I smile at him, and he lowers his head, kissing the crease between my thigh and my pelvis, forcing my breath to hitch. Then he floats his mouth across my opening, his warm breath blowing against me. I tense, nervously awaiting his smooth, wet tongue to touch me, to lick me and make me feel good. A small eternity later, he presses his mouth against me, pushing his tongue through my creases, immediately finding my clit. I gasp and lift onto my elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to me. Our gazes lock, and Creed groans heartily, sending powerful bolts of pleasure through my belly and a tingling over my scalp.

  “Oh,” I moan, letting my head loll back as I arch against his mouth. “Yes.”

  “Damn. You taste good, baby.”

  He licks and sucks me harder, dancing his fingers against my thigh before pressing a single, thick digit to my opening. With a gentle push, he penetrates me, and the skin behind my ears pull tight, shooting fireworks down the back of my neck to sparkle in my chest, hardening my nipples to their maximum point. He licks me up and down, a delightful pace between fast and slow. The pulse he stirs between my legs throbs mercilessly, and warmth floods me as I grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to insert a second finger. Groaning, I shift my hips to get away from the pleasure he’s giving, away from the unbearable sensations that build quicker than ever before.

  He pulls his mouth from me and bites the inside of my thigh.

  “Ouch!” I squeal and swat at him. Ass.

  “Where’re you going?”

  Where am I going? I don’t know. Away from his sinfully good tongue and fingers, before I let them brand me forever. “James…”

  Smirking, he plants a heavy hand on my clenched stomach, holding me immobile against the king mattress while he tortures me with his skillful tongue again. He moves his fingers inside me, massaging, making my breasts sway back and forth. Following last night, it doesn’t take long for Creed to build up my pleasure and dangle me over the precipice of ecstasy. He holds me there, teasing and taunting, until I’m gripping his hair and grinding my hips, seeking more pressure, more friction. Something wicked flashes in the depths of his eyes, and he lifts his hand from my stomach to grip me behind my knee and push it toward my chest. Jesus. He catches my clit between his lips and tugs on it. I gasp and jolt at the foreign pleasure that explodes from his rough treatment, feeling the tingling build. Creed releases my clit and does it again, and again, until every muscle in my body coils so tight it burns. I crunch my body, my breath coming out in uneven gasps as my orgasm crests, then explodes, spreading through my pelvis, through my stomach, and down to my feet.

  “Ah,” I moan, and grip Creed’s wrist in one hand and cover my mouth with the other. “Shit.”

  I try to muffle the noises I make, all while Creed makes a show of what he’s doing, pulling back enough to show me the length of his tongue and the tip of it as he flicks it over my sensitive bundle of nerves while plunging his fingers in and out of me. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen—he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  My legs spasm together, my toes curling painfully until I can’t stand it. I throw my head back with a growl and push against Creed’s head, silently begging for him to release my throbbing bundle of nerves. Laughing under his breath, he releases me, and as if being released from a spell, my muscles unclench, leaving me a boneless mess. I turn my head and drape my hand against my chest, feeling my heart as it batters my ribs. Creed rises up and crawls over me, planting one hand beside my head to hold himself up. The other, he slides against the side of my face, turning my head with his palm to look me in the eyes. I blow out a sigh then wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down on me. His hard body hits mine and presses me into the mattress. He’s heavy, so heavy my lungs can’t expand the whole way as I try to breathe in his fresh, soapy scent. I don’t mind it. It makes me feel secure and protected.

  “Take off your pants,” I demand, licking his lower lip, shivering at the feel of his denim jeans rubbing the inside of my bare thighs. “I want you. I want you to give it to me.”

  Creed rears back, and I follow his giant hands with my hooded gaze as he unbuckles his belt. I’m way out of my depth here with him, and I know better than to jump into sex with this gorgeous man, but I’ve never felt desire so strong before. My body is ready for him. I need to have James Creed once and for all.

