Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
CREED
I lean my elbows on the sticky bar table, nursing my third beer as I huff out a sigh. Our auto shop is usually packed on Friday nights, but tonight it isn’t. For years, Ty and I have been trying to grab a drink together, but our workload always got in the way. Now, with the quiet slump we've been facing at the shop, we finally have time, but it's not exactly what either of us would rather be doing.
“Look, man, we’re gonna be fine. Let me talk to my cousin, Linc. Maybe see if he can give us a short-term loan.”
I frown. “Ty, nah. I think I’d rather close the shop than take money from your cousin.”
Linc is a dealer, and he has some people in high places in his pocket. He could get us the money, sure. But there’d be conditions. Conditions I am not willing to take.
“We’ve worked for too damn long to lose the shop, man. The guys depend on us.”
“You think I don’t know that. I don’t want to be the one to tell old Bobby he isn’t gonna retire with his wife on the beach somewhere, or Lisa that she can’t keep supporting her sick mom because she won’t have a job for much longer.” I knock back my beer and call for another one.
“Maybe, we should call it a night,” Ty says.
“Maybe you should go home to that sweet ass wife of yours and stop baby-sitting me.”
My friend sighs, a long, drawn-out sigh that tells me he’s not done talking.
Just then the door opens and the girl walking through it halts all thoughts about my bankrupt business and overprotective best friend.
Her long dark curls reach her waist, perfect curves and in clothes I am certain were made for her alone. Fuck! Those hips were made for my hands. Perfect. That is what the girl is. A girl, yes, but I can't take my eyes off her.
“Damn!” I say under my breath, feeling a rush of excitement course through me.
Ty turns to look at what’s got my attention and whistles. “Now that! That is completely out of your league, brother.”
As irritating as his words are, I can't deny it. She's out of my league in so many ways. Expensive clothing, perfectly styled hair. Heck, that purse probably cost more than my truck. A girl like that won’t even breathe in my direction, and Ty knows it. But still, I can't help but stare.
“Out of my league, how?” I ask Ty, trying to sound casual.
He shakes his head. “You know how it is, man. First of all, you have enough going on without trying to impress a girl like her. And she seems too young to even be in this bar. Plus, one of those pretty boys must be her boyfriend.”
I tsk, taking a sip of my beer. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I mean she can’t be older than twenty. Ty’s daughter’s age. “But when have I ever listened to reason,” I smirked. I should know better, but my feet seem to have a mind of their own as I stand and practically stumble into her as she walks past our booth.
“Sorry…I…”
“Fuck, man, watch where you’re going?” The guy beside her says.
“It’s okay,” the girl tells the asshole who looks like he wants to take me outside to brawl. “Handsome here was just about to buy me a drink.” Her eyes roam down my t-shirt-clad chest to my jeans as she bites her bottom lip.
“I sure was. And what will the lady have tonight?” I’m struck by the gray of her eyes and the crimson that paints her pouty lips. Fuck! Up close she is even more gorgeous.
Her friend stares daggers at me, but the girl links her hand through mine and leads me to the bar. “Tequila,” she says.
“Creed, man. Come on,” Ty calls, but I wink at him over my shoulder. It has been a while since I’ve been laid, and my cock is almost as eager as I am to get to know this beauty.
I can't believe my luck. This stunning girl, whose name I am yet to discover, couldn't have shown up at a better time.
We make small talk as we wait for our drinks at the bar, and I can't help but stare. Man, she’s sexy as fuck. She’s a nineteen-year-old college freshman just visiting town for a few days. Lucky me. I’m not interested in a relationship anyway.
After we take our shots of tequila, she leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Are you gonna take me into that restroom or what?”
Before I know it, we're stumbling into the women’s restroom.
She bends over the basin, her hands gripping the edges. With a smooth movement, I pull down the front of her dress exposing her perfect breasts, while bunching the fabric at her waist.
“Fuck you’re hot!” I growl, my gaze on her tits. I rip off her g-string in one quick motion, tucking it in my pocket, “A momento,” I smirk.
“Less talk and more action,” she moans, wiggling her ass.
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I grab a condom from the dispenser on the wall, rip it open and slip it on. In seconds, I’m sliding my cock into her slick heat. “Fuck me! You’re so fucking wet,” I say, and she moans like a perfect slut in response.
“Fuck, you feel good,” she says, jutting her ass out and taking even more of me.
“Mmm, like that,” she purrs.
I pull out and slam right back in, gripping her hips.
“Harder, like you mean it!” she groans.
“You like it rough, huh, baby? You want this cock stretching your tight little hole?”
I yank her hair back, making sure she knows who's in charge. It doesn't matter who this girl is; she is so much more than I ever imagined.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” she moans.
I pull out and thrust into her harder this time, and she screams. I press my palm across her mouth, not wanting anyone to think she's being attacked.
“Fuck, baby. Shh,” I warn, turning her around and picking her up, settling her on the countertop. "I want to see your soul leave your body when I make you come."
She trembles leaning against the mirror, her eyes begging for more. I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my hand on her throat, and I know that she's on the brink of an explosion. “Please,” she gasps, her voice desperate with desire. “Please give it to me harder, hurt me.”
