On our pier.
Slow, so f**king slow, taking my time, my hand wrapped tight around his hard cock, I traced my flowered letters with my tongue.
I got to the “i” and Creed was done.
He rolled, disengaging me, knifed up, grabbed me, pulled me over him, his hand at his cock. He slammed me down, impaling me.
My head shot back.
Yes. Just what I needed.
Exactly what I needed.
His hands slid up my back, his fingers curling around my shoulders holding me down as his forearms pressed deep, holding me to him.
He felt good, hard, big, filling me.
I was gone. Seriously gone. Already close. I had to move.
I righted my head and looked at him. “Gotta move, Creed,” I whispered.
“What’d he take from you?” he whispered back.
His tattoo in my head, our place still on my lips, my name in his skin on my tongue, all I was learning that was him filling my head, his c**k inside me, I worked against those odds and tried to bury it.
I failed.
Still, I breathed, “Don’t. Let me move.”
“Tell me what he took from you. I’m giving it back.”
Shit.
“Creed –”
His h*ps bucked up and my breath hitched.
God, that felt great.
“You wanna move, baby, tell me what he took from you.”
“Don’t wanna, gotta,” I whispered, pressing my br**sts into his skin and dragging my nails lightly down his back, two things I knew, f**king Creed copiously the last few days, he liked. A lot.
It didn’t work.
“He held you down, Sylvie, I’m gonna hold you down. I’m gonna show you it’s good. You can trust it. You can enjoy it. I’m gonna give you that back.”
“Please –”
“He tied you down. I’m gonna tie you to the bed, baby, and you’re gonna love it.”
Fuck.
I needed to move and his words, the heat behind them, the determination weren’t helping matters.
“Baby –”
“When I’m done, you will fear nothing. Never again. I’m gonna give that back to you. Now, what else did he take from you?”