fucking told me, Millie. What the hell were you thinking, letting me touch you like that?”
My sports bra is in the other room, so I cover myself with both hands, the magic of the moment long gone.
“Say something,” he snaps, hauling me up and shaking my shoulders. “Fucking talk, Millie! Why did you let me touch you?”
Because I wanted it. I wanted him. I could’ve told him I’ve never had sex, but I wanted the pain so I could endure. He has no idea how much strength he ignites within me without trying.
A dark, maniacal laugh bubbles from his chest, his eyes cold as he gets in my face. “You let me fuck you,” he seethes. “Let me hurt you. But you won’t let me hear your voice, right?”
He stalks away, marching right out of the equipment closet and straight toward the boxing bags, his bare fists connecting with the leather.
“Fuck! You’re really messed up, baby, you know that?”
His muscles shift, flex, and I watch him lose control, hammering the bag as if channeling his rage onto that is all he can do not to channel it onto me.
I can’t help the disappointed tears gathering in my eyes.
I wanted him to be my first. I loved every second. I’m fine.
But he’s furious and won’t even look at me now.
As quickly as I can, I pull on my bra, then my hoodie, and shoulder my bag, shame heating my cheeks.
Shame and anger because how dare he act like I’ve tricked him? Like I forced him to do something against his will? Like this wasn’t what we both wanted?
Pushing the door open, I look over my shoulder, my voice ringing loud and clear.
“I hate you, Creed.”