  He drags the zipper of his dark jeans down, the metal slider clicking against the teeth, building anticipation in my gut, and lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes his jeans down, letting his erection go free. I lick my lower lip as he palms himself, stroking his hand up and down his length before leaning over me. Creed envelops my nipple in his hot mouth and caresses the inside of my thigh, tickling me, forcing me to open my legs wider. He lowers his hips as I lift mine and pulls at one of my knees, opening me up so the tip of his cock presses against my entrance.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” I whisper, the women from those photos flashing to my mind.

  James lifts his head, hovering it over my face. He turned the women’s skin red; he ruined their mascara and made their hair a tangled mess. I’ve never been treated in such a rough way.

  “You’re not them,” he says then shoves into me without ceremony, burying himself completely and making me shout. “But yes, I’m gonna hurt you.” He pulls back and thrusts again, grunting as he forces his entire length inside and holds still. “Because I know how much you like it.”

  My lips part with a shaky breath, and I feel myself begin to leak around him, a result of his passionate assault. Our gazes meet, his no longer a blazing gold, but a midnight black—an enthralling, arousing, and terrifying midnight black. It sends fire burning through my veins. I’ve been lusted over by many men, but the way James looks at me is incomparable.

  “I do like it,” I tell him, taking his wrist and moving his hand to my throat. “I like it when you’re rough with me. No one is ever rough with me.”

  Creed tightens his grip. “Because you’re Exeter’s sweetheart.”

  “Not anymore.”

  He smirks, tilting his head as he cranes it. “Not anymore,” he repeats, squeezing my throat until my eyes water. “You’re my woman now. My naughty girl.”

  “Yours,” I squeeze out.

  He kisses me hard, filling my mouth with his tongue, then he pulls back and watches my face as he slams his hips into mine, filling me to capacity. I wince and open my mouth, but no sound comes out as he squeezes my throat in his giant hand. The fact he can crush my windpipe in an instant isn’t lost on me. In fact, it turns me on more.

  “Too much?” he asks, smirking.

  I try to tell him it is too much, and I like it, but his hold is too tight, restricting my voice. I swear I feel my pupils flare, and it resonates with him as his smirk morphs into a grin.

  He slams me over and over again, and my head reels. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. I’ve never felt so dominated in my life, like I’m nothing but an easy screw. Creed releases my throat, and I gasp for air, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him deeper, wanting him deeper.

  “More,” I whisper, breaking the kiss to move my face into the crook of his neck.

  “More?” he groans, nipping my ear between his teeth, and all I can do is nod. “So greedy,” he teases. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

  Creed slides a large hand under my ass and angles my hips. My core twists as he fucks with increased speed and aggression, and each thrust sends powerful surges through me. I feel alive.

  Alive and blissful.

  Low moans seep from my lips, moans I’ve never heard before, and as heat pools in my lower belly, Creed pulls out and away from me. I barely have time to voice my complaint before he’s behind me, his body pressed against mine, his hand under my knee, lifting my thigh. He slams into me, and I cry out, the sweet pain of him pushing inside me radiating through my body, rippling through my muscles like a stone dropped in water.

  Creed thrusts harder, and sounds of flesh slapping flesh dominates the room. I pull my knees higher and curve my back, wanting more. He releases my leg and grabs my throat, pulling me back against him, his forearm between my breasts. My breathing shakes.

  “Against me,” he pants, kissing me behind the ear as I reach behind me, pressing my hand to his hip, feeling his powerful thrusts as he hits me over and over. “I want you against me.”

  My pussy clenches around his cock, loving everything he gives me, every inch, every thrust. His name falls as a whisper from my lips, and he glides his hand from my neck to my cheek and turns my head. The muscles in my neck ache on the unnatural angle, but it doesn’t deter me from pressing my mouth to his. I kiss him, long and slow, and his thrusting follows suit, turning from powerful thrusts to passionate, deep strokes. As I kiss him, he trails his fingers down my stomach and between my legs to rub my clit. In seconds, I get close, my whole body gearing up to burst, and I’m unable to control my hips that swivel of their own accord.

  “I’m coming,” I rasp, breaking the kiss to look down where his fingers play me. “Yes…fuck.”

