Creed

by Kristen Ashley

  I sucked back mostly melted malt which still tasted great and turned my eyes to the house.

  Ten minutes later, Amy left and drove away.

  Half an hour after that, Nair got in his ridiculously yellow Lotus and drove away.

  I followed.

  * * * * *

  Hours later, I sat on my barstool, sipping beer, watching Creed play pool and thinking.

  I was thinking about what I saw earlier. Creed walking into Charlene’s house with a bucket of chicken and a bag of fixin’s, all of which made the kids and Charlene, who not only didn’t have to cook but also didn’t have to pay for it, go wild.

  I was thinking of taking turns with Charlene hanging around the corner of the doorway in order to watch Creed, with not only Adam but also Leslie, in the bathroom.

  I was thinking he had a lot of patience, a lot of good humor and I hadn’t heard Adam or Leslie laugh that much since their Dad left.

  I was thinking of sitting on the couch in front of the window in Charlene’s living room with Theo climbing over me, Charlene beside me and watching Creed’s ass as he bent over the opened hood of her car. And I did this while thinking how much cooler it was in her house now that the windows were open and the breeze could get through.

  I was thinking I liked all I was thinking about.

  Shit.

  I stopped thinking when I saw Creed put the end of his pool cue down, give his opponent a look and lift his hand, palm up.

  The dude was pissed. He should be. He lost.

  He said a few words to Creed that only a blind person would miss were angry and Creed showed no reaction whatsoever.

  Total badass.

  Bills were passed over without a whole lot of sportsmanlike conduct.

  Creed turned from the pool table without a backward glance, walked down the steps and crossed the bar to me. He stopped in front of me and shoved the bills down my tank, straight into the cup of my bra.

  I felt my clit swell along with my nipples.

  He dipped his face close, his eyes never leaving me.

  “Time to go home, baby.”

  Fuck yeah, it was.

  I smiled.

  * * * * *

  I was on my knees at the side of the bed between Creed’s spread thighs and I was working his beautiful cock.

  Fucking hell, I liked his cock. Big, thick, long, hard and silky. Beautiful, every inch. All of them.

  I pulled up, lips tight around the rim of the tip and, while rolling it with the tip of my tongue, I sucked deep and hard.

  “Jesus,” I heard him groan then, before I knew it, I had hands in my pits and I was flying through the air.

  I landed on my front in the bed and I didn’t have the chance to get used to my change in circumstances before my hips jerked violently. I heard the rip and my panties were gone.

  I rolled and looked up at Creed who was looming over me.

  “I wasn’t done,” I informed him.

  “You’re done,” he growled.

  “I totally wasn’t –”

  I stopped talking because my head shot back seeing as his fingers glided through the wet between my legs and he started finger fucking me.

  “Fuck,” I breathed.

  He got closer, I felt his heat and hard body at my side and his fingers worked me faster, driving deeper.

  I moved my hand between my legs to curl around his so I could feel.

  I felt Creed’s lips skim my chest before they disappeared and then his mouth was at my ear.

  “Tank off, baby,” he whispered, his fingers not ceasing for a nanosecond in their delicious activity.

  I yanked off my tank.

  “Bra,” he grunted.

  I arched my back, twisted my arms behind me, released the clip and tore off my bra, tossing it aside.

  The instant I was done, his mouth closed over a nipple.

  My back left the bed, I ground my hips down on his hand and shoved my breast deeper into his mouth.

  My free hand slid into his hair and I moaned, “Oh God, yes. My God, yes.”

  I rode his hand, my hips bucking and jerking against his fingers.

  His thumb tweaked my clit and I gasped loudly as sensations tore through me.

  His mouth released my nipple.

  My chin dipped down and my eyes locked on his.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged.

  He shoved his fingers up deep and tight. “Want my dick there,” he growled.

  Right.

  I was good with that.

  “Condom,” I breathed.

