Kristen Ashley - Creed

Told you Knight could talk.

And that was nice and all, really nice, but I was a little put out he didn’t say it straight. He always said it straight.

Then he said it straight.

“We been through a lot and you earned a piece of my heart, babe. It’s all yours and always will be.”

I pressed my lips together.

“You cry, I’m tellin’ the boys,” he warned.

I unpressed my lips and glared at him.

He smiled at me.

“Come here,” he ordered.

I went there and when I got close, Knight Sebring’s arms folded around me.

Mine folded right back.

We’d hugged only once in the time we’d known each other and that had been when we were drunk and I told him all about Creed.

It felt better not being drunk and after I got Creed back, even if that meant I was semi-losing Knight.

“I’ll miss you, Sylvie,” he whispered into the top of my hair.

“I’m not leaving tomorrow,” I told him.

“Then I’ll enjoy you bein’ a pain in the ass for as long as it lasts.”

I sighed but it was fake and both of us knew it.

Knight gave me a squeeze then he let go and I stepped back.

“Gotta get to my man,” I said.

“Go,” Knight replied.

I nodded, lifted a hand, squeezed his bicep then moved to the door.

I stopped at it and turned back. “You know, I agree.” I shook my head. “That’s not true. I don’t agree, exactly. I believe. I believe in what you do, Knight.”

“I know,” he told me.

“The Serenas though, before they begin –”

Knight cut me off. “Know that, too, Sylvie.”

I studied him and I knew. He felt what happened to Serena. He felt it deep. He knew she had no business in the business.

“We’re instituting better screens,” Knight explained and I knew what that meant. A girl came to him, she wouldn’t work unless she understood the life and could take it.

“Right,” I muttered before, “You got work to throw my way, I can take it on and do Hawk’s job, I’ll take it and be a pain in the ass while doing it.”

“Would expect nothing less,” Knight returned.

“You’d be right,” I replied.

He shook his head and jerked his chin to the door.

I shot him a grin and walked out of it.

I was down the steps, through the club and out the backdoor before I let it hit me and when it did, it nearly brought me to my knees.

I loved the life I had in Denver and the people I shared it with. I was only moving a state away but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a mother knowing I had to let it go.

I saw Creed standing outside his truck, leaning back against it, having a smoke, probably doing this because he was worried about me.

He studied me as I walked through the streetlamps toward him and he flicked his cigarette into the alley when I was three feet away. He saw it on my face, I knew, and that was why he pulled me straight into his arms and held me tight.

“He’s gonna help Charlene,” I shared, snaking my arms around him.

“Not surprised.”

My arms tightened around him.

“That sucked,” I said into his chest.

“I bet.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” I stated.

“All right.”

I sucked in breath.

Creed whispered, “I love you, Sylvie. Thank you for doin’ this for me, baby. I know you know but I’ll say it clear, it means the world to me. Just like you. All I can promise is, a day won’t go by where you won’t know you got that from me.”

At that, I started crying silently.

I did this while Creed held me and I kept doing it for a good long while.

Through it, Creed never let me go.

A hot summer night in Kentucky, sixteen years earlier, Creed is twenty-three. It’s Sylvie’s birthday, she’s just turned eighteen…

I was in the warm, midnight blue waters of the lake when I saw his truck drive up, the headlights bright, cutting through the cloudless night.

I treaded water and watched the lights go out on his truck. I kept doing it as I watched his tall, shadowed form stalk through the dark toward the pier.

I adjusted my position and kept my eyes on him as I heard his boots fall on the wood slats while he made his way to me.

At the end, he stopped and I felt his eyes on me through the dark.

“Baby, what the fuck?” he asked, sounding irritated. “We got all of six hours before we’re home free. Why did you call me and what the fuck are you doin’ in the lake?”

“What time is it?” I asked back.

“What?” he returned.

“Creed, honey, what time is it?”

He looked to his watch then back at me. “Can’t see shit, so I don’t know but I left the house at two fifteen.”

