Page 33 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

Angel

My tongue rolls up the ice cream, then swirls around the top before I suck the very tip of my dessert.

So maybe it is a bit provocative of me, especially as I’m staring straight at Creep when I eat, but hey, sue me.

I want to taste his cock, and whatever can inspire him to be into that is a win for me.

The shop we’re at has that old-timey Americana type of branding, with a checkerboard of tiles on the floor, pink seats, and staff dressed in pastel shades.

It’s on the expensive side, as far as ice cream goes, but Creep insisted on treating me as soon as he saw my gaze drift toward Dreamy’s Desserts.

I don’t think he’s aware that his own ice cream is drizzling down the side of his hand. I’d lick it if that wasn’t too improper for this setting. There are kids in here after all.

We came here on his motorcycle, and riding it without being gagged and zip tied was a lot of fun.

Domino never took me for a ride. Not that I’d want to go with him, but it’s a thrill to be with a guy who wants to show me off.

On the bike, I’m allowed to hug him as much as I want since there’s a practical reason for it.

I struggle with being unable to touch Creep however and whenever I want, even though I do understand he needs to adjust. Baby steps.

He’s already more comfortable with physical contact than when we first met, and in the morning, he wasn’t averse to showering with me.

It’s a delicate process, but I’m impressed he’s making the effort for me and challenging himself.

I don’t spare him the praise for it either.

And his body? Fuuuck. I wish he will let me touch him more, because he is to die for.

Yes, he is that fit. Lean but muscular, with strong biceps, and delectable thighs.

He’s all sharp edges but has the agility of a predator.

I struggle looking at his poor, abused back though.

Not because it’s off-putting, but because I feel like crying when I see the proof of the pain he’s endured.

I want to soothe, and kiss, and stroke… And yet it has to wait.

All I can do is coax him like he’s a baby wild cat, and I’m a bunch of feathers on a string.

“You’re staring,” I say innocently and wink at him, letting my foot poke his calf.

I barely know Creep, but being around him makes my chest feel as if it’s filled with gold dust. I was worried he might be gone once I woke up, but he was there, curled up under the blanket I’d left for him, his cheek pressed to the pillow, and sleeping like a baby.

So I pretended to be asleep too, only moving once I heard the quietest of inhales, then waited for him to emerge from under the bed, his dark eyes seeking mine.

And now we’re in a cafe, eating ice cream, as if we met at the library.

Creep clears his throat and gets back to his ice cream. “Yes. You look very nice.” He even dares a shy little smile like he didn’t full on ravish me last night. “And while we’re in town, I thought we could go see some furniture stores? Pick up a few things for your new home?”

I blink, thinking about the poor state of my bank account, and wave my hand, tasting the delicious lemon sorbet. “Oh… I mean, we can look, but the cabin has all the necessities. I don’t mind it being the way it is at all, especially now that I added some personal touches.”

“No, no. You need an armchair, and maybe shelves for your things? They’re still in boxes.

A chest of drawers. A pretty wooden one with crystals for handles.

You just choose, and I’ll get it for you.

” He stuffs the rest of the ice cream into his mouth all at once, and now resembles a very handsome hamster.

I reach out and wipe a bit of cream from his chin, before bringing it to my own mouth. “Are you sure? I mean… yes, it would be lovely to have crystal handles, and some new storage, but that’s going to cost a lot of money. I don’t want to burden you with that.”

Sucking money out of Domino, Adam, or Johnny? Never had an issue with that, but Creep is so gentle, so earnest, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to buy my attention.

He follows my fingers to my mouth without blinking. “It’s fine. I’ve got lots of savings. Over the past years, I’ve not really spent much. Would you like new bedding too?”

I guess that’s what happens when you live in a cave. And if he really wants to, maybe I should let him treat me?

“You know you don’t have to?” I ask, itching to put that point across. “I already liked you in the cave.”

Creep snorts. “You didn’t like me in the cave. But that's okay. You’re… our guest in Vulture Hollow, you should be treated right. But also, I want to.”

I laugh. “I was afraid of you in the cave, which is different, but ok—”

I shut my mouth at the sight of a huge yellowjacket flying straight at my face. I grab the hem of my silky cardigan and flap it about to chase the wasp off, but then I sense a tremble at my side, between my tank top and cardigan, and something sharp jabs at my flesh.