  He dipped his head and ran his tongue from the base of my throat, down my chest, between my breasts, over my belly and he didn’t move his fingers until his tongue slid through my wet heat.

  My neck and back arched and a long, silent moan escaped my throat.

  He moved away, it took me a minute to recover as I heard sounds of foil ripping then my eyes opened when he stated low, “Call it.”

  I looked at him. “Call what?”

  His hand shot out, hooking me at the back of the neck, pulling me up off the bed, his other arm curled around my back and he tucked me close against his body.

  “Until I know what you can take, and what you can’t, you call it.”

  Warm rays of sun hit me.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “You want me to fuck you, you wanna ride me, you want it on your knees. Against the wall. On the floor. Bent over the back of your couch.” He paused, his face got closer, his voice more impatient as he demanded, “Baby… call it.”

  My invisible sun warmed me deep to my soul.

  “On your back, Creed,” I whispered.

  He dropped us to our sides, rolled and lifted me even as I positioned my legs. I grabbed his cock and he lowered me down as I guided it inside.

  Fuck yeah.

  I started moving, my eyes on him, his pinned to me.

  “Hands to the headboard,” I demanded, watched his eyes flash and I ground down and kept grinding.

  He lifted his hands to the headboard and I watched his fingers curl around.

  My eyes went back to his face and I saw his jaw was hard.

  He didn’t like that. That wasn’t his gig.

  But he did it.

  For me.

  Fucking hell.

  The heat of the rays of my sun burned deep.

  I bent to him and kept moving on his cock as I explored the skin of his neck, shoulders and collarbone with my mouth.

  I ended at my scabbed-over mark on his neck and licked it.

  His hips started bucking up to meet my downward glides.

  “Yeah, baby,” I whispered in his ear.

  Suddenly, both our bodies jerked up the bed and my head flew up to see he’d pulled us both up, his arms were now cocked, the muscles flexed and straining in his biceps, the veins in his forearms had popped out.

  I looked to his face as our hips met over and over, rough, hard, fast, deep, beautiful.

  “You wanna touch me,” I said softly.

  “Want your tits in my hands, your tongue in my mouth.”

  “Take it,” I breathed.

  His hands immediately moved but only one curved around my breast. The other one dove into my hair and crushed my mouth down on his. His tongue spiked out and I took it. It curled around my tongue then he sucked deep, my tongue was in his mouth and I gave it.

  His thumb slid across my nipple hard and I took that too, moaning down his throat, our hips moving faster. His finger met his thumb and rolled. The kiss, already wild, went out-of-control and I had to lift a hand and curl my fingers around my headboard. The power of his hips increased so much, if I didn’t, he’d throw me off.

  It was coming, fuck, holy shit, it was coming.

  I tore my mouth from his and my head flew back.

  “Ride ‘em, cowgirl,” he murmured and it was the first time in my life I came while smiling.

  * * * * *

  My head dropped forward as it left me, my hands were curle
d around the top of my headboard and I still felt Creed’s mouth between my legs. His head to the pillows, I was sitting on his face, his tongue lapping at me, sweet, gentle, even tender.

  Fuck me.

  I shifted my hips, he got the message, his fingers, already curved around my hips, pulled me down the length of his body and I collapsed on him.

  “Right, you got a Costco around here?” he asked and, sated, relaxed, in a total happy zone, this question threw me.

  So I muttered into his neck, “What?”

  “You weren’t fuckin’ around. You can go all night. This means I need to find condoms in bulk.”

  My body started shaking on his with my laughter and I lifted my head to look down at him. “I’m not sure Costco sells condoms in bulk.”

  “Worth a fly-by to check and see,” he muttered and I kept laughing but collapsed back into him.

  He waited until I quit laughing then his arms gave me a squeeze.

  “You got the plan?”

  I nodded. “Knight’s business as usual, no one’s the wiser we got the goods on Amy and Nair except Lively who will pass along bogus intel. Set up. You need to work on Charlene’s car after you pick up the part tomorrow morning. I’m on Nick. Tomorrow afternoon, another search of his place. After that, we regroup.”

