Page 86 of Quiet Obsession
Creed groans, his hand flying to the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair as he deepens the kiss.
God, I love it when he does that. When he kisses me like he’s starved and can’t sate the hunger fast enough. Endorphins flood my system, and something clicks into place when his tongue tangles with mine. I shudder like an addict who tried to stay clean but couldn’t hold out.
His split lip tears open wider. The tang of blood fills my mouth, pulling dark, reckless desire to the surface.
“Eli,” I breathe, clinging to him harder.
I want more.Needmore. And more he gives me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. He scrapes it with his teeth, applying enough pressure to make me hold my breath in anticipation.
But the scrape never hardens into a bite.
He tugs my lip and sinks back into my mouth like he’s catching himself in real time. His grip on my hair loosens and the lust crawling inside me morphs into annoyance.
He’s smoothing his instincts. He’s holding back and smothering the raw hunger, choosing restraint instead.
That’s not what I want.
I dig my nails into his thigh, coaxing the real Creed back out, and his hands drop to my hips. He guides me until I settle in his lap, my knees denting the mattress on either side of him.
“Again, baby,” he demands, his forehead touching mine.
“Eli...”
“Fuck,that voice. Beautiful.”
He kisses me harder, messier, his hand steering my face, and my body sings under his touch. I wrap my arms aroundhis neck, taking what he offers while demanding more.
And as if that’s a red flag, he groans, and his mouth slows down. Frustration curdles my stomach. I thread my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and tug, desperate to show him I’m not fragile. I can take anything he throws my way.
I fuckingwant it, but Creed doesn’t bite. He controls the kiss, pulling back every time it starts scratching the surface of what he gave me last time. He pulls back, marshaling our desire into something smaller and colder.
I shove him away, my breath caught high in my throat.
“What’s wrong, Millie Baby?” he taunts with a cruel smirk.
My blood spikes a fever and I shove him harder, then fist his t-shirt and yank him closer, my mouth crashing to his.
For a heartbeat, he gives in. He’s demanding, almost bruising, his fingers sinking deep into my waist, and my imagination skips ahead to his rough voice in my ear, his body pushing me over the edge with brutal precision.
His grip tightens further and... I think he’ll snap.
One second, I’m straddling him and the next, he flips us over. My back hits the mattress with a soft bounce. Creed moves so fast I almost yelp. He’s on me in a flash, one knee between my thighs, hands planted either side of my head.
My body reacts instantly, heat flooding every nerve ending, my panties dampening further. His face hovers over mine. His warm breath flirts with my lips, but instead of unrestrained lust in his chocolate-brown eyes, all I see isbitter annoyance.
“You think this is a fucking game?” he grits out.
He doesn’t wait for an answer, ripping my robe open, then shoving my nightdress up to my waist. He looks down briefly and grabs my hip, digging his fingers into the bruises.
I flinch and gasp, unsure whether I love the sting or hate it. My panties are soaked, my mouth’s dry, and if not for the fury painting his features, I’d beg him to fuck me.
“That’s what you want?” He moves his hand higher, tracking the purple and yellow curve of my waist. “You get off on this shit, Millie? You like being marked and bruised? Tossed around? You want to feelusedso you don’t have to feelweak?”
I grit my teeth and grab his t-shirt, fisting the fabric. I don’t know if I want to drag him down or shove him off. His fingers trail lower again, skimming over the wet patch between my legs. Another cruel smirk curves his mouth, and with blood smeared over his lip and chin, he looks maniacal.
“You like pain, baby?” He grabs my thigh, his long fingers brushing my panties before he squeezes hard enough I gasp. “You want me to fuck you like I don’t care if it breaks you?”
Tears spring to my eyes and my chin trembles. Not because his touch hurts, but because now—now—he looks like my brand of messy is too much for him.
