Page 40 of Creed

“Take them all the way off.” His voice is gruff and deep as he shifts the gearstick, speeding up.

I toe off my canvas shoes, push my pants down, and kick them off. Never once questioning my sanity. Not feeling any hesitation at being buck-naked from the waist down in this man’s car while I lay back in the seat.

He glances at me and my bare bottom half. “Good girl. Now spread those thighs and give me that pussy that’s mine.” He growls the last word, emphasizing his claim of ownership, and that does something to me.

So much wetness coats my thighs, I’m going to make a mess of his leather seat. My thighs spread open, and his hand immediately leaves the gearshift to my core.

“Oh, my angel, you’resoakedfor me.”

He dives a finger in, making me cry out, and my eyes close as ecstasy washes over me. For two weeks, I tried to recreate the sensations of when he touched me, but my fingers or vibrator couldn’t hold a candle to him. When he pushes two fingers in and scissors them, my hips buck, and I moan, my head writhing back and forth.

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

His fingers leave me, and I cry out in dismay, my eyes flying open. His fingers glisten and are coated in my juices right up to his knuckles. He grips the gearshift, and I feel the car take a corner and accelerate. He shifts gears once more, then dives his fingers back in.

My eyes roll back in my head as pleasure spikes within me. “Your gearstick will need cleaning.”

He licks his lips, glancing at me, then to where we're joined with his hand buried between my legs. “I like the thought of your wet cunt cream on here whenever I drive this car.”

To drive his dirty words home, he pushes in even more, and his thumb works my clit. He works me hard, somehow not crashing as he speeds toward his penthouse. But every time I get close to climaxing, his hand goes back to the gearstick. After the fourth time, I snarl because he doesn’t have to change gears that frequently, making his chest rumble with laughter and his eyes dance with delight.

As he lifts me toward the peak for the fifth time, the sunlight disappears, and the car slows, and I know we’ve arrived at his penthouse parking garage. Excitement fills me, and the need to orgasm is at an all-time high. I need it like air. I need it like an addict needing their next hit, and my hips bridge to put pressure against the heel of his hand, grinding on my clit. But then it’s gone once again.

“Motherfucker,” I scream in frustration as I drop away from the pinnacle of my releaseyetagain. My chest heaves, and my pussy throbs.

Creed has parked the vehicle and leans toward me. “I promise you, you’ll get what you need in less than three minutes. Suck these clean,” he commands.

He holds up his fingers for me, and his hand glistens with my wetness. Then his fingers breach my lips, and they push deep into my mouth. I push his fingers in deeper so he's buried rightup to the knuckles on the back of his hand, and his wet palm presses against my chin.

Having no gag reflex is amazing, especially when his nostrils flare and almost all the blue of his irises disappear as his eyes dilate even more with desire. My tongue licks and laps up my wetness from his fingers, and I moan at the taste of myself.

Visions of him screwing me hard—almost violently—making us both come, and then me sucking our combined cum off his dick make my pussy throb.

He makes me want to do such filthy things.

And I feel no hesitation or embarrassment. It’s like he is my safe haven—a place that feels so right and natural that I can be anything I want. Instead of sweet little Sophie, I can be Creed’s dirty, naughty little porn star. And the fact that he won’t judge me, or better yet, that hewantsme like that, is the most liberating feeling. As is being with someone you want to share that with. Someone you feel that level of trust and security with. I don’t question that I had just met this man because this feels right.

I pull his fingers out of my mouth, adding suction as they pop out. He stares at me darkly, looking like he wants to devour me as he undoes his jacket and shrugs it off. “Put this on. No one gets to see that beautiful ass or perfect pussy except for me.”

I sit up, do as he orders, and shove my feet into my shoes. He reaches into the wheel well and snags my jeans and panties, then jumps out of the car. Watching him walk around the car—hisstrong body shifting, bunching, and pulling under the fabric of his dress shirt and pants, the hard shaft that’s trying to burst free—makes me even wetter.

My hand goes between my legs. I need to get off. Immediately.

The door opens, and he barks, “Get your hands off my pussy.”

I glare at him. “It’s my pussy, and I—”

He slaps my mound, hitting my clit and swollen lips. “Oh my god.” I nearly shriek as lightning bolts of pleasure hit me, and I fall back against the seat. “Do that again.”

He leans in and pulls me to sit up, his face close to mine. “When you touch yourself, does it feel as good as when I do it?”

“No.”

“Has any other’s touch made you feel like mine does?”

“No.”

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