Seduced by the Storm (11 page)

Noncompliance
wasn’t an option. Creed always had the control in bed. She gave it freely,
would let him do anything he wanted, and she didn’t analyze the whys of it.
Especially not right now, when his thick shaft was thrusting in and out and the
slow, sensual massage of his thumb was making her crazy.

The
friction built swiftly, his right side burning hotter than the left, even
inside her. She ran her palms over his abs, so taut, the hard ridges not giving
an inch.

Jolts
of pleasure and electricity shot through her, and he drew a harsh breath. He
didn’t feel the shocks themselves, but he’d said the pleasure she felt transferred
to him if she was touching one of his piercings…which she was, and not only the
one inside her. She’d grabbed the ring on his right nipple and was rubbing it
between her fingers.

"Not
yet," he panted, and rolled her, pinned her beneath him on the carpet.

She
loved that about him, the way he always kept her guessing about what would come
next. But when he withdrew and flipped her onto her stomach, she knew what was
going to happen. Lifting her to all fours with one arm circling her waist, he
entered her from behind, her favorite position.

He
took her to the very edge, the place that walked the line between pleasure and
agony.

The
first tremors of orgasm started, but he eased back to stop it, pulled her
upright onto her knees, so her back was flat against his muscular chest.
"No," she moaned, "not this."

From
this position, his thrusts were shallow, and he’d discovered he could hold her
on the precipice for as long as he could hold out. He’d timed it once. Five
minutes of hell for her.

"No,"
she repeated, but he held her immobile. Slowly, easily, he pushed the head of
his cock inside her, massaging the ring of nerves at her entrance with just
enough stimulation to keep her on the brink.

"What
do you want, Annika?" He dipped his head so his lips brushed her ear.

"Make
me come." She flexed her back, tried to drive him deeper, but he tightened
his grip, caging her against him. "God, Creed. Make me come."

"Don’t
say it like it’s an order. Ask for it."

His
pierced tongue rimmed her ear, and she let loose a whimper. "No."

"That’s
my Ani," he murmured. "Too proud to beg."

The
wet slide of his cock easing in and out of her was torture, his breath against
her ear plain cruelty. She slid her hand down between her legs, needing release,
but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it to her belly.

"You
get what you want when I get what I want." His voice was low and guttural,
but too breathless for her to think he wasn’t affected by the rhythm he’d set.

"Please.
Please make me come."

"Too
late for begging," he said against her ear. "I want more now."

She
groaned, because she’d started to tremble with the need for release, the ache
so deep Creed had to feel it in his cock.

The
cool air-conditioned breeze swirled around her, doing nothing to ease the heat
that was making her sweat. "What do you want?"

He
ground against her, pushing her forward just enough that he could drive deeply,
once, twice. Oh, yes, he was going to let her climax. But her excitement faded
when he pulled back again. He’d teased her, and fuck, ACRO wasn’t using him the
way they should. He was a sadist, and surely the agency had uses for those.

"I
want the truth," he said. "I want to hear you say you want me."

"Creed…"

He
brought one hand up to wind in her hair to restrain her. His teeth scraped her
lobe as he bared them. "Say it."

Panic
speared her chest as his cock speared her pussy, and suddenly she was torn
between two worlds, the one where she might have to admit her feelings and the
one where all she wanted was to banish them.

"Can’t."
She tried to shake her head, but he wrenched her head around so they were cheek
to cheek.

"Say
it." His thrusts quickened, the slap of flesh on flesh ringing in her
ears.

Heart
pounding so hard it hurt, she struggled, but for escape or for deeper thrusts,
hell, she didn’t know. She only knew she couldn’t take the confinement of
Creed’s embrace anymore. He didn’t let up, as if he knew better than she did
what she wanted, and when he bit into her shoulder as yet another way to hold
her, to force her to yield to his dominant, primitive bonds, she relented,
sinking bonelessly against him.

"I
want you," she blurted, unable to stop herself or the giant sob that
followed.

Relief
flooded her when he pushed her forward to her hands and knees and drove into
her fiercely, his thrusts powerful, hard, his fingers gouging the flesh of her
hips. Her internal muscles clamped around him, intensifying every ridge, bump,
and vein on his cock. He filled her, stretched her, slammed into her faster and
faster, her cries of ecstasy urging him on.

She
came in a tide of emotion and pleasure that threatened to kill her with its
intensity, to drown them both. His roar, of victory and release, vibrated
through her, setting off another orgasm that had her writhing on quivering
limbs until they both collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

Shit-oh-shit.
This had gone way too far. Shaking, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears,
she wriggled out from beneath him. She didn’t look at him as she used a tissue
to wipe away the remains of their lovemaking and then removed her knife from
the wall and jammed it into the sheath. Behind her, the sound of rustling and a
zipper told her that Creed was still ready to try to keep her from doing what
she needed to do.

Troy
had to die, now more than ever.

"Don’t
think that forcing me to say something I didn’t mean can change my mind about
this."

"You
meant it." His footsteps drew close, but he didn’t touch her or make her
feel trapped. "Why is this so important to you?"

She
stared at the hole her blade had made in the wall. "He killed my mom. If
you don’t get that—"

"I
get it," he said softly. "And he deserves everything you plan to do
to him. But this isn’t about your mother."

"Fuck
you." The words were harsh, but her voice gave away her defeat, and she
braced her forehead against the cool plaster of the wall.

"Annika?
You’ve killed a lot of people. Why is this one so important?"

Saliva
flooded her mouth. She swallowed hard, her stomach churning. "I didn’t
care about the others. They were jobs. Bad guys." Reaching between her
legs, she fingered the hard rubber hilt of her knife. "Troy…I fucking hate
him. Hate is an emotion. It has to go."

