Chapter 13
Nova
More?
I’ve just had the biggest and strongest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life and he’s saying there’s more? My brain is too sluggish to figure out what he means until he runs his hand over the thick, long erection pointing straight at me.
Right. He hasn’t cum yet. But the way he said it makes it sound like he’s not planning on just fucking me for his own pleasure.
He sounds like he thinks I’m going to get a second climax out of this, and after what he just did with his mouth, I’m thinking his confidence might actually be more than just alpha male cockiness.
But, even if I don’t get another orgasm from him, I can’t say I haven’t been wondering what it’d feel like to have him inside me, over me, putting all his intensity and experience into making me feel good.
Speechless, I nod and smile, which seems to be enough for him.
He stands at the side of the bed right where he was kneeling before and wraps his hands around my ankles.
I can still feel the echoes of the strength in those fingers when he held my hips, but he’s not rough at all as he hooks my legs around his waist, crossing my ankles right above his ass.
Then those strong hands are on my waist, raising me off the bed to the right height to fit our bodies together.
The blunt head of his cock nudged against my entrance.
“Watch,” he orders. “Watch me take you, sweetheart.”
His tone makes my entire body heat up and I automatically obey, dropping my gaze down to where our bodies are about to come together.
Once he’s sure I’m watching, he pulls me onto his cock with one continuous motion.
As he stretches my body to the limit, I struggle to keep my eyelids open.
The sensation of him filling me has my eyes wanting to roll back in my head, but I reach for him instead, grabbing onto the hands that are at my hips.
“Fuck, Nova.” Creed groans, his gaze fixed in the same place mine is. “You’re so tight.”
I shake my head. “You’re huge.”
His eyes burn bright at the compliment, and we both curse as he bottoms out.
He holds me in place, his expression twisted into something that almost looks painful.
I know how he feels because I’m dancing right along that line, too.
It’s almost too much, but I don’t want him to stop. I want him to keep going. I need it.
It’s not even a normal kind of need either. Not like being hungry or thirsty. This is something deeper, more primal, than anything I’ve ever felt, like all the things I’ve been feeling around Creed have all come together into one big ball of…
My thoughts fly out of my head as Creed rocks my hips, sending a different sort of sensation racing across my nerves.
Before I can even really process what I’m feeling, he’s moving, setting a rhythm I find easily, and then we’re dancing.
Probably the oldest dance there is, and it’s not one I’ve done before.
My sole prior experience was fumbling, awkward, and uncomfortable.
This is… fuck, this is art. I don’t know what else to call it. There’s callouses on his fingers and scars on various parts of his body, but he’s gorgeous, and the way he moves…
The sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.
His tattoos rippling as his muscles flex.
The slick slide of him in and out.
I can feel pressure building inside me and I clutch at his hands, my nails scraping his skin.
He curses and, as if some last thread of control has broken, he leans over me, his hips snapping forward with enough force to drive the air from my lungs.
I can barely breathe as I try to match the new, almost frantic pace he sets.
When he takes a nipple between his lips, I cry out, my back arching, pushing my breast closer.
I bury my hand in his hair, pressing him tighter against me, cursing as every pull of his mouth shoots a bolt of sheer pleasure through me.
The wave is coming. I expect it to come like before, a ripple that turns into a wave, but that’s not what happens.
Between one stroke and the next, it hits me like a tsunami.
A punch to the chest that has me gasping and writhing beneath him.
Spots dance in front of my eyes and I’m fairly sure I’m trying to scream his name, but nothing is coming out.
One of my hands tugs at his hair and the other rakes my nails down his back, both hard enough to hurt, but Creed doesn’t complain.
If anything, he slams into me harder, driving me past any plateau I ever imagined until I’m on the verge of passing out.
“Nova.” He groans my name against my breast and then pushes himself impossibly deep, his entire body going stiff as he finds his own release.
At some point, he pulls out and takes care of the condom before settling us both down under the covers. He tucks me against his body and slings one arm over my waist. We’re both naked, but I don’t feel self-conscious the way I would’ve thought.
“Do you regret what we did?” His voice is quiet in the dark.
I don’t have to think to answer. “No.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” he adds.
“I know.”
Neither of us speaks again and it isn’t long before I let the darkness pull me under.
I don’t emerge from it until a shaft of sunlight pulls me from a dream of one of the few good Christmases Layla and I had.
The memory isn’t as vivid as the dream, but I have no problem letting it fade.
I’ve accepted the past and don’t have any desire to rehash it.
Instead, I want to focus on the present, which is strangely pleasant.
My body feels strange, a combination of relaxed and sore, and the realization makes me smile before I even realize why.
Then a familiar scent registers. Leather and motor oil… and Creed.
Sex with Creed.
Images flash through my mind and heat floods my body at the memories. I give in to the temptation to keep my eyes closed and bask in the bliss of not having to think about reality for several long, sweet minutes.
I hear a noise that brings real life crashing back down on me and I open my eyes with a sigh.
The first thing I see is Creed, but he’s not in bed with me.
Instead, he’s standing at the window, already dressed in well-worn jeans, a black t-shirt, his leather vest, and even his boots.
He must hear my sigh because he turns, and that damn unreadable expression is on his face again, like last night never happened.
Anxious thoughts crowd out the good ones. Is he regretting last night? Does he think I planned it for some crazy reason? Like I could actually seduce a man like him?
“Got church,” he says by way of explanation. “Come down to breakfast when you’re ready. There’s clean towels on the sink if you want to shower here instead of going back to your room.”
I nod dumbly, unsure of how I’m supposed to respond, and then he throws me off even more by coming over to me and leaning down to brush his lips across mine. My head is still spinning when he walks out, leaving me alone in his room.
