His head was tipped down, his eyes to our bodies but at the sound of my voice, my tone, they shot to my face and his hips stilled on an inward thrust.
“Creed, don’t hold me down!” I snapped and he let my wrists go as a flash shot through his eyes.
He moved one hand to the side my face, his eyes also moving over it and his voice was ragged too, not with sex, not with what had been in mine but the emotion ran just as deep when he whispered, “Jesus, baby.”
“Fuck me, Creed,” I demanded and his gaze came to mine.
“Let’s slow it down,” he said gently.
“Fuck me,” I repeated.
“Sylvie, baby –”
I lifted my head and took his lower lip between my teeth giving it a nip. I released it and, face close, eyes all we could see, I bit out, “Creed. Fuck me.”
We held each other’s eyes.
Then he moved, gathering me in his arms, he got to his knees then to his feet. His cock still deep inside me, he took two long strides then I was back to the couch and he was fucking me.
He went for my mouth but I turned my head and shoved my face in his neck, holding on with my arms and legs, tight. Tipping my hips to meet his thrusts, I erased everything from my brain but what was going on between my legs. I searched for it, reached for it and found it, my head rearing back into the cushions as I cried out my release. The pleasure, as it always did, driving away the pain.
Only bigger. Better.
Much bigger.
Way better.
I kept tight hold of him, burying my face back in his neck and keeping it there until Creed found his.
I gave him time, counting the seconds, waiting until his breath started to even then I ordered, “Get off me.” His head came up and I felt his eyes but I kept mine to his throat and repeated, “Get off me.”
“I think what just happened proves we need to talk, Sylvie,” he said softly. At his words, I heaved, twisted, he slid out and I took him to his side, back to the back of the couch.
I reared away but not so far that I couldn’t plant my hand in his chest and shove hard.
He got up on a forearm, his other hand circled my wrist tight and held mine to his chest as his eyes kept mine captive.
“You’re a total asshole,” I hissed.
He didn’t reply, not for long seconds then he said quietly, “I had you but in the end, you checked out. I was just a cock.”
“They’re all just cocks,” I retorted.
He shook his head and his fingers tightened around my wrist as he leaned into me. “I had you.”
“No one has me.”
“I had you.”
I leaned into him and snapped, “No one ever has me.” I ignored the flash in his eyes and I ignored how easy it was to read, how hard it was to see that in his eyes. I ignored all of it and yanked at my hand.
He didn’t release me.
“Let me go,” I demanded harshly.
He let me go.
I jumped off the couch and moved to my clothes. I pulled on the tank and my jeans and left my panties, bra, socks and boots where they lay.
By the time I turned back, he had his jeans up and half buttoned.
I looked from his crotch to his eyes.
“Guest bedroom is a pit but, you dig deep enough, you’ll find a bed. You look hard enough, you’ll find sheets for the bed. I’m going out. Sweet dreams.”
I moved toward the door trying to decide if it was a bourbon or tequila night.
“I couldn’t have you, I’d have that.”
His words made me stop dead but I didn’t turn. I didn’t move.
Years passed.
Then he spoke again, quieter.
“I never thought I’d see you again. I couldn’t have you, I’d have that part of you. That part of us. Kids named what we agreed so every time I said the names of the kids I loved, I’d remember you and I’d have that part of you with me.”
Jesus.
He could not be serious.
Jesus.
Someone kill me.
I turned then and looked him straight in the eye.
“You are so full of shit.”
“I am?”
“Yeah,” I clipped.
“You believe that, I’ll give you her number. You call Chelle. Ask why she divorced me.”
I hitched a hip just as I put a hand to it and asked flippantly, “That’ll be interesting, Creed, what’ll she tell me?”
“That she filed for the same reason you lost your mind tonight. She filed when she found out why I insisted on naming our kids. She filed because of why I named our kids those names. And she filed because she was done bein’ married to man who was in love with a fuckin’ ghost.”
It took effort but I just managed to ignore his verbal blows pummeling the breath clean out of me.
“So you’re an equal opportunity asshole, doing that to her at the same time you did it to me,” I noted.
“Yep,” he agreed. “Still don’t give a fuck which is why it’s good she’s shot of me. Decent woman. Never should have done it to her. I got them, I got her part of them and I got you in them. The way I saw it, I had a lifetime of livin’ without what I most wanted, made certain I got all I wanted outta that. I like it like that and I’d do it again.”
Seriously, this dickhead could not be believed.
“You are an asshole,” I bit off.