Creed
sucked in a breath, and she heard him take a step back. "Jesus."

"Yeah,
you get it now. If I purge him, I purge it all. I get myself back." She
turned. "You opened some sort of door, Creed. You made me feel things I
don’t want to feel. I want it to go away. All of it. Not just the hate."

He
shook his head, pain and disbelief swirling in the black depths of his eyes.
"You really want me gone, don’t you?"

Creed
stood there, his face so pale that his tattoo stood out like a throbbing, angry
wound. When she didn’t answer him, because the word
gone
had affected
her in some crazy way, he snatched his duffel and strode to the door.

Did
she really want him gone? She wanted what she felt for him to be banished, but
Creed himself? With the exception of Dev, Creed had been the only person she’d
ever enjoyed being with and felt comfortable around. He was definitely the only
man she could have sex with. Why couldn’t he be happy with no-strings sex?

She
should let him go. Instead, she felt her mouth open. Heard herself say,
"Creed, wait."

"Why?
So you can tell me again how you only want me for sex? How you have Dev to fill
your emotional needs?" He stopped at the door, scrubbed his face with a
shaking hand. "Jesus. All this time I thought I could get through to you
eventually, that you would come around. But you don’t even want to try. I’m
nothing to you, and you don’t care."

"That’s
not true," she said, because she did care. Too much.

"Bullshit.
If you could fuck anyone else, you’d be with them just so you wouldn’t have to
be with me."

Something
inside her broke, releasing a wave of nausea. She hadn’t considered what would
happen if she could have other men—mainly because she’d known for years it
wasn’t possible. But her mind worked quickly, taking in the idea of sleeping
with any of the countless men who’d propositioned her since she started
sleeping with Creed, and no, none of them appealed to her in the least. None of
them made her hot, made her laugh, made her feel wanted.

Oh,
they wanted her. For
sex
. The idea turned her stomach. Turned her
stomach and blew through her like a bullet, because she’d wanted Creed for the
same reason. Sex. On
her
terms. She’d been treating Creed like a piece
of meat, had been using him with no regard for his feelings.

She
glanced at him, saw the way he was staring at her with a mix of sorrow and
pain—and worse, resolve. He was cutting his losses and taking himself out of
the game.

Oh,
God.
She’d blown it. Big-time.

If
she could kill Troy, she wouldn’t care. She knew it. But right now she did
care, and the hurt that she’d caused Creed was unforgivable.

"I’m
so sorry. I didn’t…I never realized…" Dev had been right all those months
ago when he’d said she wasn’t ready for a relationship. That her upbringing in
the CIA had caused her to be emotionally stunted. And now Creed was paying for
her arrogance in thinking Dev was wrong.

"It’s
too late, Annika. Go kill your guy, purge your feelings for anything except Dev
and fuck who you can. But leave me the hell alone."

The
low buzz in her ear told her that Troy was on the move, heading for his hotel
room. This was her chance. Now or never.

Creed
opened the door. She clamped down on his arm with one hand and grabbed the
earbud with her other.

"Please,
Creed." Fear made her awkward as she dropped the tiny device on the floor
and crunched it under her foot. "Give me a chance. I’ve been so
stupid."

His
body was so taut his bones must feel ready to come apart from the strain.
"Too late," he rasped.

"No."
Taking his hand in both of hers, she stepped in front of him. This time it was
she who blocked the exit. "I’ll let Troy go." God help her, she’d let
that murderous fuck escape, but he wasn’t off the hook. "I’ll go back to
ACRO with you."

"Do
you think that’s enough? Do you think going back to us fucking like porn stars
and then me watching you take off so you won’t have to have any kind of
intimate conversation is enough? I can’t do that anymore." He jerked out
of her grip, grabbed her shoulders and moved her aside.

His
long legs carried him down the hall, each footstep ringing louder in her ears,
even though they should be growing quieter. Panic made her heart ping around
the inside of her rib cage. She couldn’t let him go. Something told her that if
he got away this time, there would be no more second chances.

"I
don’t know my dad’s name," she yelled, and Creed stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

She
could barely see him through the tears welling in her eyes. "My dad. I
don’t know who he is. The CIA forged a birth certificate and destroyed all
original records."

He
moved toward her, slowly, as though he suspected she’d planted land mines
between them. "Why are you telling me this?"

"A
long time ago, you said I didn’t let you in." She took a few shaky steps.
"I want to let you in. I’ll tell you the answers to everything you’ve
asked and I’ve avoided answering. You want to know why I had to eat fish
pudding when I was a kid? You want to know when I learned that the people who
were raising me weren’t my parents? You want to know why I never celebrated
Christmas or my birthday? I’ll tell you." Another step brought her within
ten feet of him. "Let me tell you."

She
dashed away the tears and saw that his expression had softened, but not enough.
"Annika—"

"I
don’t want this to be the end," she croaked.

"Why?"

She
trembled. Swallowed. Worked saliva into her mouth because she couldn’t speak
for the dryness.

"Why?"
he repeated, his voice as hoarse as hers.

"Because
I’m afraid of losing you." She stared into his eyes, made sure he
understood how much this meant to her. "And I’ve never been afraid of
anything, so this must mean something."

Suddenly,
Creed’s arms were around her, and he was holding her up, which was good,
because emotion had made her legs rubbery. He was murmuring into her ear,
sweet, comforting words, and she sighed with relief.

Things
would be different from here on out, no question. Creed would no longer settle
for just sex, would require a real effort from her. The idea brought her both
joy and dread, because she had a feeling that Creed’s ability to share her with
the other man in her life had just come to a screeching halt.