I’m not sure which’ll be worse, doing the walk of shame back to my room with wet hair and wearing one of Creed’s t-shirts or putting my dress back on and going to my room with sex-hair.
I decide the first is better and it has nothing to do with the flare of excitement I get at the thought of having one of Creed’s shirts. Absolutely nothing.
Creed’s shampoo and soap are both fragrance free, leaving me wondering if he just naturally smells good, or if he has some sort of aftershave or cologne he uses.
It’s not an important thought, but I give it free rein as I wash.
I figure, if I’m going to be thinking about Creed—and I don’t see how I can not think about him—I might as well pick something that doesn’t have me spiraling about what we did.
I don’t see anyone on the short trip from Creed’s room to mine, and for a few minutes, I’m hopeful that no one knows what happened last night.
As soon as I step foot into the main room of the clubhouse, however, I know it’s too late.
The whole atmosphere shifts and even though conversation doesn’t stop, some of the people talking lean closer to each other and talk quieter, like they don’t want me overhearing what they’re saying.
I don’t need to hear it to guess word has already gotten around that I spent the night in Creed’s room.
I could protest, try to convince people it was a safety thing and nothing happened, but I don’t see the need to lie. We didn’t do anything wrong.
The only person who isn’t happy is Tasha, but she leaves the room only a few minutes after I get there. That’s enough for me. I don’t need her to be punished for her behavior. I just need her to leave me alone.
Since I slept late, I didn’t make breakfast, but it looks like Sugar and Lyssa have made enough for everyone and I gratefully pile food on my plate.
I’m sure some people snicker at the amount of food I have since they know the reason I need the extra calories this morning, but I don’t care.
I’m hungry and I’m not about to starve myself just so people don’t make jokes about me working up an appetite.
I sit at the bar like I usually do, but I’m not sure if Creed’s going to join me. He said sex doesn’t change anything, but I don’t know if he means it. I plan on letting him set how things are going to go, though. The MC might’ve welcomed me, but it’s Creed’s reputation that matters here.
“Hey, Doc.” Crusher comes over and sits on the stool next to me. “Got a second?”
“Sure,” I say. “You having issues with your wound?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been taking it easy and was wondering if I’m good to go back to,” he glances toward Lyssa, “my usual activity level.”
I muffle a laugh and he grins at me. “You got any pain?” When he shakes his head, I add, “If it hurts, don’t do it. How about that?”
He lets out a whoop that has me rocking back with laughter, but then, suddenly, his smile drops off his face and his expression gets serious. He quickly stands up. “Hey, Prez.”
“Don’t leave on my account.” Creed’s words and tone are mild, but Crusher’s reaction has me turning to look at Creed. Those blue eyes are colder than ice as Creed sits on the other side of me. “What’s so funny?”
“I just got the all-clear for… regular activity.” Crusher scratches the back of his head. “You think I can go grab a Bunny for a quickie?”
“Go.”
I turn toward Creed and am startled to see he’s closer than I anticipated. “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” Creed leans over and takes a piece of toast from my plate. “I’m gonna be glad when Cutter’s back.”
“Me, too,” I say. “I’m not used to patients who talk so much.”
That gets me a little twitch of Creed’s lips. “I’m not used to my men talking about sex to my old lady.”
It hits me then. Something has changed because Creed and I had sex.
This is a level of possessiveness he hasn’t shown before.
Crusher and I have talked a lot since I took care of his gunshot and Creed knows it.
Hell, he’s been around for a lot of it. He knows there’s absolutely nothing sexual between me and Crusher.
If anything, I feel like I finally know what it’s like to have a brother.
“Church go good this morning?” I ask, turning my attention back to my food.
Creed stays close, resting his elbow on the bar and watching me eat. “It did.”
“You talk about the meeting with the Reapers?”
His eyes narrow. “That’s club business.”
“If it involves my sister, it’s my business,” I insist.
“We’re handling it,” he says. “I’m handling it.”
“I want to be there.” I’m not going to let this go. “I want to go to the meeting.”
“No way in hell,” he says immediately. “Even if we didn’t have specific rules we gotta follow for this sort of thing, you don’t need to be anywhere near the Reapers.”
I sigh. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t just hide in here when my sister’s out there, somewhere. I’ve been sitting around, not working, not looking for her…”
“You’re not just sitting around,” Creed counters. “You’ve been patching up the guys ever since Crusher got hurt, and with Cutter staying longer with his daughter, that’s important.”
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I’m going crazy, not knowing anything.”
Creed rubs his jaw and then says, “Fuck it. I can’t let you come to the meeting, but I can at least tell you what we know.”
I sit up straighter, my pulse picking up. “That would be great. Thank you.”
“Reapers have said they didn’t take Patch or Layla.
I’m not sure if I believe them. We think Patch might’ve stumbled onto something the Reapers shouldn’t be doing, and either Layla was with him at the wrong time and place, or they think he told her something.
This could go across multiple territories, involving a whole lotta people. ”
Shit. Knowing what’s going on should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. This whole time, I’ve been thinking it’s just some misunderstanding between two rival clubs, but now it sounds like it’s a hell of a lot bigger than I ever could’ve imagined.
“Prez,” Ace comes up to us. “A word.”
Creed nods and stands. The pair step away, but it’s not far enough to keep me from hearing what Ace asks.
“Some of the stuff Cipher’s finding…” Ace shakes his head. “If this ain’t Reapers, who the hell is it?”
Creed’s response doesn’t make me feel better.
“Fuck if I know.”
I feel like I’m no better off than I was before Creed decided to share with me, and that sucks. What bothers me more, though, is that Creed doesn’t have answers for any of the new questions I have.