  My orgasm takes over, and I hunch forward, my abdominals clenching painfully tight, my thighs seizing up. Warmth spreads through me as I explode into a million tiny pieces, crying out.

  I move harder, faster, grinding out my orgasm until Creed releases my clit, grabs my ass, and tries to push me away from him. Caught up in the heat of the moment, I keep my grip on his hip, desperately wanting him to spill inside me since, unbeknownst to anyone, I have a birth control implant in my arm.

  “Come inside me,” I beg, digging my nails into his flesh, making him hiss.

  “Shit,” Creed growls, though he continues to push deep. “Fuck, Izzy.”

  Then he groans and shoves deep one last time. Stilling, I feel him spill inside me, his taut muscles spasming with every spit of his release. I rock against him, prolonging his orgasm until he clamps a hand on my hips, holding me still.

  We lay in silence, the damp sweat on our bodies drying. Creed softens inside me, and the ache in my muscles comes back with a vengeance. When the fog clears, I glance down at his hand on my hip and notice the blue-black bruising around his knuckles. Frowning, I graze the tips of my fingers against them, and he twitches.

  “Do I want to know what happened to the person on the receiving end of these?” I ask, my voice husky.

  Creed nuzzles into my hair and kisses my neck. “Even if you did, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Club stuff?”

  “Yeah, babe. Club stuff.”

  He rolls away from me and swings his legs over the side of the bed. I fall onto my back and watch as he kicks his crumpled jeans off and stalks around the bed, stomping toward the bathroom.

  “Does it have something to do with my father?” I ask, rolling back onto my side, and Creed pauses at the threshold to the bathroom. “Have you…have you hurt him?”

  Something aches in my chest at the thought of Dad being hurt by someone so much bigger than him. My father fights his battles with brain, not brawn. Creed would decimate him.

  Straightening his shoulders, he turns around and pins me with an irritated look. I swallow hard, dreading his response all while keeping my attention above his belly button.

  “Do you love him?”

  “My dad?” I frown. “Of course I do.”

  Although we have a turbulent relationship, and I’d rather live countries away from him, he’s still my father. Loving him despite his flaws is the burden I carry as his daughter. Creed’s golden eyes flash with annoyance, and he purses his lips, choosing his next words carefully.

  “He loves his job more than he loves you.”

  My eyelids flutter. “Unfortunately.”

  I’ve known Dad to be a workaholic my whole life, so Creed’s statement isn’t groundbreaking. I’ve sacrificed a lot in the name of politics, for the sake of his campaigns. Still, silent words I’ve thought only to myself are painful to hear aloud. I shift on the bed, suddenly coveting a shower to clean myself with.

  “At risk to myself, I’ll tell you that Jonathan paid a rival gang to ransack your house, kidnap, rape, and beat you—”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “—to keep his campaign promise to get rid of us.”

  “You’re lying,” I snap, shifting on the bed, uncaring if I leave residues of the mess we made during sex. “He wouldn’t—”

  “We caught one of the imposters during the fight this morning.” He flashes me his knuckles. “Judge told me if I made him talk, I’d get you, so I made him fucking talk.”

  “Then he’s lying.”

  “Doomed men have no reason to lie.”

  I swallow. Did he just confess to murder? A chilling swirl of dread curls through my chest then turns hot in the pit of my stomach. “You killed him? The man?”

  He doesn’t flinch at my question, doesn’t flush, doesn’t twitch. He keeps eye contact and blinks softly. “There are conversations we can have and conversations we can’t have. This is the latter.” Creed flicks his head toward the bathroom. “Let me clean you, then I’ll cook you some food.”

  I stare after him as his confession about Dad sinks in. Is it true? Can I trust Creed to tell me the truth? Or is he using me against my father, like he did with the photographs? What could be more victorious to the Devil’s Cartel than having the mayor’s daughter as a whore on the arm of a patch member? Sickness twists through me, wringing my bones, at the thought of being played.

  “Blondie,” Creed calls, and I startle as his voice echoes through the room. “Shower’s hot.”

