Kristen Ashley - Creed

I hated to admit it but Creed was right so I didn’t admit it and just settled, cheek to his chest again.

Creed’s hand started stroking my back again.

Then he asked, his voice cautious, “Your father still freaking you out?”

I knew what he was asking.

Daddy’s behavior had long since stopped freaking me out but he was different lately. Weird. Wired. His eyes bright in a way I didn’t like.

I’d seen it before, for years it had been happening although not frequent. The change. Him being more energetic than usual, happy. Now, it was happening a lot more and sometimes, when he wasn’t that way, he seemed agitated, strung out.

He would also have lots of phone conversations that were on the hush-hush, hidden. He’d jump if you entered a room he was in and he was talking on the phone and he did it like he was guilty or something.

He wasn’t like that. Ever. He had swagger. He didn’t care what people thought about him, the way he acted, what he said. He didn’t hide anything.

Now, he was and the fights with the stepmonster were far more frequent. They never went away but those two had settled into a routine animosity. It was usually only when he came home drunk or she found out he was cheating on her when things got ugly.

It was happening all the time these days.

“Yeah,” I told Creed.

“Wide berth, beautiful,” Creed advised.

I nodded, cheek sliding against his chest.

I could do that. I’d been doing it for years. I could do it for a few more months.

“You know,” I told his chest, “you’ve had this bed since you were a little kid. You should get a bigger bed.”

“I will, in a few months, when we’re gone and I’m buyin’ one for the both of us.”

See?

There it was. Creed making me feel better.

I smiled into his chest.

“Soon,” I began, “we’ll have to open the windows. We lay like this, we’ll hear the crickets. We meet at the lake, we’ll hear the frogs.”

His hand stopped stroking and his arm curled around me as he murmured, “Yeah.”

“Soon after that, no more sneaking. No more driving an hour and a half to have dinner. Just you and me, a big bed, a new puppy then Kara and Brand and a big happy family.”

His arm tightened, he pulled me up and over him so we were face to face again and he repeated a quiet, “Yeah.”

His face was illuminated only by the moonlight but I could still see the hair had fallen over his forehead. I lifted a hand to shift it away and for once, since he was lying on his back, it stayed where I put it.

That almost made me smile but what I had to say made certain I didn’t.

“I have to go back.”

“I know.”

I sighed and felt Creed do the same before both Creed’s arms stole around me. He rolled me so he was mostly on top and he kissed me, slow and sweet.

He was good at good-bye kisses. Great. Fantastic. I’d had a lot of them.

Too many.

I’d be glad when the day came that I got them few and far between.

With clear reluctance, Creed rolled us both out of his bed then he waited until I put my jacket on. We walked, silent, hand in hand out of his house and through the woods to my back gate.

There, as always, he stopped me, turned into me and, as always lately, he bent low, framing my face with his hands and he kissed me light and sweet.

A different kind of good-bye kiss, not as good but just as precious.

“See you tomorrow, Creed,” I whispered.

“Tomorrow, baby,” he whispered back.

I grinned up at him but I knew it was fake.

So did Creed.

But still, with no choice, he let me go and, with no choice, I went.

A few more months.

Just a few.

Then Creed and I would be free.

Present day, six days later…

Creed lay on his stomach, hand shoved under the pillows, leg cocked, face turned toward me, eyes closed.

He was still sleeping.

I was on my knees in the bed beside him, watching.

The covers were pulled up to his waist. I knew what lay under them was naked but as I looked that way, all I saw was our lake, our pier and my name in flowers painted on his back.

Lifting a hand, starting between his shoulder blades and trailing a fingertip lightly down his spine, when I got there, I traced my name backwards, starting with the “e”. I knew he came awake at my first touch but I took my time, studying the tat, my finger’s movements. As I finished the “S”, my finger slid across the top of his ass and down, taking the covers with me.

I felt my vagina spasm as I exposed his fine, sculpted behind and my eyes drifted back up his back, his tat to his eyes, seeing their startling blue on me. He hadn’t moved, just his eyes had shifted to me and the look in them made my gut pitch.

God, how could he make lying there on his stomach hot?

I didn’t know. He just did.

That was Creed.

“Hey,” I whispered.

“Hey,” he whispered back then moved, swiftly.

Knifing partly up, his arm snaked out fast, hand hooking me around the back of my neck. He pulled me down to him and kissed me, hard and wet.

I experienced another highly pleasant vagina spasm before he lessened the pressure of his hand on my neck, allowing me back three inches.

When he did, I declared, “I hope I never, ever get used to you sleeping next to me. I hope I never, ever get used to waking up next to you. And I hope I never, ever lose thinking how every kiss you give me is pure beauty.”

I watched his eyes, still slightly sleepy, flare before he murmured, “Jesus, Sylvie.”

I held his gaze and warned softly, “You should always be ready.”

I caught a nanosecond of his brows drawing together before I flew backwards. Breaking from his hold, my quickness and momentum making it so when I hit my back, I could curl my legs and hips over and do a backwards somersault. I landed on my feet by the side of the bed. Reaching down, I grabbed the two Nerf blasters and a bunch of ammo packs I had stored under the bed. I tossed one toy gun on the mattress with some reloads before I lifted my gun and took aim.

I half expected Creed to balk. He said he didn’t play at work.

This would be totally unfun.

