Creed’s Honor by Simone Nicholls

What was fucking wrong with me? Why were her words ringing in my ears? It was driving insanity through my blood. My eyes locked on her sea-blue eyes, and I saw uncertainty in them mixed with fear. And I was causing those two emotions to drive through her body while she was causing me to question whether I was fucking losing my sanity. My eyes dropped to her lips—how many fucking times had I imagined kissing them? Now was not the time. Her family was downstairs, waiting for us to eat.

Yet my dick was throbbing. I’d had to deal with her being in that white dress all day. I told myself to keep a fucking grip on it. Don’t fucking act.

Then her lips parted. “Please don’t hurt me,” words so low, but so much pain attached to them. I felt a sickness rise in me. She thought I’d hurt her? She was right. I would be the reason for tears in her eyes one day. I wasn’t a man to be counted on. I wasn’t the man you turned to.

Yet I was standing here, questioning myself on it.

My knuckles paused on her cheek. “I’m sorry.” Just two words I honestly meant, but I knew not enough to stop myself from acting.

“For?” I heard her anticipation of pain in that one word.

“This.” And my lips were on hers. Part of me wanted her to push me away. Part of me wanted her to slap me. Part of me wanted her to be happy. But I knew I would bring more sadness to her life than happiness.

Yet nothing but pure pleasure rolled through my body when her lips moved back against mine. My hand unlinked from hers, and I gripped her hips, then pushed her back. I wasn’t a man with control.

She wrapped her hand around my neck, and I was kissing her as if I’d never kissed a woman. Fuck, how long have I waited for this moment? I wanted it the moment I laid eyes on her years ago.

I lifted her in one fluid movement, pushing the dress up. If she wanted me to stop, she’d say something, wouldn’t she?

I moved her back against the bed, but I didn’t want her to stop clinging to my body, so I didn’t let go of her. It was her hands on my belt that sent pure excitement through my body. Did she want this as much as I did?

I ran my hands over her ass. When I didn’t feel any fabric under the dress, my eyes widened, and I pulled my lips from hers.

“You been wearing nothing under that dress all day?” I couldn’t stop my words coming out slightly growled. All fucking day. She looked up at me, but I didn’t wait for a reply, because when she freed me, I couldn’t stop myself from bringing her down on my cock, watching her lips part and her breathing sharpen.

I’d always loved sex, but this was different. My heart didn’t usually beat like this, and I never used to wonder about how to finish who I was with, but my mind started racing. How the fuck could I get her off when her family was downstairs, waiting on us?

Suddenly, I realised my biggest fuck-up. I was only going to get one chance with her, and this was it.

Fuck, and I had picked a time where there was no way I could take my time with her. I was furious with myself but also questioning if I was suicidal. Fucking Hades’s daughter, under his roof, while he waited for us.

My lips were back on hers, and I couldn’t stop myself from picking up the speed. I was losing myself in her. I knew my control was slipping, and it was taking everything in me not to finish. She was tight, her moans soft, and I wanted to lay her down on the bed, watch her come undone, but I couldn’t.

I loved the feel of her body clinging to mine. I was tormenting myself, getting myself to the edge, then stopping, and I felt like a selfish bastard. I wanted this to be as good for her as it was for me.

I held her up with one arm and went to rub her off, but she stopped my hand, her lips pulling back from mine.

“My family is waiting. We—” She gasped because she tried to stop me mid-movement. Then her eyes locked with mine. “Finish in me.” I froze. She placed her hand to my cheek. “We’re safe.” And I believed her. I usually wouldn’t believe a woman saying that to me, thinking they were out for my money or trying to baby-trap me.

But I believed her. I cupped her cheek with my hand, bringing her lips back to mine as I fucked her, freely, her soft moans encouraging me. And when I finished, I realised I’d found it—I found the meaning of addiction. As I stilled, her head fell to my shoulder. My breathing was fucking sharp, and my heart raced.

She kissed my neck as I pulled out of her, helping her get steady on her feet, wanting an excuse to keep my hands on her.

Then I didn’t know what it was, but I needed to kiss her. So when she was steady, I cupped her face, bringing my lips to hers, and this time, I kissed her softly, as if she were made of porcelain.

She didn’t say anything as she pulled back. A soft smile graced her lips before she walked towards her adjoining bathroom.

I cursed under my breath as I pulled my jeans up, doing my belt. What the fuck had I done? I was positive I had just fucked up my one shot with her and ruined our friendship. I heard the toilet flush, and I told myself to get some sort of fucking control. Then she walked out, and my eyes went back to her. I was reminded at this moment the reason for my insanity—Holly Kincaid.