I did a lazy breast stroke and when I made it to the end of the pier, I lifted a wet hand and curled my fingers around the edge, tipping my head way back to keep my eyes on Creed.

“I was born at two oh four.”

His patience waned. I knew this when he asked, “Sylvie, again, what the fuck?”

“I was born at two oh four.”

Creed said nothing but I saw the line of his body go completely still.

He understood me.

“I’m legal, baby,” I told him softly.

I barely got out the word “baby” when he crouched low, leaned forward, his hands went under my pits and he hauled me clean out of the water. Just as suddenly, he was down and my wet, bikini-clad body was on him and his hands were on me.

All over me.

Finally.

I’d wanted this for as long as I knew it was mine to have. I’d wanted to give this to Creed for as long as I knew it was mine to give. For a year, we’d held back.

The floodgates opened and it all rushed out, beautifully.

But not perfectly.

He started by kissing me then he reached out and grabbed the blanket I brought, pulled us up to our feet and covered the pier with it.

After he did that, back down we went, this time, Creed on top of me.

A place I loved him to be.

Creed, being Creed, gave and gave, with his hands, his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, even his teeth. Gentle, slow, sweet.

Restrained.

I knew it cost him because I felt his tenseness, heard him stifle the noises he would normally make, probably so he didn’t scare me.

My hands up his shirt tensed against his sleek skin.

“Let this be everything it’s meant to be, Creed,” I whispered into his neck.

“Want it to be the best it can be for you, Sylvie,” he whispered in mine.

“It’s you. There’s no other way it can be.”

His head came up and I felt his eyes looking down at me.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” he answered. “Do what comes naturally.”

I shoved my hands in his tee and pulled up.

Creed arched his back and lifted his arms.

I pulled his shirt off.

Amazing.

All that smooth, muscled skin in the moonlight.

Amazing.

I put my hands to it.

Not amazing.

Sublime.

Creed kissed me.

Even better.

He rolled so I was on top and I used my hands on him, my mouth, my fingers, my tongue, even my teeth. Just like he did on me.

He rolled us again so he was on top, he did the same to me and I felt it building. Building so much, I couldn’t stop the noises from escaping my throat. Little whimpers, low moans, breathless gasps.

Creed’s lips on mine, he told me gently, “Gonna put my hand between your legs, beautiful. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” I breathed.

His hand slid down my belly and I shivered, waiting, braced, anticipating, needing but he stopped with his fingertips at the top edge of my bikini bottoms.

“You sure?” he checked.

“Baby,” I gasped. “I’m ready.”

His hand slid in.

My neck arched.

Oh wow.

Wow.

His finger hit me right at the perfect spot and my hips bucked violently.

I liked that.

A lot.

His finger retreated.

No!

“Jesus, I hurt you, Sylvie?”

“No,” I panted, my hands moving on him, feverish, communicating, then I gave it to him verbally. “Please,” I whispered.

Apparently he needed no further encouragement. I knew this because his hand slid back in and his finger went right where I needed it.

My mouth opened on a silent moan.

Yes, this was good.

Now, it was perfect.

His finger moved on that sweet spot between my legs as his mouth moved on my neck, his tongue traced my jaw. Then, just as it built so high it crashed over, obliterating me with its sheer beauty, his mouth took mine and his tongue slid inside.

Yes.

Utterly.

Perfect.

As it slowly receded, I felt Creed’s finger move tenderly away then his hands went to the string ties on the sides of my bikini. He pulled them and I felt the material loosen around my hips.

“Gotta have you, baby,” he murmured against my mouth, his hand doing something at the back of his jeans.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ll go slow. Be gentle,” he promised.

“Okay,” I repeated.

“It may hurt, beautiful,” he warned. “I’ll try to –”

My hands slid up his back into his hair and I curled them around the back of his head as I lifted mine, my lips to his and I urged, “Creed, baby, it’s okay. I want it. I’ve been waiting forever for you to make me really your Sylvie. So, please, please make me your Sylvie.”