Unfinished Hero 02 Creed (38 page)

Through it, Creed never let me go.

My Creed

A hot summer night in Kentucky, sixteen years earlier, Creed is twenty-three. It’s Sylvie’s birthday, she’s just turned eighteen…

I was in the warm, midnight blue waters of the lake when I saw his truck drive up, the headlights bright, cutting through the cloudless night.

I treaded water and watched the lights go out on his truck. I kept doing it as I watched his tall, shadowed form stalk through the dark toward the pier.

I adjusted my position and kept my eyes on him as I heard his boots fall on the wood slats while he made his way to me.

At the end, he stopped and I felt his eyes on me through the dark.

“Baby, what the fuck?” he asked, sounding irritated. “We got all of six hours before we’re home free. Why did you call me and what the fuck are you doin’ in the lake?”

“What time is it?” I asked back.

“What?” he returned.

“Creed, honey, what time is it?”

He looked to his watch then back at me. “Can’t see shit, so I don’t know but I left the house at two fifteen.”

I did a lazy breast stroke and when I made it to the end of the pier, I lifted a wet hand and curled my fingers around the edge, tipping my head way back to keep my eyes on Creed.

“I was born at two oh four.”

His patience waned. I knew this when he asked, “Sylvie, again, what the fuck?”

“I was born at two oh four.”

Creed said nothing but I saw the line of his body go completely still.

He understood me.

“I’m legal, baby,” I told him softly.

I barely got out the word “baby” when he crouched low, leaned forward, his hands went under my pits and he hauled me clean out of the water. Just as suddenly, he was down and my wet, bikini-clad body was on him and his hands were on me.

All over me.

Finally.

I’d wanted this for as long as I knew it was mine to have. I’d wanted to give this to Creed for as long as I knew it was mine to give. For a year, we’d held back.

The floodgates opened and it all rushed out, beautifully.

But not perfectly.

He started by kissing me then he reached out and grabbed the blanket I brought, pulled us up to our feet and covered the pier with it.

After he did that, back down we went, this time, Creed on top of me.

A place I loved him to be.

Creed, being Creed, gave and gave, with his hands, his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, even his teeth. Gentle, slow, sweet.

Restrained.

I knew it cost him because I felt his tenseness, heard him stifle the noises he would normally make, probably so he didn’t scare me.

My hands up his shirt tensed against his sleek skin.

“Let this be everything it’s meant to be, Creed,” I whispered into his neck.

“Want it to be the best it can be for you, Sylvie,” he whispered in mine.

“It’s you. There’s no other way it can be.”

His head came up and I felt his eyes looking down at me.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” he answered. “Do what comes naturally.”

I shoved my hands in his tee and pulled up.

Creed arched his back and lifted his arms.

I pulled his shirt off.

Amazing.

All that smooth, muscled skin in the moonlight.

Amazing.

I put my hands to it.

Not amazing.

Sublime.

Creed kissed me.

Even better.

He rolled so I was on top and I used my hands on him, my mouth, my fingers, my tongue, even my teeth. Just like he did on me.

He rolled us again so he was on top, he did the same to me and I felt it building. Building so much, I couldn’t stop the noises from escaping my throat. Little whimpers, low moans, breathless gasps.

Creed’s lips on mine, he told me gently, “Gonna put my hand between your legs, beautiful. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” I breathed.

His hand slid down my belly and I shivered, waiting, braced, anticipating,
needing
but he stopped with his fingertips at the top edge of my bikini bottoms.

“You sure?” he checked.

“Baby,” I gasped. “I’m ready.”

His hand slid in.

My neck arched.

Oh wow.

Wow.

His finger hit me right at the perfect spot and my hips bucked violently.

I liked that.

A lot.

His finger retreated.

No!

“Jesus, I hurt you, Sylvie?”

“No,” I panted, my hands moving on him, feverish, communicating, then I gave it to him verbally. “Please,” I whispered.

Apparently he needed no further encouragement. I knew this because his hand slid back in and his finger went right where I needed it.

My mouth opened on a silent moan.

Yes, this was good.

Now, it was perfect.

