Seed of Sin (The House of Creed Book 2)

by D. M. Burns

  “Oh, I knew things were different way before that ring popped up on your hand, young lady. The boss isn’t known for a friendly workplace façade, but he is when it comes to you. He’s a smart man.” He winks at me. “Now, you have a good evening.” Stewart holds the door open and I file on out feeling the blush creep into my face.

  “You have a wonderful evening too, Stewie. See you on Monday.” I hear his chuckle behind me as I make my way over to Lincoln where he stands on the ready to open the door.

  “Thanks for the ride, Linc.” I smile shyly.

  “My pleasure, Miss. Winters.” Lincoln says. I slide into the back of the blacked-out SUV.

  As soon as the door closes me in, I can smell Brogan’s expensive cologne mixed with his signature scent that belongs to only him. Even though I’m ticked at Brogan, I miss him and with that thought, I shoot out a text.

  I miss you… And so, does my BOD.

  I giggle as I hit send then tuck my phone into my briefcase. Every time I think back on his rant during my interview at The House of Creed, it all makes perfect sense. That crazy statement of BOD, body on display, was ridiculous. His entire demeanor was one of a man in pure anguish trying his best to keep a firm grip on control. Lashing out at me was the only way he knew how to harness the control. I wonder where our lives would be had I walked out and never looked back. It’s a depressing thought. His reply is almost instant.

  I have some business I plan on giving that BOD real soon.

  Brogan Creed is enough, always.

  chapter 24

  brogan

  Seated at the monstrous war red Houston, Texas local roundtable with the centered engraving that displays CREED OIL permanently in a bold italic script, I prop my head against my index finger as I pray for silence. The mindless cacophony that surrounds me is discharging out in my head like an AK-47. I massage my temple with that trusty finger on the verge of walking out leaving them to send me the final keynotes via email.

  I let my eyes scan each seat slowly taking in all twelve side suits here in good old Texas. They’ve all upped their participation in the project of expansion due to my attendance. And now the conversation has veered off into the expansion of oil contacts. Ever since my ass lowered down into this cushy leather chair everyone has been quick to bestow upon me their plan of wisdom.

  Some of the ideas aren’t a total waste of time and I’ve made a mental flag to round back to it. I'll weigh out the pros and cons later. Of course, well after I’ve left this firing brigade of brain blasting bullshit that I’m subjecting myself to. Another mental flag that I’m throwing up is to skype these god damn meetings from now on. No more in the flesh meet and greets. My mental status is hanging on by a thread, barely.

  The obnoxious man to my left, Grantson Turnric, is a three-hundred-pound, steak loving, born and rise, Texas fed, country boy. His thoughts are over some woman named Katrina who specializes in dominatrix. Hell, he’s got a semi-erect dick simply from contemplating their fun time to come under the plank of wood as we speak. Whoever Katrina is, has a whip on the ready for him. Apparently, the big guy likes to be spanked. What the fuck ever.

  My icy gaze flicks over to the asshole rancher who evidently doesn’t know that he’s in a boardroom and not out on the fucking prairie herding cows. This oversized hat-wearing prick, Buck Forsyth, has me feeling a certain type of way with his covert commentary. He’s been casting out judgments for my corporate ass ever since I took my seat. Buck’s last comment about me being a city slicker with pampered pockets and zero-knowledge for the good old boy’s routine, pissed me off.

  The guy looks like he was born with a plug of tobacco bulged out between his grill and bottom lip with his expectant father holding a spit cup in hand upon arrival. Every time he smiles and heaves out hearty laughter, I inwardly cringe. Does this asshole know that the company offers dental insurance with preventative cleanings that are covered at one hundred percent? Not to mention, my pampered pockets pay the full cost of said insurance.

  My fuck sockets swing over to Clayton Cross because his thoughts are on loudspeaker. This wanna be strait-laced, three-piece suit is by far the slimmest of the bunch. He reminds me of Damien because he’s the playboy of Creed Oil, the ass-kisser of client contracts, and the whore of Texas. His mind is the loudest only because his dick’s wants override what’s best for the company.