Luckily, the minute I lifted my fake weapon, he went back on this declaration. I knew it because his arm shot out, he grabbed the gun and rolled, disappearing with a loud thump on the other side of the bed.

It should be noted, he did all this before I even got a fucking shot off!

Shit!

He was good. Even at Nerf!

Wearing my undies and cami, I darted out the door, plastered my front to the wall by the side of the jamb and peered around, me and my gun.

A Nerf dart shot by me, so close I could feel the whiz of air kiss my cheek.

Shit!

He was seriously good.

I pulled back, fired off two blind, heard heavy footfalls which meant Creed was on the move, so I dashed down the hall to find cover.

I hit the living room and threw myself behind the couch. I shoved one reload into my panties, kept the other in hand and when I heard Creed coming down the hall, I lifted up, aiming at the doorway.

He hit it wearing faded jeans only partly done up and I immediately unleashed a hail of dart fire. One glanced off Creed’s shoulder, another off his arm before he returned fire and disappeared behind an armchair.

I ducked behind the couch, reloaded and got up to a crouch, peeking over the back, not seeing Creed. I straightened further, backing away, gun pointed in his direction as I headed toward the entryway.

I heard a, “Meow,” and spared a glance down at Gun who was sitting in the entryway looking up at me.

Her “meow” was not a “what the fuck are you doing?” meow. She was used to my whacky behavior. Although, I’d never had a Nerf fight in the house, my whacky behavior had run the gamut so she wasn’t alarmed. Her “meow” was a “when the fuck are you gonna feed me?” meow.

I looked back Creed’s way, still backing up as I muttered, “In a second, Gunny.”

“Meow,” she replied, unimpressed by the fake gunplay or the fact that her kickass Momma and a huge badass alpha were engaged in a Nerf fight. All she cared about was she was hungry.

“Promise,” I told her and saw Creed shoot from behind the armchair, moving in a crouch, gun up and firing my way.

One hit me in the stomach and I got off three shots of my own before I disappeared in the dining room.

“Gut shot,” I heard Creed call and he was right. If there were rules, which luckily there weren’t, he just won.

But I was having too much fun.

“I’m still standing!” I shouted back.

I zoomed to the kitchen, took cover behind the bar and had my gun up, braced on the bar, eyes to the doorway when Creed entered. Another hail of gunfire, from him and me, before he took cover behind the dining room table.

At that point, all hell broke loose. Nerf darts hitting the dining room table making papers fly, Nerf darts striking the bar and flying over my head. They were everywhere.

It got to the point I had no reloads and I knew Creed didn’t either because he’d stopped firing. As I scrambled around the kitchen floor to grab darts to refill, I heard Creed moving through the dining room, his treads fast and thundering.

Shit, he was on the attack.

Nerf done, we were going hand to hand.

Awesome!

I threw the gun aside, braced in a crouch and as he rounded the bar, I sprung up and launched myself at him.

I hit him dead on. Snaking one arm around his neck, one around his back, holding on and, upon taking my weight, he fell back a step. I rounded his legs with a calf and slammed in behind his knees, succeeding in taking one out. His big body pitched to the side, his arms curled around me and we went down to the kitchen floor, Creed’s shoulder slamming heavily into it, me slamming heavily into Creed.

Even as I moved to gain an advantageous position, I asked, “You okay?”

His answer was to roll me to my back, his weight on me.

He was okay.

He didn’t get the chance settle before I managed to buck him off and thus commenced the tussle. Creed didn’t hold back, I didn’t either and we were grunting and breathing heavily before I, not entirely surprisingly but also annoyingly, wound up pinned to the kitchen floor on my belly.

Shit!

“Give?” Creed asked.

“No,” I answered on a heavy breath, arching my back and cocking a knee to try to get it under me in order to lift up and use my weight to throw him off.

“Baby, you’re beat,” he informed me.

“No, I’m not,” I informed him, straining against his weight.

His hips slid off then my panties were yanked down and I went completely still so my body could enjoy being rocked by a mammothly pleasant vagina spasm.

“Give?” Creed asked again.

“No.” This time it came out on a breathy breath.

His hand shot between my legs, finger honing in on my clit.

Fuck, that felt good.

My hips jerked.

“Give?” he asked, now his voice was all rough, no smooth, totally hot.

Oh yeah. I gave.

“Yeah,” I gasped.

“Please, God, tell me you’re off your period.”

I’d had my period the last few days, an unfun circumstance normally, a really unfun one when I wasn’t big on having sex during it, which meant I didn’t get to have sex with Creed. He got me off with his fingers, I got him off with my hand and mouth but it wasn’t the same.

Now I was back.

“Yep,” I gasped again, his finger moved back and plunged deep.

Nice.

I moaned into the floor.

I was ready for him, now. It had been four days. I needed him inside.

“Now, please, God, tell me you got a stash of condoms in the kitchen,” Creed went on.

Alas, I did not but after he fucked me, I was stashing them everywhere around the house. Under seat cushions. Taped to the bottoms of tables. There would not be an inch of space in my house where a condom would be out of reach.

“No,” I answered.

“Fuck,” he clipped and I felt his finger start to move out.

I whipped my head around and looked at him over my shoulder. “Don’t. I can’t wait, Creed. Fuck me now and pull out. It’ll be cool.”

His finger did lazy strokes as his face dipped close to mine and he replied, “Baby, pulling out does not work.”