My ice cream cone drops to the tiles as I lift the loose fabric, and the insect flies out from under it with an angry buzz.

I try to love all creation, but fuck do I hate wasps!

“Ow!” I cry out, not even embarrassed over how sorry I feel for myself.

Creep’s eyes are wide, and he looks between me, the wasp, and the ice cream, then makes his decision. With a snarl, he claws at the wasp, but it slips out of his grasp.

“Don’t! It’s enough that one of us got stung,” I whine, but he’s not listening. The wasp buzzes away, and he follows it like a man possessed.

“No! It hurt you! It deserves to die!”

Several heads turn my way. I ignore them, but while my cheeks flame, there’s a sense of satisfaction to others knowing a guy as hot as Creep cares for my comfort that much, even if he expresses it in a way that’s a bit silly.

I get up, deciding to grab some coffee while waiting for Creep’s return, but halfway through the ice cream parlor’s garden, I notice the hum of a familiar engine.

Living in Vulture Hollow, I’ve gotten somewhat used to the sound of various motorcycles, but this roar sounds like a warning, and I skitter away behind an old-fashioned fridge containing various desserts.

I barely make it before Domino slows, stopping close to Creep’s bike.

Damn it.

It was stupid of me to venture out someplace this close to the Hell’s Butchers MC compound, because what did I expect? That the man I’ve been avoiding will just be staying home to make things convenient for me?

Domino’s a huge guy, with biceps like loaves of bread and a checkerboard tattooed into the right side of his face. The black and white tiles blend into his short hair and reach all the way to his cheekbone, as if the tattoo is a parasite taking over his skin.

What did I ever see in this guy?

Okay, I never fell for him, but why did I make the decision to sleep with him in the first place? And even if the aggressive appearance wasn’t enough of a warning, I should have fled the moment he threw the first homophobic insult my way.

Though at that point, I already didn’t feel it was safe to withdraw before he got bored.

Closet cases are the worst.

“There you are,” Creep says and stands between me and Domino without even knowing he’s my savior. “Do you want… another dessert?” He points at the fridge, and I can only hope the sound of the motorcycle driving away means my nightmare is leaving.

Relief floods my body, making it relax against the wall, and while at first I want to ask whether he managed to avenge me, I decide he’s too fragile to hear me say that. If he failed, having to admit it might upset him.

“Coffee to go? How about that?” I ask and step into the parlor.

“I guess we could walk to the first shop, it’s just down the street.”

A waiter stops by us when we walk in and points at the fridge. “Any cakes? The cream pie is pretty delicious.”

Did he… wink at me? Or at Creep? Don’t know which would make me madder.

Creep growls before I can make up my mind. Literally, full-on growls . It’s a guttural sound from the pits of hell, and the waiter smiles awkwardly, shows us his palms and walks off. When he turns back, Creep… takes a photo of him while alarmed guests watch.

Oh no, this needs to be nipped in the bud, because Adam’s sudden death is now at the forefront of my mind, replayed over and over until it makes me shiver.

I squeeze Creep’s arm and step close to whisper. “He was just being nice. Don’t hurt him, please!”

Creep avoids meeting my eyes. “I didn’t mean to, but I thought I’ll take the photo to Brigid so she can curse him.”

I hate how ominous that sounds. It’s somehow even worse.

“Curse him? For what? Do you think I’ll just make out with every guy who flirts with me?”

When all I get in return is a non-committal hum, I point a finger at him. “No. No cursing people. It’s evil and unnecessary!"

Creep groans. “Fine.”

That’s a red flag, right?

Of course it is. Am I being a sucker when I dismiss it and let him get us iced coffees, as if he didn’t attempt to make a spiritual attack on some poor guy because of jealousy?

But I try to forget all about it and lead the way down the street, watching every parking space for signs of Domino. It seems he was only passing through, and the only gaze I sense on me when entering the second hand store selling a lot of furniture is that of my handsome guard dog.

Is it a bit fucked up that his watchful eyes make me feel safe?

Creep is so eager to find things for me at the store it’s pretty adorable.

How about this lamp? What about this side table? Do you need a foot stool? Or a paperweight with a snake skull inside it?