  This dickhead is concentrating on the mindless internal struggle of whether or not he’ll make it out of here in time to fuck his personal assistant in his office bathroom again before going to pick his unsuspecting girlfriend up. Makes me wonder if he’s kin to Damien.

  Okay… Okay… The fucknut at the end of the table is droning on about a god damn gerbil. This weird-ass fucker just wrapped up the meeting for me, period. I’m done. Between the silent thoughts of country boy spankings, bathroom fuck buddies, and this guy’s weird fascination with his furry friend, I’m walking out. The gerbil shit got me, weird fucker. Blocking out their twisted mind vomit is a feat I can’t pull off when sleep is needed.

  When I push my chair back and button my coat everyone looks my way with surprise lacing their features. I slide my phone off the table and tuck it into my pants. I smirk then lean my hands into the table and hover for a moment then address the panel of leaders here. That mental thought within itself is sad. In my absences, these are the leaders of Creed Oil, Jesus Christ.

  “I appreciate your time and welcome any further input you may have. Feel free to send me an email. I encourage each of you to keep in mind that while you’re on the clock here at Creed Oil that you conduct yourselves with business etiquette. Inner office relationships…” My laser-sharp focus bares down on Clayton then swings over to Grantson. “Whips and chains and or furry animals are not conducive to our bottom line for profit during business hours either.” I bare my focus on the idiot with a distorted love for fuzzy critters and shake my head slightly with a chuckle then say, “I’ll be in touch with the expansion details in the weeks to come. Have a great day gentleman.”

  I move my ass for the doors. I need sleep in a bad way. Being caught up in that boardroom with twelve other people was the equivalent to getting tangled up in a silent rainstorm of secretive bullshit. After hours of that, I feel like I’ve been mind-fucked, repeatedly. All I need is a few hours of sleep and to make my way back to my butterfly.

  Exiting my jet, I swiftly climb into the SUV with Lincoln and let my throbbing head fall back onto the plush seat.

  “Where to sir?” Lincoln asks while eyeballing me in the rearview.

  “Take me to her,” I mumble and he smirks with a head nod.

  When my phone starts to buzz, I slip it out of my coat pocket and connect the call.

  “Creed.”

  “Are you back?” Carson asks.

  “Just climbed into the car,” I say

  “I wanted to give you a heads up.” Carson’s voice is hesitant.

  “What? Did you get another unforeseen baby momma shout out with an unconfirmed bun in the oven?” I ask.

  “You’re such a dick.” He mumbles.

  “Spill the shit, Car. I’m in no mood for the guessing game.” I scrub my hand over my face and expel a tired sigh.

  “Logan Monroe was at the office today but even worse, he made it a point to seek Brea out. She knows that he wanted her on the Highlight deal. He made sure to tell her that we shot that idea down for her too. She was none too happy with either of us.”

  “That motherfucker…” I growl into the phone and my jawline tapes out a vicious pattern. Something is off with that guy. “I’ll handle this shit.” I cut the call and scroll through my contacts. When I find the one I’m looking for, I hit the green go button.

  That asshole has no idea who or what he just set in motion. Sometimes dropping my guard and being the nice guy just doesn’t pay. Logan thinks I’m someone to fuck with but he’s sorely mistaken. Had he left things the way they were, I’d have dropped the shit, but coming to The House of Creed and lurk
ing around for Brea just birthed a death sentence for him. A slow, drawn-out, and painful one.

  Monday is going to be a productive day for everyone. My boardroom is going to get a helluva workout. I smirk with the insider’s knowledge that I’m about to deliver a financial fucking that was solicited and well deserved. The Wallstreet God is about to saddle the Black Stallion up and take him on a rough ride. My wrath needs to be seen and felt as a reminder to all not to fuck with what’s mine.

  chapter 25

  Brealyn

  The growl of Brogan’s voice roars out with sheer violence that’s spiked with dread. My eyes snap to him as he stalks my way. I feel like a caged up frightened animal with nowhere to go. His brooding body is thundering out in a pulsating rhythm with every breath that he takes in his tactical approach. Abruptly in and out, heinously forced into existence with an urgent undertone felt for sinful doings as he closes in on me.

