Page 22

(Present)

Creek has lost his ever-motherfucking loving mind.

It's the only explanation I can think of as to why he has some brunette hanging off his arm right now. Sitting in VIP surrounded by his brothers and some other important looking fuckers in suites, that I’d kill and not think twice about.

Who the fuck is that woman? Why is she touching him with such familiarity? Why the fuck is he letting her?

Did our moment the other day mean nothing to him, yet again? Do I mean fucking nothing? They are all smiles and sneaky touches and I'm about to sneakily slice their fucking throats. This needs to be stopped. It isn’t right. Something isn’t right because Creek is mine. Isn’t he?

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do...”

Addy says as he walks past, mixing a drink.

Considering Addy is a wreck on his best day, I take this as an invitation to subtly put a stop to Creek’s behaviors.

Leaving my post, I pass Addy without yielding, lest he detest my actions. “I'm gonna make sure no one needs a refill!”

I yell over the loud music. Grabbing the cheapest bottle in the building, I saunter over.

I'm just going to introduce myself. Make sure nobody’s drink is running low. Provide refills and such.

And hey, maybe I'll get a raise. Deliveries are not a part of my job description after all.

As I draw closer, Creek looks up, meeting my eye. I give him an inviting smile, to which he winces.

Huh. Maybe not so inviting.

He turns back to what's her face and my pace quickens. With good intentions, of course.

Unfortunately, the cap to the liquor bottle I’ve been holding must have slipped off on my way over because it tips over and spills all over the brunette when I arrive.

Double unfortunate, my wrist cramps and holds the spilling bottle in place over her head, the poor thing.

She gasps, jumping to her feet to pull her sticky shirt from her body. My blood fucking sings.

I gasp, feigning shock. “Oh my god, do you need to go home and change?”

I act stupid.

She opens her mouth to respond, and I cut her off accidently on purpose. “Is this seat taken?”

I ask, sitting down already.

I look up to see her open and close her mouth, gaping like a fish.

Don’t touch my boat, Nemo!

Her brows pull together, and I think I said that last part out loud because everyone is staring at me now.

Ooopps.

Creek clears his throat, causing me to glance in his direction. What I see pisses me off more. How dare he be angry at me? He’s the one hanging all over someone else. AGAIN.

Fuck, he's beautiful when his eye twitches. I want to kiss it before I tear the ball from it's socket for looking at someone else.

“You have some fucking nerve.”

I pause at that.

The hair on the back of my neck stands with goosebumps, recognizing a threat.

Turning away from a dead and violent Creek, naturally I face the threat in question head on.

“That was my fucking daughter.”

He’s fancy as fuck, with his dark colored suit of greys and blacks, on polished shoes. His face has a barely contained beard, with wild brows. When I meet his eye, my breath unnoticeably catches.

The smile I was sporting shifts from peaceful to something more unhinged. I can physically feel the ball of disgust rolling around in my stomach, threatening to make a mess all over his expensive ass.

They have the same eyes. Him and him.

I wonder what happens when he gets off his horse in the privacy of his own home. Does he torture innocents as well? Does he order them killed? Is that even his daughter?

Evil!

My mind wars with itself as I continue to catalogue everything about the man who sits across from me. His stare commands attention, and he reeks of power. I can feel it floating off of him in waves. The way the men I assume work for him shift on their feet and share anxious looks, sends unease through my body, tightening my bones.

Why would anyone want to work for someone who makes them edgy? Simple answer: they wouldn’t.

I instantly hate the man.

“Don't think we have met.”

I hold my hand out in offering. He looks down his nose at me like I'm a pest, swarming his trash. “Harlyn.”

I say simply. He doesn't bother returning the gesture, just cuts straight to violence.

One minute I'm sitting in my stolen spot next to Creek, where I belong. The next, the collar of my Tee is yanked, and I'm dragged across the table separating me from the man who never taught his daughter to keep her paws on her own fur.

Spit hits me in the face as he speaks low with a deadly edge in his tone. Words meant for only me.

The issue is, I cannot hear any of them because my body is hyper aware of every place that he is touching me. His knuckles brush my chest, where his hand still clutches my shirt. I'm so close to him that my knee has been wedged between his big ass legs. I think I hear him saying something about playing with wolfs and the possible dismemberment of my body, in grave detail.

Before he has a chance to finish his declaration of bloodshed and furry animals, I'm ripped in the other direction by Creek.

My apparent knight and shining armor.

His grip is unrelenting. With a fist full of my hair, that causes my scalp to scream, Creek all but drags me away from the scene.

I hear Ressyn apologizing for my atrocious behavior. It stings. To know that Ressyn felt the need to speak of my behalf, taking the side of someone who isn’t me.