  “You got it.”

  “You tired Grandpa?”

  He was silent.

  Then, “Shit, seriously?”

  I lifted my head and smiled down at him. “No. I’m wiped.”

  He pressed his head into the pillow and looked back at the headboard muttering, “Thank God.”

  “God’s not in my headboard, Creed.”

  He looked back at me, grinning. “Disagree. Saw some heavenly action tonight.”

  He was not wrong.

  I tipped my head to the side and dipped my voice low when I asked, “You wanna sleep in here tonight?”

  His voice was dipped low, a flash went through his eyes and his arms tightened again when he replied, “Yeah.”

  “I don’t cuddle,” I told him.

  His arms tightened again but this seemed reflexive before he muttered, “Right.”

  “He cuddled.”

  Another flash went through his eyes as his jaw hardened then he unclenched it to repeat a muttered, “Right.”

  “You can manage that, you’re welcome here until you go back to the Grand Canyon State.”

  One of his hands slid up my back, over my shoulder, up my neck to curl around the side of my head before he whispered, “I’ll take it, Sylvie.”

  It was my turn to mutter, “Right,” and I did before I shifted off him.

  I turned off my light.

  Creed turned off his.

  I pulled the sheet up to my waist, settled on my belly, head turned away from him, knee crooked. I didn’t know how he settled.

  “I like morning sex,” I warned into the dark.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered.

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  I heard him chuckle.

  Then my body tensed as I felt the tips of his fingers glide over my hip, my ass to my waist in a super soft touch before they moved away.

  “’Night, partner,” he murmured.

  “’Night, Creed,” I murmured back.

  Five minutes later, Gun joined us, curling in the crook of my leg.

  By the sounds he made, Creed fell asleep before me.

  It took me a while.

  Mostly because, over and over in my head, I heard his voice saying, call it and saw in my mind’s eye his hands curling around my headboard.

  I adjusted minutely, reaching out to Gun and sifting my fingers through her thick, soft fur.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  She started purring.

  I fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  Creed

  “Fuck,” Creed heard her whisper.

  He squeezed his eyes tight.

  He heard her cat start purring.

  He cuddled.

  Creed opened his eyes.

  It took some time but the cat quit purring so he could hear Sylvie’s breaths come deep.

  He shifted out of bed and moved to her dresser. Carefully, he opened the drawer where he found it while he was doing his search a month before.

  He dug back behind her tees and his fingers hit it.

  He pulled it out, moved to the window and stood in it, letting the moonlight light the wooden box as he flipped it open.

  His put his finger in, flicking through the chains there.

  Eleven necklaces. Eleven peridot pendants.

  He flipped the box shut and his eyes went to the bed.

  Her cat’s head was up and Creed knew she was looking at him.

  Sylvie kept his necklaces. She cared.

  She kept them.

  She cared.

  He fucked her twice that night, made her come four times. She was there but she was not. He could be anybody.

  But if she kept those fucking necklaces, somewhere in her, she cared.

  He put the box back, grabbed his shit and left the room. He dumped it on the floor in her wreck of a guest bedroom, climbed into the double there and settled on his back.

  He shoved one hand between his head and the pillow. He lifted the other one and traced the scar on his cheek then through his hair, his fingers pressing deep, feeling the ridge along the skin under his hair, over his skull until it stopped.

  The memory played in his head like it did thousands of times before, his voice coming back, pained, weak.

  Promise me.

  The bastard promised.

  He’d lied.

  Creed rolled to his side.

  He didn’t cuddle Chelle. He gave her that until she fell asleep and then he set her away.

  He’d fucked her over, huge. He’d tried but a dead man felt nothing. Creed had nothing to give. He wanted to, she deserved it but it just wasn’t there.

  He couldn’t sleep next to Sylvie, his Sylvie, and not hold her.