  My head twists in all different directions trying to gauge my first attempt out. His boardroom only has one exit and unfortunately, I must go through Brogan to get to it. I back up with every step his forceful footfalls gaps between us. When my back hits the wall, I automatically angle my body to the side moving backward while holding up my hands and shaking my head in a quiet plea for him to stop which he ignores.

  Those eyes that I love so much are glossed over with a neon icy sheen swirling around blackened holes that have been submerged with wicked intent. Something malicious has set up shop and taken over his soul. His posture is demonic in nature and it sets off an awareness in me to seek safe shelter, away from him. Except the immediate threat is not directed at me, no. It’s focused on something much more valuable; I can feel that in my being.

  My instincts kick in for me to flee the scene as I round his massive bloodstained table, but I’m grabbed from behind as I turn for my escape route. The likes of which horror flicks play out. His strong arms wrap around my body pulling me into his irate shuddering frame. Its adrenaline mixed with rage.

  Brogan’s large hands slide over my stomach encasing me. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed but the tears silently slide down my face in streaks, non-stop. His lips brush over my neck kissing my erratic pulse softly, tenderly. Almost like what he’s doing is gently killing him throughout this process. There’s an unseen battle taking place within, mentally.

  “Shhhh, baby. Please be still.” His voice is that of a lullaby almost calming me to his will.

  “Jesus Christ… Brogan, please. Don’t!” I scream. I can feel the heat of hell creeping into every part of my body from his intended agenda. Decrypted depths which hold no remorse for my appeal.

  “I’ll never fucking hurt you but in order to keep you with me, I have to do this. It’s the only way. You refuse to listen to rationale.” His voice trembles. The cold air from his omission breezes over my neck sending an instant red alert throughout my being. His promise of pending death caves my heart in my chest.

  “Brogan, please don’t. If you love me, you won’t do this.” My pleas are fragile in delivery but heard all the same. “Please, oh God. Please, please, please don’t do this. I love you.” Reaching around I place my hand on his cheek and turn to look at him, tears flowing out of fear. I’m not above begging. I’ll do anything at this moment. “Always, always… I will love you always unless you choose to do this. You’ll kill that part of me, Brogan. You and you alone.” My voice breaks as my eyes frantically search his but his face remains of stone and satanic determination.

  “FUCK!....” His eyes crease with renewed anger and I look away. “No… I can’t. It’s because I love you… The love I have for you is compelling me to do so. I won’t lose you. I fucking can’t. Don’t you see, without you, I’d kill it anyway with a harshness meant to punish, ruthlessly. And I won’t fucking care because you’ll be gone.”

  His body breaks as he begins to weep, burying his face into the side of my neck. The urgency in this moment comes to a head because Brogan doesn’t crumble into tears for anyone. Oh, God… He’s really going to do this. I’ve got to get away from him. Frantically I try to wiggle my arms free.

  “It’ll be the reason that you’re no longer with me. Don’t ask me to live without you. I’m so sorry baby but I warned you… I never wanted this. All I wanted was you, period. You’ll forgive me. That’s what you do; you’ll forgive me eventually.” His voice is that of a soothing predator again with a luring tone made to sound tempting.

  Brogan’s demeanor is switching up like the Joker on a prescription free diet. A deceptive calamity in a body coated with corporate allure dipped in sexy sinful skin. His arms tighten around me and I feel his hands move into a caressing position over my stomach. A tightening sensation deep inside my womb starts to take place then I feel like the life is being sucked out of my soul.

  Hollowing out my reason for living.

  My reason for existence.

  And killing our son…

  “Don’t do it Brogan… Please… Brogan.” My voice rises with rage as I try to writhe and thrash out of his hold but it’s useless. “Please Brogan, let me go.” My entire body breaks out into uncontrollable cries. “I’ll hate you for the rest of my life if you kill our unborn son. Until the very last breath my body releases, I’ll loathe and despise you.” I’ve got to do something to protect my baby, our baby. At this moment, Brogan is pure unrelenting strength mixed with evil.

