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Unable to deny him, I slowly lift my gaze. He releases my wrist to cup my face, his eyes filled with admiration.
“You weren’t doing it wrong.” A smile teases his lips as he adjusts his stance, his erection brushing against my stomach. “In fact, you were doing it too well.” He lowers his mouth to mine. “So well that if I let you keep going, I would have come in your hand. And I can’t have that. Not when I’m so desperate to bury my cock deep inside you.”
My god, the things that come out of this man’s mouth. I doubt I’ll ever get enough of it. Will think back to all the wanton and needy words he growled for the rest of my life.
He crushes his lips against mine, and I moan, overcome with the combination of his words and the feel of his body surrounding mine.
“There it is,” he croons as he walks me backward a few steps toward the bed. “The sound that drives me fucking crazy.”
His hand on my back, he lowers me onto the mattress before settling between my legs. When he does, I whimper, his erection pressed against my heat making me pant with need. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, the scratching of his jawline against me driving me wild. Then he pulls back.
“Are you sure about this?” The sincerity in his voice is a complete change from his lust-filled declarations mere moments ago.
“Creed, we’re both naked and your dick is less than a breath away from thrusting into me.” I laugh nervously. “I think it’s too late to ask if I’m sure about this. Changing my mind now would just be cruel.”
“I don’t care about that.” He brushes a rogue tendril of hair behind my ear, his touch achingly tender. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. That you’re not ready for. It’s not too late to change your mind, Esme. Even if I’m inside you and it’s too much, you can still change your mind.”
“Do you want me to change my mind?”
“Fuck no,” he replies without a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t you feel how desperate I am for you?” He teases me with his erection, the feel of him on my clit causing a jolt of electricity to zap my core, my skin on fire.
I grab the back of his head, forcing his lips to mine. “Then stop procrastinating and fuck me, Creed. This is my choice. I can’t remember ever wanting anything as much as I want this.” I wrap my legs around him, slowly circling my hips. “I can’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as I want you.”
With a groan, he deepens the kiss, but keeps it short, pulling back to stand. He picks up his jeans and fishes a condom out of his wallet.
“Was this your plan all along, Lieutenant Lawson?” I prop myself up on my elbows, half joking, half serious.
“Sorry to say it wasn’t. I usually keep a few condoms on me in case Anders—”
“Say no more,” I interject, not wanting to bring my brother into this. Not wanting a reminder of one of the reasons we shouldn’t do this.
He’s about to rip open the packet, but pauses, arching a single brow, silently asking me one more time if I’m sure. I don’t even hesitate in nodding. His eyes locked with mine, he tears the packet and rolls on the condom. Then he returns to me, expression calm as he brings his erection to my entrance, easing his tip just inside.
At that first hint of pressure, I inhale sharply, a flash of trepidation overcoming me.
“You okay?” Creed asks.
I close my eyes and nod, reminding myself I want this. That I need this. That I deserve this. Deserve to make one decision for myself, despite any apprehension about how much it will hurt. And that’s all this is. I want to do this with Creed. I just know it will be painful. But if there’s anyone who will do everything to make sure it’s not, it’s this man.
“Words, Esme.” He feathers his mouth against mine. “I need to know you’re okay. No closing your eyes or giving me the silent treatment. Like I told you. I refuse to do anything you don’t want me to.”
I draw in a deep breath, returning my gaze to his. “I’m okay. Just… Do it.”
He straightens. “You sure?”
“Stop asking me if I’m sure and just fuck me, for crying out loud.”
“Gladly.” He pushes inside a little more, pressure mounting with every second.
Leaning toward me, he touches his lips to mine and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t have a chance to ask what he’s apologizing for before he drives forward in a single harsh thrust.
I scream, but he swallows my cries, kissing me sweetly through the pinching and burning. He doesn’t move yet. Instead, he stays here, giving me time to work through the pain.
“I’m so sorry,” he comforts again. But he still doesn’t move. Just kisses my cheeks. My lips. My neck.
As he works his way to my breast, circling my nipple with his tongue, I moan, any momentary discomfort waning, replaced with increased pleasure.
