Page 97 of Creed

“I need you,” I whisper. “Please, Creed.”

He interlinks our hands, his eyes not leaving mine, and slowly pushes into me. Both of our breaths stutter at that first pleasure-filled entry that happens every time—like he’s coming home, and I’m welcoming him home—like our souls are reinforcing the bonds around us.

“I love you.” I choke on the emotion overwhelming me.

“I know, angel. I can see it. I can feel it.” He kisses me softly. “You’re my world. My everything, Sophie.”

He moves in me, slowly and tenderly, making love to me rather than the wild sex we usually have. And as explosive, toe-curling, and scream-inducing as that sex always is, this is just as powerful.

With his eyes on mine the entire time, I’m his sole focus, which is as potent as it is powerful. When I come for him, it’s like I reveal a new version of myself. With all my layers and shields gone, I’m the truest version of myself. Creed has alwaysseenme and helped me find out who I truly am, and he wants only to lift me so the world can see.

After my release, he thickens and starts to pulse into me, his eyes searing into my soul and my name on his lips. I whisper what I want, without any doubt that this is too soon or that I’m too young, “I want your baby in my belly, Creed.”

“Oh fuck, angel.” He jerks, and my confession seems to prolong him coming deep inside me. When he finishes, he kisses me deeply and starts to move again, rehardening almost instantly.

The next round isn’t exactly what you’d call lovemaking but more animalistic, raw, primal sex, complete with snarling—both him and me—nails raking over skin, teeth biting, hair pulling, and my screams echoing as I explode for him twice more, and he fills me to the brim with his cum.

When we collapse onto the bed, lying on our sides facing each other, we’re a sweaty, sticky mess.

He pushes my damp hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Yes.”

“Like in the future or…” His eyes search mine.

I lay my hand over his big, inked one, cupping my cheek. “As soon as possible.”

“Then we need to do two things. Get you off your birth control—”

“Done. I forgot it in my dorm when I ran.”

He grins and shifts closer. “Then the next thing, we need to get married.”

“That’s a bit old-fashioned. Come on, it’s not 1971.” I laugh.

His eyes darken. “We will be getting married.”

I shiver at his dominant tone. “Will you carry me, kicking and screaming, over your shoulder to the altar?”

He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Maybe I will.”

“Will you keep me captive, locked in your room, until you do?”

“Careful, angel. I might even keep you chained to the bed and use you as my personal fuck toy.”

The air rips out of my lungs, and my core seizes. “You’re… you’re not really making a strong argument for me to behave,” I force out breathlessly.

His eyes dilate, and his smile is dark. He pushes up, and I roll onto my back, staring at my dark god, who looms over his fallen angel. Visions of naughty,filthythings make me pant.

“Is your messy little pussy not satisfied yet?”

“Never. I’ll always want more of you.”

He lowers his head and bites my nipple, not hard but not softly either, and my back arches. “Does your needy little cunt want more of my cum?”

“Oh god,” I moan at his vulgar, dirty words.

“Tell me what you want,” he hisses against my nipple before he bites it harder.

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