The longer I spend around the Hue’s, the more I realize that the stories Blithe used to tell us as a past time are inaccurate. He said they would love me as much as he did, but he was wrong. Or maybe damaged just doesn't fit the bill.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

I'm shoved into a VIP private room just as Creek shouts at me. His cheeks are actually flushed a pretty red. The fire blazing in his eyes would oppose the Sahara and I snap.

Because. Fuck. That.

“What the fuck was I thinking?”

I laugh at his oblivious ridiculousness. “I was thinking that woman was touching what was mine. I was thinking she’s lucky that her fingers are still intact. I was thinking she should be grateful that I've allowed her to live. I was thinking that you should shut the fuck up. I'm barely containing myself from kicking your ass.”

Each word that spills from my mouth, drips with venom as I slowly back him into a corner. His eyes flicker around as if he's just now processing that I'm so fucking serious right now. When confusion scrunches his face, I want to rip it off. What the hell is wrong with him?

“You are so goddamn insane, it’s ridiculous.”

His words catch me by surprise, and I flinch. What is he talking about? “I’ve fucked around with you a few times, and you think that you what? Fucking own me?”

It's his turn to laugh and suddenly I feel so fucking small. Like the little boy my mother pushed around and told when to eat, sleep, and shit. “You don't Harlyn! God! Do you grow obsessed with every person who spares you a sprinkle of attention and latch on?” I step back as his nasty words slice me raw. He steps forward, almost stalking with a sinful gait that makes me uncomfortable and clammy.

If looks could kill, I’d be dead. I fucked up big, but I don't see how. Was Mr. Suit and his men so important that it warrants this sort of treatment from the man I admire? Should I admire him at all? Is he right? Am I just so deluded, I thought we could have something special, but it was all just one sided? Each thought cuts me deeper until I'm positive I'll bleed out right here and now.

I shake my head to clear the awful things my mind congers away and I feel the first tear trail down my cheek. Fuck! Why am I always fucking crying now? Everything makes me cry... It's like a lifetime of suppressed tears keep clawing their way to the surface to laugh at my face, like Creek is now.

“Answer me!”

I flinch when he yells in my face, yet again. My mouth opening and closing, like nemo out there as I scramble for something to say. “I-I thought-”

“You. Thought. What?”

He demands between clenched teeth.

Shaking my head, I clear the lump in my throat before trying again. “I thought that we-”

“There is no we!”

He cuts me off, his arms coming up in a disbelieving gesture. His face houses a look of disbelief on it too.

When another crazed laugh escapes him, I suddenly want the floor to swallow and take me far away from here.

“What are you, twelve? We got each other off a few times Harlyn. That does not mean that we are suddenly an item, destined to ride off into the sunset. I don't know what false reality you’ve conjured up in that head of yours, but that’s not how the real world works. If you want some love at first sight bullshit, find a damn bookstore.”

“But...”

He sighs, seemingly sick of me. “But what?”

“You looked at and touched me like you cared... Like I was special.”

My voice is small. I feel small.

Creek releases another sigh, while taking several steps back. His hands come up to rest on the nape of his neck. He looks like he doesn't know what to do with me. With his head tipped towards the ceiling, he takes on a lost look.

We stay like that for a while. The bass from outside the door a reminder of how I'd rather be anywhere else than this room right now. I'm all but shivering in the corner that he backed me into while he takes steadying breaths.

When he finally looks back at me, I wait with bated breath for him to break the silence. I try my hardest to stop from squirming in place, but my left hand fidgets with the hem of my pants.

“That’s what people do when they hook up, Harlyn.”

My nose itches and my eyes burn again. I nod in acknowledgement even though I don't understand.

“I apologize for reading into things I don't understand. I'm still learning. I'm sorry, I won't come on so strong next time.”

He looks confused again as he watches me. Lips pursed; he slips his hands into his pockets. “There isn’t going to be a next time Harlyn. I think it's best we keep our distance if you are going to remain working here...”

He tries, while panic pinches my lungs.

This shit again? There's no fucking way, he’s saying this shit again. I left him alone last time and he’s the one who came to me. He didn’t have to follow me to the restroom. He didn’t have to stay when he saw me standing there. He didn’t have to comfort me and come all over my hand as I worked him till his eyes rolled back. But he did. Because he wants me, and I want him.

Right? I refuse to believe I'm that fucking stupid.

He’s turning me into a kicked puppy, and doesn't like what he sees, so I try a different tactic.

Approaching him quickly with sure strides, I stop when I'm directly in front of him. His breath mixes with mine. It smells of alcohol and I'm reminded of how filthy his hands are, having been on someone else.

