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Holy shit.
This man and his mouth. It’s going to be my undoing.
Then again, I’m pretty sure it’s already completely destroyed me.
He straightens to kneel, eyes boring into mine. He grabs a leg, hooking it over his shoulder, driving into me with even more force, each thrust more punishing than the last.
Taking a page from his own playbook, I pull him toward me and nibble on his earlobe as I murmur, “Come for me.”
“Fuck,” he exhales, pistoning into me several more times before he jerks, a growl thundering from his throat.
Finally, his muscles give out and he falls on top of me, the only sound that of our ragged breathing. He drags me into his arms, peppering soft kisses along my collarbone.
“Jesus, Esme. That was…” He shivers, meeting my eyes. “I have no words.”
I run a hand through his hair, relishing in the warmth of his sweat-dotted skin against mine. “So I’m guessing it didn’t suck.”
“Not even close. It was…” He shakes his head, as if searching for a word that simply doesn’t exist. “Incredible.” He smooths a finger along my torso. “You’re incredible.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I retort in a light voice, pushing down the ball of emotion that unexpectedly forms in my throat over the idea of never experiencing anything remotely close to this again. “And we should definitely add your dick to the list of dangerous weapons. In fact, I think it should be at the top, right above your tongue.”
He throws his head back and laughs, a moment of levity before he schools his expression. “How do you feel?”
“A little sore.” When I see the concern in his gaze, I touch my lips to his. “But it’s a good sore.”
“Good.” He briefly deepens the exchange, then rolls off me to stand. “Just give me one second.” Leaving a kiss on my temple, he strides toward the bathroom.
When he returns, the condom is gone and he holds a wet washcloth, bringing it between my legs as he lowers himself back to the bed.
“I can do that.” I sit up and reach for the cloth, feeling somewhat embarrassed when I notice the tinge of blood on the material.
“Let me take care of you.”
I meet his pleading gaze and nod.
This is a man I just slept with. Who I allowed to take my virginity. Yet this gesture feels much more intimate than anything we just did.
When he’s done, he stands and disappears into the bathroom once more. I take the opportunity to slip out of bed and tug my tank top and shorts back on. As I fix my just-fucked hair back into its bun, Creed reappears, pausing awkwardly when he sees I’m dressed.
“I um… I guess I should go.” He glances toward the window, the first light of day filtering through. “I probably shouldn’t be here when the staff starts to arrive.”
A part of me wants him to stay. Wants to know what it feels like to fall asleep in his arms. But this was never about that. It couldn’t be. This was just sex. Just once.
Nothing more.
“That’s probably for the best,” I agree, eyes purposefully avoiding his naked frame.
He hesitates, as if waiting for me to change my mind.
But I can’t.
It would only end in disaster for both of us. Him more so than me.
Finally, he walks to his pile of clothes and pulls on his briefs, turning away as he dresses. This feels so wrong. But what choice do we have?
We don’t, both of us victims of circumstance and tradition.
Once Creed has his jeans on, he grabs his shirt and faces me as he buttons it.