  My thoughts spiral out of control, but I force them to the back of my mind and saunter into the small bathroom. Steam clings to the glass walls of the shower already, and Creed pushes the door open, exposing his wet, naked body to me. My lips part as I inhale deeply, and I rub my palms with my fingers. The sight of him…it stokes my blood into fire. Water drips from the tips of his wet, messy hair, and I follow them as they make their way over his sculpted, tattooed chest and into the depressions between his perfect abs. One drop trails the edge of a vein that starts in his Adonis belt and leads to his impressive cock. The water defines his beautifully sculpted body. I once told my psychologist I thought it was the leather that made James Creed irresistible to me, teamed with dark denims and faded tees. Turns out he’s just as irresistible when he’s naked too.

  Clearing my throat, I drop my gaze to the floor and enter the shower. It’s a small shower, at least a quarter of the size of the one I have at home. My nipples harden and touch Creed’s flesh when the hot jets of water hit my back.

  “You think I’m lying to you,” he states, his voice cool and calm, and I lift my head to look him in the eyes.

  “Are you?”

  He glides his hands over my water slick body and pulls me close. Steam dampens the edges of my hair and fills my lungs as Creed steals the air from it. “Don’t know how to prove I’m not lying, so my answer doesn’t matter.”

  Our torsos touch, and he cranes his neck, lowering his head to kiss my lips.

  “I need to see my father,” I blurt out, pulling away before giving him the power to distract and silence me. “If what you’re saying is true, I want to confront him.”

  Creed glances between my eyes, his expression not betraying his thoughts. He leans in for a kiss again and speaks against my mouth, his top lip brushing mine. “Then I’ll take you to him.”

  “Oh.” I let out an exhale. I didn’t expect that to be so easy. “Thank you.”

  He cups my face and kisses me. It’s passionate and demanding, and it sends my head reeling, making it hard to tell which way is up. I’ve never had a kiss full of lies before, but if this is it, I’m in big trouble.

  Chapter Ten

  Creed

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Isabelle as she sat cross-legged on the old daybed I helped Judge carve out of redwood a lifetime ago. She shifted underneath the gray faux-fur blanket that was draped over her shoulders and smiled politely at Judge. I listened to the way she spoke and interacted with him. She was articulate and charming, and it interested me the way she directed the conversation, always turning it away from herself, making it about Judge, who didn’t notice their entire conversation was on her terms. It was a coping mechanism, a survival tactic she used to navigate vile, political waters, I’d bet.

  I lifted my beer and swallowed a mouthful as I shifted in my hand-carved redwood chair and turned my attention to the center of the stone courtyard. Fire crackled in its decorative metal bowl, casting long shadows all around us. Out of everything Judge built here for his daughter, Nila, the fire pit was her favorite. Like her father, she was a little pyromaniac. Most little girls dreamed of ballerinas and unicorns, but Nila was obsessed with fire and brimstone, with motorcycles and things that went bang. She swore she’d become Queen-President and take over the Exeter chapter, and I believed her, too. She was too fucking precious for this messed-up world, and the death we brought to the piece of shit that murdered her was too fucking nice…

  …even if we did keep him alive for months and slowly pick him apart until his body couldn’t take any more.

  Blondie’s melodic laugh pulled me from my thoughts and vanquished the images of Nila’s limp body as Judge clenched her tight, sobbing into the crook of her tiny neck.

  “Is that true, James?” Iz asked, and I paused.

  James. I love it when she calls me James. I’d been with a lot of women, more than I cared to count or cared to remember, but Isabelle was different. If anyone else, any clubwhore, called me James, I’d lose the plot, but I liked it when Isabelle called me by my first name. It was…intimate. Izzy was sincere. She wasn’t trying to seduce me for my patch or my rank.

  “Is what true?” I asked, tilting my head.

  I’d been zoning in and out of their conversation for well over an hour. I wanted to join, but I couldn’t seem to deter my mind from dark shit or getting between Izzy’s thighs again.

  “That you dumped fifty pythons into Modo’s room through the hatch of his skylight?”