“What are you-”

I silence him with my tongue. It slides past his open lips and connects with his. I'm practically fucking his mouth with sloppy kisses, and he lets me, without returning the favor.

My temper flares and I just fucking crack.

“You don't get to do this to me!”

I push at his chest with both hands causing him to stumble before righting himself. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring. Fuck that, I push him again, over, and over while my mouth gets the best of me.

“You don't get to steal my first kiss without permission, then deny me when I come back for more! You don't get to touch me like you want to own me, and then toss me away! You do not get to treat me like a fucking psych case for thinking that you wanted me back when I don't know the difference between fake and real because I've never done this before!”

I'm panting by the time I've pushed Creek so far back; he has no choice but to fall over into the love seat, on the other side of the room. He looks up at me with wide eyes as I continue to frantically shove him anywhere that my hands connect with his body. His beautiful chest, his firm abdomen, his stupid, dumb perfect face.

“Enough.”

“Fuck you!”

I put my back into it, pushing him harder.

His composure cracks. I'm sure we look comical, a couple of guys fighting like children as we wrestle for control. Me, with palms and elbows. Him, with grabby hands, to put a stop to my onslaught.

He manages to grip my right wrist with a strong hold. I try yanking it out of his grasp and only manage to fall right into him. My knees on either side on his thighs, I shove him with my free hand, while he forces my right hand behind my back, in a painful position. I wince, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking.

Blithe would be appalled. None of this is a part of my training, but I'm out of control. And despite all of the awful things he just voiced, I don't want to hurt him.

When my arm is twisted back further, my back arches and I shift closer in attempt to alleviate the sharp ache. When my ass brushes over his cock, I pause. He’s rock hard beneath me and a shiver rocks through my body, my grip on his hair tightens further.

Creek glares at me, and I glare back. Our heavy breathing the only sound between us. My heart races as blood rushes to my dick, until I'm so aching goddamn hard and can't catch my breath.

Creek just does this to me. It's just him. He was put on this earth to make me shamelessly miserable and needy for his touch and attention.

My heavy eyes flutter and I can't stop it when my hips instinctively roll.

He groans. “Stop it.”

He orders, but it's weak and falls on deaf ears as I continue to give him the friction he craves, and he angles his hips up to meet me half way.

“You shut the fuck up.”

I snap, gripping his hair impossibly tighter causing his head to tilt.

We both pause to glare at each other once more like a pair of children. I feel his cock jerk against my ass and I'm not sure who moves first.

Simultaneously, we throw ourselves at one another. His teeth connect with my jaw, and I moan. My dick leaks in my pants and throbs with the need to be released.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...”

He mumbles against my jaw. His tongue easing the sting of his bite. “You’re such a loud fucking slut for me, I love it.”

He whines.

“Was I so bad Flower?! Tell me I was bad!”

My words are desperate and rushed, while I rock my body over his wishing there was less clothing between us.

He growls a delicious fucking sound that scatters goosebumps along my skin. “You were so fucking bad baby... Open your mouth.”

I have zero time to feel embarrassed when the whimpered moan leaves my throat. I open wide and stick my tongue out for him. With his tongue flat at the tip of mine he licks it all the way up, before sucking it into his mouth.

It's. The. Hottest. Fucking. Thing. Ever.

Spit dripping, sloppy, wet. Just like my messy leaking cock.

If he doesn't touch me soon, I'll certainly perish. I'm ravenous for anything he’s willing to offer me.

Moving before I can talk myself out of it, my hands fumble with the button on my cargos before pulling myself out.

Creek stops his assault on my tongue long enough to look down to where I'm wildly working myself closer to orgasm. His face darkens before those syruped orbs latch onto mine and I'm lost in their depths.

“I hate you.”

He mumbles, hardly loud enough for me to hear over the music outside the door. His head shakes slightly, then he's lifting me.

A squeak tears from my throat, embarrassingly so, when he deposits me on my knees. My elbows barely catch my face from planting into the arm rest of the loveseat. My cock hangs heavy between my legs, begging for attention, dripping all over the damn place.

When I chance a peak over my shoulder to see what he's doing, my head is shoved down into the arm rest anyway. My shirt and pants are yanked up and down at the same time and I feel his breath tickle my spine.

My body is so sensitive where Creek is concerned, and I involuntarily shudder everywhere his hands caress and his breath tickles.

When his hands spread my ass open, exposing myself to him a shot of anxiety guts me. Is he going to put his fingers inside me again? That had felt soooo good. Or is he going to put his cock inside of me and ruin me further?

I'm unprepared when his tongue licks me from behind my balls all the way to my asshole.