Then he kissed me.
Not rough.
Not gentle either.
It was controlled need, the kind of kiss that comes from holding back too long.His mouth pressed to mine with intention, depth, heat coiled tight beneath restraint.
I answered without hesitation.
My hands slid up his chest, over the crisp fabric, feeling the solid truth of him beneath layers of control.He groaned softly, low, involuntary, and the sound shattered something fragile between us.
His kiss deepened.Still contained.Still chosen.But no longer distant.
His hand slid into my hair, anchoring—keeping me there, keeping himself there.
When he broke the kiss, his lips stayed close, breath mingling with mine.
“Bed,” he said quietly.
Not an order.
An invitation weighted with promise.
I didn’t speak.I just nodded.
He followed me, not chasing.When we reached the edge of the mattress, he stopped me with a hand at my waist.Grounding.Steady.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
And for the first time all night, the armor was gone.
Set aside.
“You didn’t submit tonight,” he said.“You stood.”
My chest ached.“So did you.”
His thumb brushed my lower lip.“That’s why this works.”
I watched Creed remove his clothes.Then he kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, letting the tension finally drain.Not rushed.Not desperate.
Earned.
He didn’t speak when he lifted me into his arms.
He didn’t need to.The collar was already around my neck, agreement active and humming beneath my skin.I wrapped my legs around his waist as an offering.
He carried me to the bed.The mattress welcomed me back.Creed didn’t throw me down; he lowered me.
Purposeful.
Controlled.
His palms ran down my torso, reverent and unhurried.He cupped one breast first, his thumb circling the nipple until it stiffened under his touch.Then his mouth followed, lips wrapping around the peak with a hot, wet pull that sent a gasp from my throat.
He suckled slowly, his tongue teasing in lazy strokes that contrasted with the hard weight of his body above me.The attention was deliberate.Focused.Every flick of his tongue told me I was his, not just to have, but to know.