My hips piston, not giving her a moment's reprieve until I can almost feel her breaking from the intensity. I muffle her screams with a kiss, as I bring her closer and closer to the edge, our bodies moving together in sync, hips and pelvis clashing.
“I think you deserve to come now, baby girl,” I growl in her ear, my voice thick with passion. “You've earned it, so you'll get it exactly how you want it.”
She clings to me desperately as I fuck her harder, her back slamming against the mirror.
“Fuck! Fuck! More,” she cries out. "I'm gonna come! Don't stop! Don't stop!" I pound into her faster. The feeling of my hips slamming against hers is intense, like a combat sequence. My balls slap up against her pussy every time I thrust forward lightly brushing against her skin with each stroke.
“Spread your legs like a good slut,” I command, my voice rough with desire. “Show me that pretty pussy.”
She whimpers, but obeys, spreading her legs wider and holding her pussy open as I thrust deeper into her. Her walls clench around my cock as her orgasm takes hold, milking me until my control breaks. My orgasm washes over me and spills out of me, wave after wave of sheer bliss crashing into me like a tsunami.
I pull out of her slowly, watching as her eyelids flutter open to meet mine. She grabs my arm tightly and bites down on her lower lip as we both struggle to get our breathing under control. I discard the condom and watch her readjust her clothing.
I bring her g-string up to my nose and inhale deeply, the scent of her arousal is like a fucking drug. My whole body is still humming with pleasure as she turns to leave.
“Take good care of that,” she smirks.
“Don't I get your name? Your number?” I ask.
“You haven't earned it,” she replies, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she walks out of the bathroom.
* * *
The heavy bass of hip-hop music assaults my ears as I push open the door to the workshop the following morning. My throbbing headache intensifies at least a hundred percent, and the stifling heat does nothing to ease it.
“Ty!” I groan, gesturing for him to turn down the blaring stereo. Some of the guys grumble in protest, but know better than to argue with me.
Ty wipes his greasy hands on a cloth before shoving it into his back pocket and turning down the volume, but not by much. “How late - or should I say early - did you get home?” he asks with a chuckle.
I rub my temples, trying to wrest away the pounding in my head. “Don't remember,” I mumble. "All I know is I got a cab and woke up in bed. “Why'd you bail on me?” I ask. I sigh, running a hand through my disheveled hair.
“Because I want to stay married,” he says with a wry smile.
I force a small laugh. “So, what's on the schedule today?” I ask, not feeling like doing anything.
“The usual,” Ty replies with a shrug. “A couple of services, a brake job... oh, and Lisa says a woman called. Said she'll be here at ten to discuss finances.”
My stomach drops at the mention of finances. The only thing worse than dealing with our crumbling business is pretending everything is fine in front of our staff and customers. And if our latest bank loan doesn't come through, we're as good as screwed.
“I have a wheel alignment booked for that time too, so you'll have to handle this one without me,” Ty continues.
I nod numbly, my mind bogged down with our financial struggles and the looming possibility of failure. But then my thoughts are interrupted by a different kind of distraction - her , the mystery girl from last night.
The only time I was able to forget about all the stress and problems was when she was in my arms. I curse myself for not getting her number because now, even with a pounding headache, she's all I can think about.
“Hey, Creed. You got this?” Ty is looking at me questioningly.
“Yeah,” I say. Right now, I have more pressing matters to attend to. With a heavy heart, I glance around the workshop, at the men who rely on me for their livelihood. I brace myself for another day of putting on a brave face and hoping for some miracle to save our business.
* * *
An hour later, I am still trying to shake off the throbbing in my skull, as I head to the reception area. I never expected to stay out so late or get so fucking hammered.Not even Tylenol and a litre of water helped.
Lisa, our receptionist slash accounts clerk, is at the desk, sorting through some paperwork, and smiles when she spots me. I wish I could afford to get her more help, but that is not in the cards at this point.
“Hey boss, your ten o'clock is here.”
As I round the corner, I am struck by the woman sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, scrolling through her phone. She's attractive, with shoulder-length dark hair and legs for days. When she hears me approaching, she stands. Her hourglass figure is complemented by a skirt suit that likely costs more than I make in a month. She’s older, early forties, maybe, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen her before. Unlikely - the woman reeks of wealth and status.
"You must be from the bank?" I ask, trying not to betray the anxiety in my voice.
“Mr Torres,” her stormy gray eyes sweeping over me, lingering a bit longer than what could be called purely professional.
My foster mother used to call me a ladies’ man, so I try my best to make good on that. A man’s got to eat and all that. "Okay, well, I'm ready when you are."
She gives me a sultry smile. “Lead the way, “Sure, Ms...?”
She smiles sweetly. “Oh, no need for formality. I’m Amelia.”
I nod, feeling a little more at ease now that I know her name. We head to my office, and she takes the seat I offer her, across from me, giving the small space a once over.
It’s not much more than a desk, my office chair and a visitor one. There’s a metal filing cabinet in one corner with an outdated calendar hanging on the wall over it.
