CREED
Despite the tough guy act, his body felt the strain of getting vertical for that shower and moving around so much after. He ignored the burn in his shoulder and the aches everywhere else and concentrated on the burning ache between his legs.
When his nameless goddess shifted over him, that was pretty damn easy to do. Her crown of glorious ebony hair fell forward, blocking his gaze as she settled over him. He would have stood, but doubted that he could actually retain an upright position. He settled for his back and that seemed to suit his goddess just fine. He had the sense that she liked being the one in control.
Her small, warm palm closed around the base of his shaft and he let out a hiss of actual pain. His cock was so hard it hurt. He had the bluest balls he’d ever known in his life, which was ironic, given that they’d developed in the past twenty minutes or so.
“God, tell me your name.” Creed didn’t like the way his voice was so strained it sounded like a plea.
Apparently his goddess did. Her eyes flashed and darkened and she gave one slow, long pump with her tight little hand. His hips jacked into her touch, pushing forward. Her hand slid to the tip of his dick and her fingertips played over him there, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath, caressing the slit where she coated her fingers in slick moisture.
He watched, in agony, as she brought her hand to her mouth and suckled those fingers between her lips. Her eyes closed and she sighed in satisfaction. When she popped them out, Creed thought there was a good chance that wasn’t the only thing that was going to pop. He was pretty sure it might take all of half a second to blow his load if he actually made it into her beautiful mouth.
“Tastes amazing already,” she murmured. His cock jerked hard in response.
“Tell me your name,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“And what if I did?” Her hand closed around his shaft again and she began pumping him from the tip to the base. He was nicely lubricated, due to how much he fucking wanted inside of her. Any part of her. Even her hand was utterly glorious.
“What if you did? Is it the source of your power? You tell me and all your strength goes away?”
She grinned. “I’m not the strong one.”
Want to bet? He’d felt pretty weak, no, check that- entirely slayed- when she’d come on his face.
His goddess stared right at him, moistening her lips as she pumped his cock with her tight palm. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“What the fuck?” Creed choked.
“Have you?” One hard pump, then another.
“I- don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.” Another long, slow pump followed by a drag of nimble fingertips over the head.
“I’m not. I want to know the answer.” Two hard pumps and his hips jacked off the bed again.
“I- why would I kill someone when there are so many other useful ways to get what I want. Killing people is messy. Not just the act, but the cleanup after.” Two more torturous passes of her hand.
She blinked. “So… is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a no,” he ground out. “There are other guys at the club that do that shit. Me- I’m- uh…” god he couldn’t think straight with her hand doing that to his dick.
“What’s that? Hmm? Were you saying something?” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again and she stared at him like a siren about to lure him to his death.
She reached out and cupped his balls with her other hand and just like that he was done. He threw his head back against the pillow as he arched into her palm. All it took was one thrust. He groaned out something unintelligible, something that sounded like a strangled, fuck. There was no precipice, no climb, no getting close. He just… pumped hard with his hips and like a madman, shot his load right into her hand.
He’d taken a corner too fast once, on his bike, and the next thing he knew, he was on his side, sliding. He came just like that. Just like he’d been riding his bike confidently one second, on his side, bleeding and wearing half the gravel from the road, the next. He could barely draw a breath into his burning lungs. His breathing was so labored he didn’t even recognize it was his own. He realized that his hands were balled into tight fists, gripping the sheets.
His goddess stared back at him, brow arched, humor in her eyes. “Jeez. I don’t know whether to be flattered or tell you that you hold the record for the fastest I’ve ever seen a guy come.”
“You clearly started having sex way too late in life then,” he ground out.
“Nope.” She shook her head, smiling back at him. “Don’t think so. I was fourteen.”
“Fourteen. Jesus.” It was crazy to think that she’d lost her v-card before he did and he was the one with the fucked up life. She was probably raised in a good family in the suburbs.
“Yeah. Well. Even back then, no one blew their load into my hand in like ten seconds.”
“It wasn’t ten seconds,” he rasped, annoyed. “There was a whole lot of you writhing clothed and then you riding my face. Sue me if I find that overly sexy.”
“I’m disappointed. I thought I was going to be able to taste you.” Her eyes darkened as she lifted her palm. “Oh wait. I guess I still can.”
No. No. No fucking way. Don’t do it.
But she did. She liked her fingers like they were fucking popsicles. Like they were a rare treat she wasn’t really allowed to have, but someone slipped it to her anyway.
His hips bucked forward and he nearly came again watching her lick off his cum.
No matter how much it hurt, no matter that his wounds would likely have broken open, no matter that he was exhausted and light headed and seeing stars and that he’d just shot his load off in ten seconds like she said, he would have flipped her over onto her back and fucked the living daylights out of her.
But a knock at the door shot that plan straight to shit.