His finger moved on that sweet spot between my legs as his mouth moved on my neck, his tongue traced my jaw. Then, just as it built so high it crashed over, obliterating me with its sheer beauty, his mouth took mine and his tongue slid inside.

Yes.

Utterly.

Perfect
.

As it slowly receded, I felt Creed’s finger move tenderly away then his hands went to the string ties on the sides of my bikini. He pulled them and I felt the material loosen around my hips.

“Gotta have you, baby,” he murmured against my mouth, his hand doing something at the back of his jeans.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ll go slow. Be gentle,” he promised.

“Okay,” I repeated.

“It may hurt, beautiful,” he warned. “I’ll try to –”

My hands slid up his back into his hair and I curled them around the back of his head as I lifted mine, my lips to his and I urged, “Creed, baby, it’s okay. I want it. I’ve been waiting forever for you to make me
really
your Sylvie. So, please,
please
make me your Sylvie.”

I heard, just as I felt, his deep groan.

Yes.

Yes.

Utterly
perfect.

Then, at the end of our pier, surrounded by our lake, my Creed set about making me
really
his Sylvie.

And he really became my Creed.

* * * * *

“We should just leave.”

That was Creed.

We were at the end of the pier. I had my legs curled under me, my bikini bottoms back on, Creed’s tee covering the rest of me. He was wearing his jeans, rolled up, his legs over the side, feet in the water. I was resting against him, my arms around his middle, my cheek to his chest. He had his arm curled tight around me and we were studying the lake.

“Just leave?” I asked the water.

“Get in my truck,” he answered. “Go.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath.

Then I reminded him, “I’ve got a bikini, Creed, shorts, a tank, flip-flops. That’s it.”

“That’s all you need. That and me.”

He was right.

But what he wanted to do was wrong.

I pulled my head away from his chest and tipped it back. As I did, his arm tightened around me, pulling me closer and his chin dipped down so he could study my face in the moonlight.

“The plan is, we meet here, eight thirty tomorrow after I tell Daddy I’m leaving,” I reminded him.

“We should change the plan.”

“Creed –”

His arm got super tight as he pulled me and twisted me so my bottom was in his lap.

Then he stated, “You don’t owe him that, beautiful. You don’t owe him shit.”

“He’s my father.”

“He’s no father.”

This was true.

Darn.

To buy time, I watched as I slid a hand up his chest, the skin warm and smooth, the muscle underneath hard and defined. I loved every inch. So I memorized the feel, knowing I’d be able to call that up anytime, always, for the rest of my life and remember it. Remember tonight. Remember every second. Every single second of my first time on the pier, by our lake, making love with Creed.

I pulled in a deep breath before I replied, “It wouldn’t feel right.”

“Too good of a girl,” Creed muttered and I looked up at him to see his eyes on the lake.

“He doesn’t deserve it but I’m not what my mother said. I’m not like him. I couldn’t live with myself if I just up and left. Didn’t tell him I was going. Didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming back. He’s not much of a father, Creed, but maybe somewhere in there, somewhere deep, he’d worry and I’d worry about that. At least, if he knows, I won’t have that worry.”

I heard and felt Creed heave a deep sigh but he didn’t speak.

I snuggled closer. “I’m all packed. First thing, I’ll tell him and then I’ll meet you here.”

His hand slid up my back and into my damp hair before he murmured, “You’re mine now, beautiful, in all the ways you can be. What we just shared, I loved it, it was right. Being here, our place, it was perfect. I want more. I want it all. I’m tired of waiting.”

I was too.

Still.

“Just a few more hours,” I whispered.

Creed’s hand cupped the back of my head so he could shove my face in his chest as he replied, “This proves it, baby. Nothin’ I won’t do for my Sylvie.”

I grinned against his chest and my arms around him gave him a squeeze.

I turned my head and pressed my cheek against his skin before I called it down.

“So, your friend has power of attorney to sign the papers to sell your house next week. I’m packed. I’ll tell Daddy, come here,” I gave him another squeeze, “you’ll give me my necklace, we’ll eat frozen Snickers bars for breakfast and then we’re gone.”

“Gotta find somethin’ different for you,” he muttered. “I’m thinkin’ I don’t like you knowin’ what you’re gonna get for your birthday for forever.”