“So, Amelia," I start, "I hope you have some good news for me.”
She leans across the table, her cleavage almost spilling out of her blouse, and I can't help but stare. “Mr. Torres…”
“Please, call me Creed,” I say, maintaining eye contact.
“Very well, Creed,” she purrs, “Unfortunately, your business is in quite a bit of trouble.”
And there, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning of the end of my life as I know it.
“I've gone over your finances, and I have to say, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture,” she says, her tone serious now. “At this point it will be a risk for the bank to invest.”
I knew it was bad, but to hear it confirmed like this is a punch to the gut. If the bank is no longer an option, I would need to consider private investors, but who would want to take a risk on an auto shop, no matter how big mine and Ty’s expansion plans are.
“Look, we’ve got jobs lined up every day for the next couple of months. We may not look good on paper, but if we had the latest equipment, we’d be able to double, if not triple our revenue. If we don’t get this loan, we’ll have to close our doors.”
“That would be a shame,” she says, almost sincerely, but the wicked glint in her eyes tells me that it is meant in a completely opposite way.
“Fuck!” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry,” I say, catching myself. “It’s just not the outcome I was hoping for.”
“I didn’t quite finish your options," she says, and I meet her gaze, my brows tugging together. "Maybe there are other ways.”
I feel a jolt of surprise. That sounds like a trap right there. I try to push the thought aside and focus on the business at hand.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.
She leans forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “I mean, I’m not from the bank, but I’m a private client of theirs, and let’s just say when I heard about your, dilemma , I decided it may be a good opportunity to make an investment. It’s Amelia Yates,” she says, “To answer the question you no doubt have.”
Amelia fucking Yates, wife of one of the wealthiest and likely most ruthless men in the city.
“And why would you want to help me, Mrs. Yates?” I ask.
“Because you might be able to help me in return.”
I know exactly what she’s implying. It is written all over her face, the way she bites her lips, the way she crosses her legs. This is not how business is supposed to work. In another world, I would tell this bitch to get the fuck out of my shop.
She has an air about her, drips wealth and privilege and the inability to take no for an answer.
Maybe she thinks that gives her a right to throw herself at any man she wants. My foster mother said that too, that all I’ll ever be good at is being a toy boy for bored, desperate housewives.
“I'm sorry. I don't think I understand,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.
She leans back, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, come on, you’re a big boy. Don't play innocent with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I saw the way you looked at me back there.” She points to the reception area.
This woman could not be more wrong. Sure, she is attractive, but fucking her is the last thing on my mind, especially when my business is on the line and there are no guarantees. She's right about one thing, though, whatever deal she is offering is going to be hard to refuse. But crossing this line could have serious consequences.
“Not interested,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“Are you sure?” She takes a piece of paper from my desk and scribbles an amount with more zeros than a man like me can resist. But I won’t do that.
“I won’t sleep with you for money, Mrs. Yates.”
She shrugs and stands, her eyes still sparkling with amusement. “Suit yourself. But just remember, I'm the one with the power here. I can easily make your situation even worse by opening a competitor shop down the road. So, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She places a business card on my desk, tapping a ruby-red fingernail on it.
“Wait. Sit…please,” I say, exhaling a shuddering breath.“Why would you want – me? You can have any man you want?”
“Oh, it’s not about what I can have,” her voice low. “It’s about what I want . So, are we going to discuss my proposal or not?”
Despite my discomfort, we spent the next half an hour discussing a very unfavorable business proposition. My mind is torn between the need to keep the shop, most likely expand it, and keep my staff on, and the disgust at what I would be agreeing to. I come from the hustle. I can do what it takes but if I do as she says, it means giving up my self-respect.
She’ll invest in my company and take thirty percent of the profit I make, and I basically agree to be her fuck boy for the foreseeable future.She’ll provide an accountant, more manpower, and a guarantee to invest in any expansion projects.
All the while, I keep thinking about how it would feel to wrap my fingers around the slender column of her neck and just snap it. The violent thought both horrifies and comforts me, and I try to push it away, ashamed of my own darkness. At last, she finishes her proposal, and I feel like I am coming out of a trance, my head pounding.
“So,” she says, her voice lingering in the air like poisonous smoke, “What do you think?”
I scoff, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What am I supposed to say to that? It is almost too good to be true.”
“Well, maybe you need a minute to figure that out.” Amelia says smugly, standing. “Just remember, if you decide to take me up on my offer, you'll have to play your part. Understand?”
I nod, feeling sick to my stomach, a cold emptiness spreading through my chest. “Yeah, I understand.”
She smiles, blowing me a kiss before standing and walking toward the door. The gesture makes my skin crawl.
My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. I promised Ty that I would do whatever it takes to keep the shop running, and I intend to keep that promise. Ty's face flashes in my mind – his tired smile, the worry lines etched around his eyes. We've poured our lives into this business. He could lose his home. My staff could lose everything. I can’t fail them, even if it means making a deal with the devil. I can't let them down. As my decision settles over me like a shroud, I wonder if I'll ever feel clean again.
“Wait,” I say when she reaches the door. She turns with a smirk, turning the key.