  “Shhhh, please baby, don’t say that. You don’t understand. My dad gave up my mom to give birth to death, ME. This thing is immoral and my love for you will not die because of this abomination. Just close your eyes, butterfly, and be still…” His arms stiffen around me even more. “It’ll only take a moment and you’ll be okay, and this will all be over. I’m saving you, us.”

  My body jerks straight up in the bed with sobs tearing out of my throat that are uncontrollable. I pull the blankets around me and rest my face into the soft sheets as my body breaks. My cries sound like there derived from the worst type of agony. The suffering spilling out of my body is unrealistic and I’m beginning to hyperventilate. It was just a dream. Oh God, please don’t let this startup with the nightmares again. It only happens when Brogan isn’t here with me.

  Rolling to the edge of the bed, I sling my legs off the side and bend over trying to position my head between my knees. After a few minutes, I’m able to breathe somewhat better and I grab my water off the nightstand. I turn the bottle up and let the cool sensation drain back into my throat.

  My eyes scan the dark loft and I’m relieved to find that I’m alone. Explaining that dream is not something I plan on doing, nor do I want Brogan taking it from me with his mind foreplay. I rest my head in my hands and shutter from the pure adrenaline coursing through my body out of fear. Fear of Brogan.

  “Sweet Jesus…” I sit my drink down and let my body fall back onto my mattress. My eyes locked on the ceiling as the off-white paint glares back at me with unspoken sentiments of unsettling things to come.

  The sensation of whispered tickles hit my lower stomach followed by heated, soft instances pressing a pattern, and working their way up. It’s a silky phenomenon slowly passing over the middle of my chest and ending with two strong hands gently cupping my tank top covered breasts. My eyes part and I wonder if this is another dream.

  “A Creed dream that ends with me inside of you.” Brogan’s raspy response to my thoughts prompts me to filter my hands through the sides of his midnight hair. I catch glimpses of the shiny texture when he moves his head into the shared slivers of moonlight afforded us from my fire escape window.

  Looking down at this massive man as his face is buried in the task of slowly working his talented mouth my way, I run my hands over his beautifully defined broad shoulders and back. I skim the inside of my foot along his legs stopping right below the curve of his shapely rear end, trying to coax him into me.

  When his tongue strokes a lazy pattern beneath my breast, I arch into him lifting my back off the bed, and he takes that as his cue to pul
l my shirt free of my body.

  “Fuck that shirt.” He growls then goes back to the job he’s preoccupied with.

  “Not the shirt baby, me.” I lightly giggle.

  His mouth closes over my aching nipple while his other hand torturously tweaks the other. Just slightly skimming it; a barely-there touch of his fingertips, taunting. It’s almost as bad as when he bites the sensitive nub but without the release of flashing shock, I get from the heat of that act. True to form, he bites down, and I flinch in mild pain mixed with relief. My center is dripping from his expert sexual hypnosis.

  He slides his hand down my ribcage as his mouth switches over to my other breast taking up playtime where that hand left off. I pull at the back of his head and buckle up into him, seeking more.

  “Uhmmm, baby. I’ve missed you so much.” I breathe out in what can only be described as a whore whisper. How did he get my underwear off without me knowing? Jesus…

  Brogan’s growl is primal and intimidating as I feel him trail his finger through the base of my overheated center. Instinctively, I part my legs giving him more room to do as he pleases. His thumb presses into my sensitive spot causing a coat of goosebumps to spring to life over my skin right before he slides his long finger inside of me. I know I’m shamelessly wet but now he does too as his finger glides inside of me with ease.

  My breath catches with his maddening rhythm in and out of me. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull his head back so I can see those eyes that I love so much. When they come into view my heart trips inside of my chest. That winter frost tent beams back at me and his cunning smile follows. He’s everything beautiful in my world. In my hands. Here with me.

  Pressing the pad of my foot down against the mattress, I push him over and mount this man. My hair falls over my shoulders as I look down at him, taking in his perfection. I rest my hands on his chest catching his heartrate thundering under my palms. I bow forward and place a kiss to the center of my existence, his heart. Then I work my way down his body the opposite of how he woke me.