The wet fabric pools between us as he carefully pulls it from around each arm. I feel the weight of his gaze as it settles over my bare chest. I fight the urge to cover myself because these are the scars Idoremember vividly, considering they’d happened on that very last day. My nipples tighten, and I honestly can’t tell if it's from the exposure to the steam-filled room, or from Creed’s intense stare. It fucking hurts, though.
I brave a glance down my body to see that one of my nipples is bruised; a deep, angry shade of bluish-purple with a jagged, dark red scab wrapped around it in a semi-circular shape.
I can vividly recall the pain of my skin tearing beneath his abuse. The fact that it’s drawn tight is a good sign that he didn’t cause any permanent damage.
Motherfucker.
Nausea swirls in my gut as I look over myself again because there really is no space on my body that Guy hasn’t marked or bruised in some way.
Spots dot my vision when short staccato breaths start to wheeze in and out of my lungs. The phantom pain of his blade threatens to take me under.
But then Creed is there.
Here.
With me.
His tattooed hands circle my waist and he leans forward, looking up at me through his dark, wet lashes. Even through my panic, his glacier eyes draw me in. My spiraling comes to a screeching halt when he bends farther down to place the softest kiss over my injured breast. His lips linger over the bruised, tender skin for a moment before moving along my sternum, making his way to the other.
His lips press more firmly against my breast, his eyes still locked onto me.
Is it sane to be doing such a thing on the shower floor of my hospital room? Fuck no. But am I enthralled by the man whom I was terrified I would never see again? Yes, and there’s no way I’m stopping him right now. Not when he’s touching me like this.
I need his touch, however he’ll give it to me.
Weneed this.
Creed touches me as if I’ll disappear and I soak him up as if that fear is reality.
Absentmindedly, I nod my consent, completely lost in his heady gaze.
His lips curl against my skin, and I’m gone. I gasp as he sucks the pebbled peak of my uninjured nipple into his mouth.
The world disappears around him and it's just us.
My body arches into his touch, my hands flying into his hair, gripping the strands tightly. The feel of his damp, inky strandsstraining between my fingers and around my knuckles is like an aphrodisiac.
“Fuck, Stardust,” Creed’s growl sounds borderline needy against my skin as he kisses his way up my sternum and over my collar bone. I shiver at the feel of his warm breaths gliding over my sweat-slicked body.
Grabbing his face, I pull him up and crush my lips against his. It’s desperate, the way I pull him impossibly closer until there is no space that can be claimed between our bodies. There’s no hesitation. Instant in the way we melt into one another, claiming what belongs to only us. The breathless, squeezing ache deep in my chest is a painfully beautiful reminder of how I belong to him, and he belongs to me.
Creed’s hands deftly roam down, a featherlight trail from my waist to my hips, then shifting around to my lower back. He gently presses me forward at the same time he shifts to trail kisses down and along the line of my jaw. It feels like an invitation. My body is sore from the inside out, but I’m burning uncontrollably for him. It’s wrong to want such a thing from him right now, but the offer of power is there—that it’s mine to take and reclaim as my own.
So…I do.
Slowly, I start to rock my hips against him, creating a slow cadence of budding pleasure that ripples from my core, spreading throughout each of my limbs and back again.
“That’s it, whatever you need, it’s yours, baby. Take it from me.” He rasps against my lips before nipping at my bottom one. “You’re a fucking deity.”
His soft lips press against mine as one of his fists finds my hair, firmly gripping the strands at my nape. The pressure is enough to create a small bite of pain, but it only serves to accentuate the pleasure I feel as I move with more purposeagainst the rigid length of his cock. “My perfect girl. Jesus fuck, baby–”
I moan–fucking moan, and it’s not just a squeak–when his thrusts start to meet me in the middle. It creates the most mind-numbing friction against my clit. The dizzying sensation sends my body barrelling forward towards the release I suddenly crave more than my next breath.
“Creed, please.”I’m not sure what I’m begging for, because I know there’s no chance that he’ll deny me a goddamned thing right now. I grip him tighter, but I can’t increase the pressure I need to come without pulling at my sutures.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, burying his face in my neck while his grip shifts to my ass, his fingers tightening their hold as he assists my movements against him. His legs are pressed tightly together, keeping his lap as narrow as possible so that he doesn’t further the damage to my thighs. “Let go, Collins, I’ve got you, baby.”
Tears well in my eyes. His words feel like so much more than encouragement to find release. They feel like a vow, and that’s what pushes me over the edge. I come with a soft cry, and I kiss Creed on a shaky breath. His hands never waver as he helps me to ride out the pleasure. The orgasm is weak, but this wasn’t about that. This was about reclaiming my body, and I did that.He helped me do that.
