Page 39 of Creed

“I knew which university you went to and did a bit of digging.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his charcoal suit pants. “I found out the dorms are set up based on faculty of focus and was headed to the one where most of the business school students lived. I saw you catch the bus and followed you here.”

“So you did stalk me.” I frown, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “And hung around watching, like some cop on a stake-out for me to come back out?”

He laughs at my analogy, but nods.

“You’re a psychopath, aren’t you?” I groan. “This is too good to be true.”

“Me stalking you is too good to be true?” The corner of his mouth twitches, and I huff.

“No.You.” I wave my hand at him. “Everything. Hot, gorgeous, successful. There’s got to be something going on to explain why you’re here with me. I’m being punked, aren’t—”

My words are cut off as he pulls me into his arms and growls—legit, growls—at me, “You are a fucking walking wet dream, Sophie Demeanus. You're extraordinary. It’s a gift to have your attention. You areneverto disparage yourself again, understood?”

When I get my bearings and wind back—because he steals my breath with his words and the angry demand of them—I nod.

“Say the words, angel,” he grits. His icy-blue eyes feel like they’re going to burn my insides up with the fire being kindled deep within me.

“I’ll never say anything that deprecates me or my worth again.”

“Good girl.”

Cue pussy clench.

Oh, good lord, when he calls me that.

“Thank you, sir,” I breathe huskily. I don’t know where that breathy tone came from or ‘sir’ and why I added it.

His nostrils flare, and his pupils dilate. “Fuck me.”

His mouth crashes to mine, and I’m lost to the world around me. All I feel is his tongue diving into my mouth, tangling with mine, his lips devouring me, his hard length pressed against me, and each soft curve of my body fitting perfectly into his. His hands grip my face, forcing me to give him more access as he plunders my mouth until he finally pulls away.

He puts his forehead to mine, still holding my head. “Come to my place with me.”

It isn’t framed as a question, nor is it a command.

I answer without thought or hesitation. “Yes.”

He grabs my bag, grips my hand, and we run across the street when traffic breaks. He opens the door to his Ferrari for me, then runs around to the other side. He tosses my bag into the backseat, gets in, and takes off into traffic. The side windows are darkly tinted, seeming darker than I remember from that first night.

“Lay your seat back, angel.”

I feel on the side of my seat for the controls and do as he said.

“Undo your jeans. I need to see and feel that perfect little pussy.”

My eyes widen, and I glance at the side windows.

“No one can see in. I got darker tint.”

As in… he planned this. He planned to see me again. He planned to toy and play with me in his car again. He never intended for us to be a one-night stand.

Oh god, why am I not freaking the hell out?

Instead, I’m wetter than ever.

He smiles—a smile worthy of a devil and filled with sin. “Don’t keep me waiting, angel. I have a large orgasm debt I owe you, and I’m a man who always clears his debts.”

My fingers work the button of my jeans without conscious thought, then pull down my zipper. Lifting my hips, I shimmy my jeans and panties down.

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