  So he didn’t.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m Creed

  A cold, dark autumn night in Kentucky, twenty-six years earlier, Creed is thirteen, Sylvie is eight…

  Bootsie yapped and I opened my eyes.

  Darkness.

  Silence.

  Then I heard it, like a tap on the window.

  Oh boy. This had never happened before.

  I threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, ran to the window, threw it up, stuck my head out in the cold and looked down.

  Tucker was standing in our side yard.

  Wow! This never happened before!

  I waved then pointed to me and down. He nodded and started walking toward the backyard.

  I pulled the window down and ran to my closet. It was cold and I went to Tuck’s once without mittens and a hat and he got mad at me. So even though I had to be quiet, I pulled on socks, boots and my coat over my nightgown then added my mittens and a hat.

  I bent down to Bootsie. “This is different, Bootsie. You don’t get to come this time.” She whined a bit and I put my mittened finger to my lips and said, “Sh.” I dropped my hand and continued, “I’ll be back real soon, promise.”

  I gave her fur a ruffle, kissed the top of her head then super careful but as quick as I could, I dashed down the hall, the stairs, through the house and outside.

  Tuck was standing at the partially opened back gate.

  I ran across the yard and when I was close enough, he reached right down, grabbed my hand and pulled me through the gate. He closed it slowly behind us then he moved, real fast, dragging me with him through the woods.

  It was then I knew this wasn’t fun. This wasn’t like meeting him at the lake. This wasn’t like when I went to his house with the squirt guns, got him out of bed and we had a squirt gun fight at night, in the dark, in the woods.

  This was something bad.

  When we were well away from the house and no way Daddy could hear, I asked,
“Tuck, what’s the matter?”

  He let me go but he didn’t stop walking. He walked to a tree, slammed his opened hand on it then slammed his shoulder into it and turned around. He then slammed his back against it and slid down to his behind, pulled his knees up and dropped his head.

  Oh yes. This was something bad.

  I rushed to him and got down on my knees beside him.

  “Tuck, what happened?” I asked.

  “Sheriff brought Mom home.” He told his lap, stopped then kept going, “Again.”

  I got it then. His Mom got drunk all the time and she got pulled over for driving that way. Tuck told me they took her license away. Now she had to walk, take a bike or get a ride everywhere. It put her in a bad mood and she took this out on Tuck.

  I got closer and put my hand on his knee. “Oh, Tuck, I’m sorry.”

  His head came up, turned and his eyes came to me. “She lost her job, Sylvie. Two days ago.”

  I didn’t know a lot about these things but I knew that wasn’t good. They didn’t have a lot already. I knew, Mrs. Creed without a job, now they’d have less.

  “Tuck,” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “Not Tuck. Creed.”

  “What?”

  “Sheriff’s deputy had a partner. They got Mom in on the couch but I heard ‘em talkin’ outside. Said they didn’t get it. Said she was a mess. Said she always was a mess. Said, ‘cept her bein’ pretty, they didn’t get why Dad liked her. Said she was trouble. Too much. Not worth it. Even too much for Brand Creed. Said she was good for nothin’. Said they hoped her boy, me, was more like Brand than her.”

  He stopped talking so I whispered, “Okay.”

  “Mom gave me the name Tucker,” he told me. “Dad used to tease her. Said she was crazy, namin’ me Tucker. ‘Least I gave him Creed,’ he’d say, laughin’, grinnin’ big at her, makin’ her roll her eyes right before she’d giggle and give him a hug. So that’s who I am. I’m not what my Mom gave me. I’m what my Dad gave me. I’m Creed.”

  “Creed,” I agreed.

  He looked away and muttered, “Done bein’ Tuck. Done bein’ crazy, drunk Winona’s boy. I’m Brand Creed’s boy. I’m Creed.”

  “You’re Creed,” I told him.

  He turned his face further away and I had a feeling he was trying not to cry or not to let me see him cry so I gave him that. Boys did that and I didn’t know why but I did know it was important.