Which meant, as I stomped away, I did it rolling my eyes.

But I also did it thinking Creed would probably get creative, me in those shoes and, on my back or knees, they probably wouldn’t hurt too much. Or, alternately, me lying over his thighs getting my first spanking.

Then again, if any of those scenarios occurred, I’d be feeling other things so my mind wouldn’t be on those f**king shoes.

This meant, my thoughts having turned pleasantly, when I exited the warehouse at the same time I felt Creed’s big, warm hand catch mine and hold tight, I wasn’t pissed anymore.

I was smiling.

Epilogue

Dreamweaver

Present day, two days later…

I felt the crack of Creed’s hand on my ass, my body jumped and fire shot between my legs.

“Spread,” he growled and, instantly, I did as he said.

I was draped belly down over his thighs, na**d except my bronze sandals and Creed was spanking me. This was after he spent some time doing other delicious stuff to me.

No sooner had I opened my legs than Creed’s hand dove in. His fingers scored through the wet, rasping across my cl*t and since I was beyond ready, my head flew back and I came.

Hard.

Still coming, suddenly I was flying through the air. Creed lay back on the bed, his legs still over the side, feet on the floor and suddenly I was on top of him, my pu**y to his face, his hard, thick c**k right in front of me.

“Suck me off,” he ordered, voice thick and I moved, lips latching around the tip, immediately I sucked deep.

He lifted his head, buried his face in my pu**y and groaned against me.

Then, his hands at my h*ps yanking me down, he commenced eating me. My head bobbed, sucking, stroking, I engaged my hand and gave him everything I had as he devoured me.

I came in his mouth.

Creed returned the favor.

After, coming down, he lapped. I licked.

He let this go on awhile before I was up again, Creed repositioned so we were righted in the bed, my head no longer at his crotch but at his throat and he settled us down, him on his back, me partly on him, partly pressed to his side with his arm around me.

“You take it up the ass. You like to be spanked. And you swallow. Seriously, Sylvie, you were born for me,” he muttered.

I lifted my head and looked at him. “That was hardly hearts and flowers.”

Creed grinned at me. “A man finds a woman who swallows, that alone, for a guy, is totally f**kin’ hearts and flowers.”

I rolled my eyes.

Creed kept talking.

“Add gettin’ off on bein’ spanked, we’re talking rainbows and pots of gold.”

Again, I rolled my eyes.

“Takin’ it up the ass and beggin’ for it every time, baby, seriously, you and your body, slice of heaven.”

“Not sure any of that will make it into poetry books, hot stuff,” I informed him.

“If badasses read poetry, it’d be a bestseller.”

I couldn’t argue that.

“I just came hard twice, stop annoying me,” I ordered.

He transferred his gaze and grin to the ceiling, muttering, “Anything for my Sylvie.”

That got me a tingle, not the usual one, but a great one all the same.

I settled in, cheek to his chest and saw the still ugly, livid, blue and purple bruise edged with yellow that marred him where the bullet hit his chest.

I tipped my head back, my cheek sliding against his skin and saw the bandage that covered the stitches at his neck.

That would make another scar.

My arm stole around his gut as I righted my head and sighed.

If I asked, he’d become an accountant (or something) for me. I knew it. All I had to do was ask.

But then he wouldn’t be Creed.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly, reading my thoughts.

“I know.”

“You’re okay,” he went on.

“I know.”

“We’re together, we’ll always be okay, Sylvie. Always. It’s when we’re not together that we’re not. You with me?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, giving his gut a squeeze.

I was with him. I was so with him.

Gun jumped up on the bed, looked at me, looked at Creed, understood who her chances were better with and said to Creed, “Meow.”

She was right.

Creed moved, sliding out from under me, muttering, “Be back. Getting Gun some treats.”

I looked at Gun and shook my head.

She didn’t spare me a glance.

She pranced out of the room behind a na**d Creed.

I rolled to my back on the bed and stared at the ceiling realizing my ass burned a little.

It was then, I smiled.

* * * * *

Seven days later…

“Your round, Pip,” Live declared, grinning drunkenly at me.

“It was my round last time,” I replied, staring soberly at him thinking it was seriously unfun being out with the guys and not drinking.

“I know. You’re leavin’, you’re not gonna be around. That means you gotta get ‘em in before you go,” Live returned.

“That makes no sense, Live,” I informed him.

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Tiny put in.

I glared at Tiny then declared, “I’m not even drinking so I’m definitely not buying another round.”

“You’re supposed to stop drinking after you know you’re knocked up,” Live educated me. “Not when you think you are.”

“Man, were you not there when I explained my history with Creed? I’m not pushing my luck,” I shot back.

He swung his beer around, slurring, “Mishin’ out.”

He was wrong. I’d so take a healthy baby over a drunken night out with the guys. Absolutely.

“Go home.”

This came from behind me and I turned, looked up and saw Rhash standing there.

“What?”

“You got a long drive tomorrow, it’s after midnight, you aren’t drinkin’ and these guys are three sheets so, in about ten minutes, they won’t even know where they are much less why they’re here. So go home,” Rhash answered.

“Do I have to give out hugs?” I asked.

“Fuck, no. You hugged me, I might puke,” Live answered the question I asked Rhash and I turned back to him.

Tiny grinned stupidly at me. “You can hug me.”

“I’m not hugging anyone,” I declared.