Page 118 of Creed

“Fuck you!”

I have no control, no power, and the chains of helplessness and hopelessness that have been tightening clamp even tighter, threatening to crush me.

He rushes at me and pins me against the wall. His hand goes around my throat, not gripping it tightly, just holding me there as his body presses flush against mine. “I. Will.Not. Risk. You.”

“You can’t do this.” I push against him.

“I can and I will,” he grits.

“This isn’t how our relationship will go. This isn’t how marriage works. I won’t sign up for a life of being your docile, obedient—”

“Carrying you kicking and screaming to the altar isn’t off the table.”

His rigid length presses into my stomach from under his towel, and I fight to ignore the heat exploding like fireworks in my core. He reads my cues, every one of them, and pushes harder into me.

“You need control, power. I know, angel.” His tone is a contradictory blend of hard and soft. “But for your safety, I won’t relinquishmycontrol. But take what you need from me right now so you don’t break.” He lifts my wrists above my head, pinning them in place with one of his hands.

Creed knows me so well, knows that I’m on the verge of shattering—on the verge of emotional ruin—as helplessness and hopelessness crush in. That taking control and power oversomethingwill act as a proxy to fend it off.

The hard press of his body against mine reminds me that I can gain control by giving him control. It’s another dichotomous contradiction, but it works.

“Please,” I whisper.

His eyes flare, understanding my plea. Submission. I need to submit. I need to submit to his dominance in terms of my pleasure.

In our relationship, I need to be Creed’s equal in our decisions, and he respects that, even though we are at odds over his protecting me right now. But in the bedroom, the hidden submissive—Siren Sophie—preens at handing him the reins over my pleasure because Creed doesn’t take; he only gives. He only feeds my whims and needs. He unleashes me and lets me fly.

Handing that control over to him, I feel my emotional turmoil and the helplessness and hopelessness already start to ease. I no longer feel on the verge of shattering.

His free hand yanks his towel off. His thick, heavy cock slaps my stomach, and his knee knocks my legs apart. His fingers fall to my slit. “So fucking soaked for me, angel. This perfect pretty pussy, thisneedy cunt,is so messy for me.”

A low moan grows deep inside me, and my eyes roll back in my head. There’s something about his filthy, vulgar words that unravels me.

“On your knees,” he commands roughly.

I don’t think, I don’t question, I just obey.

I sink to my knees, and he wraps his hand around his thick, tattooed cock to angle it to my mouth. I whimper with need as the broad head with the angel wings and my name furrowed in the feathers crosses my lips and rests on my tongue.

“Take me deep like you can,” he hisses, staring down at me as I stare up at him. I work him into my mouth, opening wide to fit him, taking him deep into my throat. My nose touches his stomach, and he moans. “Good girl.”

It makes no sense how my mouth, filled with his cock, gives me so much contentment and pleasure, but it does.

Another chain of helplessness and hopelessness falls away. I reach for his hands, placing them on my head, telling him what I need.

He fists my hair, pulling it tightly, then controls my head to counter the thrusts of his hips as he fucks my mouth. I slurp and suck on him, tears beading in my eyes and saliva dripping down my chin, my eyes never leaving his.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he snarls. “My fucking angel. Jesus fuck.” His hips ram forward, his balls hitting my chin.“Touch yourself. Sink your fingers into that dripping pussy that needs my cock so much.”

My hand slides down my stomach, over my mound, and splits my lips, finding myself soaked and dripping for him. I sink one finger in deep, then add a second and moan around his cock, sliding in and out of my mouth and throat. When he pulls shallower, I breathe deeply through my nose before he plunges back in with a growl. I time my fingers to the pace and rhythm of his thrusts as he stares down at me like a god over his fallen angel.

The room fills with the sounds of his groans, hissed curses, and my moans as he fucks my mouth and I finger myself.

But I need more. I need his thickness filling me. I need my clit dragging on his skin. I need his naked flesh on mine, my nipples rubbing on his chest. I cup his balls and squeeze, making him hiss.

“My dirty little angel. You’re going to make me cum in your mouth.” He yanks me off my knees and up around his waist. My legs lock around his hips, and he drives into me to the hilt. My back slams against the wall, and I cry out as pleasure erupts and spirals all over my body.

“My cum goes in this pussy. I'm fuckingbreedingyou. Fucking my baby into you.”

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