My head jerked back and my eyes honed in on his face. “If you ever,
ever
get me anything but my peridot pendant, Creed, I… I… well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll be super, extra pissy.”

I saw the white flash of his teeth. “Wouldn’t wanna make you super, extra pissy.”

“Don’t joke. I’m serious. Those necklaces are the only things I own that mean a thing to me.”

I saw the white flash of his teeth disappear right before I heard the guttural tone of his, “Jesus, Sylvie.”

“And they always will be,” I finished.

Both his arms closed around me tight, my head tipped back, his dipped down and he kissed me, hard, wet and long. A new kind of kiss. An unrestrained kiss.

Pure beauty.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last forever like I’d like it too. Creed broke it.

Then he murmured, “Let’s get you dressed and home. Our life starts in about four hours. Don’t want you nodding off when it does.”

“Probably a good plan,” I agreed, smiling at him.

I caught his smile back at me then he shifted, we were up and he placed me on my feet.

He held my hand as he walked me to my clothes. I gave him his shirt. He gave me my bikini top. He tied the back for me and I pulled on my tank and shorts and slipped on my flip-flops. Creed grabbed the blanket and again he held my hand as he walked me to my car.

At the door, again, he kissed me. This one I’d had before.

A good-bye kiss.

I savored it because it was the last one.

The last good-bye kiss ever.

Tomorrow, there would be nothing but the rest of our lives kisses, free and easy.

“Sleep good, beautiful,” he muttered against my mouth.

Like I was going to sleep.

Not.

“You too, Creed.”

“Soon, baby.”

“Soon, Creed.”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Love you, Sylvie. Didn’t think I could do it more but after what you gave me tonight, know it can be more until infinity.”

Oh.

Wow.

People in town thought Winona Creed was a redneck hick, a floozy, stupid and a loser.

Creed fell very, very far from that tree. What he said might not rhyme but still, it was poetry.

“I love you too, Creed. Seems like I’ve loved you forever but I know that I will love you that way. Forever.”

I wasn’t as good at it but Creed didn’t seem to mind. I knew this when he bent his neck and gave me another good-bye kiss, soft, sweet and short.

Okay, so
that
kiss was the last one.

In my car, I waved, staring at his shadowed form in my rearview mirror, feeling light, feeling free, feeling happy, not having any clue I wouldn’t see that tall, muscled frame for sixteen years.

Not having any idea.

And feeling so happy, when I stole into the dark house I grew up in, through the foyer and up the stairs, thinking it was for the last time, I didn’t feel Daddy’s eyes watching me.

You Can’t See It

Present day, six days later…

They had him chained to the floor, cheek to the cement, tape on his upper and lower eyelids, stuck to his lashes, holding his eyes open.

So Creed saw her when they pushed her down and chained her to the floor six feet away.

At first glance, he thought she was me. Same hair. Same build. Same face shape. Even the same colored eyes.

She wasn’t me.

Daddy held his head down so Creed couldn’t even turn it. The tape held his eyes open so he couldn’t shut the visions away. There was no way he could close out the screams.

No.

He had to watch.

Watch as they ripped her clothes away.

Watch as, for hours, repeatedly, brutally, they raped her.

Watch as she fought the chains, strained, shrieked, begged.

Watch as the blood flowed from between her legs, where the chains gouged into her wrists, her neck, her ankles.

Watch as the fight left her, the light died in her eyes and she lay, her head turned, her gaze locked to Creed’s as they kept at her for hours, one after the other and then back again.

Five of them.

Then they were done.

“You know,” Daddy whispered into Creed’s ear, “you take her, you think to escape me, you know I’ll find you.”

He knew. Daddy had a lot of money. Daddy had a long reach.

Daddy kept talking.

“I’ve tried to talk sense into you but it’s come to this. You’ve already sullied her, taking her virginity. You take her, Tucker, I’ll find you. I’ll bring you both back. You take her, she’ll mean nothing to me. If you take her, I’ll bring you back and I’ll make you watch like you did just now as they do the same to Sylvie. But she’ll be safe if you leave her be.”