Chapter 10 #3
His jaw clenched, his grip on my wrists tightening for half a second before he released them, his hands sliding along my breasts, his touch rough, desperate.
“I told you why. Because you make me weak,” he rasped, his fingers digging into my waist, pushing beneath the fabric of my skirt, tracing the curve of my hip. “And I don’t do weak, Peyton.”
I sucked in a sharp breath as his lips found my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there before he dragged his tongue over the spot, soothing the sting.
“That’s not weakness,” I gasped, my nails scraping against the back of his neck, holding him to me. “That’s—”
My words cut off as his hand lifted my skirt, pushing between my thighs, his fingers teasing, tormenting my clit. I jolted against him, my breath hitching, my body betraying me completely.
Creed lifted his head, his gray eyes burning into mine. “That’s what?” he challenged, his fingers stilling just enough to drive me insane, to make me feel the full extent of his control.
I swallowed hard, my lips parting, my heart slamming against my ribs. I could feel him everywhere—the heat of him, the weight of him, the way he hovered so damn close but refused to give me what I needed.
“It’s power,” I said, my voice trembling but strong. “And you hate that I have any over you.”
His expression flickered—just for a second—but it was enough. Enough for me to see the truth.
“You have no idea how much,” he admitted, his voice dark, laced with something dangerous. Something unhinged.
Then, without warning, he moved.
His hands were on my thighs, spreading them wider with one hand while he unfastened his slacks with the other, then he was plunging his cock inside me with an urgency that sent heat pooling low in my stomach. His lips crashed against mine, the kiss devastatingly delicious.
I felt like I was drowning in him, like I had been waiting for this moment for weeks—months—and now that it was here, I was helpless to do anything but let it consume me.
“Say it,” he ordered, his voice a ragged demand against my lips as he thrust his hips with long, deep strokes.
I knew what he wanted.
I also knew I had all the power in that moment.
So, I pushed.
I let my hands slide down his chest, let my fingers trace the defined lines beneath his shirt before I lifted my gaze to his, my lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk. “I’m yours, Sir.”
A curse tore from his lips, and then he was gone—his body leaving mine, only to flip me onto my stomach, dragging me up onto my knees against the sofa.
“Damn right you are,” he growled.
His hands were rough as they pushed my skirt higher, baring me completely, then pulling my hips back so my ass was in the air.
He surged back inside me.
I shattered.
My body, my mind, my heart—everything—came apart beneath his touch, beneath the force of his need, the weight of his possession.
I had wanted him to break.
Instead, he broke me.
And God help me, I allowed it.
I barely had a second to breathe before he dragged me back against him, my body flush against the unrelenting steel of his chest. His hands gripped my hips like vices, branding me, claiming me, his breath a hot, ragged storm against the back of my neck.
“You like the way this feels.” Creed’s voice was gravel and fire, dark and unhinged, his fingers biting into my waist as his hips pounded against my ass.
I gasped, trying to find my voice, but it was impossible with the way he was fucking me, the way his teeth scraped along the sensitive skin just beneath my ear before biting down, hard.
“Yes,” I finally choked out, my nails digging into the sofa cushion, desperate for something to hold onto. “Yes.”
His hand slid down, his fingers skimming up my inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. “You like making me lose control.”
Yes. God, yes.
But I couldn’t say it. Because then I’d be giving in.
And I wanted to make him work for it. So, I did the one thing I knew would push him over the edge. I drove my hips back, my body arching in silent invitation as I met the rhythm of his strokes. A dangerous sound ripped from his throat, and suddenly, I wasn’t on the sofa anymore.
I was off my feet, Creed’s arm banded around my waist, and I was pressed against the glass window overlooking the city skyline. The cold bit into my skin, a stark contrast to the fire blazing between us.
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” he rasped, his hand fisting into my hair, gently jerking my head back so my eyes met his in the reflection of the window. His pupils were wide, the storm inside him completely unleashed.
I should have been afraid. But all I felt was thrilled.
“Make me stop,” I whispered, my lips parting in a challenge.
His body went rigid. For one terrifying, exhilarating second, I thought I had finally pushed too far.
And then—
Creed spun me around so fast my back was against the glass, my breath escaping in a sharp gasp. His hands were everywhere—gripping, pulling, owning. He kissed a line down to my nipple. That warm, firmly sucking mouth latched onto the tip.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice dark with possession, as he slipped another nipple into his mouth, his fingers wrapping around my throat, pressing just enough to remind me who was in control. “Say it.”
My body trembled, but not from fear.
“Say. It.”
My skirt was shoved up, his free hand slipping between my legs, his touch ruthless, sending pleasure ricocheting through me.
“I’m yours, Sir,” I gasped, my nails clawing at his shoulders as he spread my thighs.
“Wrap your legs around my waist and let me in.”
As soon as I locked my ankles, Creed gripped my ass and slammed inside me so fast my head fell back against the window.
I saw beautiful stars.
A desperate cry escaped me, but it was swallowed by his mouth as he devoured me, punishing and relentless, his lips bruising, his movements feral.
“Mine,” Creed panted as he began to fuck me with fast, deep strokes. I pushed my hips down to meet his powerful thrusts, throwing my arms above my head.
Each thrust was a confession. Each breath a surrender.
“You haunted me,” he growled. “Every fucking day.”
I arched into him, matched him, held him.
He faltered. Just for a second. Just long enough to whisper, “I hate that I need you so much.”
“I know,” I whispered.
And then he was moving again, faster, harder.
Again. And again.
Until I had nothing left to give him.
Until I shattered so completely, I forgot my own name.
One second, I was clinging to him as he bucked hard and pounded his beautiful cock into me.
The next, my body was clamping tightly around his erection.
We reached the edge together—bodies shaking, breath stolen, sanity long gone.
I barely registered when it ended. When the storm settled just enough for reality to creep back in.
And then silence. Thick. Absolute.
Creed stayed frozen, his body still deep inside mine, his head bowed. I waited—for words, for something real. And I knew the second he pulled back, the second I saw the wreckage in his stormy gray eyes, that this emotional fight between us was far from over.
His lips parted, but no words came. And then... he pulled out slowly, lifted his zipper, and fastened his belt.
Walking away.