Chapter 12 Collins #2
I brave a glance down my body to see that one of my nipples is bruised; a deep, angry shade of bluish-purple with a jagged, dark red scab wrapped around it in a semi-circular shape.
I can vividly recall the pain of my skin tearing beneath his abuse. The fact that it’s drawn tight is a good sign that he didn’t cause any permanent damage.
Motherfucker.
Nausea swirls in my gut as I look over myself again because there really is no space on my body that Guy hasn’t marked or bruised in some way.
Spots dot my vision when short staccato breaths start to wheeze in and out of my lungs. The phantom pain of his blade threatens to take me under.
But then Creed is there.
Here.
With me.
His tattooed hands circle my waist and he leans forward, looking up at me through his dark, wet lashes.
Even through my panic, his glacier eyes draw me in.
My spiraling comes to a screeching halt when he bends farther down to place the softest kiss over my injured breast. His lips linger over the bruised, tender skin for a moment before moving along my sternum, making his way to the other.
His lips press more firmly against my breast, his eyes still locked onto me.
Is it sane to be doing such a thing on the shower floor of my hospital room? Fuck no. But am I enthralled by the man whom I was terrified I would never see again? Yes, and there’s no way I’m stopping him right now. Not when he’s touching me like this.
I need his touch, however he’ll give it to me.
We need this.
Creed touches me as if I’ll disappear and I soak him up as if that fear is reality.
Absentmindedly, I nod my consent, completely lost in his heady gaze.
His lips curl against my skin, and I’m gone. I gasp as he sucks the pebbled peak of my uninjured nipple into his mouth.
The world disappears around him and it's just us.
My body arches into his touch, my hands flying into his hair, gripping the strands tightly. The feel of his damp, inky strands straining between my fingers and around my knuckles is like an aphrodisiac.
“Fuck, Stardust,” Creed’s growl sounds borderline needy against my skin as he kisses his way up my sternum and over my collar bone. I shiver at the feel of his warm breaths gliding over my sweat-slicked body.
Grabbing his face, I pull him up and crush my lips against his.
It’s desperate, the way I pull him impossibly closer until there is no space that can be claimed between our bodies.
There’s no hesitation. Instant in the way we melt into one another, claiming what belongs to only us.
The breathless, squeezing ache deep in my chest is a painfully beautiful reminder of how I belong to him, and he belongs to me.
Creed’s hands deftly roam down, a featherlight trail from my waist to my hips, then shifting around to my lower back.
He gently presses me forward at the same time he shifts to trail kisses down and along the line of my jaw.
It feels like an invitation. My body is sore from the inside out, but I’m burning uncontrollably for him.
It’s wrong to want such a thing from him right now, but the offer of power is there—that it’s mine to take and reclaim as my own.
So…I do.
Slowly, I start to rock my hips against him, creating a slow cadence of budding pleasure that ripples from my core, spreading throughout each of my limbs and back again.
“That’s it, whatever you need, it’s yours, baby. Take it from me.” He rasps against my lips before nipping at my bottom one. “You’re a fucking deity.”
His soft lips press against mine as one of his fists finds my hair, firmly gripping the strands at my nape.
The pressure is enough to create a small bite of pain, but it only serves to accentuate the pleasure I feel as I move with more purpose against the rigid length of his cock. “My perfect girl. Jesus fuck, baby–”
I moan–fucking moan, and it’s not just a squeak–when his thrusts start to meet me in the middle. It creates the most mind-numbing friction against my clit. The dizzying sensation sends my body barrelling forward towards the release I suddenly crave more than my next breath.
“Creed, please.” I’m not sure what I’m begging for, because I know there’s no chance that he’ll deny me a goddamned thing right now. I grip him tighter, but I can’t increase the pressure I need to come without pulling at my sutures.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, burying his face in my neck while his grip shifts to my ass, his fingers tightening their hold as he assists my movements against him.
His legs are pressed tightly together, keeping his lap as narrow as possible so that he doesn’t further the damage to my thighs. “Let go, Collins, I’ve got you, baby.”
Tears well in my eyes. His words feel like so much more than encouragement to find release.
They feel like a vow, and that’s what pushes me over the edge.
