24. Creed

CHAPTER 24

CREED

By the time we finally broke away from Avery's family after dinner, I was mentally exhausted. Avery's fingers slid into mine as we headed up the stairs, and he was grinning, that easy, boyish smile that lit up his face. He leaned into me, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

I pulled him even closer, feeling the way he relaxed into me, how the day's tension melted away in the press of our bodies. It was simple, but it was everything, this closeness between us, this easy way he leaned against my shoulder, trusting me to hold him up. And it was enough to keep the shadows at bay.

By the time we reached the bedroom, something shifted between us, hunger replacing the exhaustion. I barely had the door closed behind us before our mouths crashed together, frantic and desperate. My fingers dug into Avery's shirt, yanking it up over his head, and he was already pulling at my belt, tugging it loose with a harsh jerk. His mouth tasted of red wine and something sweet, something that made me want to devour him until I forgot everything else.

Our breaths tangled as we fumbled with buttons and zippers, clothes hitting the floor in a heap. Avery's hands were everywhere, warm and eager, and I let out a shaky breath as he wrapped those clever fingers around my cock, stroking me with a rhythm that made my head spin. It was fast, messy, nothing like the kisses we shared in the attic earlier. But this, this was what I needed.

Avery dropped to his knees, and the sight of him like that, looking up at me with those mesmerizing eyes, made my chest squeeze tight. Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet, taking me in, and everything else blurred into a haze. I groaned, the sound raw, and buried my hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low hum from his throat. It vibrated through me, sending a shudder racing up my spine.

I watched as he moved, as he took me deeper, the slick heat of his mouth pulling every thought from my head until all I could do was feel—feel the drag of his lips, the gentle scrape of his teeth, the way his fingers dug into my hips, grounding me even as I started to lose control.

"Fuck, Avery," I breathed out, my voice breaking over the words. I tightened my grip in his hair, and his eyes gleamed in the dim light. There was a flash of something playful in his gaze, a challenge, and then he swallowed me down, taking me so deep that I gasped, my knees almost buckling.

It was too much, too good, and I clung to that feeling, to the rough edges of pleasure that burned through my body. My chest heaved, sweat prickling along my skin, but I couldn't look away from him. It was like he was trying to strip me bare in more ways than one, tearing through the walls I'd built up and leaving me exposed under his touch.

My fingers in his hair guided him, push… pull… push… pull, and he matched my pace, pushing me right to the edge. I closed my eyes for a second, just one breath, letting the sensation drown out everything else. But it wasn't enough—not when he was right here, real and solid, making me feel like I was worth something more, more, more.

"Avery—" My voice cracked, the word rough as gravel, but it was all I could manage before pleasure ripped through me, so intense I saw white behind my eyes. He held me steady through it, his mouth relentless until I was shaking, gasping for air, my body strung tight as a wire.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to my hip, his breath hot against my skin. I sank to the floor beside him, pulling him into my arms, needing the solid weight of him, the feel of his heartbeat against my chest. He looked up at me, and in that moment, it was like he was seeing through every broken piece of me, and making me whole.

I didn't know what to say—didn't know if there was anything that could capture what he'd just given me. So I pulled him closer, pressing my lips to his, tasting myself on him, tasting that hunger, that desperate need to be seen.

And in that quiet, between the press of our bodies and the silence that settled in around us, it almost felt like I wasn't so lost after all. Like for once, I could just exist in the warmth of his arms without the past clawing at me. But then, as Avery shifted against me, I caught the heat in his gaze, a hunger that mirrored my own. The atmosphere thickened, changing, pulling us back into each other's gravity. His hands skimmed down my sides, rough with urgency, and I couldn't help but shiver.

Avery pulled me to my feet, and together we stumbled onto the bed, limbs tangling in the sheets. My body pressed into the cool linen as I wrapped my legs tightly around his hips. He moved against me, grinding in a way that pulled a desperate moan from my lips, my back arching up to meet him.

He caught my mouth, kissing me deep, and his hands roamed over my body like he owned every inch of it. It was intoxicating—the way he took control, the way he drove me wild with just a look, a touch. His fingers slipped lower, between my legs, and when he found that spot, I couldn't help the way I bucked up into him, breath catching.

"Roll over," he murmured, his voice rough against my ear, and there was a spark in his eyes that sent a thrill right through me. I hesitated for a second—something tight and uncertain coiling in my chest—but the way he looked at me, like he was about to devour me, made me swallow hard and do as he said.

I flipped over, bracing myself on my hands and knees, my breath coming fast as he nudged my legs further apart. I'd never felt more exposed, my skin prickling with the chill of the air and the heat of his gaze. He leaned in, spreading me open, and then his tongue dragged over my hole and I gasped, fingers clawing into the pillow. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar, but there was a twisted sort of pleasure to it, and for a moment, I let myself sink into it.

But then the wrongness crept in. The way I couldn't see him, the way my ass cheeks were spread apart making me open and vulnerable… it all started to feel off. Too unfiltered, too unrestrained. My chest tightened, and suddenly, every part of me felt on display—laid bare under the weight of all the things I'd spent years trying to bury. The feeling of his tongue, the sound of my own broken moans, the thought of how I must have looked just then. Bent over, ass up, desperate for his cock.

My father's voice echoed in my head, sharp and scathing. You call yourself a man? Look at you. And then the memories were there—hazy and violent, bleeding into the present. The mocking laughter, the drills, the way I never measured up. I couldn't breathe.

It snapped inside me, something fragile breaking under the pressure. I scrambled forward, pulling away from Avery, my movements jerky and desperate. I flipped onto my back, dragging myself away until there were a good few feet of space between us. My chest heaved and my skin felt too tight, like I might crawl right out of it.

Avery stared at me, his expression shifting from shock to confusion, then something closer to hurt, and it twisted the knife in my gut. He reached out a hand like he wanted to fix it, wanted to bring me back to him, but I couldn't even look him in the eye.

I pressed my palms against my face, trying to hide the way my breath shuddered. "I'm—I'm sorry," I choked out, the words brittle and ugly in my mouth, but they were all I had.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel the weight of his disappointment, the way I'd ruined everything again.