Page 69 of Red Fire

I put my hands on his chest and then gasp when I see all the bruises. “Shit! I forgot that you’re hurt.”

“I’m not too hurt to pleasure you…but I am too dirty.” He gives a grunt of frustration.

“I’m also pretty dirty.” I widen my eyes and scrunch up my nose. “Let’s go and get clean. But I might need my back washed,so I suggest we use the same shower.” I bob my brows. “Unless you’d rather I used the spare bedroom.”

Creed smiles; it’s naughty. “I was just saying that to be polite. I prefer your plan.”

He takes my hand, and we go up the wooden staircase. I marvel at the intricate carving in the wood along the banister. It’s of ivy. I run my fingers over the grooves, knowing that it was Creed who did this. I can see his workmanship in the detail and it’s beautiful.

He leads me into a sunny bedroom. The bed is huge, with white linen and an abundance of pillows. The walls are painted a soft gray, with a large abstract painting on the wall. It’s the only splash of color in the room, with yellow and red smeared across it.

“This way.” He leads me into the bathroom, which is pristine as well. There is a large bathtub and a separate shower big enough for two. There’s a double basin and a white and gray marble top. The backsplash in the shower is also the same kind of marble.

“This is impressive. All of it.” I turn in a small circle, admiring his handiwork.

That is until I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m reminded of all the dirt and grass stains, as well as my rat’s nest for hair.

I look terrible.

Creed steps out of his linen pants, and I have to try not to stare. He’s dirty and bloody, and yet somehow, he’s freaking gorgeous. I think muscles and tattoos are my new favorite things.

I gape for a few moments, and then concentrate on taking off my own clothing. The torn jeans and my underwear. Next to go is my shirt, followed by my broken bra.

I frown, dangling the garment from my fingers. “This was my favorite bra, and I’m going to have to toss it in the trash.”

I look up, and Creed is looking at me. Really looking. His cock is at full mast; it juts out, thick and proud, from his body. He swallows thickly, his gaze returning to my face. It burns with intensity. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I realize that he’s never actually seen me fully naked until this moment. He’s looking at me like I put the moon in the sky. Like I’m special. Like I’m everything. I know it’s just lust. My mother always warned me not to mistake lust for actual feelings. I should take her advice right about now.

Besides, I do not look beautiful in the least. I have scrapes and bruises. I’m dirty. Back to my hair looking like something died in it. Like they didn’t have an easy death, either. I think it might smell really bad, too, like the rest of me. This is the first time in years he’s seen a woman undressed. It’s that.

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, and then Creed turns and gets the shower going. I realize that there are two showerheads; he puts them both on.

“Let’s get clean, Octavia. I want to taste your pussy.” He pulls me under the spray. The water isn’t even hot yet, but I don’t care.

Taste your pussy.

Taste it.

Yes, please.

My clit is doing a happy dance at the prospect of being tasted. It doesn’t take long for the water to heat and the steam to rise. Creed grabs some shower gel and squirts it onto his hands. It smells like ripe berries. He lathers it up and starts washing me, his touch gentle but thorough. I close my eyes and let him clean me, enjoying the sensation of his fingers on my skin.

As he washes my hair, he massages my scalp, and I can’t help but moan softly at the pleasure it brings. His fingers brush my arms, my shoulders, and then my nipples, and I arch into his touch, wanting more. He cups my breasts, making me moan.

“So heavy,” he groans. “So perfect.” He sweeps a hand over my belly, touching the start of my curls.

I bite my lip, wanting his fingers to explore further, but he doesn’t; he lathers his hands with more gel and takes my ass in his hands, kneading me there. I feel my sex being pulled open. Even that feels good.

I groan, gripping his cock in my hand and rubbing it from root to tip.

He growls. “Your touch feels so good.” His eyes drift closed. His lashes are long and thick. “Too good.” He grips my wrist, and I let go.

Then he gets down on his knees and washes first my feet and then my legs, using easy strokes. The spray from the shower cascades over both of us. He looks good wet. Most of the blood and dirt have washed away under the spray.

Then he nudges my legs open and cleans me there, in my most intimate place. No one has ever done that before. It leaves me panting and wet and not from water.

When he is done, he leans in and suckles on my clit, groaning against my flesh, which causes vibrations that have every nerve ending coming alive. I groan so deeply my throat hurts.