I come with a soft cry, and I kiss Creed on a shaky breath.
His hands never waver as he helps me to ride out the pleasure.
The orgasm is weak, but this wasn’t about that.
This was about reclaiming my body, and I did that. He helped me do that.
My body starts to tremble in his arms, and he repeats various forms of praise against my skin, the words feathering across my lips over and over in between kisses.
When the last of the tremors from my orgasm fade, my body is achingly sore, but I feel lighter in every way. Creed has that effect on me. He always has.
“Thank you,” I rasp as I kiss him again, my muscles feeling a little weaker than before.
“Never thank me,” he says softly, though there’s something darker lacing his tone with his next words. “I have a lot of forgiveness to beg for and earn, but you will never owe me a damned thing for taking care of you.”
His words don’t make sense to me because there’s nothing to forgive.
I don’t even know what to say, so I nod because I don’t have the energy to argue either.
Creed helps me to stand before he guides me under the spray of water, his own clothes now thoroughly soaked.
He washes me with the utmost caution around each of my wounds, and I watch as his jaw ticks each time we get to a particularly deep scar or one that’s been stitched shut.
“What’s wrong?” I mouth as he rubs a washcloth delicately over my belly and up my ribs.
He just stares at my body for a moment before words tumble from his lips like a secret that refuses to remain hidden. He sighs, brushing a finger softly over a small cut in the center of my sternum.
“These do nothing to take away from how fucking strong and beautiful you are, Collins.” His bright blue eyes flick up to me, but he keeps his head angled down as he lathers my hair, massaging my scalp.
“But I’d be a liar if I said the sight of them doesn’t make me want to cut his fucking fingers off one knuckle at a time until he has nothing but stumps left on each arm—dead or not.
” His voice sounds so casual when he rinses my hair that I’m momentarily stunned.
My jaw hangs on its hinges at the violent, gory image he just painted. Creed is not violent by nature. He’s a caretaker. A lover. It’s one on the infinite list of things that I love about him. But why does the sound of him declaring violence in my honor have my belly swooping?
He kisses my lips sweetly before reaching around me to shut off the water from the shower.
Truth be told, I have no recollection of even turning it on.
Creed’s face is a picture of steely focus and concentration as he carefully dries each of my wounds before wrapping me in another clean towel.
He makes sure I’m standing in a safe, dry area on top of yet another towel before he grabs the last one from a shelf and begins to strip from his soaking wet clothes.
My throat dries up and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I stand here and drink him in.
Creed has always been a beautiful man, but right now he just looks otherworldly as he stands naked before me.
His body is so perfectly toned, a decorated temple that I can’t wait to worship again.
I can’t stop it when my eyes automatically drop to his pierced cock that’s standing proudly at attention, the reverse Prince Albert glinting with a drop of precum that oozes from the tip.
Thank God Creed doesn’t notice my ogling, because when I shift on my feet, my thighs rub together, but the sting from the exposed cuts there has me biting back a painful groan, so I quickly look away.
Creed wraps the towel around his waist, then approaches me, gripping my hips and pulling me against his hard body. “How you feeling?”
“Better,” I say roughly with a rasp in my voice, meaning it in every way possible. I smile up at him as much as the scab on my lip will allow. “Always better with you.”
He smiles back, kissing the tip of my nose. “So does that mean I’m forgiven?”
I smile at him because there truly is nothing to forgive. Life is too short to hold grudges against someone you love for trying to protect you. But he’s got me riding this miniature high between his presence and silent strength, so I can’t help but tease him.
“That depends,” I glare playfully, repeating my words from earlier, “do I get to see Riley anytime soon?”
“Actually,” he murmurs, cupping my face, “how would you like to see him right now?”
My eyes round in surprise. “Wait, really? Like right now, right now?”
“Right now, right now,” he parrots, grinning like a maniac. With his features softening, he tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear and winks at me. My belly flutters in response. “That was surprise number one.”
Creed sobers a little, his icy blue eyes softening at the edges as he looks down, his expression regretful.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Stardust. I should have told you the truth, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of hurt for you.
Not after…everything. It backfired, and I still hurt you. I’m so sorry, Collins.”