“Take me.”
“Fuck. Baby.”
It was guttural.
It was beautiful.
Creed pressed my hands into the cushions, his forearms pressed too, beside mine. He took his weight off me, angling his body up, his h*ps still driving deep. I watched his shadowed head drop and he looked down the length of our bodies in order to watch as he f**ked me.
My legs left him, I brought my knees high and his pounding went deep.
My moan sounded more like a cry and his eyes shot to my face.
“I love you, Sylvie,” he grunted, driving hard, fast.
“Baby,” I gasped. It was coming over me.
He dropped down, holding me still pinned to the couch, his lips sliding along my cheek to my ear.
“Born to love you, Sylvie.”
I rocked my h*ps back to meet each thrust and panted, my fingers squeezing his holding mine down to the cushions.
“Born to love you, baby,” he repeated. “Die lovin’ you, my Sylvie.”
My neck arched, my pu**y clenched, my cl*t spasmed, my thighs pressed tight to his sides, his mouth went to my throat and I cried out his name as I came with Tucker Creed still drilling deep inside me.
Oh yeah.
Fuck yeah.
He was right.
We win.
Chapter Twelve
Wishing Away the Years
A late, cool, autumn night in Kentucky, eighteen years earlier, Creed is twenty-one, Sylvie is sixteen…
The house was silent as I walked through it in the dark. Daddy was away on business. The stepmonster was visiting her sister in Atlanta.
I was coming home from a date.
I opened the door to my bedroom and the minute I did, the light came on.
I let out a little scream and, when my eyes adjusted, I stared.
Creed was lounging on my bed, back to the headboard, long legs straight, booted feet crossed at the ankles.
“Missed your curfew,” he said low and I blinked.
This had never happened before. As in ever. Not for ten whole years.
Still, it was Creed and always with Creed and me, anything went and as always I was happy to see him.
“Hey,” I greeted, walking in and closing the door behind me, grinning at him. “What’re you doing here?”